Pixie in Paradise

When I was here in March I became acquainted with one of the bartenders at the beautiful resort my friend Mandy and I stayed at. Bam is a small guy that moves quickly, customers love him and he makes the best drinks. Once I returned home we still sent greetings back and forth to see how each other were doing on the other side of the globe. We occasionally sent photos of what life looked like in our respective corners. I would send images of a desert hiking trail and Bam would send ocean photos, a lit spliff (joint) smoking outside his window, or his latest cocktail creation at the bar. He is a great photographer and I had wanted to bring back a camera for him when I returned, but the truth is down here it most likely would have gotten lost, broken quickly or sold for drugs or iPhones. It’s just how it is here. Survival.

One day Bam sent an image that stopped me in my tracks. I don’t know what it is about this image. It’s calming and haunting, encompasses everything and nothing, balanced. Perfectly lit, to me and my untrained eye. The image made me want to be there and know who the subject was. Bam said it was a photo of a sailboat that the man had built himself, he takes it out every day on the water.

I looked at that image every day in the five months before moving here and I knew once I arrived I would see that man on his sailboat. And I did. Two days after I arrived, I was walking along the ocean toward the north side split and saw the sailboat out on the water. The sails were completely different colors but I knew it was him, his Rasta outline, the boat, the energy. The light-colored sails were replaced with bright orange and yellow ones but I recognized the rudimentary sailboat and the same thin man, baggy clothes with cap covering his long locs. I’ve still never met him but hope to show him this photo that means so much to me.

Six weeks after I got to my usual spot at the cafe, working and socializing, an American lady sat down next to me and we struck up a conversation. This is how it goes here and I’ve had the best conversations and chance encounters in this spot. My local friends wonder why I come here every day. My apartment gets too hot after 10am, the ocean view here is way better than where I live in a barrio away from the beaches. And, even though people can really max me the fuck out, I need some socialization once in a while or I will go feral.

This lady had been coming to visit Belize for eight years, a couple of times each year and she and her husband plan on moving here next year. She told me they’d just returned from the mainland where a dear friend of hers now lived to convalesce after a stroke required more care than she could receive on the island. Her partner still lives here and went to the mainland yesterday for the visit too. She continued to say that this partner went to sea every day with his sailboat that he built. I told her that I thought I knew  who she was talking about and I opened my phone to show her that ethereal photo I received months ago. She exclaimed, that is the man with the sailboat he built himself, who takes his dog out with him every day on the water. 

This woman asked if I would send her the photo and of course I agreed. Curious as to what the man would say about his photo, I asked if she would send it to him now. As we continued to talk, he soon responded with two words, “blessed love.” Whether these thin weather-worn dark-skinned men are practicing Rastafarians or not, I believe there’s some sort of poetic magic stored in their extra long locs. Rasta is not Rastafarian but he comes out with these oddly calm, wise statements too (but also some really stupid shit, don’t get it twisted). It’s like they talk or type in poems. I would still like to meet this sailor one of these days and tell him I carry this photo around with me because it is so impactful. I’m curious to get his reaction. We are all human, trying to make healthy connections for the greater good of the global community.

Blessed Love.