Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Musings on a New (Soon-To-Be) Home
Where do I begin? On Wednesday, at the end of a long, anxious day, I sat in a room while my boss held a folder that contained my future. My future site, that is, where I will be living for the next two years. I will be living in a small town whose name translates to ¨White Stream,¨where I will be a first-time volunteer. After finding out the news we all went to the bar to celebrate, and a few us missed the last bus out of town. So...we started walking. Knowing it would take hours to get to the next intersection, where we could catch a bus, and also realizing that I still had to pack and get up at 5am to go visit my site, I found some people to call us a taxi. Once at home, I packed my dayback with clothes and toiletries for the next five days, slept a few hours, drank cocido in the dark, and then walked to the bus stop at dawn.
As I got closer to my destination, the landscape changed. All of the sudden, there were mountains--green, rolling mountains, and big trees, and vineyards. When I got off at the stop where I was to meet my contact, I heard people shout "Americana." And sure enough, Gabriel (my new dad), was there to greet me. He had ridden his moto to the bus stop to make sure the next bus I got on was the right one and told the driver to let me off in front of his house (Gabriel´s). The bus chugged its way up and down dirt roads, crossing rickety bridges. Some women on the bus start chatting with me, offering me térere, and were so excited to find out I spoke Guarani. As usual, the subject got around to if I have a boyfriend, and if I´m going to marry a Paraguayan, and when I marry a Paraguayan, will I live here or go back to America? I tell them that I don´t even know where I´m sleeping tonight. When I got off at Gabriel´s house, his wife, Gertrudis, had lunch ready for me. A plate of hot pork from the pig they recently slaughtered. (I found the rest of the animal--head included--in the fridge). Then I took a siesta.
Gertrudis is the president of the Comité de Agricultores, and she was eager to show me around town. The next day, there was a health commission meeting at the next big town over, and I wanted to check it out--also to visit the Peace Corps volunteer who´s lived there for over a year now. It takes only 20 minutes on a moto, but since it´s Peace Corps policy that I don´t ride a moto (to the shock of everyone in the town---everyone drives a moto) I had to borrow a bike from a neighbor. I was looking forward to riding a bike, but I soon discovered what I had gotten myself into. There is practically no level ground and the road is mainly sand. Plus, I was riding a bike with two flat tires, one gear, and barely-working breaks. So, I arrived an hour later at the municipality hot and sweaty. I hung out with Andrea, my new PC neighbor and then made the trip back in the heat of the day. When I finally made it back home, I jumped in the shower and devoured a plate of ribs my Gertrudis placed in front of me. Man, I have never eaten ribs before, and I thoroughly enjoyed them. I even soaked up the extra grease with some mandioca and made those bone-slurping sounds I hate when Paraguayans do.
I also went with Ñati and Paula (13 and 17) to the colegio for their last day of school. I met some of the teachers and talked to one about helping teach a class on cooperatives. The students hosed down and swept out the classrooms and then had a dance party at 10am before heading home for lunch. Besides the two girls at the house, there is the 95-year-old aguelo who is blind and just about deaf. He talks to himself and doesn´t know if it´s day or night, so talks whenever he feels like it. Sometimes he thinks he´s a kid again, other times (most of the time) he´s asking for more caña. He likes to wear these teeny-bopper sunglasses with one eye piece missing, and his bed is in the backyard under the grape arbor. He is carried from bed to chair, following the shade, and pees and spits tobacco into a metal cup. He also has an 8-year old son, Hervasio, who also lives at the house, but the mother (who´s in her early 30s) lives somewhere else with her other son (Hervasio´s twin). Apparently, she´s poor and cannot afford to keep both children. Hervasio is the sweetest boy, and I hope I get to know him better. He´s growing up in some unusual circumstances. The other day, I saw him sitting next to his father, yelling into his ear.
One morning, I woke up to find Gabriel, Gertrudis, and her brother gathered around what looked like a series of crumpled up plastic bags. I walked over and watched Gabriel inspect said item with pliers and a stick. They didn´t know what it was, but it was something strange, found hanging from a tree, they said. What do we do with strange items in Paraguay? We burn them. Maybe it´s a bomb, Gabriel says, and I don´t yet understand his humor enough yet to know if he´s joking or not. Probably so, because he lauged when I told him it might be dangerous to throw a bomb in a fire. Then the aguelo felt like working, so he was given the task of shelling castor beans, which are then sold to make motor oil.
On Sunday, I accompanied Gertrudis to church, and only as we were walking in did she ask me if I was Catholic. No, but I have respect for religion. At the end of the sermon (pretty boring), Gertrudis got up to make an announcement. She told the entire congregation that they had a Peace Corps volunteer (me) to live with them for the next two years and then, on the spot, asked me to present myself. So, I stood up, unprepared, in front of a roomful of eager, brown eyes and told them a few things about myself in Guarani. And then they applauded.
After church, I want to the Farmers´Committee meeting, most of which I did not understand. Gertrudis explained that they were talking about where to build my house. Build my house? I asked Gertrudis how much that would cost. I was told not to worry about it. I was immediately brought back to "Peter Pan," when all the lost boys build cardboard house for Wendy, so she can sew buttons on their clothes. Later, we decided to build it on part of Gertrudis and Gabriel´s property, so I will have people looking out for me and a sunny space for a garden. I can´t believe I´m playing house in Paraguay.
After the meeting I went to the swimming hole to meet up the the high schoolers. (They had invited me to their end-of-the-year shebang). I feel so lucky to be living in a place with a clean body of water. I played volleball, joined in the mud-slinging fights, and ate lunch with them, my new young friends.
One afternoon, while we were just sitting around, drinking terere, Paula and a neighbor returned, speaking fast and animated, showing pictures on their cell phones. They claim to have seen Luison, the half-dog god of death in Guarani mythology. They supposedly found him, dead, in the school yard, and he smelled bad. Really? I asked Marisa (the 30-year-old sister) if she really believed it. Marisa said that she didn´t, but that lots of people do believe in the 7 Monsters (there are 6 more besides Luison), but that the monster that steals children is real because he stole a Señora´s child a long time ago. Wow. I´m living in the campo.
Yesterday, I woke up early to help Gabriel hoe his sugarcane field. Then he showed me the mandioca, the peanuts, the beans, the field he had to burn, the newer, better soil, and the rows of sesame he planted, but that have not germinated from a lack of rain. It´s going to be interesting to try to relate to farmers who are just living from one season to the next.
Lastnight, Gertrudis made grilled chicken, and Gabriel brough home a bottle of local (very local) wine for a going-away dinner. The bottle of wine cost about 75cents! I´m also living nearby to the German Mennonite communities, so I´d like to check out their operation. I was also excited to learn that there are a lot of indigenous Guarani communities around where I´ll be living.
This morning, I woke up at 3:30am for the bus that I was told would come at 4am. We ended up drinking hot mate until it finally came at 4:45 (time has a different meaning here). The aguelo, who had been up all night mumbling to himself, was asking for caña, and Gabriel relented and gave him a little bottle from the fridge. Gabriel then asked me if there were people like him in America, too. Yes, I said, there are people who are blind, people who cannot hear, people who are old and who can no longer remember things. On the bus, I was thinking about how there are not a lot of people in America who would care for their ailing grandparents the way they do here. Paraguay has a lot to share.
As I got closer to my destination, the landscape changed. All of the sudden, there were mountains--green, rolling mountains, and big trees, and vineyards. When I got off at the stop where I was to meet my contact, I heard people shout "Americana." And sure enough, Gabriel (my new dad), was there to greet me. He had ridden his moto to the bus stop to make sure the next bus I got on was the right one and told the driver to let me off in front of his house (Gabriel´s). The bus chugged its way up and down dirt roads, crossing rickety bridges. Some women on the bus start chatting with me, offering me térere, and were so excited to find out I spoke Guarani. As usual, the subject got around to if I have a boyfriend, and if I´m going to marry a Paraguayan, and when I marry a Paraguayan, will I live here or go back to America? I tell them that I don´t even know where I´m sleeping tonight. When I got off at Gabriel´s house, his wife, Gertrudis, had lunch ready for me. A plate of hot pork from the pig they recently slaughtered. (I found the rest of the animal--head included--in the fridge). Then I took a siesta.
Gertrudis is the president of the Comité de Agricultores, and she was eager to show me around town. The next day, there was a health commission meeting at the next big town over, and I wanted to check it out--also to visit the Peace Corps volunteer who´s lived there for over a year now. It takes only 20 minutes on a moto, but since it´s Peace Corps policy that I don´t ride a moto (to the shock of everyone in the town---everyone drives a moto) I had to borrow a bike from a neighbor. I was looking forward to riding a bike, but I soon discovered what I had gotten myself into. There is practically no level ground and the road is mainly sand. Plus, I was riding a bike with two flat tires, one gear, and barely-working breaks. So, I arrived an hour later at the municipality hot and sweaty. I hung out with Andrea, my new PC neighbor and then made the trip back in the heat of the day. When I finally made it back home, I jumped in the shower and devoured a plate of ribs my Gertrudis placed in front of me. Man, I have never eaten ribs before, and I thoroughly enjoyed them. I even soaked up the extra grease with some mandioca and made those bone-slurping sounds I hate when Paraguayans do.
I also went with Ñati and Paula (13 and 17) to the colegio for their last day of school. I met some of the teachers and talked to one about helping teach a class on cooperatives. The students hosed down and swept out the classrooms and then had a dance party at 10am before heading home for lunch. Besides the two girls at the house, there is the 95-year-old aguelo who is blind and just about deaf. He talks to himself and doesn´t know if it´s day or night, so talks whenever he feels like it. Sometimes he thinks he´s a kid again, other times (most of the time) he´s asking for more caña. He likes to wear these teeny-bopper sunglasses with one eye piece missing, and his bed is in the backyard under the grape arbor. He is carried from bed to chair, following the shade, and pees and spits tobacco into a metal cup. He also has an 8-year old son, Hervasio, who also lives at the house, but the mother (who´s in her early 30s) lives somewhere else with her other son (Hervasio´s twin). Apparently, she´s poor and cannot afford to keep both children. Hervasio is the sweetest boy, and I hope I get to know him better. He´s growing up in some unusual circumstances. The other day, I saw him sitting next to his father, yelling into his ear.
One morning, I woke up to find Gabriel, Gertrudis, and her brother gathered around what looked like a series of crumpled up plastic bags. I walked over and watched Gabriel inspect said item with pliers and a stick. They didn´t know what it was, but it was something strange, found hanging from a tree, they said. What do we do with strange items in Paraguay? We burn them. Maybe it´s a bomb, Gabriel says, and I don´t yet understand his humor enough yet to know if he´s joking or not. Probably so, because he lauged when I told him it might be dangerous to throw a bomb in a fire. Then the aguelo felt like working, so he was given the task of shelling castor beans, which are then sold to make motor oil.
On Sunday, I accompanied Gertrudis to church, and only as we were walking in did she ask me if I was Catholic. No, but I have respect for religion. At the end of the sermon (pretty boring), Gertrudis got up to make an announcement. She told the entire congregation that they had a Peace Corps volunteer (me) to live with them for the next two years and then, on the spot, asked me to present myself. So, I stood up, unprepared, in front of a roomful of eager, brown eyes and told them a few things about myself in Guarani. And then they applauded.
After church, I want to the Farmers´Committee meeting, most of which I did not understand. Gertrudis explained that they were talking about where to build my house. Build my house? I asked Gertrudis how much that would cost. I was told not to worry about it. I was immediately brought back to "Peter Pan," when all the lost boys build cardboard house for Wendy, so she can sew buttons on their clothes. Later, we decided to build it on part of Gertrudis and Gabriel´s property, so I will have people looking out for me and a sunny space for a garden. I can´t believe I´m playing house in Paraguay.
After the meeting I went to the swimming hole to meet up the the high schoolers. (They had invited me to their end-of-the-year shebang). I feel so lucky to be living in a place with a clean body of water. I played volleball, joined in the mud-slinging fights, and ate lunch with them, my new young friends.
One afternoon, while we were just sitting around, drinking terere, Paula and a neighbor returned, speaking fast and animated, showing pictures on their cell phones. They claim to have seen Luison, the half-dog god of death in Guarani mythology. They supposedly found him, dead, in the school yard, and he smelled bad. Really? I asked Marisa (the 30-year-old sister) if she really believed it. Marisa said that she didn´t, but that lots of people do believe in the 7 Monsters (there are 6 more besides Luison), but that the monster that steals children is real because he stole a Señora´s child a long time ago. Wow. I´m living in the campo.
Yesterday, I woke up early to help Gabriel hoe his sugarcane field. Then he showed me the mandioca, the peanuts, the beans, the field he had to burn, the newer, better soil, and the rows of sesame he planted, but that have not germinated from a lack of rain. It´s going to be interesting to try to relate to farmers who are just living from one season to the next.
Lastnight, Gertrudis made grilled chicken, and Gabriel brough home a bottle of local (very local) wine for a going-away dinner. The bottle of wine cost about 75cents! I´m also living nearby to the German Mennonite communities, so I´d like to check out their operation. I was also excited to learn that there are a lot of indigenous Guarani communities around where I´ll be living.
This morning, I woke up at 3:30am for the bus that I was told would come at 4am. We ended up drinking hot mate until it finally came at 4:45 (time has a different meaning here). The aguelo, who had been up all night mumbling to himself, was asking for caña, and Gabriel relented and gave him a little bottle from the fridge. Gabriel then asked me if there were people like him in America, too. Yes, I said, there are people who are blind, people who cannot hear, people who are old and who can no longer remember things. On the bus, I was thinking about how there are not a lot of people in America who would care for their ailing grandparents the way they do here. Paraguay has a lot to share.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
You, too, could be nailing pancakes to the wall
This is the long-awaited day when I find out where my site is, where I will live for the next two years. It´s Christmas come early. I rolled out of bed and stumbled to the latrine, kicking puppies and chickens out of the way. Then I tried the yogurt that I had sitting through the night, and found that it was perfectly curdled. I got some goat milk (the most delicious ever) from a neighbor, so I´ve been experimenting with goat yogurt, as well. After I drank my morning cocido, Christina, Nate, and Kieth came by, and off we went to the bus stop. The morning buses are always crowded with people and baskets of eggs, veggies, chickens, whatever people are bringing to market. It can be a challenge to get on and off the bus before it starts moving again.
It´s an exciting time. Training is coming to a close. Tomorrow, we all go to our respective sites for a 5-day visit in order to check things out and set up a place to stay when we first get there. I´m feeling better about my language. Yesterday I worked in the kokue (field) with my mom. We were weeding the corn, cassava, and peanut plants, and I could actually understand what she was saying. We may have had our first real conversation! She´s very difficult to understand, so she always has her kids translate for her. Her older daughters who live in Buenos Aires and are about my age are coming to visit soon, so that will be fun.
Last week, I was gone on Long Field Practice. Five of us trainees went to visit a current volunteer to practice our language and technical skills. I stayed with a really sweet family and slept with them (mom, dad, 5-year old, and 8-month old) in their one-room house. I got along with the mom, who´s 27, really well, and it was nice to see that I really can have Paraguayan friends here. We worked in the fields with various farmers and did a presentation (in Guarani) on a specific green manure, complete with a skit. It was fabulous.
On Saturday, there was an international music festival in a town about a half hour from where I live. It started at 8:30pm, and showcased singers, dancers, and musicians from Paraguay, Aregentina, Japan, and some other countries I didn´t catch. It ended at 3:30 in the morning, and becauses buses don´t start running until 4:30am, we walked for a ways. I finally got home when the roosters were crowing and the sky was turning pink. My parents had already been up for an hour, milked the cows, and were drinking their cocido by the fire.
In preparation for leaving for our sites, I´ve been hearing all sorts of stories about volunteers who go crazy. One woman, so the story goes, was found completely naked in her house, nailing pancakes to the wall. Another woman got so angry at a cow for eating her underwear that she stabbed the cow. We´ll see.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Obama ogana!
I spent election day sitting under a mango tree, talking about what I miss, feeling antsy. In a way, I felt helpless, sitting in Paraguay, and wanted to be a more active participant on this historical day, even if it was just watching the election on tv. All I could do was hope that my ballot made it safely to the US and that we will get the change the world deserves. I feel embarassed when I get into political discussions with people here. No one can understand what the hell is wrong with Bush, how he can destroy so many lives, and I feel ashamed that, as an American citizen, I have not done more to stop it. How, in the land of liberty and free-speech am I so powerless?
But I do have hope. That´s one of the reasons I´m here in Paraguay. When I rolled out of bed on Wednesday morning and my dad told me that "Obama ogana," I felt a surge of positivity that remained with me all day and still tickles me when I think about it. We went into the main training center that day and watched Obama´s acceptance speech on the internet. I think we can all walk a little taller now.
On another note, I´ve been doing lots of fun food projects. I bought some screen at the ferreteria and made a drying rack for fruit. I´ve been drying bananas, pineapple, peaches, and plums. So yummy! I did a presentation about it (in Guarani!) for a family in the community I´ve been working with.
I also got to work with bees the other day, and I´m feeling more confident about it. We checked up on the hives and harvested a bunch of honeycombs. Some people snacked on the drone larvae, which is supposed to be extremely high in protein, but I couldn´t quite hype myself up for it. I get enough meat here anyway. The other day for lunch, in my bean soup, I was give two chunks of what must have been cartilage attached to bone. I just couldn´t do it. While working with bees, Nathan got stung 14 times and had to give himself an epi-pen and get evacuated to Asunción, but he´s fine now. Those Africanized bees are fiesty, but they do produce some good honey. I ate it by the handful with bees still buzzing around it. I hope I get the chance to work with them in my site. I´ll find out where my site is in a week and a half. I can´t wait!
On Thursday, we went on a field trip to a permaculture farm, and the ´manager´studied in Corvallis. It was amazing to see how productive they were on such a small plot. They put their cow and rabbit poo in a biodigester, which turns it into fertilizer and can also be used as an alternative to propane. They had plans to make a compost-heated shower. There was also an impressive vermiculture set-up. At the end of the tour, they have us samples of their homemade cheese, yogurt, and marmalada, with some chipa, lemon cake, and cocido. It was the best yogurt I have ever had, and I´ve been inspired to teach my family how to make it.
On Friday, before class, I woke up and made some pizza dough, so it could rise all day. All my compañeros and some neighbors came over with all sorts of toppings. I made tomato sauce, Esteban made cheese, and my mom helped us get the tatacua going. We made the most delicous pizza in the outdoor oven, cooked to perfection on banana leaves. God, I love cultural exchange.
Tomorrow, I´m going away for a week on Longfield Practice. I´m visiting a volunteer and staying with a host family to practice my language and technical skills. I´ll also be giving a presentation on kumanda yvyra'i, which is a magical bean tree that fixes nitrogen in the soil, can act as erosion control, and the fruit can be used as animal forage or as healthy and delicious human food. Not bad.
But I do have hope. That´s one of the reasons I´m here in Paraguay. When I rolled out of bed on Wednesday morning and my dad told me that "Obama ogana," I felt a surge of positivity that remained with me all day and still tickles me when I think about it. We went into the main training center that day and watched Obama´s acceptance speech on the internet. I think we can all walk a little taller now.
On another note, I´ve been doing lots of fun food projects. I bought some screen at the ferreteria and made a drying rack for fruit. I´ve been drying bananas, pineapple, peaches, and plums. So yummy! I did a presentation about it (in Guarani!) for a family in the community I´ve been working with.
I also got to work with bees the other day, and I´m feeling more confident about it. We checked up on the hives and harvested a bunch of honeycombs. Some people snacked on the drone larvae, which is supposed to be extremely high in protein, but I couldn´t quite hype myself up for it. I get enough meat here anyway. The other day for lunch, in my bean soup, I was give two chunks of what must have been cartilage attached to bone. I just couldn´t do it. While working with bees, Nathan got stung 14 times and had to give himself an epi-pen and get evacuated to Asunción, but he´s fine now. Those Africanized bees are fiesty, but they do produce some good honey. I ate it by the handful with bees still buzzing around it. I hope I get the chance to work with them in my site. I´ll find out where my site is in a week and a half. I can´t wait!
On Thursday, we went on a field trip to a permaculture farm, and the ´manager´studied in Corvallis. It was amazing to see how productive they were on such a small plot. They put their cow and rabbit poo in a biodigester, which turns it into fertilizer and can also be used as an alternative to propane. They had plans to make a compost-heated shower. There was also an impressive vermiculture set-up. At the end of the tour, they have us samples of their homemade cheese, yogurt, and marmalada, with some chipa, lemon cake, and cocido. It was the best yogurt I have ever had, and I´ve been inspired to teach my family how to make it.
On Friday, before class, I woke up and made some pizza dough, so it could rise all day. All my compañeros and some neighbors came over with all sorts of toppings. I made tomato sauce, Esteban made cheese, and my mom helped us get the tatacua going. We made the most delicous pizza in the outdoor oven, cooked to perfection on banana leaves. God, I love cultural exchange.
Tomorrow, I´m going away for a week on Longfield Practice. I´m visiting a volunteer and staying with a host family to practice my language and technical skills. I´ll also be giving a presentation on kumanda yvyra'i, which is a magical bean tree that fixes nitrogen in the soil, can act as erosion control, and the fruit can be used as animal forage or as healthy and delicious human food. Not bad.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Feliz Día De Los Muertos
These things I hold to be true...right now:
-When it rains, the road is no longer a road, but a river.
-"Another day" and "perhaps" both usually mean No.
-Toads (kururu)have a dangerous poison that comes out of their eyes, but...
-If you spit into a toads mouth, some kind of sickness will be cured.
-You never terere on an empty stomach.
-If you mix watermelon and terere, you will die.
I´ve been thinking about the potential challenges I will face when I´m alone in my site, and I realized that what might be just as hard as being able to complain to a sympathetic, English-speaking ear will be not being able to share my accomplishments and successes. This is what brings on nostalgia and loneliness. Even being able to share a simple joke with my family feels huge, and I want to be able to express that.
I asked my mama the other day if she knew of any remedies for constipation. She sent me off to get some semillas de lino (flax seeds), which she made into a tea. Later she made me another jujo tea from orange tree leaves and then rubbed my tummy while we watched the news. I had not counted on the fact that by sharing my health woes with my mom, the entire town would be privy to them, as well. Everyone, I mean everyone, knew.
My mom and I were walking to the school for a performance the other night, and I saw a guy I had met at the soccer tournament. I whipsered to my mom that he had been drunk and annoying, and she proceeded to tell him, not only that I had just said that, but that I had not had a bowel movement in days. My language is getting to the point where I can usually tell if the conversation is about me. Then when the guy advised me to drink lots of liguids, I was sure. What can I do? Everyone knows everything here, and I guess I´m sharing this information on the internet anyway.
The school peformance was...odd. We paid $1000 Guarani (about 25cents) to get in and then another 1000Gs. for a chair. The ´dances´were led by a whistle-blowing gym teacher, and the uniformed students performed calistenic routines, complete with counting. It was not what I had expected, but it did go along with what I have been hearing about the education system here. Creativity and even critical-thinking skills are not encouraged. Children are taught by following orders, memorizing by rote, and reading from texts. And they don´t go to school when it rains.
Yesterday, we got back from our Tech. Overnight. We were visiting another volunteer, staying with host families, and getting some practice in the field. We planted and harvested abonos verdes (green manures) with a sweet, old farmer, I made some chipa with his wife (on a side note--the Guarani word for wife translates directly into "to have slave"), and we mixed up some venemos caseros (homemade insecticide) from a local plant. On the way back home, we stopped at store that sold peanut butter. Oh, sweet, sweet peanut butter. I also bought a bag of something that resembled wheat germ, and as I was putting it in a birthday cake, my neighbor commented that it was cow feed. As long as it´s fiberous cow feed.
-When it rains, the road is no longer a road, but a river.
-"Another day" and "perhaps" both usually mean No.
-Toads (kururu)have a dangerous poison that comes out of their eyes, but...
-If you spit into a toads mouth, some kind of sickness will be cured.
-You never terere on an empty stomach.
-If you mix watermelon and terere, you will die.
I´ve been thinking about the potential challenges I will face when I´m alone in my site, and I realized that what might be just as hard as being able to complain to a sympathetic, English-speaking ear will be not being able to share my accomplishments and successes. This is what brings on nostalgia and loneliness. Even being able to share a simple joke with my family feels huge, and I want to be able to express that.
I asked my mama the other day if she knew of any remedies for constipation. She sent me off to get some semillas de lino (flax seeds), which she made into a tea. Later she made me another jujo tea from orange tree leaves and then rubbed my tummy while we watched the news. I had not counted on the fact that by sharing my health woes with my mom, the entire town would be privy to them, as well. Everyone, I mean everyone, knew.
My mom and I were walking to the school for a performance the other night, and I saw a guy I had met at the soccer tournament. I whipsered to my mom that he had been drunk and annoying, and she proceeded to tell him, not only that I had just said that, but that I had not had a bowel movement in days. My language is getting to the point where I can usually tell if the conversation is about me. Then when the guy advised me to drink lots of liguids, I was sure. What can I do? Everyone knows everything here, and I guess I´m sharing this information on the internet anyway.
The school peformance was...odd. We paid $1000 Guarani (about 25cents) to get in and then another 1000Gs. for a chair. The ´dances´were led by a whistle-blowing gym teacher, and the uniformed students performed calistenic routines, complete with counting. It was not what I had expected, but it did go along with what I have been hearing about the education system here. Creativity and even critical-thinking skills are not encouraged. Children are taught by following orders, memorizing by rote, and reading from texts. And they don´t go to school when it rains.
Yesterday, we got back from our Tech. Overnight. We were visiting another volunteer, staying with host families, and getting some practice in the field. We planted and harvested abonos verdes (green manures) with a sweet, old farmer, I made some chipa with his wife (on a side note--the Guarani word for wife translates directly into "to have slave"), and we mixed up some venemos caseros (homemade insecticide) from a local plant. On the way back home, we stopped at store that sold peanut butter. Oh, sweet, sweet peanut butter. I also bought a bag of something that resembled wheat germ, and as I was putting it in a birthday cake, my neighbor commented that it was cow feed. As long as it´s fiberous cow feed.
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