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Amber Pollard ♦
Family vacations are typically a happy experience, and ours was. Until a horrifying situation arose that taught me the importance of quick thinking to prevent a tragedy.
Being at the Caye Caulker Split, absorbing the June weather was as gratifying for me as it was for the many other people around. Cheer filled the faces of locals, tourists, and my family. The Split was as exquisite in the evening as it was at noon, the time we were originally supposed to get there.
I walked around enjoying the feel of the sand between my toes, admiring the various shades of blue on the sea as the swoosh of the breeze met my cheeks. As for my other family members, some had already claimed their tables by placing their beach bags on top, some were at the restaurant ordering food, and some were conversing with friends.
After strolling around for a while, I was itching to gratify my hunger for vitamin sea, and to show off the plain black bathing suit I had thrifted two days before. I made my way to the water and inched down the wooden steps that led into it, being careful not to slip. I was greeted by the people who occupied the tables installed in the shallow water, their tongues and teeth stained neon green from the famous Lizard Juice drink. I dove my head into the water and let it slick back my curly locks. I was content.
As I swayed in the seawater, relaxed, my other family members joined me in the water to enjoy the little bit of sunlight we had left. I looked around and I noticed that not all of us were there. We were supposed to meet my little brother there at The Split, along with his cousins, so I asked where they were.
“They deh right ova deh,” my stepdad’s mom said, pointing her hand in the air toward no exact location. Nevertheless, that Belizean phrase was enough to satisfy me. My stepdad, however, hearing my question, was curious about where my brother was. So, he got out of the water and headed to the other side of The Split where the open sea was, near the Sit N Dip pier. I decided to tag along because I was becoming weary of swimming in shallow water.
I followed my stepdad up the steps, and we neared the edge of the cement platform, the deep water shimmering below. Looking around, we saw my brother in the shallow area of the sea and his cousins in the deep, about 30 feet out, their feet paddling in the water to stay afloat. Everything seemed fine as far as my near-sightedness allowed me to see.
Then my ears stood at attention as I heard a shout. It was my brother. He had to shout a couple more times for us to make out what he was saying. “Help! Help!” my brother was shouting. We looked to the left and observed a struggle in the water amongst his cousins. My stepdad grabbed a child’s kickboard and leaped into the water to rescue his nephews.
The frantic splashing signaled his desperation as he made the rapid 30-foot swim, something he had no training for. He gave the elder nephew Ajani the kickboard and began to bring Ajay near the shore. He had almost reached the shallow area where I stood watching, but he was struggling against the powerful current. An elderly man, noticing my stepdad's struggle, got into the water to assist with Ajay who panicking.
After about thirty seconds of struggling against the current, the old man surrendered and swam in the opposite direction to get to a shallower part of the water. My stepdad was still struggling and, seeing the old man, decided to mimic his actions. He tried swimming to his left, as he saw the old man do. However, he was swimming against the current.
The sea flowing into the Split had a stronger current than normal. It was taking its toll on my stepdad. I could do nothing but watch. I was worried, frantic, and sad all at the same time as I scrambled through the many thoughts I had as if I were putting together a 1000-piece puzzle. My stepdad’s hands were fighting for the strength to complete the next backstroke with his nephew curled in his right arm.
It was not until I saw the water pull him under the first time that I realized how urgent the situation was. His eyes splayed open and his mouth gasped for air, only to be filled by the threatening seawater. With every grasp, and every reaching arm, he went more under.
I knew that if I continued doing nothing, they would both drown.
Do I jump in?
If I do, would I be able to save them, or would I drown too?
Do I shout for help?
Do I call for my cousin who was only ten feet away, in ignorance and delightful conversation?
It felt like I was the only one watching. I felt alone and terrified. Nevertheless, I stooped down and extended my arm so my stepdad could grab it. Seeing my arm gave him the strength to reach out a little more. That wasn’t enough, so I got down as flat as I could on my stomach, pressing my body into the sand to get closer to the edge. I reached out as far as I could and felt the tightest grip I had ever felt in my life. My stepdad was visibly worn out; he was unable to swim any longer. I was determined to hold on for as long as I could.
The fate of a 40-year-old man and his 15-year-old nephew literally lay in my hands.
He hung onto my outstretched right arm, both bodies fighting against the current, and my arm against my minimal strength. The weight of them on my single arm was overwhelming and I felt my body being pulled down. Thankfully, the piece of cement I lay on was a little higher than the rest of the ground, so I shoved my other hand into the sand, getting a grip on a raised section of the cement. It was enough to prevent me from being pulled down. However, my arm began to weaken.
At last, two men saw our struggle and came to my aid. One of them took Ajay from my stepfather, and the other helped me to pull my stepdad up. Ajay stumbled down next to his brother who had gotten out with the help of the kickboard.
I rushed to where the rest of my family was. My stepfather remained behind, catching his breath while processing what just happened. Unsure of how to break the news of the near tragedy, I told the story as calmly as I could but my voice trembled. My stepdad’s mom and my mom hastily got out of the water, and all three of us returned to ensure everything was okay.
Ajay was getting the remaining water out of his lungs, but I was relieved to see that everything was all right. He and Ajani sat near the table with towels wrapped around them.
I was proud of myself that day. But even now, I still can't fathom how I held the weight of two bodies for a whole minute! It is something that I reminisce about often. It’s one of those family stories to tell again and again. And, conveniently, if my stepfather ever forgets to be generous, now I can say to him, “Remember that time I saved your life?”
Amber Pollard is a math major at the University of Belize. She grew up in Belize City and attended St. John's College Junior College and St. Catherine Academy.