Speedracer, Sacropia Trees, and Backpacks

Just two days into my adventure in Belize, I received a nickname, graciously given by one Tom McNamara. For those of you who remember and loved Speedracer (*cough* *cough* past thirties) then of course you will smile and give a hearty chuckle when I tell you. For those younger souls, just smile and nod. My name is Chim Chim (Chim or Chimy for short). Why on Earth anyone would consider me to be at all similar to that monkey that would scarf down Mom Racer's cookies with Spritle is beyond me. Aye aye aye. However, the name stuck and around here, I answer to Chim.

My day to day life around Las Cuevas is fairly non-exciting, however, I will give you an excellent overview.

In the morning, I wake up. Surprising really, due to the fact that I sleep on a thin foam pad, with a sheet over me. Stinky boots lie next to my head, as well as a broken rollie chair that holds a frightening amount of dirty laundry (which I then proceed to put back on), and the night air holds a chill around 50 to 40 degrees. Sadly, I have yet to find a blanket. But, despite these odds, I get up and sit for about five minutes. This is mandatory, because my body is not really rested, and needs that five minutes to cry, but, afterwards, I rise to my feet. I grab a shirt and a pair of pants (caked in mud) and head down to the bathroom below the small guest house I reside in. There I dress, and attempt to put in contacts. This task is no small thing, as oftentimes it is still dark, and sanitation is not optimal. When these personal chores are completed, I head to the Mess Hall to grab some breakfast. There one finds coffee (instant), some eggs, biscuits, white bread (there is no whole wheat bread here), margarine, and bananas. Lately though, I have been missing breakfast (which, by the by, is served at 7:00), and instead eat a nice meal of cold cereal.
After breakfast, there is usually a lull in activity, and depending on the weather, I sit outside. These past two days, the morning sky has been clear and blue, with a hint of wispy clouds. The breeze is just strong enough to blow away the swarming botless flies (they really really suck). And the songs of the birds and the serenades of the cicadas fill the air with a warm and living sound. The problem with a good lull though, is that it always ends to soon. And, recently, it means the beginning of the day’s work. I'm not complaining though.

Three mornings ago, I awoke at 4:45 and hiked to the Bird Tower. The Bird Tower, for your information, is a platform constructed from scaffolding, wooden platforms, and ladders tied on with various metal ties. It is situated on top of a rather high hill, and has a commanding view of the surrounding jungle. As I leaned against the rather rickety side wall, I listened as the Howler Monkeys hooted and screeched. I watched as the sun climbed into the sky, and whisked the mists away. I waited for the moment the birds would appear. And waited. And, uh, well, I waited some more. And, some more. See, I had dragged myself out of bed to go see some birds. In fact, the whole student group had dragged their sleepy butts up to the top of a hill to see some birds. Which weren’t there. Grrr. But, the beautiful view mellowed my mood, and distracted me from the greater things. I hiked back down to the bottom and walked into the door of the mess hall when I realized something. My pack. My backpack. It was still at the top of the hill. You know, the place with the view. No. That can’t be right... Yes. Yes, it can be. Having to go off to work in an hour, I race back up to the top of the hill. Power march about a mile and a half up a hill and reach the top, gasping for breath. The pack, yes, the very pack I had come all the way up this hill for, was gone. I will now use the word, “Poof”. As in, “Poof”, my pack just disappeared. So, I hike back down, down, back to the camp, and there sitting on the porch is one Pack o’ Chim. It appears some Manchester kids had grabbed it when they realized that no one else was going to grab it. Huh, I sure am the lucky one ain’t I...

Much of my work down here is due to one measly plant. Xate, to be exact. It is commonly used in floral arrangements, and sells for quite a bit. As well, it grows quite well in Belize. Might I also add that Las Cuevas is about 15 km from the Guatemalan border. Due to the proximity of Guatemala, its poor economic capability, and the easy money to be had from the harvesting of Xate, Xateros cross the border and poach the plant. At some point, they also realized some motion sensing cameras, and subsequently removed them, to be sold for $50 US (quite a bit of money in Guat). Of course, the Jaguar Project was miffed when their cameras went missing, and so built the POD! A hundred and fifty pounds of concrete later, they believed themselves to have beaten petty theft. They underestimated the determination of the Xateros. Using sticks and horses, they broke two pods, and bent the casings that held the cameras safe and secure. This is where I come in. The newest escalation in the Cold war is the FACE PLATE. A half cm of steel, it is a box with a few holes and secured by concrete anchor bolts. Getting these out would potentially require a jackhammer. However, getting them in is not as fun as you might think.

My duties around the research station range from the mundane to the exciting. Lets start with mundane, shall we? My most common task is the drilling of holes in concrete. This is so the face plates (see above) can be secured. While initially sounding easy, the rocky concrete proves to be a total drag. It can take as much as three hours to chip away at the cement, for just a little more than 7 cm of space. OH, and let me add that dragging the gear into jungle is not fun either. So, after a days worth of failure, you must then hike back, only to expect more failure the next day. Let me simply say that this has created a drop in optimism as well as weird wrist malfunctions. OH, and the drill broke today, a horrible sin, since it is only TWO weeks old...

The exciting. Hacking through Jungles is a most excellent exercise, stress relief, and after a bit, sore muscle and sense of futility creator. You get to see exotic plants, before you cut them down, beautiful animals, as you destroy their habitat, and sweaty BDF (the Belizean Defense Forces) soldiers in Green BDU's, as they hack a path through the jungle. It is really quite exhilarating. The fauna changes every kilometer (I have been thinking in metric lately, sorry, a km is about .6 of a mile), the trees reach amazing heights and the seedlings create a feeling of people in the streets of a city. Vines reach all the way to the sky, and butterflies flutter from one shrub to another, in every pattern imaginable. My forays into the jungle have given me a sense of how futile it is to try to create permanence in a place where nothing is the same from day to day. As well, I find the environment to be fragile, highly susceptible to the onslaught of man and his technology.

I would like to bring your attention to a very interesting mutualist biological structure. Mutualism, for anyone's information, is an evolution where one species preys on another species, the preyee develops a defense, the prey develop a better offense, the preyee develops a better defense, and so on. The ultimate climax of this is mutualism, where one species lives in harmony with the other species. Such is the life of the Sacropia tree and the lives of the ants that inhabit it. The Sacropia tree is hollow, and the ant colony uses it for shelter, and possibly even for food. The ants in turn provide protection (yes, biting, eating flesh while I scream, protection). I just thought that was cool.

At the end of the day, I take a cold shower (or, alternatively, if it has been sunny and no one has used the shower yet, hot shower) and change from my sweaty, dirty clothes into shorts and a wife beater. I then eat dinner, which is usually very good, and enjoy the cool night air. The generator is turned off at about nine, and darkness ensues. I go to sleep. Repeat.