Sometimes the greatest service is simply allowing yourself to be welcomed home
Tim Dami
Belize 2003-2005
September 11, 2001. I watched the towers fall from the employee break room in Atlanta, and my first thought was vengeance. Those attacks happened in my home state of New York, killed innocent people, and I wanted to join the army and fight back. But at thirty-six, I was already past military recruitment age. I even considered the Israel Defense Forces and their two-year service requirement. I was ready to be destructive.
Then I saw an ad for the Peace Corps. I clicked on it, read a few stories, and something shifted. Rather than destroying, maybe I could go to another country and show them that Americans weren’t bad people. Maybe I could be a builder instead of a breaker.
The process was lengthy, but once I made up my mind, I was committed. In June 2003, I arrived in Belize as an Information Technology Instructor/Technician.
I met my counterpart, Glenford Parham Jr., after the in-country training. He had an old red pickup truck with a hole in the floorboards, and he took me everywhere, including every rural village in Toledo District. Every time we drove over a puddle, water would splash up through that hole and soak my feet. I’d sit there, wet and laughing, as Glenford introduced me to his country, one village at a time. He didn’t just show me where to work; he welcomed me into his workspace, his family, his home, and his country.
One of our projects together was building a flagpole at the Toledo District Education Center. It wasn’t glamorous work, mixing concrete, measuring angles, and making sure it stood straight and true. But we did it as a team, Glenford and I, along with others, creating something that would last. That flagpole became the foundation for everything that followed, although I didn’t know it at the time.
I fell in love with the role, the people, and the country. When my two-year Peace Corps commitment ended in 2005, I didn’t leave. The Belizean government hired me to continue my work. Then in 2007, I became a full-time vocational teacher at ITVET Toledo and opened a small internet café. By 2008, I returned to school online to pursue my bachelor’s degree in IT, and Belize had become my home. I completed three master’s degrees between 2011 and 2015. In 2014, the University of Belize hired me, and I’ve been teaching there ever since.
There was no single moment when I decided to stay. I just kept going, and twenty-two years later, I’m still here. I’ve served as campus chair twice, represented faculty to the Board of Trustees, and recently took on the role of General Secretary of the National Trade Union Congress of Belize. My family back in the States misses me, but they’re happy I found this life.
Glenford became like a brother to me. We worked together for four years, building more than just flagpoles; we built programs, fostered trust, and formed a friendship that transcended the “American volunteer” and “Belizean counterpart” labels we started with. When he passed away in January 2022, I lost a piece of my foundation. However, I stay in close contact with his children, offering guidance and support as needed, and try to honor what he gave me.
The irony isn’t lost on me. I came to Belize in 2003 to show Belizeans that Americans weren’t bad people. But they didn’t need convincing. Instead, they showed me acceptance, love, and respect. They showed me what home could be when you stop trying to prove yourself and simply allow yourself to be welcomed.
That flagpole at the District Education Center still stands. I drive past it sometimes and remember Glenford, remember mixing that concrete, remember not knowing that I was building the foundation for a life I never imagined. I came to Belize for two years to represent my country after a national tragedy. But Belize claimed me, and I’ve spent two decades becoming part of something larger than vengeance or pride or proof.
I am deeply grateful to the Peace Corps for providing me with such a rewarding experience. But the real thanks belongs to Glenford, to Toledo, to Belize, for taking in an angry American who thought he had something to prove, and teaching him that sometimes the greatest service is simply allowing yourself to be welcomed home.
