St. George’s Caye

Our first summer after settling in Belize, Bucher and Ford Young rented a house on St. George’s Caye under a repair-lease arrangement.

St. George’s Caye was just inside the reef and about ten miles from Belize City, along a course that wound through mangrove islands. It was the island where several Belize families built vacation homes and spent holidays.

Early in the colony’s development, British naval forces were stationed at St. George’s Caye, on guard against the Spanish who attacked the country periodically and unsuccessfully. The country’s prime holiday celebrated the Tenth of September in 1798, when the British routed the Spanish for the last time in what became known as The Battle of St. George’s Caye.

The Young and Scott females were as excited about the work to be done to make the house “suitable” as they were about having it for vacationing. The men probably considered it a job to be done and went ahead with practical efficiency, though both Ford and Bucher enjoyed “projects” and probably shared some of Callie’s and my pleasure. The Scott children were ecstatic at the thought of being, even temporarily, on the beach.

The men were in charge of mundane things like carpentry repairs, while Callie and I settled on color schemes and curtains. After consultations that were as much fun as the painting, we chose an aqua exterior with white trim and white interior walls. We decided to paint battered furniture turquoise or cherry, picking up the accent colors from the pattern in our simple curtains.

The two families spent many happy working weekends. Callie remembers my turning from the sink after dinner one night, watching her wipe off the kitchen table, and remarking, “That’s the first time anyone has done that to my satisfaction.”

Artist I was not; frustrated house painter, I was. Callie said I spent far too much time meticulously mixing a bit of this color with a bit more of that, and stirring the paint in a great bucket to get exactly the right shade of turquoise.

Callie and I concentrated on refurbishing the interior. Both of us enjoyed painting, but her style was a bit too precious for me. I accused her of painting our derelict furniture with an artist’s brush. Actually, she was addicted to one-inch paintbrushes. Her results, slowly accomplished, were gorgeous, whether or not the piece deserved the perfection she achieved.

Sometimes we alternated, rather than shared, weekends. Bucher, the children, and I always were excited to see what Callie and Ford had accomplished during their stays. The four Scotts held family conferences to decide what we should do during our sojourn to surprise them on their next visit.

We repaired and scrubbed and painted until we had a fresh, albeit elderly, cottage with a certain rakish charm to enjoy for the rest of the summer.

 

Concie (Olive Constance Arnold), had come to work for us soon after we returned from our Christmas trip to Florida. For a number of reasons, Sonia and we had parted company. Concie was a waitress at the Fort George when we lived there, a slim, sprightly young woman who indulged the children and delighted us. We all were happy that she was free and able to join our menage.

Mama (Bucher’s mother) arrived for a visit in July, and we moved out to St. George’s for two weeks. Concie, who was as much a family friend as our maid, and her young son Nelson, went out to St. George’s Caye with us.

At St. George’s Caye “Turtle Grass” covered most of the sea bottom near the island. People built “kraals,” swimming-pool-size enclosed areas formed from palmetto palm trunks driven into the sea bottom and laced together to make a tight fence. The area within was cleared of grass, and often filled with clean sand to cover the slightly soft, faintly distasteful, marl-y surface. The kraal supposedly also protected swimmers from sharks and barracuda, which showed little interest in eating swimmers in our experience. In fact, the kraals may have appealed more to the British desire for privacy.

Many kraals had elaborate dock and mooring facilities, with roofs, thatched or wooden, to protect swimmers and loungers from the blazing tropical sun. Ours had a short dock, but was unshielded.

Mama was not prepared to be herded into a Designated Area when she had the entire sea in front of her. With the children following her, she minced through the mucky, grassy shallows, expecting each step to take her to hard sand. Her explorations lasted for the first half of the first day. From then on, she used the kraal.

 

The caye house did not have electricity but we supplied ample kerosene lamps and candles. The kitchen had typical Belize facilities: a kerosene stove, no refrigerator, a small sink, and a small hand pump to bring water into the sink. Water was far more limited than in the city. A large square, slightly slanting shelf, called a “dresser,” extended outward from the sill of the open window above the sink. Washed dishes, pots, and pans drained and dried on it in the sunshine.

Catering was difficult. Everything had to be planned meticulously and brought out to the Caye from Belize City. Nothing was available locally except the fish and lobster that Bucher and Alex provided in increasing abundance. I was not used to coping without refrigeration. Every item of every meal became sacred to me.

Therefore, when a dinner during Mama’s stay appeared on the table sans vegetable, I asked Concie, “Have you forgotten the carrots?”

“No, Mum. They went out the window,” she replied politely.

This made no sense at all so, suspecting that I had misunderstood her, I asked again.

“I threw them out the window, Mum,” Concie explained patiently.

It was time for show-and-tell. I excused myself from the table, escaping the family’s unbelieving stares, shooed Concie into the kitchen in front of me, and asked for a demonstration. Concie picked up an empty saucepan, placed the cover on top, leaned out the window, and slowly slid the cover aside as she tilted the pan, pretending to drain off the liquid. Obviously her hand had slipped when she drained the carrots, as the neat orange pile on the ground far below attested.