We had a leisurely morning, some people sleeping in, others getting up early to do a bird walk with Antonio. Some wanted help with Lightroom, and others just chilled out on their hammocks at their cabanas.

After lunch, we headed off to Barranco, a Garifuna (ga-RI-fue-NAH) village down the coast a mere 12 miles from the Guatemalan border. We could look across at that country’s mountain layers, but it was the village we came to see, its culture, and the drummers who won the drumming competition in Belize three times in a row.

Alvin greeted us at his house. He was our host last year in the village, and we were glad to see him again. Not only is he so interesting, but he has so many stories to tell about his people.

The Garinagu (plural of Garifuna and pronounced in a similar manner) trace their ancestry to African slaves and Amerindians, Arawaks, I believe.

They were evicted from St. Vincent (Grenadines) in the early 1830s and sent to some god-forsaken island from which they eventually escaped and made their way to Haiti, Belize, Guatemala, etc.

The buildings in this little village reflect the colors we so often see in the Caribbean. Soft pastels, faded shutters, etc.

We wandered around the town, stopping every yard, it seemed, to photograph. As it should be! Villagers rode by on their bikes and greeted us.

We stopped to say, “Hello,” to Mr. Flores, an man in his late 80s who was still reading without glasses. Alvin said that all he knew about the town, its culture, and the history of the Garinuga, he learned from Mr. Flores.

Obligingly, the elderly gentleman sat as we photographed him. The prize-winning Lilagule Barangu, however, were waiting for us, and we knew we had several photo stops to go before we got to the other end of the village, so we took our leave.

The drumming was just amazing, and we could all hear why they were winners. The beat was infectious, and I couldn’t help but do a modified Meringue to the beat. There were quite a few more drummers than show in this photograph, but it was more important that our participants get a clear shot than I.

A rasta man was there who apparently always dances. One of the drummers had noticed me enjoying and swaying to the music and indicated to the dancer that he should get me to dance, too. It was great fun, but I certainly could not match his style and moves!

The group played several pieces for us as our group ducked in and out to get the angle they wanted. The villagers also came. Old and young alike. After all, this was a big group in Belize, and it was their group.

After the music, some people went to the soap factory, while others headed down to some neat old buildings, including a really small post office that some of you may remember from last year.

It was late, and Antonio wanted to get us back in time for supper, so we piled back into The Jungle Bus and jounced our way back to the Lodge.

Arnie and I both commented at how today seemed to be a big jump for our group. They were really making photographs instead of taking snapshots. Even those who were more experienced had improved.

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