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Todd Saves a Life The NYU college students were great. They were mostly sophomores and had enrolled in an NYU outreach class, which included spending a week in Belize doing construction work during the semester. Despite our age difference, I fit right in – or at least, I felt like I did. No one in their group had been to Belize before, so I gave them some pointers, including showing them how to mix concrete ("Don't breathe in the dust, folks. It's caustic."). They also wanted to see my pictures of Abu Dhabi, since NYU had recently opened a campus there. We got along really well and I loved working with them.
I became friends with one person in particular, an outgoing lass from Kansas named Michelle, who was a bit of a pistol. On Tuesday after work, she invited me to their resort for dessert, so I joined the group that evening and we had lots of fun. I got back to Log Cab-Inn around 10 p.m. and sat outside on the dark patio, pulled out my laptop, and worked on some e-mails while enjoying the warm, Belize breeze and the strains of Loreena McKennit playing from my computer. It was great to be back.
Not everything went smoothly that week, though. Todd, the NYU group leader (and a teacher there), told me about a harrowing situation that had occurred on Sunday, their first day in Belize, and about the time I was landing at the International airport. After unpacking at Clarissa Falls, the NYU students were playing around in the nearby creek when Arnav, one of the students, suddenly collapsed. He went underwater and lied at the bottom of the creek for several seconds. Todd figured that Arnav was joking around, so he tapped him on the shoulder. But Arnav didn't respond, so Todd realized it was serious.
Todd pulled him out of the water, but Arnav wasn't breathing so Todd immediately started doing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Arnav finally started breathing but was still unconscious, so they loaded him into the back of a pickup truck and drove him into San Ignacio. Arnav was transported down to Belize City and later was life-flighted back to Houston. Fortunately, as it turned out, he was all right and recovered just fine, which was great news for everyone (especially Arnav).
He apparently had epilepsy but hadn't told anyone about it, and he'd suffered a seizure while he was wading in the creek. The group was understandably quite shaken, but they were greatly relieved to learn a few days later that Arnav was going to be all right. I was relieved, too, even though I didn't know him. Todd was very modest and unassuming about the whole thing, but in fact, he had saved Arnav's life, so he's a real hero in my book.
I spent Monday and Tuesday working with the NYU students at the three sites, mostly driving from site to site, delivering refreshments and giving them advice about their construction projects. That's what you do when you get older: instead of working, you "supervise."
On Wednesday, my last day with group, about 10 of us worked on the bus shelter in the jungle and, by quitting time, around 4 p.m., we were all pretty tired and dirty. Adam, who was the construction manager for that site, had arranged for tours of a nearby Mayan cave after work, so after cleaning up, we drove further into the jungle on a dirt road. We stopped near the cave entrance at a rustic open-air bar called Misty Mountain, which had a thatched roof and was run by an American fellow. "What a great place to have a bar!" I thought to myself, here in the middle of the jungle.
The kids headed off to explore the cave while I walked around the jungle and shot some photos. After they returned from their spelunking expedition, they ordered some nachos at the bar – and that's when things got interesting. The students spotted several large bottles of rum sitting on the shelf behind the bar.
Rum is made from sugar cane, which is common in Belize, so it's very cheap here. The kids bought a few large bottles, which was legal since the drinking age in Belize is only 18, and started drinking from shot glasses. But after a while, they dispensed with the glasses altogether and started taking big swigs straight from the bottles. The women in the group were especially thirsty, it seemed. Meanwhile, I nursed my grape Fanta soda (really, that's all I drank!) But I enjoyed watching the NYU students having fun and starting to making fools of themselves. Then I started laughing at their increasing raucous behavior.
Shortly after sunset, things started getting a little out of hand and so Todd, their pragmatic (and sober) group leader wisely broke up their party and herded everyone back into the van for the long ride back to San Ignacio. Michelle, however, asked if she could ride with me in my Jeep for the drive back into town and I obliged. The van led the way, bouncing along the rutted dirt road in the moonlight for an hour-long drive through the jungle, while Michelle and I followed. We stayed a good half-mile back from the van so we wouldn't have to breathe in the road dust that the van was constantly kicking up. She and I had a nice conversation while enjoying the warm evening with the windows rolled down.
About 40 minutes later, however, I saw the van parked up ahead, off to the side of the road and at the bottom of the small hill that I was descending. Puzzled, I pulled up behind it, got out of my jeep, and asked Adam, who was standing outside the van, what was going on. "What's up, Adam?" His face was ashen and he was visibly shaken.
"Del," he said, "the brakes failed coming down that hill. I couldn't stop the van." Somehow though, and with 10 college students in the van, he'd finally managed to bring it to a halt. I gave Adam a lift into San Ignacio, where he picked up another rental van (this one apparently with functional brakes) and we headed back out. After everyone moved into the new van, I said goodbye to the NYU group and drove back to Log Cab-Inn. Jeez, never a dull moment, huh?
The NYU group was a lot of fun to work with, though, and between the construction projects, Arnav's near death, the rum party, and the van's brakes failure, it had been an "interesting" few days. It seems that something "interesting" happens every time I visit Belize. But, of course, that's one reason I keep going back!
Above left: My old friend, Ramon the pastor, in San Antonio (see my previous visits here in February 2008 and December 2008). That's his son. I brought him several pairs of work gloves from the U.S. Above center: Three amigos at the elementary school in San Antonio. Above right: Mixing concrete for the new school room floor. Mixing concrete builds muscles fast.
Above left: And doing the pour, one wheelbarrow at a time. Above right: Back at Cristo Rey, they were building some new playground equipment.
Above left: Todd was doing a pour out at Seven Mile, too. This is for the new bus shelter. Above center: Riley and Emily are mixing concrete at the bus shelter. Boy, was that mixer ever loud! Above right: Riley carved Arnav's name into the floor. Their thoughts were with their comrade back in the States.
Above left: Here's another Emily (this one from Oregon) showing off her manicure. This was AFTER she washed her hands. Umm... use more soap, maybe? Above right: After getting covered with concrete, it was time for Belikin beer – followed by some rum. The drinking age in Belize is only 18, so I'm sure this was everyone's very first beer. Yeah, right.
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