Life is but how we individually define it to ultimately be, for we assign to each of our lives the principles of where we independently arrive to, a point based upon assumptions as well as prejudices as to what this life is really all about. In the end we are all defined by our actions, by what we do and what we say and in turn how we interact with our fellow humans. And in that regard Charley Wolf and his approaches to Belize and her beloved people was with an open mind.

It was against the whispers of the loved ones and close friends that he and the family had left behind in their European homeland who argued that Charley was no doubt gambling with his family and their future in relocating them all to the tropics. And no matter how he danced around the reality of his own personal prejudices, from the color of the skin tone of a fellow human to the toppings on a pizza, Charley Wolf was no different than the next man, for he too arrived to the land by the Caribe Sea with inherent prejudice lying in wait in the deep recesses of his being. Prejudices that Charley had no idea had been lying dormant in all humans from the beginning of time itself.

Although such prejudices Charley readily admitted to, he also felt they were in check and would remain silent as they had throughout his years that came together to form his life to date. However, what Charley was completely unaware of was the prejudices that those Belizeans that were able to face the realities of life in the new millennium harbored deep in their hearts for gringos. And although the Wolfs were not gringos in the literal sense because they had not traveled from the United Kingdom, Canada, Texas or California but from the heart of Europe, all the same the contempt most Belizeans seemingly hold for most Caucasians took little time to surface when it came to dealing with Belizeans.

What was even more shocking to Charley and the Wolfs was the prejudice that more than a few Belizeans apparently feel towards their fellow citizens. That’s right, for Charley Wolf soon discovered that prejudice existed openly in the heart of the Belizeans not just towards the gringo populous but against each other. As Charley soon learned in his interactions with the people of Belize, from the local beer distributor on an afternoon hiatus to the local cool spot operator to his building contractor to a cabinet minister, Belizeans are racist just like the rest of us, whether we admit it or not.

For as Charley came to realize through the true friends that he made in Belize, the melting pot which defines the Belizean populous is racist. From the Creole to the East Indians to the Chinese to the Garifuna to the Mestizo to the Belize Maya Mopan to the Belize Maya Kekchi to the expat population, racism exists throughout Belize whether you and I agree or not.

As sad as it may sound, the realities are that the Belize Maya were looked upon by the Belize Creole, East Indians as well as the Belize Garifuna as petty thieves that could not handle their liquor, a people that lived upon government subsidies while the rest of the population worked for a living. In turn, Charley also discovered quickly that the Belize Maya looked upon the Garifuna as lazy blacks with a love for liquor and the beat of an African style drum, the Creole as a overly sexual group of inbreeds that thought they were above all the rest, the East Indians that were not really apart of Belize and the Mestizos as Mexican and not Belizean. And seemingly the only point of contention that most parts of the Belizean society could agree upon was that the Chinese had invaded their homeland to litter their towns with fired rice and poorly cooked fried chicken.

Charley Wolf was a man of integrity, a man not easily swayed by politics or opinions. He was a man of the 21st century, a renaissance man that only came to Belize looking for the best that any husband or father could provide for his family. But upon his arrival to the tranquility that awaited him and his family on the island of Caye Caulker, it was the ramblings of a Belizean commentator that would capture Charley Wolf’s attention as to the psyche of the Belizean people that scared him and his family more than the dangers of the Yellow Jaw Tommy Goff snake, arguably the most notorious in all the land. It first caught Charley completely off guard one day as he turned the pages of a twice weekly news publication widely circulated across the territorial boundaries which define the expanse of old Belize.

In this particular newspaper column Charley soon came to understand the realities that he and the family would ultimately have to come to terms with, if they were to coexist with the people of Belize. It was a column by a self proclaimed Belizean who had lived for the most part in the United States until a civil servant retirement pension allowed him to come back home to spread his own personal distain for anyone that was not the same race as he.

Half way through the printed column Charley stopped and turned to Ms. Wolf and asked, “if this guy hates Americans so damn much, then why did he live in the United States long enough to receive the benefits of a civil servant’s retirement package?? And if he in the end hates all of those that he surrounded himself with and that he lived so comfortable with for so long, then why does he accept the pension payments, month after month, year after year?”

After a long pause and obvious deliberation to bring her thoughts together, Ms. Wolf sat back in the Nicaraguan style lounge chair that was her home most days at the hotel room they had rented along the shoreline of beautiful Caye Caulker and said quite simply, “My dear Charley, don’t you know that life is but how we individually define it to ultimately be? And sadly, don’t you understand my love that hypocritical racism is not simply a product of the developed world, it is a part of us all.”