I remember so well my arrival at the cute little Philip Goldson airport in the mid-day heat. I was exhausted after wrapping up my job in Sri Lanka, packing up the house, saying emotional good byes to friends and staff, and then making a 32-hour trip journey across the world.
Michel had already been here for a couple of months. He was renting an apartment as he did not dare to choose a house without the approval of his wife (very wise, darling).
Actually, he was not sure if I would want to live in Belmopan, being the small and rather boring town (oh sorry, city) it is. He thought that his cosmopolitan wife might prefer to live in Belize City. And so he drove me, straight from the airport, to Belize’s former capital for a sight seeing tour. It had just rained and the streets were clogged with water and dirt. I found Belize City a dump, even by developing country-standards.
The one-hour drive from Belize City to Belmopan was an enjoyable experience though, and upon arrival in Belmopan I was pleasantly surprised. It looked clean, with wide streets, and surrounded by green grass and parks. Okay, the three run-down buildings that make up the ‘down-town’ area did not impress me, but compared to Belize City (and to Sri Lanka) Belmopan felt like a haven of greenery, cleanliness, and peace.
This ‘clean feeling’ lasted until a couple of months ago. To be precise: until a lawn mowing tractor cut the grass besides the highway. Wow, was I mistaken! I tried to stop the tractor to get pictures of ‘before’ and ‘after’ trimming, but it was already on its way back, leaving all the rubbish, the Styrofoam boxes, and plastic bags exposed. Beauty dies where litter lies, I thought.
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In the meantime, I try to contribute to a clean environment by refusing to accept plastic bags, whether at the vegetable market or the Chinese supermarkets, where they try to put every piece of soap, loaf of bread, or tin of peeled tomatoes in a separate little bag.
I like to preach to the cashiers and clients, saying things like: ‘Did you know that it takes a hundred years before a bag like this disintegrates’? Mostly they stare at me as if I am from another planet.
Well, maybe I am. Maybe I am a strange white bag lady, the only one in Belmopan who brings her own shopping bags into the store. I don’t care. It is my mission. To be perfectly honest, I am proud to be a supermarket missionary. I just wish I was able to convert more souls
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