Joe Petrof

He was sitting on a barstool at the counter when we walked in; a large heavyset man with a silver flattop and an interesting carved cane. I didn’t pay him much attention as the Mennonite sales clerk asked how he could help us in heavily accented English. As Aki and I began asking questions about how to plumb a well with an electric pump, the clerk questioned another clerk in Low German. The second clerk looked at us and said “You should ask Joe about that. He does wells all the time.” Joe had gotten up to leave, but turned when he heard his name. We outlined what we were trying to do. He gave us a classic you-guys-really-don’t-know-what-you’re-doing look and said he would tell us how he would do it.
After a lengthy and detailed crash course in how to plumb a well, he finished by saying “You don’t have to listen to me, but that’s how I would do it.” We assured him that his plan sounded a lot better than ours, and he said “OK then. Let’s go shopping.” He helped us pick out everything we needed, becoming more jocular and engaged in the project the more we talked.
We discovered that he was an American ex-pat who came to Belize 12 years ago and never went back. He’d screwed up his knees and hips playing football for the University of North Carolina and found Belizean weather much more friendly to his joints. He had a degree in mechanical engineering from Penn State, and owned a well drilling business in Santa Elena, not far from Aki’s house.
As we were checking out, he asked again if we thought we could handle it. I asked him with a grin what he was doing the next couple days. He said “What time will you be in Yalbac tomorrow? I’ll meet you there after I get my crews started.”
People in Belize are like that.
- dan