Draft of Macaw Bank Ghost Stories

This is a draft, but rather timely - I'll work on it again soon:

Al told me a couple of times about hearing children playing at night. They would wake him up. Musical sounding, indistinct, but it sounded like children playing in the cleared area near the house. He could distinguish the sound of a ball being batted about.

He would tell Ron the next morning, but since Ron hadn’t heard it, he had little to comment on. Then Ron would jump into the storytelling and say that “Then one night it woke me up!”

Neither of them could attribute it to night animals. (Did either of them get up and go investigate?) They hadn’t grown up with the sounds of the bush, but they had studied their environment for the past five years and had been taught by the locals what the name of the flora and fauna was and had studiously identified what they saw and heard.

(How long did it go on?)

I theorized that some sort of disaster struck the ancient village site, probably a flash flood on the river. Macaw Bank is a very old site because it has chalk bluffs that the macaws flocked to. The Maya used baskets of colorful bird feathers for their headdresses and they would have been one more item of trade.

Hurricanes and tropical storms have flooded over the banks of the Macal River many times, so its not far fetched to theorize that a small village would have been suddenly decimated in a flash flood.

Galveston is haunted by many of the spirits of those who died in the 1900 Storm, an unpredicted category 5 hurricane that killed a tenth of the island’s population overnight.

On October 15^th, 2007 Ron and Al, the proprietors of Macaw Bank Jungle Lodge were watching a crew of Mennonites deliver another pre-fabricated cabin to a freshly cleared site.

One of the drivers for Reimer’s Woodworks was using a forklift to maneuver the house onto the heavy support posts that stood about three feet off the ground.

Ron was standing by Al who was documenting the finale of the long awaited cabin. Ron was watching the forklift driver and saw that he was going to mess up the settling and maybe have the house tilt off the foundations and jogged forward to warn the driver, when the driver drove the forklift over a low mound of stones. Al was snapping the screw-up, he took a shot of Ron, the house in the back ground and a white fog or mist rose from the mound and the digital camera flew out of his hands.

Al said that his view of the unexpected mist from what they discovered was a grave was through the camera. His camera was attached to a loop and secured on his wrist. His arm straightened out and the lanyard flew off of his wrist and the camera smashed to the ground. He said he didn’t know what was happening.

They all went to inspect the grave. The rock mound wasn’t high, but they were all so freaked out and didn’t want to investigate. They piled the rocks back on top and didn’t know what else to do but get back to work on the house moving.

Ron and Al both said that they saw a face in the mist. The shivers and “Oh my God’s” started when Al reviewed the pictures. He had captured the Spirit and the face!

It was days before someone who knew what they were doing worked on Al’s camera and fixed it so that they could download the image. What have people said who have seen it?

Ron has asked around and people have told him that if it is who they think it is the Spirit is of a real bad guy. He was a thief and a murderer and people think he was murdered and buried on the property ___years ago.

Stuck in the Middle of Nowhere

Thursday, October 25, 2007

It has been slow and confining for weeks. Ann and Gene have been sick off and on for days now. First flu, then Gene contracted some kind of blood poisoning, and then Ann has had the flu and complications.

We had it worse last year when my road was completely impassable because heavy gravel trucks tore it up so bad when it was soft. During the dry season the village got a complete grading of all the roads. This year the bad spot in my road is dicey but I haven’t gotten stuck yet.

It’s Ann’s road that’s been torn up now. A water pipeline comes up from the river at Crystal Paradise Resort, crosses the main road at Ann’s entrance, continues up to Winston’s and then winds through a pass in the hills to the village of San Antonio. That village got a wild hair and decided to use their pipe in some other water acquisition scheme and spent the summer digging up the pipe.

Typically the project was half-assed; they broke the ends of numerous pipes by throwing them on top of each other; didn’t fill and pack Ann’s road worth a damn; and tore up Winston’s road so bad he’s about to lose his ability to traverse it even in 4 wheel.

Trying to see how Ann and Gene are doing has led to me getting stuck twice. During their second round of illness, I didn’t hear from Ann for a week! We usually see each other every few days, and I was worried enough that I was determined to get over there some way.

I got stuck right in the damn pipe muck and managed to back out to the turn-off, but it was so soupy I couldn’t jump the verge of the main road. It was the kind of mud that sucks your boots off and I was about to fall head first into it when Winston drove by and stopped.

I said, “Ah, another glorious day dawns in Belize!” Winston leans over to the passenger window and says, “What’s wrong?” I suppressed saying What the hell does it look like?, and smilingly asked him if he had a tow rope. So he pulls me out which was easy, he didn’t have to get his tires dirty.

He’s all nicely outfitted, his new truck is clean, and the interior is nicely brushed out. He’s had a recent haircut and is clean shaven. I’m barely dressed, wearing boots, my hair has partially fallen out of the little ponytail I’m growing, and because I don’t’ have any lens wash I’m having to wear my glasses and the nose piece is missing and I’ve forgotten that I have part of a makeup sponge glued to the bridge.

I really do have cabin fever and I have only three cigarettes and no money and been on half rations of Zoloft, and if I let this chance to improve my day go by, I’ll regret it.

I tell Winston that I need to get out of the house and might do something self defeating if I just go home, can I just ride with you. I need to get some cigarettes, do you have any cigarettes? He hands me a pack with only three left and I hand them back saying I’ll get some in town.

We drop off my car at the entrance to my road, it’s only about “two blocks”, and there is a village man standing by, waiting for a ride, so Winston stops to pick him up. He tells Winston he has to stop at his house and so we stop again about a 10^th of a mile later. His whole family comes out of the house and begins to pile in.

I always feel so used when this happens. I ask if anybody is sick. I look at each one of them and ask again if anybody is sick. They’re not; they’re just taking the baby for a checkup. The baby looks fine. So they pass muster. One of the quickest ways to get sick, is to give somebody a ride who proceeds to cough and sneeze all over you. Peter hated riding the bus for that very reason. Every time he got sick he just knew it was from the bus. Gene said he got the flu from Nelson’s elderly father who wanted a ride back to Arenal.

We rode into town and I told Winston that Ann and I wanted to get an official looking paper spelling out that we had authority to secure the other’s place until relatives took over. I’ve had so much stolen while I’m alive that I can well imagine the looting as soon as I die. I think the remaining tools, sheets, and kitchenware would be hustled under aprons while I was still cooling down. They’d have to wait till dark and get a tractor and trailer to make off with the furniture, fans, radios, and electronics. Lain and Elliott would still have my books and photographs.

He spent the rest of the time explaining that he didn’t practice law anymore. I inwardly sighed and thought “who said anything about it being legal, jeez; I just wanted some authoritative boiler plate so nobody but Ann could start acting like they were in charge of my stuff”. He’s very rule-minded.

He had to get breathing filters for his workers because they decided they could exterminate the bats in the guest house attic by waving at them and spraying them with bug spray. Winston was dubious, but insisted they at least wear masks. I need to ask him if it worked because as thoroughly as I had the builder seal my house, he still didn’t screen the attic vent and now I have bats. I was really surprised that he was driving into town for just one item.

I pushed his patience a bit by asking him to buy me some cigarettes, but he was nice enough about it. Oops, I still need to pay him $11. I wouldn’t have been able to get up his road the past two weeks anyway.

The next day Ron came by to see if I needed anything and brought me $20 and two packs of cigs. Yes! I need to go check on Ann and Gene and told him how impossible it had been to communicate over a tiny distance of a half mile.

I surmised that there hadn’t been any sun, so they couldn’t charge their phone batteries. They must be too weak to drive out in their 4x4’s. I told him my truck got stuck yesterday and it’s been raining ever since, so that was out. And I just couldn’t walk that far, especially in the rain, slipping and slogging through mud. He thought we ought to check on them too, so we made that detour.

Yes, they were that sick and were real glad we came by. We have talked several times about how vulnerable we are if someone doesn’t come by. I’m in a good enough location that the people who regularly pass by, or come by would probably spot something amiss – sooner or later. I thought Ann and Gene had solved that big problem by having Nelson’s family living on the property, but it’s a long story as to why that’s not so perfect.

The same conditions have happened this week, only now I don’t have a phone card, my credit expired. Once again it’s raining, the roads are soup, and I haven’t seen Ann. But today, she text me saying she had been sick since Sunday but was feeling better, but her road was bad. I didn’t have any credit to reply. I just have to trust that they’re OK enough. It’s supposed to be dry tomorrow and I’ll definitely try to go over before I go to town.

The nicest news is that this last rain was from the north and it’s cooled down like somebody turned on the A/C. Even at noon it was only 76 in the house.

Mimi is Poisoned

My little cat kingdom was rocked when Mimi went missing. I have Thomas, the big-headed tom, who sleeps wherever he wants to. Mimi was the mom, who had three litters in two years.

The first litter was four who looked just like Mom and Dad. They were healthy and I was hoping to find homes for them when one day, I think they were about two month old, they just disappeared! The first time that I couldn’t find them I was very worried, but a day later they were back on the porch. I couldn’t imagine. The second time they disappeared, they stayed gone and I could only hope they hadn’t met a grisly fate. Peter had wanted the solid black kit and he was sorry it went missing before he could take it back to Belmopan.

Then Mimi had a litter of three, but one died the next day. The two remaining kittens are now about eight months old. They are Gordon, another Thomas clone, and Molly, who really needs to get her fur dyed some kind of punky pink. She has this one odd white patch on her back that has me reaching for the food coloring when I get especially bored.

Mimi had a surprise litter four weeks ago. She let Molly and Gordon nurse way past weaning time and finally told them to knock it off about a week before delivering this last batch. She was the best mother. She babied them and went out hunting for them. I would find half eaten bats or mice on the back porch. She would want to bring her kill inside, but after a lot of commotion I’d get everybody out on the porch for the feast. Thomas always acted like he had brought home the bacon, but Mimi and I knew he’d been asleep on the couch.

This last litter consists of Neville, all black as the Neville Brothers; Percy, who may be a little light in the loafers; and Emily, a black and white clown coat. I have to credit grandson Corley with all of these names. (Hint: they are all Thomas the Tank Engine names.)

Well, Mimi nursed the babes and then went out for her usual night time stroll. I called all the big ones in around 10:00, but Mimi didn’t come. The next morning I was concerned that she wasn’t at the back door. There had been hellacious dog yodeling all night and I was pretty cranky and a missing Mom just topped it off. Thank goodness they lapped up a saucer of milk, so if she stayed gone for awhile I wouldn’t have to make a tough decision.

I went into town and got back before it started pouring rain again. We’ve been under a slow moving tropical low for days. It was around 10:00 that night when Mimi pried open the screen door and trotted straight for the kitten box. MIMI! You’re back! Oh, you’re sopping wet, and I dried her off as she laid down for the frantic kittens.

But she wasn’t right. She was exhausted, I could tell that, but she was too unresponsive. I examined her without bothering her too much and there wasn’t any swelling or bleeding. But she wasn’t breathing right and just basically passed out. I was up and down all night checking on her and was passed out myself when I heard Ron tooting his horn.

Lord, I was supposed to be up and ready for Ron at 8:30 and I was stumbling for the door when I saw Mimi stretched out on the floor next to the box. Oh, oh. Oh damn. She was dead and cold and stiff.

Ron was merry and coming in the house asking how I was and I yelled, Don’t step on my dead cat! What?! Oh, God, what happened?!

Another day dawns in the bush.

I placed a towel over her and we reached for our cigarettes. Thomas is pacing around, Molly and Gordon are sniffing her, the kittens are mewing like cats four times their size, and Ron begins to tell me this hysterical story about when a horse died in their front yard.

I’ve got this dead cat laying on the floor and we are laughing like hyenas over he and Al and their workers trying to remove a dead horse that has it’s legs splayed out and impossible to get into the bed of a pickup. He had to drag it down his road to some place where he could pull it into the bush, by then it’s only half a horse… I’m just snorking with wheezy laughter.

Ron did me a real favor by taking her remains away in his truck. She fit OK in the truck bed, and I turned to face three, make that five, orphans.

It is working out OK, except Thomas and Gordon hate it when the kittens try to nurse them, and Molly hisses at them, but everybody likes the baby kitty food. I have to make up enough soft milky food for everybody, otherwise the kittens are stampeded.

Darn. Mimi was a real sweetie and I was fine with all these kittens since Mimi took care of them, but now I’m seriously going to have to find them homes. It’s a bit much.

Abbie's Murder

Another primitive murder happened in the village. The tragedy was senseless and arose from the basest and most primitive emotions.

Abbimael Cordoba, was a rarity – he was a talented craftsman, he was productive, he was friendly, and honest. He was the nephew of Herman and Teresita. Abbie grew up in Orange Walk and showed an early talent for wood working.

Three years ago he was commissioned to help Herman build a storage building for Allen and Colleen. The storage building was so outstanding with mixed woods, fancy cut out air vents, eye-popping details, that Allen and Colleen soon made it the core of the home they had intended to build. Elliott and Diana wanted to remodel their kitchen in Belize City and Abbie created a mixed hardwoods surround of cabinets and counters. Down here hardwoods such as teak and mahogany are quite common. Mahogany is used for ordinary doors. Soon after Elliott’s job, Gary commissioned his kitchen and architectural details for his new house.

Abbie moved from Orange Walk to the village with his young wife and her 4 year old daughter, set up a first rate shop at Herman’s, and began to build his own house in the lot next to the ½ Acre Ranch.

I had an excess of nails, screws, hardware, etc. left over after my houses were built and put them in my ongoing yard sale. Abbie bought a whole pig bucket of unsorted hardware and a level.

A year ago Abbie’s wife suddenly became very ill. She had a high fever and abdominal pains and was taken to the San Ignacio hospital. She didn’t respond and was transferred to Belmopan. There were confusing and conflicting reports, which is not unusual. A lot is lost in the translations and I was told she was suffering everything from kidney failure to allergic reactions to the antibiotics. She was taken from Belmopan to Belize City and died within the week. Herman had the most accurate information, he told me she died from a womb infection.

Abbie had to take his little girl back to Orange Walk to stay with his parents. His wife was from Guatemala and no one knew who her parents were. Abbie’s parents love her dearly and she is in a good, stable home.

On Saturday morning he worked on his house. Even though he didn’t have his wife or daughter anymore, he had plans to continue to make a good life. He was healing from his grief and had even begun to date a village girl.

Saturday afternoon he went to San Ignacio with his cousin Banny. They are in their mid- twenties and it was time to have a little fun. The bus they caught home was full, but some village girls called out to them and scooted over in their seats to make room for Abbie. The girls across the aisle made room for Banny.

Three boys from the neighboring village, San Antonio, were drunk and started hooting and jeering, working themselves up to a jealous rage that Abby and Banny had girls giving them seats. The San Antonio boys were getting rude and belligerent and the bus driver told them he was going to stop the bus and throw them off if they didn’t quit the ruckus.

The bus arrived in our village, it was only 9:00, but the San Antonio boys were drunk and spoiling for a fight. Abby and Banny got off and the drunk threesome followed them. The San Antonio’s started fisticuffs with the fight moving to the little park with the bandstand. It was three against two. One of the trio picked up a beer bottle and hit Banny near the top of his head. He said he saw stars and his head was bleeding into his eyes.

Others were beginning to gather around the fight. Another cousin Ishmael was running down towards the fight when one of the San Antonio boys picked up a 2x4 and used it like a bat against the back of Abby’s head. Abby staggered, then dropped. He never re-gained consciousness.

Ishmael held down one of the thugs, by then the rest were restrained. Mike and Donna drove by about that time and saw “a boy standing by the road, bleeding from his head”, but they didn’t know what was happening and drove on.

I am assuming that Herman and Teresita drove Banny and Abbie to the hospital. I don’t know which one, but Banny was stitched up and was released the next day. Abbie was ultimately taken to Karl Huesner in Belize City where he was put on a ventilator.

Everyone was stirred up and affected. I didn’t participate, but I was told of all the comings and goings to the Belize City hospital. Herman was driving people, Gary drove the extended family.

After a week he was taken off the ventilator. Herman drove a coffin to Belize City and then to Orange Walk with his body. The funeral was held that Tuesday in Orange Walk.

It was Ron who told me he had passed on. We drove by Herman and Terisita’s, but their gates were locked up and the trucks were gone. We drove by Aurelio’s church where tacked on the door, was a large black trash bag shaped into a bow, cinched with spider lilies.

Within a few days the speculations begin. The San Antonians were sorry, they didn’t mean to kill him, they were drunk. A shop girl had kept her store open and had a view of the plaza. She was the girlfriend of one of the killers and told the police that her boyfriend was just standing there, Abbie and Banny started it.

The mother of one of the trio fainted. Marvin asked me if Abbie’s parents should hire a lawyer. The S.A’s had a lawyer, didn’t Abbie’s side need a lawyer? I said The State was the lawyer, but begin to think that the family might benefit from having outside counsel ride herd on the Prosecution.

Then the stealing began. The zinc roofing Abbie had bought for the house was gone; tools were disappearing; the pile of extra house block was gone. It was said that Abbie had a bank account and had told only one person the pin number and now the bank said there was no money in the account.

I’ve learned to cut this gossip in half and divide by two. There is sometimes one grain of fact in all that is repeated. It’s just awesome to witness. And it is at the speed of light.

But the fact that Abbie was killed during a drunken rage of testosterone and ignorance is just so very sad. There have been about 70 gang war shootings in Belize City this year, but the Police Commissioner said on the radio that at least the villages are quiet.

There is an undercurrent of barely restrained violence in the country. The pressure cooker of poverty blows its safety valve at a whim. Men are driving too fast on the bad roads, machete choppings, drive-by shootings catch innocents. Malicious thieving and poisoning pets is out of hand.

The corruption at the top is erupting in senseless deaths. Reporters and talk show hosts have been beaten and intimidated. The fighting over the scraps is vicious. Paychecks are drunk up on Saturday night and school fees aren’t paid.

Everybody is sad over Abbie’s death. He was such a hope that it would get better. His hopeful spark was smashed and it’s deflated a whole village.