our thug friends

And you thought Mandy Moore in “Walk to Remember” was the only time Church girls were considered somewhat cool? Well, I’m happy to tell you that us San Pedro senoritas have officially arrived at that special tier of popularity enjoyed by religiously minded types who are socially acceptable. You know, people like Mel Gibson, Pope John Paul II and the band Mercy Me when that song “I Can Only Imagine” made it to pop radio. When you spend a few months on San Pedro, you come to recognize it’s characters. The drunks who sit in front of a certain internet café who pass out fliers for food. The Rastafarians who sell… “Jewelry” and “wood carvings” and “anything else you want from Guatemala… wink, wink, wink. The middle aged white expatriates whose hairy chests are visible because their TACKY Hawaiian shirts are halfway unbuttoned (if my passion was not Jesus Christ, it would be teaching the white folks on San Pedro how to dress. Hawaiian, tropical prints look good ONLY on swimsuits and board shorts and will never be considered “the new black” as these people seem to think). As much as I hate to admit it, I think we’ve joined the ranks of San Pedro characters. We walk into restaurants and through the streets and hear, “Hey, it’s the Church girls!” or “Are you still praying for me?”. The surprising thing is that it’s rarely sarcastic or derogatory, just the way we’re greeted now with our reputation.

Now, where does this whole “somewhat cool” label come in? Ok, so a couple weeks ago we had taken the time after mass on Sunday to actually appreciate the paradise we live in, and were reading on the beach. There’s this gang of boys who prowl around San Pedro all the time who my mom would describe as “surly”. Every time they saw us they’d say things like, “hey sexy, wanna ride on my handlebars” or something equally civilized. So, one minute I’m reading my trashy novel (the term my sister invented for basically anything that isn’t classical or spiritual. My housemates say that makes it sound like I’m reading a cheap romance. It was in fact John Grisham). Anyways, I look up from my book and see Ann surrounded by these little thugs, talking to them. We all strike up a conversation with them and they say, “Miss, how come you don’t talk to us?”
“Well, that’s because you’re obnoxious when you call out, ‘hey sexy’” I respond.
“Miss, but what are we supposed to say?”
“How about, ‘good afternoon. Nice to see you’. Then shake my hand and make pleasant non-creepy eye contact.”
Well, they bought that and all wanted to practice civilized greetings. Then, we started to hear a little more about them. Most of them live either with younger siblings or their girlfriends. No parents in the picture or at least the country. They go to night school and patrol the town during the day. Little thugs in training. We started talking about God, Religion and why they shouldn’t be living with their girlfriends. They listened seriously and asked us questions. Every time we told them what they were doing was wrong, I expected them to say, “forget it” and walk away, but they totally listened to everything we had to say. I think that they listened for two reasons. First, because deep down, everyone wants to hear the truth and recognizes it when it’s proclaimed and second, we’re just so weird to them that we’ve surpassed the “nerd” label and are instead “kinda interesting”. They’re so rebellious that they’ve come full circle to the Church girls.

In the next couple weeks, they’ve made a point of greeting us properly (“Good afternoon Miss Alison. Where’s your next friend?”) and have invited us to come to their school and basket ball games and to wittness their favorite afternoon activity which is, you guessed it, Feeding the alligators. Yes. Welcome to Belize where children pursue more unconventional means of entertaining themselves in the absence of arcades and Disney land. I’ve always been impressed with the way these kids amuse themselves… case in point, last year when we held a retreat for the second form boys the highlight for them was when someone took a look at the pond outside the retreat house, pulled the shoelace from his shoe and they all caught fish (which they then took home and ate!). Although T.V. is hugely popular, kids don’t really expect to be entertained by toys or adults.

So, was I surprised that these little thugs have taken to feeding alligators for fun (and profit, when they get tips)? Even after a year of watching kids entertain themselves in their yards with the typical developing-world amusements of marbles, chickens and Klim cans full of dirt, I don’t think I was prepared for what I saw. Keep in mind that I grew up on Hilton Head which has it’s fair share of alligators. I also had my only encounter with the police when I was about ten years old and got caught throwing rocks at an alligator. On Hilton Head, to feed or bother an alligator is against the law because it makes them expect food or want to attack people when they see them… I just say this to clarify that I know alligators are dangerous and am also not your average tourist who’s gonna be excited to see some indiscernible lump floating in the water, a hundred yards away that might be a gator or might just be a log. Comprendo? Anyways, far towards the end of Ambergris Caye there’s a lagoon full of alligators. They figure there must be about fifty or so. A regular Fear Factor set up. For the past four years these guys have been feeding them and training them so that they can put on a little crocodile-hunter like show which they do every afternoon. Ann, Courtney and I rode out on Sunday afternoon (yes Mrs. Robezolli, your daughter showed great caution and prudence by staying on the beach with a book) and found our thug-friends awaiting the arrival of a chicken so they can begin their fun. A random gringo pulls up in his golf cart and delivers a whole dis da fu wi chicken. (Dis da fu wi is to Belize what Tyson is to the states. “Dis da fu wi” is Creole for “this is ours” You’ll find that saying “dis da fu wi” is infinitely more fun than saying “ours” though. Try it.)

Manuel, the head thug/gator feeder takes a long rope that they have and ties the chicken, still in the bag, to the end of it. He then begins hurling the chicken, slingshot style, into the lagoon and then pulling it out again. I guess this is the equivalent to ringing the dinner bell for the gators. From the corners of the lagoon, we start seeing the spiny backs of alligators come as they slink towards the chicken splashing. Manuel keeps reeling the chicken in and then throwing it back. The first gator approaches, nosing the food as Manuel tugs at the rope to make it look… alive? Probably not, because at this point the chicken’s a little worse for wear from it’s many trips into the lagoon.

This gator’s huge, but the boys are yelling at Manuel to bring in “Terri”, the gator they describe as their “best friend”. Teri’s a giant at thirteen feet and so fat that I’m convinced they’ve probably fed some of their friends to her when no one was looking. By now there’s a fleet of golf carts full of tourists who have stopped to watch and Manuel’s ready to put on a show. Teri and her “baby” (also huge… These are so not the lizards you see on the thirteenth hole on Hilton Head) are both playing with the food, and then another gator swims over. I ask if Terri will fight the gator off, and Manuel says, “Miss, fighting is her first name”… Now it’s clear why Terri and the thugs are best friends. Anyways, Manuel teases Terri with the Chicken, getting her to climb all the way out of the water and jump up for it. The scene of a boy feeding his pet has all the warmth and poignancy of a scene out of “Lassie” or “Flipper” only you look at Terri’s huge teeth and hear them snap to gobble down the chicken and realize that somehow, the hobbies of San Pedro youth went waaaay off track. I turn to one of the thugs and say, “so, if I were to bring you back some cross-word puzzles or crocheting from the states would you guys consider doing something else with your free time?”. This is met with a round of “cho, miss” and “miss, dis here our favorite, we done like this… Look Miss, Manuel gonna kiss Terri today”. I turn back to see Manuel, knee deep in the water, kissing Terri on the mouth. They explained that Manuel’s the only one who can do that, although they all pet her. Manuel then offered to take my camera and take some of the very close up pictures you can see here. It was amazing, he really could just be in the lagoon without making Terri cranky. They tried to get us to pet her, but all I could see was me, flying home to the states… with my severed hand on a bed of ice next to me. I opted for more pictures.

In Youth Ministry 101 at Franciscan, Prof. Pauley explained how important it is that when you’re trying to share Jesus with teenagers, you have to take their interests seriously. That means going to basketball games, listening to their music and discussing what’s important to them so that you can relate Christ to their world and help them understand that the Church is relevant to their lives. However, I never would have thought that this strategy would lead me to the bank of a lagoon watching Manuel kiss a thirteen-foot long gator. If anyone has any ideas on “ministry to gator-feeding teenagers”, feel free to share. Meanwhile, check out these pictures and keep Manuel and his friends in your prayers. We’re excited about the rapport we have with them, God’s definitely put them in our paths for a reason!