Mucho mucho has happened in the past month, but michi michi has been my internet time. It´s been over six months now since I´ve lived in Arroyo Moroti, and my service is one quarter complete. That´s hard to believe. My arrival in my community coincided with the death of a woman whom I didn´t know. She died the day after I arrived. It was one of my first weeks here that I went to the ñemboehape (like a memorial service) and was forced to eat the horrible cow-organ soup. When someone dies, the family hosts a 9-day prayer vigil immediately after the death, and then again every three months for the following year. I went back for the three-month mark, and just recently completed the week of prayer for the six-month mark. After this first year, we will make chipa and celebrate the life of Sophia once a year on the anniversary of her death. It´s an interesting way to deal with grief. For the family and friends of the deceased, that first year can be incredible tough, their absence noticeable during holidays and events. Here, there are designated grieving times.
This has been especially poignant for me because I´ve grown close with Sophia´s son, whose arms she died in. He´s talked to me very rawely about missing his mom. But you move on. Everyone has known everyone else here their entire lives. People die all the time, even more are born, and everything is celebrated oñondivepa (together). With all the anniversaries, festivals, births, deaths, and holidays, it´s wonder there´s any time at all left for work or school.
I´ve continued with my English classes, and I´ve been surprized by how attentive they are. They´re probably relieved to be playing learning games, and not just copying off a board. Every class, a few kids bring me cookies or candy, and they call me Profe, which gives my ego a good tickle pickle. I always dread going to class, but I always leave in such a great mood. There´s something about pretending to be happy and energetic that tricks me into thinking I really am!
On a hygeinic note, I haven´t been showering because it´s been too cold for me to even think about getting undressed. Yet another reason for my neighbors to make fun of me. I need to suck it up if I´m going to be clean in this country. Winter has just started, too! Paraguayans are very religious about bathing daily, sometimes twice a day. I find this ironic, since they don´t brush their teeth or even wash their hands. I believe this irony is lost on them.
And on a reproductive note, my 20-year-old Paraguayan friend is pregnant, and she says I´m going to be the godmother! We´ll see though. I don´t know that my non-Catholic ways would bode well with Grandma. Still, we´ll get to have a wedding.
I realized the other day that in the nine months I´ve been in paraguay, I now speak better Guarani than Spanish, which is ridiculous, considering how many years I studied Spanish. I guess there´s nothing like immersion. Though I still understand Spanish better. All that grunting throws me off. I´ve had a theory that Guarani clicks so much more with me because it´s a feminine language. Don´t roll your eyes. Most, if not all words, as in Spanish, end in vowels--the opposite of English. I just made vowels female and consanants male, if that´s ok. And it´s femininity would make sense of a language that comes from the indegenous peoples, who live closer to the earth.
Last week, I had the flu, and, as expected, I didn´t want to see anyone, yet I wanted to be taken care of. Those are the days I stare out the cracks in my walls and wish I had a DVD player. Alas, no movies, so I went to for a walk to clear my head and try to avoid people, which was difficult, as everyone´s been working in the field for the sugarcane and yerba maté harvest. Eventually, I got to a deserted forest trail, and I found myself in the place where I had gotten lost back in December trying to find my community for the first time! I´ve looked for it before because I wanted to find the farmer who gave me directions and a ride on his tractor. I found his house, where he was drinking terere with his brother. He´s a young guy who lives by himself in his ranchito in the middle of nowhere. That´s very odd for Paraguay. I chatted with him for a bit, and a few days ago, I brought him homemade bread and left it on his door. Where my house is located has come to feel like downtown, with all the moto traffic and visitors. I need some peace and quiet--and solitude.
The other day, though, I had a visit that I didn´t mind. I was doing laundry and other ¨housewife¨ things, as they say, when two 8 and 9 year old neighbor girls came by. They actually put me in a better mood and were extremely helpful. Having grown up helping their mothers around the house, they knew exactly what to do. They were handing me things that I needed one step ahead. That´s why people have kids...
Last weekend, I organized a meeting/party with a bunch of other volunteers, and we jammed out in the park where our friends, the carpinchos, live. I´ve been really enjoying playing music lately. We all write and share our songs, and bring new dimesions to traditionals, like Amazing Grace.
On my way back from the high school last week, I met a Señora with a fantastic garden. She even had purple cabbage and dahlias, which she gave me transplants and cuttings of. Yesterday, I stopped by her house with a list of natural, homemade pesticide recipes. We identified bugs and walked around her garden some more. She confided that she keeps such a big garden, so that she can sell the surplus to her neighbors. Her husband left her when her child (now 15) was two years old. Her comments helped me reevaluate my priorities here. I may have been trained to help men in the field, but why not help women carve out a life for themselves in the garden?
I also started working in the school garden. I was given the 6th graders for an hour the other day, all 12 of them, and we we made raised beds and planted seeds. I taught them about nitrogen and carbon, nutrient loss, organic material, and companion planting. Their teacher learned, too. It was sooo much fun. Teaching is not my calling, but there are few things more refreshing and invigorating than explaining or demonstrating something new and swatching kids´faces light up and understand. That happened in the school garden.
The next day was Day of the Tree, and we had over one hundred trees donated to plant around the community. I organized planting with the kids at the school, church, and soccer field, carting trees in an old crate I attached to my bike.
And I´ve been busy with my Cooking/Nutrition class, as well. So far we´ve made homemade bread, toothpaste, and pizza. Next week, we´re making soap. What a great idea in any country to get a group of women (men, too, I guess) together to share the cost of ingredients and make things that are useful and tasty.
Yesterday was the 42nd anniversary of el 24 de Junio, my local soccer club. Most teams here (and streets, too, for that matter) are named after important historical dates, which makes things really confusing and ahrd to remember. You know, June 24th is playing July 30th, but they better watch out for the something something of August. Definately lacking in creativity. Anyhow, yesterday I was digging holes in my yard to plant my passionfruit--which I enjoyed blended, saved and dried the seed, and planted in old juice boxes--when my neighbors came over and told me to get dressed--we´re going dancing!! At 10am? Yes. I didn´t realize what an affair this was. There was a huge firepit, over which chunks of cow were roasting, there was a music tent, sound system, live polka band, and, yes, dancing! I do not get many opportunities to dance here, so I got right out on the field to strut my stuff. I was then invited by the school principal and a bunch of others to drink wizcola, so I had caña and Coke for breakfast...and lunch...and afternoon snack. Where else in the world can you party all day with all ages on a Wednesday?
Are you happy? they ask. They always ask. I can answer sincerely that I am. It mades me sad, though, to think about home, where I don´t know my neighbors. Community is so important, and I´m realizing that it´s not something that can be replicated or reproduced. It needs to evolve out of a shared lifestyle, out of needing each other. We travel so much more, works so much more, and are so much more exposed to the world outside our 5k (or mile) radius that it´s much harder for us to create that community. But it can--and will--be done!
