Prepare to Eat Chipa Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner.

I´m letting go of my Buenos Aires state of mind, and getting back into the swing of living in site. I had been slightly dreading the readjustment. I was looking forward to returning to my casita and garden and the comforts that the settled life provides, but I´ve found that whenever I leave site for a given period of time, it takes a little while to get back into the rhythm of the campesina (country bumpkin--my own translation). I´ve found that not to be so true this time. I´ve picked up right where I left off, holding meetings, attending meetings, playing volleyball, and working a job that is anything but nine to five.

On my way back home, I stopped at a neighboring volunteer´s site, where I had left my bike, and as soon as I showed up, she asked me, concerned, if I was ok after the bus assault. The what?! She had heard from someone in my community, who heard from my neighbor, who heard from her son, who lives in Buenos Aires that I was attacked on the bus and my passport was taken. Paraguayan gossip is the best. I realized where the confusion lay: One of my travelling buddies got his backpack stolen in BA, so I went with him to the US Embassy, so he could get another passport, and I must have told my Paraguayan host brother about it, and word quickly spread back to Paraguay. So I knew I would have some explaining to do when I got back. People understood pretty easily, though, when I just said ijapu

(it´s a lie) because Paraguayans (especially men) are known for their tendency to lie.

I´ve been holding a lot of meetings about stevia lately because the time to plant is May, and there are a lot of people interested in planting. I´ve been organizing a training session (it´s a rather technical crop) and explaining the positives and negatives of working with different companies.

Next week is Semana Santa, also known around these parts as eat-chipa-everyday-week. So I expect to make (and eat) a whole lot of chipa , which I´m looking forward to. This week, every evening we´ve been gathering at each other´s houses, a different person´s every day, for a ñembo`ehape, where we gather around an alter to say prayers and sing hymns. Then the hostess gives out candy or cookies, we chat, and then we go home. It´s a sweet tradition, and I´m starting to learn some of the songs. I explained that most people in the US only celebrate Easter Sunday, when I was asked about my custom. And do we believe in Our Lord? I told them that I believe that I am God, you are God, and that I find God in all people and every interaction. They understood and even agreed with me, especially my neighbor, who was a nun for 25 years, but left the church for love. Community development work at its finest.

The other morning my 17-year-old neighbor, Paola, woke me up, clapping outside my house (they clap here instead of knocking), to invite me on her Senior class trip to a gold mine and that we were leaving from the cruce in half an hour. Knowing that this is a big gold area and not having anything else to do that morning, I rolled out of bed and rode my bike up to meet the rickety truck that hauled all the kids in the back. At first we didn´t find the mine we were scheduled to go to, but ended up a different, more haphazard mine, where no one wore helmets and people handled mercury with their bare hands. It was interesting to see the process. The next mine we went to was run by Argentinians, who do business in Canada. I asked about their environmental practices and relationship with the local community. They actually have strict environmental codes and international agencies that check up on them. 50% of the profits go to create services for the local community. Unlike the first mine (thrown together illegally by locals who need to make a living), they are required by the government to follow regulations.

I spoke with the bossman in English, and he explained to me that it´s better for them to try to work with the local, illegal miners for the sake of local relations, and he understands that they´re just trying to make a living. So most of their hiring comes from the guys from the other mines, who he hires on a rotational basis. I showed up not wanting to like mining, but I realized how many of our everyday products contain gold, right down to our cellphone chips. I left feeling better about the practices this company was employing. I´ll stick with agriculture, though.

Speaking of, my garden has flourished, despite the lack of rain, and I´m eating, not only greenbeans, but arugula, mustard greens, green onions, and white radishes. Yum!