One particular day that sticks out in my mind entailed two of the more colourful 'yuts' that have questionable backgrounds that leave little to the imagination arriving to the gateway. Since I have bailed one of the two out of jail on a prior occasion, I was prepared for anything.

I should first explain that the incident that required imprisonment involved a situation at one of the three local cool spots that left the ‘yut’ I am referring to little choice if he was to protect his ego from further abuse. With his back against the wall that evening at that point when the small green bottles of cheap rum blur the senses to where a good man can find himself in a blackhole void of logic or principle without a shred of sanity remaining, the 'yut' left the bar and walked the mile or so to his home.

He later returned to the bar with an extremely sharpened machete and took out his drunken revenge upon one the assailants who had verbally assaulted him earlier in the evening. Luckily the opposing forces he had the beef with had left an hour or so before his return. Their departure left only the opportunity for the ‘yut’ to weld his rage upon a remaining bicycle. And therefore he began to systematically destroy the bike with the brutal force that only a machete can levy upon an unprotected two-wheel ride. The tires were the first to burst, the mainframe lasted longer but in the end fought back, that's when the raging ‘yut’ felt the wrath of the beach bike, for he busted his knuckles requiring more rum to sooth the pain.

The entire episode seemed to have been played out that night, the verbal abusers had gone off towards their respective villages, the ‘yut’ I am referring to eventually fell asleep under the cover a champa at another coolspot that allows overnight stays since their Belikin beer cooler is double tripled locked and inside the confines of the room where the owner, his wife, two kids and their captured gibnut sleeps night after night. The days and weeks that ensued allowed the village to look the other way and move on to more important issues like why the Angelical Christian academy was now preaching to their ever so young student body that American Indians were equal in their plight to the Belize Maya, disregarding the reality that the use of the word 'Indian' is as insulting to the native North Americans as it is to their indigenous counterparts, the Maya peoples of Central American.

But as is the case in Belize and other communities scattered about south of "the far frozen north" as the noted Belizean gringo radio talk show host that constantly refers to his former homeland, time and again, Belize is indeed a place where tempers may subside, but they never completely disapate. And so two months later the ‘yut’ that had decided who decided take justice into his on hands by picking up a tool that should have been reserved for cutting back intrusive bush country or failing a tree for firewood to cook a nights meal became the ‘yuts’ downfall.

For one morning out of the infinity of nowhere that is the legal system in Belize came several police officers in a small white Japanese car with bright blue letters declaring exactly who they are and what they are about. When the officers arrives, the ‘yut’ stood silently under the humble shelter he, his cousin and his cousins father call home which is defined by a concrete shell, a place that has no power, no plumbing, no water in-house less that they are forced to draw from a well down the road that they could easily be arrested for stealing H2O.