I'm living on my own for the first time in my life, and I'm loving it. Not even when I hear scary sounds on my roof at night (later I found a dead cat) do I wish I had a roommate. I have plenty of close neighbors and uninvited visitors to remind me that I'm never truly alone. And it doesn't bother me to see Abuela sweeping the yard or the kids carring out the trash while I'm squatting in the very public latrine.
Since I planned to take a mini-vacation to Buenos Aires On Monday to go see a Radiohead show, I wanted to be extra guapa (hard-working) for the week before I left, and it´s definately been busy. Twice I´ve biked to another community with a neighboring volunteer to work on a library project at the school--the only library I´ve seen thus far in Paraguay, which contains outdated encyclopedias and text books; there´s nothing that resembles a novel. We were working on a grant proposal to update their materials, and I spent Monday afternoon running around Asunción, dropping off proposals at various organizations who might be able to dontate. Brainstorming, we came up with a plan to get a computer with internet in the school, which would be a stretch, but amazing if it actually worked. The national government has decreed that every school should have one computer, like there should be a health center in every commununity. But like most things here, these mandates lack funding. Most successful projects I´ve seen here have been funded by NGOs, but even these organizations get frustrated by working with Paraguayans, who are too tired to even hold out their hands for free stuff, so these NGOs end up putting in into their pockets for them, which doesn´t exactly inspire self-sufficiency on the part of Paraguayans. I digress...
So, it´s been great living alone. If I have nothing to do early in the morning, I sleep until I feel like getting up (usually not muich later than 7), I´ll do yoga in my garden, water my veggies, then sip maté or coffee on my front porch and watch my village come to life. I watch the uniformed students on their way to school, and I feel an odd nostalgia. It´s a nice feeling not to be going to school, but it all feels like that part of my life was left behind so quickly, and now I´m in a position where people not only respect my opinion, but call on me for advice, when sometimes I feel like I should just be a kid on my way to class.
It´s intimidating sometimes that people want answers from me about what they s hould do, what crops they should plant, who they should buy from and sell to. I´m here to open doors and provide opportunities, but, ultimately, they know better than I, and I´m hoping to instill that sense of empowerment while I´m here. The new big crop right now is stevia, which is native to Paraguay, though Japan has done most of the growing. Since the FDA approved Stevia to be used in American producs in December (and Europe is likely to do the same in June), the market for it is huge, and there simply aren´t enough farmers growing it to supply the demand. Stevia is a safe, healthy sugar substitue 200x sweeter than sugar that has been used in South America for ages, though there´s not a huge market for it here since sugarcane has taken over. But now, companies like Coca-Cola, Pepsi, and Cargail want in on it, not to mention smaller companies dedicated to making organic, healthier products, and supporting small farmers at the same time. It seems like a great opportunity for farmers here to get into, so I´ve been trying to organize some farmers in my community to try it out. Many Paraguayans have been disenchanted, though. In the past, ¨experts¨ have come and given farmers free or cheap seed, saying that there´s a high price for the crop, and then the price drops or the crop fails, and the farmer is left with nothing. This happened with sesame (last year China´s drought raised the price, but this year it´s back down), and before that, cotton. They´re slow to change, and understandably so.
It´s garden season now, so I planned a garden workshop series this week. Three evenings, and one morning, I had 12 women come over to my house (I invited men, too, but garden is really a feminine role here). Besides a small beekeeping presentation, this was the first time I´ve held a formal lecture. I´ve realized it´s a lot harder to speak Guarani in front of a group of people, but I´m really pleased with the way it all came together. Each day I started with an ice-breaker game that had a hidden message about compost, organic material, or somehow related to what I was talking about. Then I would give a talk, and then we would go into my garden, and I would demonstrate how to make a compost pile or a raised bed or apply homemade organic pesticides. It was fun, and it gave me a chance to show them that I have something to offer.
And just when my honey supply was getting low, I got word that a family had two hives, but no bee veil to harvest honey. I showed up the next morning with my gear. The Señora fed me polenta and cocido, and then the Señor donned an old potato sack, and we walked out to his bee boxes. The boxers were brimming with honey-filled panels, but the potato sack didn´t last long, so my partner was forced to flee, rolling on the ground, and running safety in the house, and I was lef to harvest the second box on my own. Though more difficult to manage the smoker, machete, and bucket by myself, I found it peaceful to be out there with just the hum of the bees. These were angry bees, though, and I got stung a couple of times through my clothing. The bucket was so heavy with the harvest, I couldn´t even carry it back myself. As payment, the family fed me lunch and sent me home with honey, bananas, oranges, and a puffy hand, whcih itched all night and expanded to my wrist, as well. I´ll never give it up, though.
No comments:
Post a Comment