Yaxha (yack-sha) has water. Big lake. Don’t swim in it – cayman. Small crocs, but you may not get that arm or leg back. Down an 11 km rutted dirt road. Kinda peaceful. About one-fifth the size of Tikal, way less than 1/10 the tourists, we actually walked the whole thing in one day. But same basic game-plan. Temples to mark Equinoxes and Solstices. – But, hey, if they had water, why’d they leave?
One of my favorite (self-generated) conspiracy theories: they started abandoning their major cities about the time Europe entered the Renaissance. Maybe their task of representing an advanced civilization was complete, and they were ready to turn the planet over to the more primitive Caucasians.
The Maya were a strange people (but aren’t we all). They knew so damn much. But they didn’t have the wheel. Or that is, they didn’t have the wheel-barrow to cart all those massive stones about; but their kids did have wheeled toys. Huh? Wouldn’t it have been . . . ?
Our Yaxha guide Hector thought the social structure might have been two different cultures. The elite didn’t rule by force, nor by money. They ruled by knowledge. As in, “hey, give me your allegiance and I’ll tell you when you’ll be successful planting crops,” or “your house will be sturdy because you cut the wood at the right time of month,” or, “well, if you don’t haul bricks for me, I’ll make the sun go out in the middle of the day and scare the shit out of you.”
They had their ball game, a version of basketball in which you couldn’t use hands – elbows, knees, head, feet, no hands. The basket wasn’t much bigger than the ball, so the game could go on for hours. Or days. One score won it. Oh, and you don’t cut off the heads off the entire opposing team and fling them down the stairs of a temple (Hollywood); no, it was just the captain of the opposing team. Then his guys worked for you. At least that was Hector’s version.
And then there were those 52 year centuries – based on planetary AND stellar alignments. At the end of which you put out all the lights (fires), and start over. Which, a lot of times, meant rebuilding the temples on top of the old ones, or even the entire city.
Weird, huh? Furriners. Always doin’ it different. Never had a Big Mac.
And so on to Belize.
Question: what is the same in Guatemala and Belize?Answer: the music. They both play Credence Clearwater. Constantly.
We found the best restaurant in town. This Garifuna place with hudut and bundiga. I tell ya, it’s a world cuisine on a par with Thai, Indian, Mexican, Italian. About 32 different ways to cook sea food. Bring your own fish, they’ll cook it. What’s the price? Whatever you want to give them.
Two nights ago was Garifuna Culture Night, and we got to watch their version of local history. The Spanish turned over Belize – and parts of Honduras and some of the nearby islands, to the British. The Garifuna are the descendants of escaped slaves interbreeding with local Caribs. You know, the ones who chase Johnny Depp intending to eat him in Pirates of the Caribbean. Well, it wasn’t exactly that way, according to a few professors and cultural historians who narrated the films. Rather, it went like this: slaves escape, English try to recapture, a long war, treaty designating certain areas as Carib reserves, real estate markets in London selling deeds to Carib land, more troops, another war, Caribs defeated, and five thousand of them being ferried to a small island with no natural water source. Half the population dead in the first year. Hmm, where have we heard this all before?
Which brings us to this sign at the restaurant:
Of course Mennonites are Europeans, so, not all whites excluded. But given that Belize was a colony of England until about 1980, and is still a member of the British Commonwealth. I decided to ask our hostess: “Not English?” – Usually very gracious, a sour look came over her face. “Maybe someday?” I persevered? Almost unwillingly, she hesitantly stammered out “m a y be – – – SUM – – day . . “ Then, under her breath: “At’s gonna be sum lonnng time.”
Later I asked our non-Garifuna probably mestizo taxi driver if there were any racial problems in Belize. Yes, he told me instantly,”the Lebanese.” Lebanese? Lebanese? “Yes, they come, have money, buy, put up big stores – local peoples, they canna compete. Pretty soon, Lebanese, maybe Chinese, they own everything.”
Which kind of reminded me of what I was told about Hondurans resent their bigger northern neighbor Guatemala. And Guatemalans resent Big Brother Mexico. And Mexicans are pretty damn sure they’re not paying for that wall the gringos want. And so on.
So there you have it. Peace on Earth. All a we da One. “m a y be – – – SUM – – day . .”