Chickens Snore, Too

My infatuation with my community, with the people, and with Paraguay, this week has given way to frustration. There´s no particular reason, or perhaps it is spurred on by my stomach hurting the past few days, though I recognize that I have not gotten a cold since I´ve been in Paraguay. I went to a neighboring almacen the other day to get some poha ñana (medicanal herbs). Just ask your local Señora! Everything this week has made me angrier faster--my house taking forever to build, the lack of work eithic of my socios, the constant questions, the lack of privacy. Granted, the family I´ve been staying with is really chill and even admires my independence. I may have set the precedent by staying out late the first night I moved there. I texted them to say I was at a birthday party and I´d be home later. They put a chair in front of the unlocked door, so I could get into the house. I feel like I´m in high school, and I´ve been granted later curfew.

In training, they warned us about the emotional rollercoaster. And it´s true. It´s been great to live with families that past couple months, but I´ve been feeling really ready to live on my own. There´s always something with my house. First I was told they had all the materials, then there´s no cement for the floor, then there´s not enough wood for the walls. Now they say Ikatu, it could be done on Monday. I hope so. The past two days have looked much more promising, though. The walls are up! I realize that they are building me a house for free and letting me live in it rent free, but it´s still frustrating that nothing is for sure, and I´m being constantly lied to. Many Paraguayans have no qualms with straight-up lying to my face if they think it´s what I want to hear. It drives me crazy. I just keep plying the workers with more nails, beer, banana bread, and promises of an inaugural feast.

I find myself getting used to daily life in my community. It feels almost normal, and sometimes I even forget I´m a foreigner, but there are always moments that bring me back to reality. The other day, I caught a ride on the carreta (ox and cart) with Kai Felipe, who was going to help me haul the branches I had cut the previous week to build my shade structure in my garden. (Vegetables won´t survive without shade here.) We stopped along the way to pick up an armoire and a bed frame to take down the road to a neighbor´s house. I got off to help unload the furnature, and while others carried the armoire, I was left standing in the middle of the dusty road holden a now-broken bed frame. A moto wizzed by me, and with the sun still beating down, it began to rain. Sometimes I laugh outloud, and the locals don´t know what´s so funny because I can´t quite explain how odd and amazing life here is.

There´s a chicken who snores outside my window. There´s one tree that seems to be the roosting favorite of the many chickens (and roosters) who live here. Sometimes I have to fall asleep to music just to drown out the whiny sound. At least it´s better than the roosters. If any one of the roosters within cockadoodling distance feels the need to let the world know he´s protecting his flock, he´ll set off a chain off alarms up and down the hillside. It reminds me of the dogs in 101 Dalmations, who pass along the message of the stolen puppies from the city to the country.

On a different animal note, I like to write in my journal at night, but it´s difficult for all the bugs attracted to my headlamp. I mean, HUGE bugs, and dragonflies, too. The other night, I saw a lightning bag for what it really is, without the light. I have such a romantic image of lightning bugs, but really they´re just ugly-looking beetles.

I started digging a trash pit in the backyard, and I´ve been helped my three young children, whose work was appreciated. We rotated two shovels between us, and it´s hot, hard work. What makes it harder is that there are no full-size shovels in this country. They are all the size of edging shovels. I had a little conversation with my neighbor about why I don´t want to burn my trash. I´d rather not put it in the earth either, but it´s the lesser evil. A while ago, I was talking to a farmer about his field practices, such as use of green manures and cover crops. He told me, ya, I use my trash as fertilizer and ground cover; I just throw it in my field. Except for the plastic--I burn that in the kitchen fire. I didn´t even know where to start. Starting the fire with plastic bags (which are plentiful here) is common practice.

But things are looking up. A neighbor invited me over the other night for wine and fish soup, which was delicious, though full of bones. Rather recently, a fish seller has been coming around on his moto once a week. The fish comes from a local river and is a refreshing change from the gross meat. I don´t even eat the meat anymore. I just can´t do it.

Yesterday, I hoed up a good chunk of my garden and planted some corn. It´s a local variety that´s used for animal feed. I´m hoping to get some chickens soon, and I want to have a way to feed them without relying on store-bought feed. When it gets a bit cooler, I´ll plant some peanuts and mandioca, as well. Lastnight, I went to bed, picturing my litte corn plants germinating up through the red dirt. And today I´m in the city to celebrate Carnaval!