Every day was wash day on the Caye.  Lines of freshly laundered clothes waving in the warm Caribbean breeze could be seen in most yards on the island and if the clothes were left out until late afternoon, when the sun was no longer shining on them, they naturally became soft.  For me, doing laundry was a rather pleasant experience, but I have made it a habit to enjoy every aspect of my life, no matter how tedious, as it is part of my life.. With the proper set up, washing clothes by hand can be done very efficiently, not requiring too much thought and concentration, leaving room in the mind for loftier meditations while achieving the goal of clean clothes. In 1986 I rented a one bedroom wooden house on stilts for $150 US per month. The house, separated from the Caribbean Sea by only a narrow sandy street, was located on Caye Caulker, Belize; a little island off the Belize mainland, measuring one mile long and three blocks wide.

The back yard of the house was inhabited by the largest Breadfruit tree on the island, which stood approximately forty feet high and offered shade to my house and the one next door, all through the day. In addition, we had an abundant supply of breadfruit for about six months out of the year. If you have never had the pleasure of tasting breadfruit yet, let me attempt to describe the experience; although it is nearly impossible to accurately describe the taste of something from one person to the next. How do we know it even tastes the same to everyone? I might say I enjoy eating a certain food and you might too, but in reality we might be having totally different taste experiences. In truth, our likes and dislikes of food may change over time so if we say something is delicious today and next year we do not care for it anymore, what can we conclude is the deciding factors in deliciousness?

Ripe Breadfruit is oblong and green, with little brown nubs all over the surface and may grow to the size of a football. When preparing Breadfruit, the skin is cut off and the core cut out. This must be done very quickly as the meat will oxidize and turn brown, therefore, as it is cut into thin, about one quarter inch, crescent-shaped slices, it must be placed in salted water until the cooking process begins. Ideally, the slices will be fried in fresh coconut oil and when they are done, get ready for a treat. The taste is similar to a potato, yet slightly sweeter. Alternatively, Breadfruit can be cut in cubes and stewed in coconut milk which is so delicious one cannot believe it. I will say, as an absolute truth, that most soups and stews made with coconut milk are awe inspiring to the taste buds.

However, we must continue from the kitchen to the yard as we are speaking of washing clothes. I had a terrific setup for doing laundry by hand. My laundry area consisted of a five foot long stone counter with an indentation that was a sink and a hole in the lowest point for water to drain on the sandy ground below. The laundry area was covered by a zinc roof and was sheltered by my dearly loved Breadfruit tree. While washing I faced the windward side of the island, offering a breeze to cool me off while I worked and a view of the passersby on the street thirty feet away at the end of my front yard.

Caye Caulker sits above the world’s largest underwater cave. The roof of the limestone cave is the bottom of a fresh water table beneath the entire island and even out into the sea. Therefore, in order to get fresh water, the islanders need not dig a well more than about eleven feet, sometimes less and sometimes a bit more. When I first moved to the island, I learned to haul water from the well with a bucket tied to a rope, which some residents still do, but over time my landlord installed an electric water pump and we moved into the up to date age of running water. Somehow the lack of modern conveniences never seemed to be a hardship; we just self-adjusted to the life style. Perhaps it was the beauty of the island and the freedom one experiences living there that removes the need for luxury to in an environment filled with stress and competition. Of course once modernization occurred, even if more backward than what we left in our native countries, we appreciated the progress.

The Caye residents do not use the fresh ground water for drinking though; instead most homes have rainwater vats in the yard. The village also constructed a public cement vat for those who did not have their own supply of rainwater. The vat in my yard was the tradition type, constructed of boards, lined up vertically to create a circular container that was banded with metal straps so tightly that water could not escape. The vat, which stood about twelve feet high and six feet in diameter, had a spout at the bottom from which the delicious rainwater could be obtained. The vat was located under the mighty Breadfruit tree, whose shade kept the water cool all year round.

While living on the Caye I ran a small breakfast restaurant from my house, which served coffee and homemade fruit crepes with yogurt and granola. Many of my customers claimed that y coffee was the best they ever had. Since I used Mexican instant Nescafe, I must attribute the excellent taste of the coffee to the rainwater with which I used to make it.

Before we go any further, I feel must give a little background and elaborate on the auspicious place the pig tail bucket has in Caye life. It is one of the most useful possessions one can have when living on the island. Before refrigerators were common, which wasn’t that long ago, the pig tail bucket was used for hauling ice from the Fisherman’s cooperative at the back of the island to be used in coolers to preserve food and chill beverages. In addition buckets were used in shops for keeping rainwater in the house, storing bulk, dry food items, such as rice and dried beans, the everyday staple of the Belizean diet. Buckets were also used as seats and in some case as hand drums, if no real drums were available. In my case I used the buckets for laundry, but I often thought that the pig tail bucket should have been one of the symbols decorating the Belizean currency.

I began the laundry process by filling two five gallon buckets with water, one for soaking and the other for rinsing; the stone counter top was used for scrubbing and wringing. All in all it was very refreshing to stand outside on a warm day and work in the water and the clothes got very clean in the process. However this story is not about the process of washing clothes by hand as much as it is about how I learned.

My neighbor, Miss Magdalena was well into her nineties in 1985 when I first arrived on the Caye, but her mind was sharp; only her body told how long she had lived on this earth. She must have been a beautiful, strong young woman and that aura still remained as a reminder to others of the countenance of her younger days. At that time in her life, her daily activity was sitting on the verandah in the front of the house in the morning and then moving to the side of the house, in the shade of the breadfruit tree in the afternoon.

There I found her each morning as I washed and as I did, she offered her wisdom on subject of laundry. Turn the jeans inside out so they don’t fade and the pockets dry, she exclaimed. She was not satisfied until I did and I dared not brave her disapproval, not from fear, but out of respect for such a woman. Ring the clothes out more so they do not drip and all of the soap is out, good advice actually. Hang the dark clothes in the shade and the light ones in the sun, it all made such perfect sense.

Her food was brought each day by her granddaughter, but frequently she had no appetite for the rich, savory rice, beans and stew chicken, so once her granddaughter left I heard, Psst, Psst. When I looked over she would be signaling with her finger to come over so she could give me the plate of food that in her younger years would have satisfied her. It became a ritual, whenever she didn’t want the food she called me over to get her plate. Me no want all this food, but they want me to eat, but me no hungry. I took the plate and emptied it into my dog’s dish, without her knowing, of course, and brought back the unwashed plate so that the family would think that she had eaten. Of course, she did eat some days and others she did not. My puppy was quite grateful on the days when she didn’t.

Some days I sat on her step and we talked. One such afternoon, as she sat on the little porch of the side door under the shade of the Breadfruit tree, she told me, Me no want no more man. My son de look for the next man for me, but me no want no more man. I explained to her that I understood entirely. Another day told me her story. I was a fisherwoman in my younger days. I would get up early, go fishing, clean and deliver me fish to the Fisherman’s Cooperative, come home, wash and cook before my husband even cleaned his fish. I helped form the Co-op she stated proudly.

I left the island for a year and when I returned, the house was empty and she had passed away, but not without imparting her knowledge and wisdom to me. Many times I looked for her as I hung my clothes. The house had been renovated for her great granddaughter and the verandah was new and freshly painted, but every so often, just for a moment, I looked up and saw the old porch and Miss Magdalena, sensing her approving nod as I glanced at my laundry blowing in the warm Caribbean breeze.