I waited a long time to pen down this story, mainly because it’s quite a substantial tale and I didn’t want to intrude upon the privacy of those involved. Now that over 20 years have passed, I suppose it’s okay to share.
It taught me that no matter what challenges you face, you must always find some humor in every situation, otherwise you might go insane.
I arrived at work early that day to take on the role of Manager on Duty. In addition to that, I had several events scheduled at the hotel, so I knew it was going to be a lengthy and hectic day. Little did I know what the day had in store for me.
Upon entering the lobby, I immediately noticed some commotion at the concierge desk. I stepped in and learned that an elderly couple had booked a snorkeling trip, but our concierge had made an error and failed to make the booking. I made some calls and managed to arrange an 8:00 am flight to San Pedro Island for the couple, where they would meet a tour guide for their snorkeling adventure. I felt like I had saved their day.
As I carried on with my day, I received a call from the tour operator mentioning an incident, promising to keep me updated. I did not give it too much attention. At 1 pm, Tropic Air, the local flight operator, called me and asked if I was already at the airport to receive the lady and the body. I thought I hadn’t heard it right and asked the caller to repeat herself. She said,”Pick up the lady and the dead guy.”
I rushed to the Belize City airstrip just in time to see the lady disembarking the plane and a body bag being unloaded onto the runway. The plane took off, and the luggage personnel clearly wanted no part in handling this type of cargo.
Approaching the lady, I struggled to find the right words or actions. She was in a state of shock, and all I could think of doing was to give her a comforting hug. After about 5 minutes, an ambulance arrived, and a medic unzipped the body bag, confirmed the man was deceased, and informed me that they couldn’t transport him. I was advised to call the police.
Following the medic’s advice, I called the police and after a tense wait, a lone policeman in a beat-up pickup truck arrived. He instructed us to move the body to the morgue, pointing to his truck as the means to do so. It was only him and me, so we had a job to do. The process of lifting the deceased into the back of the truck taught me the true meaning of ‘dead weight’. After several attempts, we managed to load him as the lady looked on, undoubtedly traumatized.
We followed the truck to the hospital where the morgue was located. Upon reaching the back of the hospital, we halted at a large white door. Some old equipment and the wreck of an old ambulance were our only company, no one else was around, and I had to assist in unloading the body onto the dirt floor. The policeman left, instructing me to bring the lady to the police station as soon as possible.
As I waited for what seemed to be forever for the door to be opened, it became clear I had to take action myself. I sprinted around the building and found a security guard with his foam box of fried chicken at the security booth. Despite his reluctance, I implored him for help. He reluctantly accompanied me, making sure to keep hold of his prized box of fried chicken. He opened the door and, checking his coolers, declared that there was no space for another body. After I told him that was no option, he scratched his head and told me he had a plan. There was a corpse that was of a relatively thin person, and we could put ‘our guy’ on top of him. And that is what we ended up doing!
I had advised the lady to wait outside, but as we positioned her partner atop the other, she entered the building. I swiftly ushered her out, shielding her from witnessing the scene.
Finally, I proceeded to the police station with her to file a report. The process wasn’t handled with the utmost professionalism, but midway through, a representative from the US embassy, whom I had contacted, arrived, and changed the atmosphere.
Over the ensuing days, I stood by the lady’s side, offering solace, helping her contact her family, and arranging ways to repatriate the body. Due to the high cost of international corpse transportation, the decision was made to cremate him in Belize.
However, twenty years ago, Belize lacked an official crematorium. The traditional method of open-air cremation, reminiscent of ancient practices worldwide, had to be employed. As no family members were present, and a witness was required, I unexpectedly found myself as a witness to this ritual.
After several days, we received a simple plywood box at the hotel with her gentleman’s name written with a marker. I still have reservations about whether the remains within were actual ashes or just remnants from the bonfire, but that is beside the point.
Upon her departure from the hotel, I met the lady once more at the front desk for her check-out. We embraced, and she expressed her gratitude. She showed me a white and marine-blue colored bag, sharing with me that this was the last item she and her partner had purchased together. Inside the bag was a wooden box holding some ashes.
Embroidered on the bag in bold-colored letters, were the words ‘You Betta Belize It.’ As she entered a taxi and disappeared, I couldn’t help but chuckle, realizing that yes, truly, “You Betta Belize It.”
