Word that computer anti-virus genius John McAfee, of that McAfee, is in hiding in Belize after being accused of running a meth lab there brings to mind the opening line of Bruce Barcott’s The Last Flight of the Scarlet Macaw: “If you feel a need to escape the law, elude creditors, hide assets, or shed the skin of your humdrum life, you could do worse than run away to Belize.” There’s the incense-burning masseuse and healer whose troubles in California involved unlicensed practice-of-medicine charges, the artist whose former girlfriend might have cavorted with suspected terrorists, the wash-out who’s sure to find you a good land deal south of Belize City. Add to the mix Mennonites, the Maya, the honeymooners wondering why they’re not pregnant yet, the newlyweds celebrating that fact with the husband’s two best fishing friends, an heiress with some extra time on her hands, the Garifuna, and a shaman or two, and the air just reeks of novel ideas. Writers could do worse than run away to Belize, too.
The lure of the place, the lushness of its landscape, the heat and the solitude and the sun, the strange mix of natives and wanderers, missionaries and adventuresome travelers, made me never want to leave. In Belize, everyone has a back story. By the end of my week there, I was ready to relocate, to figure out a way to make my business, my family, and my life work so far south of the border.
Not all of stories are bright ones, though. Police investigate a horse shooting; part of a jungle-survival tour is sabotaged; a crocodile sanctuary is razed; a battered wife has a difficult time escaping an abusive husband. The forests, Nancy Koerner writes in her novel, Belize Survivor: Darker Side of Paradise, “smell of fresh new growth and ancient decay.” I never want to leave; could it be dangerous to stay?
A year after my visit, the jungle still beckons, and I long for that heat; I’m willing to take the dark side with the bright.
© 2012 by Lori Tripoli
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