Recent accomplishments and fun times

We finished our "Ahecha Paraguay" program with an exhibit opening at the school and certificates for each student. (Certificates are VERY big in Paraguay.) I'm now looking to move the exhibit to the bank in town and then maybe to the hospital. I will also trade photos with a Volunteer from another part of the country to show my students another example of the "Ahecha" program.

I taught 7 Family Finance classes in total, covering topics of what we value, why do we save money, how to make a budget, how to use credit, the difference between loaned money and your own money, and how to open a bank account. Over 20 women came to at least 2 classes, and a solid group of 6 ladies came to almost every one. We celebrated the last class with a decorated cake that I bought in town and certificates for each participant.

Finally, in the middle of my second winter here in Paraguay, I've bought myself a small charcoal stove. It doesn't get super cold in Paraguay, but living in continuous 45 or 50 degree weather will still chill you to the bone. So now on cool nights I light some charcoal when it gets dark (around 5pm) and keep warm until I go to bed (around 9pm). Sometimes I cook my dinner over it in the cast iron pot my mom sent me.

This year's San Juan festival at the school finally happened in July, after a weather postponement. I braided hair for 4 girls, every grade did a great job with their traditional Paraguayan dance, and it was a fun time for all.

Here me and my neighbor Silvia pose after her dance performance.

After all of the students dance, there is a DJ and dance party for everyone to get in on the fun. In a surprise turn of events, my dance partner for most of the night was Isabel, my six year old neighbor. Man, she knows how to groove!! We had a blast and I must say that she is my new favorite dance partner, by a mile.

Last week two Volunteer friends came to help me with a Winter Kids Camp for three days. It was an "arts" camp, complete with songs, dancing, recycled arts & crafts, and a different Odyssey of the Mind challenge each day. The kids loved it and on our last day, almost 30 came! I was especially proud of their creativity with the Odyssey of the Mind games, because creative expression is generally discouraged here, so it can be hard for people to think outside of the box.

On the last day of camp, my friend Jose (in the white shirt) came to visit and brought some of his friends, Korean Volunteers from other parts of the country. They made lunch, I made banana bread, and we had a nice afternoon.

My friend Carmen (in yellow) celebrated her 35th birthday last weekend. I helped her make a HUGE birthday cake (4 lbs of flour!) and it was a small tranquilo dinner celebration with close family and friends, chicken, cake, and dancing until the power went out and cut the party a little short, haha. It's hard to dance in the dark and without pounding music!

Words Full of Meaning

Sometimes in Paraguay, one word can mean a whole heck of a lot. It's hard to explain, but I'm going to try because these are some of my favorite words to say, and hardest also to NOT include in conversations in English. Here I'll try to give some translations of what I might say in English versus what I'd say in the same situation in Guarani. And believe me, with the right expression and vocal inflection, the translation really is the same.

1. Question: So Amanda, how did your kids' camp go last week?

English Answer: It went really well! A lot of kids came and they seemed to love all of activities that we prepared for them. They also behaved well and we all had fun together.

Guarani Answer: Ose pora! Oporta pora ha'e'kuera ha rovy'ama oñondive.

(Oh-say poh-nah! Oh-port-ah poh-na hah-eh-coo-eh-rah hah roh-vuh*-ah-mah oh-neo-n-dee-veh)

*the "y" sound in Guarani doesn't exist in English. It is a short guttural grunt. Try it out!

Ok...so this example isn't that drastic of a difference. But it is less than half the space, and 8 Guarani words vs. 32 in English. Not bad.

2. Question: Amanda, is there any more cake left?

English Answer: Oh no, I'm sorry there's not any left. It looks like it all got eaten.

Guarani Answer: Opama.

(Oh-pah-ma.)

Yes! Here is a better example. "Opa" means to end and "ma" is an adverb that conveys a sense of time in the present. "It has ended" might be a good translation, but of course, we wouldn't say that in English. Also, in saying simply "opama" I can convey my sympathy that there isn't any more cake left for you to eat but also not feel the need to implicate any wrongdoing in this state. The cake has ended, that's all.

3. Question: Amanda, how are you doing in general? Do you like living in San Jose Boqueron?

English Answer: I'm doing pretty well overall, and despite its challenges I do enjoy living in Paraguay and in San Jose Boqueron specifcally.

Guarani Answer: Avy'a.

(Ah-vuh*-ah).

Bam. This example might be the winner. "Avy'a" means to be happy but more than that...to be content. Not that that everything is perfect by a longshot, but that you're getting by and are generally happy where you are and what you are doing. For most Paraguayans, when I ask them this same question they laugh at me and say, "Amanda, how could I not be happy living here? This is where I'm from. This is where my family is." And that is that. Now for me, this is not to say that I don't have my very lonely days, that I don't miss my family and friends terribly, that I'm not feeling like I'm ready to complete my two years of service here pretty soon. Because all of those things are true.

But when a Paraguayan asks me if I "avy'a" still here in Paraguay, I say honestly and without a moment's hesitation, "Sí... avy'a." Because I do. And I think I've learned here how to be able to know that feeling and look for it wherever I may go.

SIX months to go!

With six months of Peace Corps service left to go, I find myself more and more often thinking about how I’ve changed, what I’ve learned, what habits I’ve acquired, and how I will adjust back to life in the United States. And also being amazed at how fast the time flies! The different habits part hit me the other morning when I woke up to an upset stomach. Here’s a few things that I do now, that I never much thought about when I first came to Paraguay.

1. “Don’t Ignore the Symptoms”

My “work-through-it” attitude has pretty much faded away. Whatever inkling of sickness I have, I usually start treating it right away, to try to prevent it from getting any worse (which can happen really fast, here especially). If I get an upset stomach, I stop my normal eating. I make myself ginger tea, eat toast or crackers, and make a broth with rice. I also drink a liter of electrolyte mixture to ward off dehydration. Basically, I pump the liquids. If I feel a cold coming on, I do the same, but minus the electrolytes and plus more maté and tereré. They keep you peeing like crazy, which is good for flushing out your system.

2. “What Do the Clouds Say”

I swear, more of my conversations here are about weather than anything else. But it’s not just small talk - The weather affects meeting plans, travel plans, planting plans, etc etc. I was supposed to travel to another Volunteer’s site yesterday to help with a green manures charla but it was lightning in two directions and threatening rain in three when I went to leave at 6am. So I cancelled the travel plans, not wanting to travel 6 hours (walking, bus, more walking) for nothing and especially not wanting to get stuck out at this Volunteer’s site, with such a busy week coming up (He lives 2 hours walking from the highway, which is also dirt, and the buses don’t run when it rains.) But then, OF COURSE, it cleared up and was beautifully warm and sunny all day. It can be very frustrating, but what’s a person to do.

3. “How Can I Use That?”

Just as a product of my lifestyle here, I create less waste than I ever have before. My food scraps go to the compost pile or to feed the animals, 2 liter pop bottles store water, old jelly jars store rice and popcorn, my “organizational spacing system” consists of old fruit crates and cardboard boxes, my wash basin is made from an old tire, and I plant in milk and fruit juice boxes. Even my crap is composting, and requires no flushing. I’m not tooting my own horn, of course this depends on where you are and what resources you have. But through campo living, I have realized that it is possible to live with less.


Once again, I’m not comparing this to our lifestyles in the U.S., just realizing for myself how my habits have changed due to my living situation and life here in Paraguay. Also, as my sister puts it, “Manda… you have a lot of time to brood.”

So true! So forgive my inner ramblings that I’ve outwardly expressed here, but just thought I’d share a little bit more into my daily Peace Corps life (and the results of having a lot of time to think and reflect…or brood. Haha).
See you in December!

Ahecha Paraguay (I See Paraguay) - Photography Project in my community

As promised, here are some of my favorite pictures from the "I See Paraguay" literacy through photography project that I've been running with the local sixth grade class for the past 2 months. All of the pictures are the property of the Ahecha program, and were taken by boys and girls, ages 11-13. Our community exhibit will take place starting June 25, in conjunction with the Festival of San Juan.

Bahiiiiiiaaaa

The scene:

A place where the sea determines much of life.

A city of hills where neighbors are close and the nearest coconut water vendor is even closer.

A beach that locals and travelers share with gusto, and the covering is minimal.

A place where the green countryside is still close by.

Welcome to... Salvador da Bahia, Brazil! Salvador is the 3rd largest city in Brazil and is located on the Atlantic Coast, in the northeastern state of Bahia. It is also the current home of my friend Diego, who is studying for his masters' there in the State University. Here's a photo account of my week there, a fantastic time!

Here we're eating at Diego's usual lunch spot, in a makeshift restaurant below street level. The food was delicious and inexpensive. I had feijoada, a local dish of slowly stewed beans, with sausage and beef, with pasta, rice, and salad on the side.

Here, Diego's mom shows me her plants at their family home in Feira, about 1 hour from Salvador. She was a super fun and straightforward lady... She let me know when my Portuguese made no sense and simultaneously made me feel right at home.

Here we're checking out an old monastery/lighthouse. In the distance is the main downtown part of the city, across the bay. And this is my best imitation of a female Paraguayan photo pose. It's a work in progress.

It was a week of unexpected encounters with interesting people, made even more interesting with my poor Portuguese but everyone's insistence of speaking it with me. This is Nathalia from Rio de Janeiro. We met on the beach and hung out the next few days!

Here is Pelourinho, the "old" part of the city. It's well known for its steep streets and vibrantly painted buildings.

After a open air, live band dance party, we followed behind this drum team, who also attracted a crowd of impromptu samba dancers behind them. You couldn't help but bounce along to the rhythm.

So as you can see... we had a pretty darn fun group. Here, Diego, his older brother Ede, Nathalia, and I head to the street dance party. I don't think I've ever danced more in a single week in my entire life. And I LOVED IT! My advice... Get to know a little bit of Brazil. I think you'll love it too.

Gratitud.

The alarm went off at 5:30am. I had positioned it next to my pillow, so there was no need to fight my way out of the mosquito net to hit the snooze. It was still dark, and one of those days that I really did not feel like getting out of bed, due more to emotional reasons than physical ones. But as I had a standing date for early morning maté with Ña Merarda,, I finally forced myself out of the net around 6am, needing to feed the chickens and pig before leaving and not wanting to arrive for maté at an embarrassingly late hour (sure sign of non-guapaness).

As I locked up my house and headed down the muddy road, the sun was just starting to creep over the distant ridge. A neighbor´s son passed me on his bike, already returning from some early morning errand, and at the corner, some young people home for a visit to their parents greeted me with hugs, besos, and invitations for nail-painting and a party tomorrow night. Despite feeling slightly accosted by such well-intentioned intensity at 6:15am, I arrived to Ña Merarda’s house already with a slightly less dreary mood. I arrived in good time as Ña Merarda was just finishing starting to build her daily fire to heat up the maté water. Over boiling bitter tea sipped quickly in short swallows, Ña Merarda, Don Severiano and I discussed herbal remedies, their children, life under Stroessner`s dictatorship, and one of the more foreign questions that I had asked in yesterday´s introductory family finance class – If you had a day free of activities, work, and responsibilities, what would you do?

This was nearly impossible for most of the women in the class to imagine.

Not even noticing the time, and not being especially eager to return back to my house to be alone again, I stayed for a breakfast of fried tortillas and mandioca, followed by a mound of oranges picked at that moment from the small orchard behind the house, by Ña Merarda’s two grandchildren that live with her. As I walked back home feeling stuffed with Paraguyan goodness, it was nearly 10am… only about 3 hours later than expected.

Back at my house, I sat down to listen to some music and shell some crotalaria seeds and soy beans, both from my demonstration plot. Soon thereafter, Isidora, the youngest girl that I took to the youth leadership camp earlier in the month, finally came by for a visit. I let her choose which photos of the trip she wanted to keep as souveniurs, and we talked about the upcoming charla series that she and the other two girls will be facilitating in the next month. All the while we were chatting and catching up, we were both shelling soy beans from the bowl in her lap. Meanwhile, my neighbor girls popped over to ask me if I’d like to go drink some tereré next door with their older sister Estela. I said sure, Isi headed back home, and I was off again for another visit.

Estela was at her mother’s house taking advantage of the semi-automatic washing machine and the running water – neither of which she has at her own house in the next community over. We sat down for some icy tereré with mint and lemongrass and laughed over her 5 year old daughter’s impressive cartwheels and botched attempts at somersaults. Estela is a year older than me, and is now going back to school at night, in town, in order to get her high school diploma. She then wants to study nursing, but confides to me that four years is really just such a long time. The daughter, Karen, is learning English in her private school in town, and Estela wants me to teach her as well since she herself cannot help in this particular subject, which Karen for which likes to berate her, as only five year olds can.

With my Ahecha photography class scheduled for 2pm, I excused myself from this noontime tereré session to quickly cook up some pasta for lunch. There was no time for the customary shower-before-meeting-time, but I put on dark jeans, redo my hair, trade my flipflops for real shoes, and call myself presentable. As I headed down the road again, I picked up four little girls along the way, two of whom are in my class. We arrived at school fifteen minutes early, with most of my students already there although mine is the only class they have today. Technically, it is vacation for Day of the Paraguayan Teacher.

However, as 2:00 approaches we were still missing two students and one camera so I made the decision to turn this into a short field trip. We all take the hike down the road towards the fields and ended up taking a narrow path to find both girls getting ready for class, planning to come after all. Back in class, today’s session focused on the use of color and using our imaginations to create stories about a photograph. The cameras went to the other half of the class today, but I was impressed by what I saw so far in the few glances I got of pictures that were taken by the first group. So far, my most creative and imaginative student is also the one least likely to follow rules, complete her homework, or come prepared to class. Her family is also one of the poorest.

On Monday I will collect the cameras to review the pictures and charge the batteries, and we ended on this note. As I passed one student’s house fifteen minutes later, I saw that she is already excitedly taking pictures of her various family members. I yelledl to her to keep up the good work, and she gave me a shy but cheeky grin. Half an hour later, as I was finishing up some dish-washing in buckets on my patio, Ña Merarda’s teenage son stopped by. His name is Gabi and as a first year computer science college student, he’s not around too much during the week but has come back for the weekend with his younger sister. Besides being an outstanding student, Gabi is also a great Paraguayan guitar and harp player and came today to practice with me on the steel string American guitar that my sister has lent me. He sang his classic American tune, Green Day’s “Time Of Your Life,” showed me the chord progressions, and helped me with some strumming. After telling him of my interest to learn some Paraguayan music, I now have a basic polka melody to practice for next week. As he left, it was dark and a storm had rolled in, bringing lightning and light rain with it.

Another day, another week, and another month are nearly over. As I retire into my little house, I am struck by how much I needed every person that I encountered today, and how grateful I am to each of them for turning this potentially awful day into a truly enjoyable one.

Tubby (but that's not his name because he doesn't have one.)

This is my pig or kure'i.