The Women at the "Well"

     Yesterday I checked an experience off my "Belize Bucket List." The kids had the day off school and we miraculously managed to snag a truck so that we could venture out to the village of Pueblo Viejo. Andy has made acquaintances with the principal of the school there and was welcomed to come visit the village with his family at any time.

     Pueblo Viejo is a mostly Mopan Maya village that lies about 7 miles from the Guatemalan border. It's fairly remote and takes about 1 1/2 hours to get there by truck in decent weather. The reason why I'd placed it on my "bucket list": I had heard about an amazing series of falls they have on the river that runs through their village. (For you Missouri residents who are reading this, the description of the falls sounded very similar to Johnson's Shut-ins though on a grander scale.) Needless to say, they sounded lovely and like a water playground for our children who are of all ages.

Our kids at a "pool" near the top of the falls

     So we packed a lunch, piled our 7 into a small Toyota double cab, and headed out there, arriving about noon. Andy greeted the principal at his home who then helped us make our way out to the falls. The waters were lovely--a series of waterfalls and pools that eventually descended about 200 ft over the course of several hundred yards.

     For the most part, the places that we visit on leisure time often have other outsiders visiting as well but Pueblo Viejo, being more remote, does not get many visitors and therefore, our playground of waterfalls is also the village destination for cleaning and community. At first it was just our family left to explore the river on this lovely sunny afternoon. Then, after about 30 minutes an older Mayan girl showed up with her own group of youngsters ranging in age from about 10-2. For the first 20 minutes or so we felt like animals in the bear pit at the zoo as they gathered around to watch this white skinned family swimming in their waters. While this certainly wasn't the first time we distinctly stuck out in our environment, it did feel weird to be stared at for so long (even though we'd made a few attempts to wave and exchange pleasantries). Eventually, the universality of childhood broke through as our outgoing two year old approached the group and had them in smiles as he worked to wow and entertain the children. Within a matter of minutes I had Elvira, the 12 year old elder, engaged in conversation (children learn to speak English at school) while much of the group had dispersed--some to play with our children and others to show Andy how to explore further down the river beyond some of the larger falls. (I figured that if a 7 year old could scale some of those rocks then certainly it would be safe for Andy to do so).

Our son making friends with some of the children

     Once everyone opened up it was great. Elvira was easy to talk to, she was curious about our lives here and our country of origin and about what Emily's, her 12 year old counterpart, responsibilities were. Though I did find myself slightly embarrassed when I relayed to her that Emily only did a little bit of cooking and no laundry. Elvira seemed very patient and maternal as she cared for the two smaller children who shyly stayed close by her side and who did not likely speak any English. Elvira was there to do what any responsible daughter would be doing on their day off school--laundry. As the younger children explored and played in the water, Elvira scrubbed each piece of clothing against a rock quickly and gently--she looked as though she'd been doing this for years. Trying to keep out of the Belize sun, my oldest daughter and I sat in the shade of the riverside as we chatted with the girl--we were impressed to learn that Elvira is one of 17 children (that's a big family even for Belizean standards) and that she was the oldest girl at home. After she finished her laundry, we then watched the girl gently bathe the two toddlers still at her side, who by this time were themselves engaged in splashing games with my 12 year old.

Playing in some of the falls on the river

     After a while of our being there, some more children showed up with a tub full of dirty dishes which they then quickly plunged into the river for soaking and commenced conversing with the others. As Elvira was finishing up bathing her little sisters, her mother then showed up with more of her children so that they could all bathe as well. The mother, whose grace bore 17 children (all of which I gathered are still living), was just as friendly as her daughter. Because she was likely uneducated, she did not speak English however, she could speak Spanish and so she and I used our 'second language' to communicate. The majority of our conversation was questions about our families. She was very interested in my children, how old they were, and even how old I was and what my husband did for a living. While I did not quite feel comfortable asking her age, I would guess her to be somewhere in her forties, especially since she had both grandchildren and babies of her own.

     I think of the stories I read in the Bible during Jesus' time--the stories of all the encounters at the well. If you look up the world "well" in the Bible you will be amazed at all the times it is used. For the Mayan villages here, I view their river or creek as just like the well of Jesus' time. The river is a village's source of life, just as a well is in the Middle East during Jesus' time. When Jesus speaks to the Samaritan woman at the well (John 4) he refers to himself as "the living water." I think that concept of "living water" could be easily grasped then by the Samaritan woman just as I can see how it can be grasped now, especially when I see the water at the center of a Mayan village. Men come here to fish. Women and children come here to do their work, to bathe, to play, and most importantly, to connect (to live).

     Coming to Pueblo Viejo, I felt that we somehow were able to get a better sense of that connection, of how their river can be such a life source. Our children were able to indulge in the universal language of play--something that has no language barriers. I was able to feel welcome and to have real conversation with the people who live here. We talked about the things that females all over the world often feel most connected with--our food, our work, and our families. While communities like Pueblo Viejo may be small in number, they are held together by the people's ability to communicate and connect and it was a real blessing to see for one day how their beautiful river is able to play such a key part in the community.

     How simple it is for me now to grasp that concept in my life of Jesus as the living water. Water is life and that life pours from the water of a village river. How wonderful it is then that Jesus is even more of a living water than that. It is in Him that I work, I connect, I live. Though even I sometimes find myself wandering around on dry land, whenever I do seek out the Living Water I find myself no longer thirsty--it is in Him that I feel truly connected. Much to my blessing, I think after yesterday's check off my "bucket list" I can now grasp that concept much more so.