'White Lady'

I learned a term, quite by accident, when I first moved to San Miguel. I was living with my host family, Sebastian and Juvena Pop and their seven lovely children. I heard the words, 'shan shaq', and then some giggles. I had asked what this meant and why they were laughing. Shan shaq meant 'white lady' in K'ekchi and of course that was me and I guess I'm funny. I was not supposed to know this as it is an inside derogatory reference to this 'odd' person now living in their village.

I am different...in every sense. I stand taller than all the women (by a mile) and most of the men. I do some 'jobs' that are normally for the men only...like construction of latrines and building pig pens. And since I ran a water source inside my 'house', I don't need to bathe in the river which is a ½ mile walk. I can take a shower in the privacy of my own 'kitchen'. I greet people on the road and sometimes I hug the children. But mostly it's the unusual color of my skin—horrid in comparison to their smooth and creamy flawless deep beige.

Yesterday I was riding my bike on the gravel road. I ran into Sebastian and we chatted for quite a while. Yesterday, on Easter, 'Bingo', their wonderful dog, had been hit by the bus and killed instantly. I asked if the children cried as they were all together making the long walk from the farm and witnessed the incident. “No”, he said. But they all had said it was a good thing that I wasn't with them as they know what I would have done... I loved Bingo.

I stopped and chatted with three other neighbors...one of whom invited me inside and fed me lunch.

But I am writing this 'story' to relay this next encounter that really touched me...

My next stop was at one of the village 'shops' for a loaf of bread. The two daughters in the family were playing with their two girl cousins that were visiting from Belmopan for the Easter holiday. (Children have two weeks off school). The visiting cousins were 6 and 8 years old. After sitting with them and chatting for nearly an hour, the younger girl who was nuzzled up close to me looked up with her big brown eyes and sweetest demure smile and said, “We don't like 'white people'.” I asked why not? She thought for a few seconds and said, “I think we are afraid”. I then asked her if she felt afraid of me? “No”, was her response. (Remember, this child is six years old.)

“When I go to church and the priest talks about how Jesus loves me, I feel my heart inside of me pounding like this”, and she placed her tiny hand on her chest and patted herself. “Right now, I feel that same pounding in my heart”, and she reached for my hand to hold it. “I won't be afraid of white people anymore”, she said with assurance.

“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, nor touched...but are felt in the heart”—Helen Keller

An ancient Mayan wall within this tiny person came tumbling down.

God bless us all...love, tracy P.S. Happy Birthday tomorrow to Sue Beale and congrats on hole-in-one!