Maya's world in Belize

The road to the village was extremely rough and bumpy. The primitive thatched roof houses we passed seemed almost make believe. I soon realized however that these were real homes belonging to real people. We came to visit a young woman named Maya. We were greeted warmly with a huge grin minus her two front teeth. I was stunned as we walked inside her home. The dirt floor was packed and hard. She offered us a small wooded stool to sit on, the only “chairs” in the house. In one corner of the room was a smoldering fire where she did all her cooking. Another corner was partitioned off for sleeping. Laundry was strung across the room drying. Two of her seven children were there, one asleep in a hammock and another in her arms.

Maya’s basket sewing materials were in a container near the door. It was her only means of a small income. The plant used for the baskets grew right outside the door. She explained the process of basket making which was quite long and tedious. We purchased the only one she had made.

Proudly she showed us her yard, full of all kinds of fruit trees. Chickens scurried around the yard as well. These were her lifeline – the food that kept her and the children alive. I was amazed that Maya knew every kind of natural herb or plant that would cure whatever ailed you. Not far from her house was a small stream where laundry, bathing and drinking all took place.

She told us she was concerned about her husband. He had left early on Monday and she had not seen him since. She was quite certain he had started drinking again. I wondered how she could still be positive and happy but the joy of the Lord was evident in her eyes.

As we left, my heart seemed stuck in my throat. I felt humbled to have been in her home, blessed to have been welcomed by her, but regretful of my own fuss over trivial things. Maya comes to mind often now when I think life is hard. Her joy in the midst of hardships speaks volumes of strength to my heart.