The End of Part 1

With a little over a week to go before I leave Benque for home for the holidays, I couldn’t be more of a mix of emotions. I’m excited to see my family and friends. I am excited to see the Christmas Season, for to admit it, it’s really difficult to get into the Christmas season when the temperature is still about 70 degrees and the flowers are still in bloom. And I am so proud of my progress here. My students have made real progress in their English. They know what a sentence fragment is; know the meaning of the word ‘crumple’ and can even write poetry. We discovered a joy for reading, creativity in writing, and confidence in speaking that I can only hope to foster in the next 5 months when I make my return. And to top it all off, I feel a tinge of sadness that I am leaving.

I am making my return in just 3 short weeks, and thus it seems silly to be having this feeling, I mean, am I not going to my real home? With my family, friends, hot showers, cheese, and Christmas cheer all waiting for me? It seems almost irrational to have this feeling. But I have it, and as I was walking home from school at the end of a long day of students, papers, and chalk dust, I began to understand why.

The town of Benque is a relatively small town, in comparison to my hometown of Louisville, KY, and I make the same paths everyday—from home to school, school to church, church to home. The streets have become familiar to me now, as have the people. We exchange greetings and smiles as we pass each other in the streets, and, when running into the occasional student, we exchange hugs. The students at school, the other teachers and volunteers, the SOLT community, and the many varied people in the town that I see, talk to, or play “trompos” with, have become a part of me, and I a part of them. I am no longer just a small gringo here to lap up a little culture and humility, but a teacher, a friend, and to some, a sister. Even when taking the public transit I will run into people that I know, whether it is through the school or through the Church. Belize is not my long term home, and probably will never be, but at this moment, it is home. For it is here that I truly feel a part of something, and in a very special way a part of the community. The people have accepted me as the norm in their lives and their hearts, and it is such a blessing to know that there will always be a place for me here.

As far as my own personal successes, there are so many that it would be difficult to recount them all here. I have done things that I never thought that I would be brave enough, or ever have the opportunity to do in my life. I held a shark, bathed in a river, exterminated a rat, and rode a motorcycle. I spoke in public about myself and about my faith (something I would have never done before), danced in front of an audience of screaming students, played street basketball, and ran a 5K. These might seem inconsequential to some, but to me, they are moments that I may never forget. I came here feeling as if Benque was the last place I would ever want to be in the world, but now that I have spent time here, and had so many varied experiences, it would be difficult for me to imagine my life without this opportunity.

But among all these things, the thing that has meant the most to me have been the people I have met. Nothing can bring my heart more pleasure than to hear a student come up to me and say, “Miss, I’m going to miss you when you are gone.” Or, “Miss, you are like a sister to me!” Just to get a hint that my presence here, with all of the struggles and speed bumps, has had an inkling of an impact, means that I have done something right.

I wanted to immerse myself. I wanted to form relationships. I wanted to make a difference. But most of all I wanted to lose myself to find myself. I must admit, these are not accomplished in full, but I’m not disappointed—its only the end of the first half, and there’s still so much more to be done.