Memory of a Bust Lip

It was my first ever extensive injury, and a harrowing one indeed. It happened on June 5th, 2009 in San Jose Palmar Village near Orange Walk Town and is one of my earliest memories.

I was four years old and living with my grandparents since my parents had to work during the day and had no one to take care of me. Although I didn’t see my mom or dad much, I still thrived. I loved being at my grandma’s because my cousins lived there since they dealt with similar situations. Another reason why being at Grandma was so much fun was the food. Ouuu, mien! Eggs and bacon with hot Johnny cakes in the morning followed by steamy Belizean rice and beans with chicken stewed so good it fell off the bone! There’s nothing like food made by a grandmother’s hands. Our time at our grandparents’ house was always a blast. 

Returning to my cousins, there were mainly three of us: Justin, Vian, and myself. We were the trio who played in the yard and on the road every day. Others sometimes joined and caused mischief, such as the neighbors’ children or cousins who lived closer to town. We got away with many things due to the village setting we lived in. The area we mainly occupied was about 50 acres, with a field in the middle taking up most of the area. The houses and small shops sat around the field, and a road about one and a half lanes wide formed a barrier in between. The main street, Palmar Road, rose about 20 feet higher than the field, so it was a very steep road that led down into the village. The adults, of course, used this road. But also, the “big kids,” such as my cousins, frequently rode down the hill at “100 mph,” they’d say. I never had that experience because I was too scared. I thought I would do it when I got older. Little did I know, things were about to change very fast.

On this day, my mom and aunts were at my grandmother’s. They had come for the weekend, and my cousins and I decided to show them what we had learned over the weeks they were away. Like the proud and good parents they were, they gladly watched as we gave them somewhat of a talent show. 

All happy and excited and filled with adrenaline, my oldest cousin Justin said, “Bwai mek wi show Mommy how we go dong the big hill.” Remember, the “big hill” was a 20-foot-steep road coming down into the village. It was covered in white mall. As I said, although my cousins had ridden their bikes down this hill plenty of times, I had never done so. My mom and all my aunts were excited to see us ride down, and my cousins told me, “Lego, Xander; it’s not hard.” I did not want to seem like a wuss amongst my family, so I built up the courage to ride down this hill with my fellow “brothers.” 

We all hopped onto our bikes and headed towards the starting point up the hill. My bike was a blue beach cruiser with coaster brakes while my cousins’ were slightly more prominent models. Due to this, and the height of the hill, my bike and I maxed out first as I struggled up what I called “Mount Everest.”  I had to jump off and walk the bike the rest of the way. Eventually, my other cousins also jumped off theirs and proceeded to push uphill. This slow climb up the rest of the hill felt like miles, like I was walking up Mount Everest indeed. The closer we got to the top, the more nerve-wracking it became. With every step, I could feel my heart pounding against my chest.

THENNN! We finally reached the top, and I looked straight ahead, seeing rooftops and a clear view of the entire field. I felt like I was on top of the world, standing alongside my brothers with the heavy wind blowing through my hair. While I was distracted by the view, my cousins lined up their bikes across the top of the hill. They shouted, “Come, Xander, this is the best part!” I quickly moved alongside Justin, realizing I finally had to look down the hill. It looked long and shiny like the back of a snake, due to the sun reflecting off the white mall.

I swallowed, trying to mentally prepare myself. THEN! Justin said, “Alright, boys, lego!” And we sped off! Being the oldest, Justin led the pack, and the rest of us followed a split moment behind. The sensation of speeding down that hill was great! The strong wind, the rush of adrenaline, the road just coming and coming towards you—it felt terrific. But then the road continued coming, but faster. The wind continued to blow, but harder. And the adrenaline continued to rise, but too much. The panic started. 

I wasn’t accustomed to these speeds, which truly felt like 100 miles per hour. To slow down, I made the worst decision. I slammed on my brakes, which caused my back wheel to lock up and fishtail from left to right. After what felt like an hour of trying to control the bull under me, I couldn’t hold on any longer and prepared to accept my fate. My fate was giving the rocky ground a rough kiss, my body following after and continuing to roll down the remainder of the hill. After tumbling for what felt like about a minute, I felt my body suddenly stop. Before I even opened my eyes, I heard my family in a panic. When I opened my eyes, I saw both of my cousins standing over me. A moment of silence passed, and then they asked, “Bro, you ok?” Trying to regain my senses, I nodded yes, although I felt a numbing in my lip and pain in my bony areas, such as my elbows and knees. As I got up, I felt something dripping from my mouth, so I looked down to see what it was. It was blood. Seeing this, I immediately burst into tears. I started to cry even harder when I heard someone say, “Bwai, he buss ih lip.” 

I ran over to my mom with my mouth filled with blood, eyes flooded with tears, hands and feet covered in white dust, a torn shirt, and many cuts and bruises. My mom picked me up and took me inside for my aunts and grandma to wash me up. I continued crying as my mom softly brushed the dirt off me while my grandma held a cloth to my mouth to stop the bleeding. After I was all cleaned up, I stopped crying, although I still felt pain all over my body and had a massive gash in my lip. My mom said, “Ai, my little son; you have to learn not to follow people, especially when you know you can get hurt. Make them call you a coward or chicken if they want. You’ll know you are walking away safe.” 

She kissed me on the head and proceeded to rub ointment on my scratches to ease the pain and fight against infection. As for my bust lip, she placed a butterfly bandage over it, and to this day, I still have the scar. It’s a reminder to always think before making a decision, especially around friends. And to not give in to peer pressure.

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Xander Brown majors in Natural Resource Management at the University of Belize. He lives in Belmopan and enjoys working out at the gym and hanging out with friends.