Nancy R. Koerner with her son Julian Sherrard, mid-1970's, almost directly across the river from the property which would later become Chaa Creek
"When we lived in Belize, it was not simply a place, but a unique time-and-space, and now certainly a bygone era. We didn't just live off-the-grid, there was no grid. Our life "back-a-bush" was a colorful and often dangerous one, whetted with the keen edge of fear-and-necessity that drove us and fed our young thirst for exploration. It was an era of pure survival against which we tested our mettle, armed with nothing more than bravado, utopian ideologies, bullet-proof youth, and no small measure of naiveté. It was a time when we pitted ourselves, in the name of adventure, against whatever Mother Nature and karma could dish out." Nancy R. Koerner
The little baby boy in my arms (known at that time to the villagers of Cristo Rey and San Antonio as "pelito maiz") I consider to be my proudest legacy and gift to Belize ~~ my son, Julian Sherrard.
My name is Nancy Koerner, and I was amidst the first big wave of young gringo pioneer families who came to Belize in the mid-70's. We settled on the Macal River, upstream of San Ignacio, almost directly across the property which would later become Chaa Creek. We arrived just-in-time for the Guatemalan Earthquake of '76, the years of massive flooding on the river (long before the dams), slash-and-burn wildfires, and Hurricane Greta in '78.
When we lived in Belize, it was not simply a place, but a unique time-and-space, and now certainly a bygone era. We didn't just live off-the-grid, there was no grid. Our life "back-a-bush" was a colorful and often dangerous one, whetted with the keen edge of fear-and-necessity that drove us and fed our young thirst for exploration. It was an era of pure survival against which we tested our mettle, armed with nothing more than bravado, utopian ideologies, bullet-proof youth, and no small measure of naiveté. It was a time when we pitted ourselves, in the name of adventure, against whatever Mother Nature and karma could dish out.
Back in those days, we were still wary of shadowy moonlit nights with duendes and sisimite!
We preceded the DuPlooys by a couple of years, but not many. We were certainly "hippies," back in the States. But, once in Belize, having traveled overland through Mexico in an old clap-banger of a '59 Ford Step Van, living off the land back-a-bush, chopping wood, carrying water, washing clothes in the river, carrying my baby on my back, going to town in a dory -- well, from an American perspective, it was a pioneer life. For us, it was not so different from when young pioneers struck out in the 1800s through lands unknown, headed for California.
Rudi R. Burgos:
Hi, I remember you as a talented musician back in the eighties.
Nancy R. Koerner:
Rudi R. Burgos Cool, Rudi. Where was it? Maybe up on stage at the San Ignacio Hotel when old Escandar first built it -- when it still was orange-painted cinderblock? Or maybe out on San Pedro at Big Daddy's, or at Paradise? (I still perform from time to time, but now -- wa' ole gringa dat!).
Rudi R. Burgos:
At the Bellvue Hotel in Belize City. Roger Dinger's place.
Michelle Holland:
Bought your book many, many years ago (actually autographed). Will have to pull it out and re-read it. “Belize Survivor - Darker Side of Paradise.”
The first place we lived was part of the Blackmore's property, the house just north of her own where her son, Marsh, had previously lived. (That's where we were when the earthquake hit -- only two weeks in Belize, and quite an immediate introduction to Central America!) Old Thomas Green's place at Big Eddy was just north of us on the same side. Mick and Lucy's arrived shortly after we did, and they succeeded (where we had failed) in buying the Chaa Creek property from a Brit named Jack Garden. Most accurately, we actually lived directly across from what later became Rosita's IxChel. We wanted to buy Marsh's place from Mrs. B, but she didn't want to sell. (And yes, back in those days, the bush was tall everywhere, just a few acres here and there for a simple frame house and some cattle grazing.)
Two years later, we bought the 40 acres from Old Johnny Harris, the high and dry bluff called Alta Vista, again on the east side of the river. It was there that we survived Hurricane Greta in '78, but that will be another post. Paulo Neal, our neighbor, at Macaw Bank, was just upriver on the same side, and beyond that, Dickie Simpson's banana "plantaash" at Negroman. Downriver on our side was old Poinsiano Perez, and across the river was the vast expanse of fertile property belonging to the De La Fuente's, who grew the sweetest watermelons in Cayo.
The primitive aspect was the best part. I was never so happy in my life as when we were dirt-poor and living back-a-bush. Like the Belizean proverb, "Life is hard, but sweet."
Julian has lived his whole life in Belize. He owns Orange Gallery at Mile 60 on the Western Highway. He is a wonderful husband, father, entrepreneur, and a pillar of the community.
Photographs courtesy Nancy R. Koerner
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