Category Archives: Paraguay

The Hi-Bye Period

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Each year, one new group of volunteers comes to Paraguay for each sector—health, community development, agriculture, and environment. What this means, because of our 27 month deployment, is that once a year, for each sector, one group is finishing up, one group is celebrating a year in country, and one group is beginning training. For health, that time is now.

About a year ago, I was in training. I was the greenhorn, the lost new volunteer uncertain what Paraguay would mean for me. I looked up to the group of health volunteers before me, which are endearingly called my “sister G.”

It’s hard to believe that I’m now filling the mentor role for a new group of volunteers—and scarier to think that my mentors from my sister G are about to begin a new journey, the life of Returned Peace Corps Volunteers (RPCVs, in government jargon).

This period of important landmarks—finishing up, celebrating a year, and beginning training—I’m going to call the “hi-bye” period. “Hi” to the new group, and “bye” to the veterans. In a year, I’ll know what it’s like to be saying “bye,” but for now, I can only tell you what it’s like to have made it to the hyphen, the group caught between “hi” and “bye.”

I don’t know how I made it to the hyphen. Training and adjusting to Paraguay was a phantasmagoria. Living in a new culture and language confuses things, and made me wonder what was real and what was something I thought real but wasn’t. But, through it all I had my sister G. They answered my questions, sent reassurance (that what was happening and what I was feeling was not out-of-the-ball-park), and cheered me up when I was down. You can’t truly understand the Peace Corps experience unless you’ve done it yourself, and so I looked up to (and still do) each person in my sister G not only because they proved service was possible, but also because they understood my fight in a way few others can. Picture a five-year-old boy who dreams of becoming a baseball player getting to be coached by his favorite pro player—that’s how I felt about my sister G during my training. They knew everything.

Now, being where my sister G was during my training, I know that they didn’t have all the answers. That a lot of the advice they gave was theoretical. That they aren’t untouchable pros, but amazing people and friends. I’m going to miss them as they start to roll out.

It’s only right, being the in hyphen, that I help the “hi” group as much as my sister G helped me. I have a mentee from the new group, and I look forward to meeting her. We’ve already exchanged emails as she prepared to come to Paraguay. The new group arrived just days ago and I send them my warmest welcome.

The hyphen is the most stable stage to be in during the hi-bye period. I have the experience of a year in this hot and sunny country, but I don’t have to worry about what I’m going to do with myself after Peace Corps just yet. It’s a time to reflect. To think about my first year. Hear the stories of what the “bye” group did during their service. Listen to the anxieties of the “hi” group. It’s a time of conflicting motions—joy for my sister G’s success and sadness that they are leaving. They say Peace Corps is a roller coaster. They never mention, though, that it will be the most winding roller coaster known to humans.

Weight Watchers

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In Paraguay it’s normal, acceptable, and common to talk about people’s weight. I’ve sort of come to accept this, except one morning a man I hadn’t seen in months made a point to stop and ask if I’d gained weight. That put me over the edge—no matter how hard I try I can’t completely suppress my US upbringing. It shouldn’t have bothered me, especially seeing as I’ve lost weight since we last spoke, but it did. And there was no escaping as that morning progressed.

Subsequent conversations that day with Paraguayan men included why I didn’t have a boyfriend and then how I am a cold person because I don’t respond well to Paraguayan men’s way of being. Examples: I don’t answer catcalls; I don’t hold suggestive text conversations joking or not; and I don’t dance with random people (even if someone I know asks me to) at parties where everyone is drinking…crazy, I know.

I think it was the timing. That morning occurred days after I returned from a girls leadership camp. To have some dude engage me in a conversation by calling me fat after almost a week of talking about self-esteem and girl power created a juxtaposition of reality that was impossible to ignore. We talk about self-esteem and how it leads to bad decisions; or, more aptly, inability to stand up for yourself or what you want.

Maybe it is culturally acceptable to ask or comment about someone’s weight in Paraguay, but not it the way it was done that morning. It was a classic case of undermining someone to cow them into doing something. I didn’t take the bate, and the conversation ended promptly. There is a reason why I hadn’t talked to that particular guy or his family in months, and regardless of my weight I won’t go back on my decision to keep them out of my life.

Weight is a blurry thing in Paraguay. Everyone talks about it. Babies (both sexes) and little girls are a called “fatty” in Spanish, it’s a pet name. Girls and women (to a lesser extent boys and men also) who are overweight or very skinny will also get called the nick name “fatty.” But, the regularity of talking about weight doesn’t negate the negative connotations. You might argue that the “ideal” woman in Paraguay is a little more curvy that the “ideal” in the States, but the ideal is still skinny. The same goes for men, the “ideal” man is muscular and trim, not jiggly.

There’s a lot of ways to interpret what a Paraguayan mother means when she calls her adult daughter fat: she thinks it’s endearing, she thinks her daughter should lose weight, or she just wants to start a conversation with you (about whatever). But when the Paraguayan male calls any woman fat, there are fewer interpretations: he wants to start a conversation or he is criticizing her.

Why is putting people down, especially women, an acceptable conversation starter? Cultural differences are peachy, but things that help maintain a status quo of inequality ought to be reconsidered no matter where you live.

When $%#@ Goes Down, God Has Spoken

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Not so long ago, a woman in my community died. I don’t know all the details of the story. I only heard a witnesses account, and I only understood what I gleaned from the conversation. But, it’s too good of an example of health access and religion in Paraguay to let it pass untold.

The woman had diabetes and that’s what killed her. Diabetes, high blood pressure, and obesity are common health problems in Paraguay. There may be genetic component (I’m not sure) but it has a lot to do with the diet and life style. Food is saturated in oil and fat and most meals are nothing more than a medley of carbohydrates with a chuck of fatty meat at the center. For many, life is centered around sitting, and dirt bikes have made is so many people don’t even need to walk to go to the corner store or their neighbor’s house.

I don’t entirely understand what happened. The doomed lady at first felt very ill and had to lie down. She sent her younger child out of the room so the child didn’t have to see her that way. The person telling me the story, started calling around to ask if anyone with a car could help take the sick woman to the hospital.

In Paraguay, ambulances aren’t the norm. There are ambulances, especially connected to private hospitals. Public hospitals also have them, but those ambulances don’t cover the hospital’s whole territory—I’m still murky on how that works. The closest public hospital to my site is a half hour bus ride away, but they can’t help with everything. The closest major public emergency center is about two hours away by bus. Basically, in an emergency, you need a ride. Cars aren’t super common. More people have dirt bikes, but a two-hour ride on a dirt bike is not really the best idea understanding the dangerous traffic conditions of the route. Not to mention, holding on to a dirt bike when you’re sick must be hard.

So, the lady trying to find a ride for the ill woman called several people—the old go-to’s, people with cars known to give rides, the taxis. No one could help. When she returned to the ill lady, the woman was dead and her skin colored with blood leached out underneath.

The woman telling this story, was actually telling the woman I was visiting that afternoon. And the woman I was visiting responded to the story by saying something like, “When you need help and there is no one, it’s your time.” The three of us nodded in agreement to that comment; it made perfect sense.

Each person has his or her own system of beliefs. But, in Paraguay belief in the Christian God helps explains a lot of things. Life isn’t always fair. There is suffering. There is joy. God helps relieve feelings of injustice and despair by providing one reason for why things are the way they are.

Soda

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Soda is a bubbly drink that comes in many flavors and contains a pile of sugar. Sugar-free sodas replace the mountain of sugar with synthetic sweetener (even if you can stand the flavor of fake sugar, I suggest looking up the latest research on the effects of that before switching to zero-calorie drinks). Some sodas taste pretty darn good. Many people like carbonated drinks.

In Paraguay, soda with sugar is common (sugar-free sodas are less common here, so I’m not going to talk about them). Bus venders sell soda by the bottle and by the glass. A neat thing about soda here is you can by 2-liter glass bottles, which you then return to the place where you bought them. Actually, soda in glass bottles is very common in Paraguay…the only part of soda culture that I adore.

I’d be lying if I said that soda is drunk in moderation in my community. People guzzle down glass after glass of Coke, Niko, Piri, Fanta, Pepsi…I didn’t know there were so many brands of soda. It’s common for a family to down a 2-liter bottle after lunch (the biggest meal of the day). Like in the US, soda is served at parties and is a common “refresher” to go along with a snack or to drink while sitting with friends and family. The only thing that slows people down is that soda is usually drank with a common glass—so either one glass (or several glasses) is passed around to everyone or people take turns drinking a full glass, but only use one or two glasses for everyone.

The complaints about the health effects of soda are the same no matter where you are. Summary: Soda has too much sugar. The sugar rots your teeth, is generally bad for your body, and can make you gain weight in an unhealthy way. But, I find the knowledge of that to be lagging in Paraguay. I hear frequently from mothers and other caretakers of children that kids should not eat candy because it’s bad for their teeth. I hear people note often that sweets and carbohydrates make you gain weight. Very few people say anything about soda. Kids are infrequently denied a second, or third, glass of soda while they might be denied another cookie.

How did soda escape scrutiny?

The Ability to Do Nothing

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Think for a moment, how often do you do absolutely nothing? Now, I’m not talking about watching the TV, reading a book, sleeping…those would all be considered something regardless of your value judgement. Think hard: Nothing, sitting and staring into space, maybe watching people pass on the street and kids play in the patio. Concession, it’s hot in Paraguay so that nothingness activity might also include terere.

I don’t know your answer, but mine before coming to Paraguay was almost never. It’s so culturally ingrained in me that I must always be doing something it’s practically biological. At best, doing nothing for extended periods of time makes me show physical signs of stress. At worst, long stretches of nothingness makes me saturnine and frozen with boredom.

Paraguayans possess an innate ability to do nothing, or maybe it’s culturally taught, because the kids here have more energy then a hydro-dam running full throttle. The point is this, to my community members, a great afternoon is one spent sitting outside in the shade drinking terere. For hours. Sometimes that sitting involves conversations about the normal—who’s dating who, who’s not parents right, who’s gotten into trouble, or who did this, that, and the other thing. You know, small-town gossip. If you come from where I come from in the States you know the drill.

It’s hard for me to comprehend that an afternoon spent in such a way isn’t a waste. I know the Paraguayans in my community see an afternoon sitting as a gift, as a win. I’m always trying hard to not use my culture to judge them, but it’s difficult. Something about idleness gets to me. There are studies that people in the States should do less, that the brain needs time to just putter along. I have my doubts.

My tolerance for nothingness has grown. I can sit a couple of hours a couple times a week before my legs get completely stiff and my brain feels like mush. It’s an improvement, but I don’t possess the ability of nothingness. I never will.

The ability to do nothing is the ability to only think about this moment in time. To enjoy everything there is, as it is, and not question how it could be improved or changed. I can never only live in the moment. I replay the past; I ponder the future. If I’m not thinking about my life I slip into planning out the novel I’m writing, or going to write someday, I think about philosophical questions.

Having passed my year mark in Paraguay, I’ve returned to the conclusion that it is neither good or bad to be able to do nothing, but it is bad to force myself to try too often. Paraguayans judge self-worth in a different way than I do. They define self-worth by the group they are part of—their family, friends, or team. I define self-worth by what I’v done. To ask me to do nothing too often, is to ask me to be worthless. My way of seeing things is not better or worse than the Paraguayan way, it’s just different. And when in Paraguay, do as the Paraguayans do…with a grain of salt. I now always carry a book or flashcards when I go visiting…just in case the terere conversation stops and I find myself falling into the black abyss of nothing. There’s a difference between integrating and losing yourself.

No…No…No…I Don’t Have a Boyfriend

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No, I haven’t found that special Paraguayan

No, I don’t have someone waiting for me in the States either

My answer shouldn’t come as a surprise

Because it’s the same as yesterday’s response

Does this topic really require daily discussion?

–

This is my excuse:

Clearly an excuse is necessary…who knew?

As if living in a foreign country for two years isn’t enough.

I’m not looking for one…

I don’t have time, I’m busy

I have things to do and I’m in Paraguay to work

I can’t bring a Paraguayan back to the States (unless he can support himself)

No, there’s no rule against it (that would be stupid)

Oh, I’m hopeful, but I’m not waiting

–

Well, since we’ve had this convo so many times

Your responses are of little surprise:

The man’s the one whose supposed to look and you’re pretty

But come on, you could just bring him home a few hours

Love is powerful

No rule against it? Well then…(insert critical look)

Are you really saying these things to me?

–

The inevitable conclusion:

It’s not that I’m against them, back off a bit would you?

You make it seem like without one I’ll drop dead

Which, is beyond annoying.

Yes, of course, if the perfect man crosses my path

Things would be different

–

Dear Paraguay, what I didn’t tell you:

Sure, I’d be happy to have a boyfriend

But, I’m not pining away

Feeling worthless or pointless because I don’t have one

I have nothing against Paraguayans

They are actually a pretty attractive people

–

But the thing is this…

I’m leaving in 2 years, tops 3

And I’m looking at 8-9 years of studying when I get back

Having kids is not on my agenda right now

No way in hell am I doing all the cooking and cleaning

Aggressiveness, catcalls, and any comments about my body

Are rude and a huge turn off

I don’t understand enough Guaraní and my first language is English

More important than anything is a good conversation

–

So, if you’re insistent on pairing me with a Paraguayan

Find someone who can work with all those things

Who isn’t dating or married, doesn’t have kids and has his teeth

And is genuinely a “good” person and someone I enjoy

Find someone who fits that bill

Then we can start a real discussion about dating.

Girl Power

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Last week we held a girls’ leadership camp called GLOW—Girls Leading Our World. The neatest thing about it was the noticeable transformation the girls went through over the 4-day camp; fertilizer for self-esteem.

Forty-seven girls from all over Paraguay participated in activities and presentations related to leadership, self-esteem, domestic violence awareness, sexual education, safe online communication practices, and much more. The last night we had a period party, yep you guessed it, to celebrate menstruation.

Youth camps are not common in Paraguay. For many of the girls who attended, somewhere between the ages of 13 and 18, it was their first time leaving home for more than a night and definitely their first time traveling alone (well, they weren’t alone because they had the volunteers from their communities with them). The girls who participated in the camp were articulate and thoughtful.

I slept in the girls’ dormitory—where they found so much energy to giggle, scream, and chat until the wee hours of the morning I will never know. The camp schedule was packed, 7 am to 10:30 pm the two full days of the camp.

The camp emphasized that girls, young women, and women are powerful resources in Paraguay. For me, this wasn’t a surprise. The positive experiences I’ve had in Paraguay mostly center around the strength and compassion women in this country have. But, seeing my girls (I brought 2 from my community) and the other Paraguayan girls at the camp smile so broadly and participate so actively, I was glad they too knew how great they and their mothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, and grandmothers are.

Yes, I Can Cook

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I think my community lives in fear that I will starve. Part of it is cultural, it’s part of Paraguayan culture to give your guest food and share everything you eat with the people sitting around you. But, the food I’m given goes above and beyond. People ask me what I eat regularly and are often surprised to hear I cooked my own lunch.

I don’t know why they’re surprised. If I was a good Paraguayan woman I’d already know how to cook. I guess it goes to show where I fall on the scale of Paraguayan women. Sometimes I think it’s because I live alone—one can’t simply cook for one can they?

I’m not complaining about Paraguayan generosity. It’s one of the things I love about living in here. Besides, recently I’ve been almost short on money—something about a Peace Corps salary and a run of bad luck. If I’m hard-working and visit people, I almost don’t need to cook or eat at home. I don’t go hungry, that’s for sure.

But, the free food comes with a small cost: I eat the food that my Paraguayan friends and contacts are eating. Which is to say, a lot of meat and bread and yucca and rice. Don’t get me wrong I like barque and yucca as much as the next girl, but even I have limits.

In Paraguay, food isn’t a meal unless it involves chunks of meat. This might be another reason why people don’t think I can cook. I don’t cook meat in my house. When I describe what I eat, they kind of give me this blank expression as though they are waiting to hear what I ate after my rice and vegetable stir fry. Nothing?

I was never a picky eater, and my time in Paraguay has made me less so. I’m an expert at eating things I don’t like, and not showing it. My community members bubble with enthusiasm every time we eat hot dogs or sausages. I just enjoy their happiness and I’m thankful for being invited to share a meal with them. But, I can’t help but think about the diet and what it’s doing to my body. My hair is thinner and duller. I’m sure could do enough exercise to burn all the calories. Is my face breaking out because I’m stressed or because of what I’m eating? No way to know.

I know what I cook is healthier than the standard Paraguayan menu, but I also don’t want to be cut off from something as important as eating with families. It’s a balance between eating what makes me feel good and tastes good and spending time with my Paraguayan friends. My Paraguayan friends always win.

Success: End of Summer English Class

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I taught a summer English class. We met 3 days a week for 2 hours. I didn’t realize until the end that I should have been impressed with my students for just coming—6 hours of language class a week isn’t pocket change—but I didn’t need that realization to think they are hard-working and awesome…because they are.

My original syllabus was way too ambitious. But, when all was said and done we covered the basics: possessive, present, past, articles, and a few other things. Some of my students improved over the course of the class. Others still asked me on the last day what “I am” meant, I mean we only talked about “to be” in the present tense every day of class.

There are a lot of ways to measure success. I could talk about my students’ ability to complete homework, about their markedly better scores on exam two compared to exam one. Yes, I guess I could talk about language capacity, but in my eyes that all is icing on the cake.

The real success came when 12 out of 17 of my students, plus some parents, showed up for the end of class party in the pouring rain. They came and they brought food, a full banquet was added to the chocolate and banana cake I’d made with two of my students the previous day—empanadas, sopa paraguaya, sandwiches…and more.

The smashing part of the success was the enthusiastic attendance in the pouring cats and dogs rain. Just in case you’re not aware, basically nothing happens in Paraguay when it rains. Rain is a classic excuse for staying in your house and sleeping all day.

I handed out certificates and exams. I had a productive conversation with students and parents about how they want to continue English once school starts. I gave a little speech, nothing fancy. Then, we feasted and chatted. It was fabulous. I say that myself because I wasn’t the one who made it a joy, it was the students and parents who honored me with their slightly damp presence. What a nice close to one year of working in Paraguay.

1 Year in Paraguay!

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Paraguayan ViewIt’s hard to believe that a year ago today I landed in Paraguay. On that day, I had no idea into what I was catapulting myself. I was trying desperately not to make any assumptions. That’s to say, I came to Paraguay in the dark.

While the time passed in a flash; I feel like I’ve been here a year. It’s 95 degrees Fahrenheit as I write this and I’m almost comfortable sitting in my house without a fan. Almost. There is nothing more wonderful and delicious than a cold glass of water. I’ve joined the locals in their understanding that ice cubes don’t cut it. Water is only cold enough when it has huge ice chunks. The Paraguayans I know don’t use ice trays, they fill bags (12 inches long, 3 inch in diameter) with water to freeze. Those ice bars are sold for 500 guaranis almost everywhere in Paraguay.

I miss terere when I don’t drink it. I can drink liters of terere, no problem. Terere really is the only thing that will get me through those hot afternoon when the humidity makes it impossible to be hungry. Hand washing my clothes is part of my routine (not to say I enjoy it). Cutting vegetables into crumb-sized cubes is second-nature. I expect things to start late and I’m surprised when I don’t have to wait for the bus. Whistles, hisses, and other catcalls do not particularly catch my attention. I no longer laugh to myself when I see people sweep their yards.

I know I’ve been in Paraguay a year because I’ve started claiming back some of the things I set aside when I first got here in an effort to “ingrate.” I’ve been drinking soda for almost a year, but I’m over it. I didn’t like soda when I lived in the States, I still don’t like it, and I’m not drinking it anymore. When I feel like I want to leave a social function, I leave rather than waiting until the end. My eyes are sensitive to light, so I wear sunglasses even if people think it’s off-putting. I tentatively share my opinions about cultural things when people ask.

It’s nice to be accustomed to Paraguay and start to feel like I can be more like me and less like a censored me. But, I’m still in the dark.

I’ve come to like the dark. When the power goes at night, I can actually see the stars that fill the ever-alluring Paraguayan sky. There are too many florescent lights on at night to see the stars clearly the rest of the time. I’ve come to terms with hours spent when I understand a fraction of what people are talking about—if only I actually spoke Guarani or Paraguayans only spoke Spanish. You never know how many thoughts go through your head until you’re in a situation where you don’t have the words to express many of them.

I’ve been happy and not focused too much on the differences between my culture and Paraguayan culture until the year mark started approaching. My recent heightened observance of the differences between me and my Paraguayan friends may be because it was easier to accept that I will never be able to live up to their standards when I realized I don’t actually want the life of a Paraguayan woman. It’s not that Paraguayan women aren’t wonderful, because I’ve never met so many awesome women in one place, but my understanding of the world makes their reality terrible to me.

I will never wash my brother’s clothes and fold his shirts while he sits on his ass watching. I will never accept when my brother, father, boyfriend, husband, or any man gets up from the table leaving his dishes for me to pick up and wash. Especially when I made the meal in the first place. I will never accept that because someone is a man it’s fine that he gets drunk every weekend and hits on any women he sees. Nor do I think he has special rights to stay out late with his friends. I do not think the house is the domain of women and the outdoors is the domain of men. I don’t think because I’m a woman I must be a mother or find a boyfriend.

I guess it took a year, but now it’s hard to ignore when mothers tell their sons to stop crying because they are men and their daughters that they can’t walk around alone because they are women. As my year mark in Paraguay approached, I was angry about these things and wondered how I’d kept them in the closet of my mind so long. But, the anger past and the dawn is coming. I can’t change Paraguayan culture. First, I can’t change it because I have no means to do it. Second, I can’t change it because it must be changed by Paraguayans so it’s done the right way for them. I’ve consoled myself because I know change is a thing that happens no matter what we do to stop it. And, being the weird foreigner I am part of that change whether I’m trying to be or not.

It’s still night. Culture is complicated and hours alone thinking really do highlight the shadows in the cave. The most useful thing I’ve learned from being in the dark is that there’s nothing wrong with shade.