A farewell...for now.

So as most of you already know, I have now landed back in the United States. My homecoming has been bittersweet. So wonderful to be home with old friends and family, but so sad to be away from my new friends and family in Paraguay. Leaving was a mad rush to take care of all of the “business” of going home as well as saying good-bye to all of the important people in my life there. It was a busy time, but it also felt very blessed. I had some wonderful times with friends in the city and at the Hogar. While it was hard to stay in the moment and enjoy those last days without being sad, the Paraguay culture helped me out. It is very much an attitude of “chin up—there is work to be done and fun to be had.” Leaving is also easier when you know that you will be going back. I do not know when or for how long, but it is the desire of my heart to return.

When I look back on the past six months, there are certain themes that stand out as important in my mind. And there are a number of things that I am sure I will continue to process over the upcoming weeks and months. But one of the most important and consistent elements of my time in Paraguay is a strong sense of gratitude—for the hospitality shown to me, for the support of loved ones at home, for the friendships and experiences, for provision, for time spent together, for the love of children, for the conversation of adults, for the innumerable kindnesses shown to me.

While in Paraguay I was reading a work titled “Gracias” by Henri Nouwen, a Dutch priest who traveled and served in South America. Often times his words seemed to perfectly and poignantly echo (albeit more eloquently) my own thoughts and emotions. This is what he has to say about gratitude:
“I am more and more convinced that gratitude is one of the more sublime of human emotions. It is an emotion that reaches out far beyond our own self to God, to all creation, to the people who give us life, love, and care. It is an emotion in which we experience our dependencies as a gift and realize that in the celebration of our dependencies we become most aware of who we truly are: a small but precious part of creation and above all of the human family. Today we can say: It is good to ‘just’ be human, and it is in our common humanity that we can recognize God’s love.”

So thank you, all of you in the U.S. and Paraguay. I look forward to sharing more with you in person...sooner or later.

More Kansans in Paraguay!

There is now one more Kansan in Paraguay: Ben Alexander. A friend who arrived suddenly two days ago. Very suddenly. Like, called-from-the-bus-station suddenly. He will be staying out at the hogar for a week or so before he moves on to Bolivia, Peru, and back to the U.S. Lots of fun to have another friend here.

Música

I want to share some things with you. Music that I have grown fond of, sometimes in spite of myself. I still listen to my American music on my ipod a lot, which is still working, against all odds. But I have found myself craving music in Spanish to. Of course there is a lot that I don't like. The music I hate most here is cachaca. We usually call it "cha-caca" (caca means poo) instead because it is so annoying. (Jana started calling it that on accident, but we quickly decided it was the perfect name for it.) My neighbors play it all the time, but I will spare you all the experience of listening to it.

Okay, enjoy.

Bacilos. Legitimately lovely. The first one is kind of sad, but pretty.
Tabaco y Chanel
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OcUdwqmGQ6Q
Caraluna
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXSP9RAqi5Q
Pasos de Gigantes
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xhyRkdEg8AU

Maná. The U2 of the Spanish-speaking world. Everyone likes them--the young and the old alike.
Labios Compartidos
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P6wlqqU2_Ms
Mandame una Señal
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XFZxXFAjALI
Bendita la Luz
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4bIHyzaves

Juanes. Young and poppy. A little ridiculous, but quite catchy.
La Camisa Negra
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASXzq1O9rrc
Me Enamora
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KWA59qwfGL0

My life is like a movie sometimes.

I say this because of my return trip from the Chaco. This is a five hour drive in the country side of Paraguay. The driver was Eliseo-- a loud, warm, somewhat crazy Argentinean ADRA employee. The vehicle was his small, white, manual transmission van filled with bedding, supplies, and... an Indian man who speaks only Guarani. Five hours of looking back every once in a while to offer water and make a hesitant thumbs-up signal. This in and of itself would be a bit odd, perhaps, but add to this the fact that the van was experiencing a somewhat major malfunciton. I'm not so mechanically inclined, so I cannot give it a name. But it appeared that the clutch did not work. Eliseo had to start the car in gear, which meant a lot of lurching. To shift gears he just had to pull it out of one gear and try to mash it into the next gear. It sounded terrible. This difficult process meant that stopping was out of the question. We dodged cows, foxes, dogs, stalled trucks, and various debris at high speeds. We passed slower cars with our fingers crossed. In-town driving meant either very fast or very slow, to try and time things properly with the ligts. In five hours we stopped twice: once to pay a toll and once to drop off the Indian man. Craziness.

“There’s a frog in my shower” and other adventures…

This morning there was, in fact, a frog in my shower. He hopped up out of the open drain in the floor. Rather startling. I then had to chase it around the tiny bathroom so I could set it free out in the wide open spaces of the Chaco. Right now I am in the visiting some ADRA projects with small communities of indigenous people in the interior of Paraguay. It’s a whole nother world, I tell you what. But the people are warm, the weather is uncharacteristically cool and I have a nice little room all to myself, with a bed and everything. Feels like a hotel to me, since I am used to sleeping on the floor about 3 nights a week at the orphanage. The occasional frog, I can deal with. They just got electricity a month ago, which has opened up a lot of new opportunities—refrigerators, electric fans, lights… Like I said, a whole nother world. There is an American working as a volunteer at a school next to the church where I am staying. He has been here for about two months and he hasn’t been able to speak English to anyone since he arrived. So he was pretty excited to see me, even though I was a total stranger. It is always nice to find someone here who speaks your language (literally), since you can share common impressions and experiences in Paraguay. You learn to appreciate the little things and take great joy in simple conversation.

Being here has given me a strong sense of appreciation for a number of things, actually. Little things and big things. The big things include: a new truck that was donated to the hogar, a large monetary contribution from the Chilean embassy, and a huge outdoor playset donated by some adorable visiting Canadians. Amazing. The little things have been equally as important. As I mentioned, I have a comfortable little bed for my two nights here at the church. Wouldn’t seem like much to me at home, but sleeping on the floor for so long has made it seem like such a luxury. The intense heat has made me consider the significance of the shade, the breeze, and the rain. I would normally just stay inside in the air conditioning. There was an intense rain in Asuncion this week. Sheets of rain like I have not seen here before, and it brought with it a brief and rejuvenating cold snap. I would not have appreciated it so much if it had not been 45 °C earlier in the week. (For those of you who don­’t know, in degrees Fahrenheit that is….really freaking hot.) Here in the Chaco they continue to wait for some significant rain—they have been waiting for 7 months now. It makes you wonder how anything could survive here, and also makes the frog in my bathroom a nearly miraculous occurrence. At work on Monday (with the street kids) we had to work outside all day because our landlord had failed to pay the electricity, so power had been cut. This meant no lights and no fans on the hottest day yet. But we got by, and I bet that this week will seem much easier with such simple, normal conveniences as a cool, well-lit place to work and talk.

I haven’t actually told you much about my work and life these days. Things with the street kids are…always challenging. Sometimes frustrating, sometimes lovely, sometimes heart-breaking, sometimes hopeful, sometimes just annoying. I have found the older ones to be the most likable—easiest to talk to and bond with—which is the opposite of what I expected. I think the littlest ones feel the need to act tough all the time, probably because they are littler. So they can be a real pain in the ass when the other kids are watching. If you catch them one-on-one, though, it is a different story. One kid named Luis is nearly always causing trouble and has little to no patience for the fact that I often cannot understand his mumbled speech, which is a disastrous mix of Spanish, Guarani, and street language. We got to walk together for a few blocks, and he asked me all sorts of questions including, “Why don’t you come here more often? You should come here more often…” Baffling, since I was pretty sure he hated my guts. Abel is another one of my favorites. He was stabbed about a month ago, but has been recovering well. He is sixteen but tall for his age, smart, talkative, and charismatic. He is one of the few kids who actually remembers things from our “English class.” It is so easy to imagine him being successful at a number of things, but he is also a force to be reckoned with. The other kids look up to him a lot, so when Abel is focused, the other kids are focused. Conversely, when Abel is goofing off no one is going to pay attention. I have realized that I have to get Abel on board if I want things to go well. So yes, progress…

Things that I have learned in Paraguay

--Some Spanish. Feeling better about this these days, though fluency still feels far off.

--A little Guarani, the Indigenous language here. I think it is really hard. Not as easy as one, two, three (petei, mokoi, mbohapi...). The word I like best is vacapipo-po, the word for ball. It is a great demonstration of the mix of culture here. Some words in Guarani pre-date the Spanish presence, while others were created after. This one was created after, and has a Spanish root in the “vaca” part, meaning cow. Because balls were originally made of leather. The “po-po” part imitates the sound of bouncing. So the word loosely translated means “made of cow bounce-bounce.” There’s language for you.

--A bit about how to relate to people who seem really different from me. So many of the people that seem dear to me now are not the sort of people I would just have an automatic connection with. This makes me wonder how many great people I miss out on at home just because we don’t click right away. Like Claudia, my intense and extremely optimistic professor who is one of my biggest fans and blessings. Or Keith, a fellow American who is a gregarious, goofy, loud red-head who can talk a mile a minute but is also gracious and loves to help people.

--About my own heart. Probably true of any intense experience dealing with people—sometimes I am amazed by how quickly and how deeply I can care for people. At the same time I am ashamed of how just as quickly my heart can shrink harden in judgment, fear, or just exhaustion. I see the best and worst of my personality and my character. Sometimes all of your flaws seem to be laid bare, all of your shortcomings glaringly apparent. But sometimes you catch glimpses in yourself of what you would someday like to be.

--About what we are good at. I think we all have natural, innate talents that are inherent in our character or developed in us our whole lives. There are things that we work hard at mastering in our studies and careers. There are still other abilities that are given to us in times and situations of need. I have seen a lot of the later in myself and others these days—thrown into unusual situations where we have to find ways to adapt and make something work.

--About much and about little. It is easy to see what is lacking in this country. Money, industry, decent public schools, medical care.... The problems are large, complex, and deeply rooted in the history of the country and the continent. But Paraguayans in general have an amazing ability to make things stretch and to carry on, just doing what they have to do. They are also free from many of the burdens that us Americans place on ourselves. Family is more central. It is not uncommon for extended families to live together, and for single children to stay with their parents into their thirties, because it is economically impossible to do anything else. But this is also because they are close and want to remain close. Much of what we would consider to be “poverty” is in reality an adequate life. However, it must also be understood that a great number of evils are born out of the depths of poverty—an unjust poverty that should not exist. I have grown accustomed to seeing a level of poverty here, on a daily basis, that I have rarely encountered in the United States. In the lives of the street kids, in the stories of the residents of the Hogar, on the bus, everywhere I look. It is particularly bad among the Indigenous populations. The pain and the anger created by this situation run deep in the peoples of South America.

--About my own culture. I did not realize how very American I am until I came here. There are things I love about the Paraguayan way of life. People are more tranquilo—relaxed and low-key. I don’t see people getting mad here the way that people do in the United States. And while there is a lot of activity here in the city, resting is also a big priority. There is also a fun-loving or playful quality that is inherent in nearly all interactions—in families, between friends, and in business. Sometimes I think this is great while other times it registers as “unprofessional” or “inefficient.” It turns out the Protestant work ethic has not spread everywhere.

--About corruption. Paraguay is the third most corrupt country in the world. I had an interesting encounter with corruption today at the border between Argentina and Paraguay. Upon our return trip the Paraguayan border guard called us into the office because there was a “problem” with our visas. It became apparent that he just wanted us to give him some money to put the (very necessary) stamp on our passports. My first reaction was to fight him, as it was a ludicrous situation. But through previous experiences, I had seen that this doesn’t really work in Paraguay. So I backed down from this approach and followed Jon’s lead in playing dumb. I made him repeat things I already understood. I used my dictionary to look up words I already knew. We called Claudia and asked him to explain it to her so we could understand better. We basically behaved like idiots who were too daft to understand the subtle intricacies of bribery. So he let us go, rather rudely, but we were happy to get out. This made me realize how easy it would be to just contribute to the corrupt system. How giving him a few dollars would save time and energy, especially if you couldn’t play the “ignorant foreigner” routine. Very frustrating.

Fun Times

Over the past week I have gotten to spend a lot of time at the Hogar, which has been simultaneously wonderful and exhausting. Here are some of my experiences:
--Worst night of sleep ever. Involving several little boys migrating to my (twin) bed during the night. Turns out that my natural response to waking up with tiny feet kicking my back is to shove the aforementioned feet as far away from me as possible, even if they belong to a two-year-old. Thems the breaks, kid. Also, if I don't have lice now, I will be amazed. Plus, I was sleeping in the room where the newest Hogar addition, a three-week old baby, lives. He naturally woke up several times screaming, which I can't really blame him for. Then at 3am Paty burst into the room and flipped on the lights. It had started to rain so everyone had to go outside and bring in the clothes that were drying on the line. All of these conditions meant that I didn't really sleep at all.
--New fruit. There are some small trees that have just started to produce little orange fruit. They are everywhere, and the fruit is really good. Walking from the Hogar to one of the schools, the kids stopped to climb several trees (after asking the neighbors, on my insistence) and toss down the little fruits. If you are feeling like a prissy American, you rinse them off with water first. If not, you just eat them dust and all, careful to avoid the 1-4 large seeds in the middle. The seeds are excellent for spitting contests. (I, however, am terrible at spitting. Must work on that.)
--Olympics. Went to one of the high schools to watch the school olymics on Saturday. Turns out that, in true South American style, it consisted of soccer, soccer, and more soccer. With one game of handball thrown in for variety. Still great to watch and cheer on our friends.
--Mosquito bites. On my face. Come on... I hate those little bastards.
--Getting really mad at small children. While I generally just play with the kids, I have become more authoritarian lately. Most interactions in Paraguay are really blunt, and discipline is no exception. Just part of the culture--you call it as you see it. It seemed harsh to me at first, but it now seems really normal. Several times in the past few days I used the phrase, "Don’t ask me why. Because I told you to... (whatever)."
--Coconuts. The trees are everywhere here. Most of them bear really small fruits. Some of the littler kids showed me how to gather them from a neighboring pasture and pound them with rocks to get to the fruit. Sometimes you find some that are hollow inside, and these make excellent, loud whistles.
--Yves. A Frenchman who is visiting the Hogar for a couple of months because he is pretty much in love with Paty (the 50-something director of the Hogar). Does she speak French? A little. Does he speak Spanish? Not really. But they are trying really hard and it is adorable.
--Fire ants. I was bitten for the first time. Damn. That smarts. The thing was tiny but somehow drew blood. So I hate them now and squish them on site. While I don't generally agree with preemptive strikes, I feel that they are not to be trusted.
--Kittens. Sasha, the cat who lives at the Hogar, was pregnant (Again. She gets around.) and gave birth about a week ago. The kittens still haven’t opened their eyes and aren't quite strong enough to really walk. Still small enough to fit in the palm of your hand.
--Second worst night of sleep ever. I opted to sleep on the living room floor, thinking I would be safe from screaming babies and small kicking feet. But Sasha´s "bed" is in the living room, and during the night she decided she would rather move herself and all five kittens into my bed. So I kept waking up covered in kittens. That might sound cute to some people, but it is not. Kittens have tiny claws and wet noses. Gross. Plus I was worried about accidentally smothering or mangling one in my sleep. I tried to relocate them several times, but Sasha was persistent.
--Homework. Got to help some of the grade school kids with their math homework. Adorable. I never liked long division and I still don't, so it's a good thing the kids are cute.
--Pooped on. By Santiago, my favorite two-year-old. Yuck.
--A head full of flowers. I was resting on a bench in the front yard. Several of the younger girls (under 5) decided that they would pick a bunch of wild flowers and put them in my hair. Wish I could have taken a picture.
--Secrets. My Spanish is really just getting good enough to have meaningful conversations with the older girls about important things like school, family, boys, and what they really want to do. But they mostly like to talk about boys, and I an honored to know their secrets.
--Caterpillar. I saw the biggest caterpillar ever. I usually think those are cute, but this was so big it was kind of gross.
--Illegal tomatoes and spontaneous swimming. Paty asked Jon and I to come with her to pick up some food donations. So Jon and I went with Paty, Yves, Daniel (Paty's biological, 20-something son), Oscar (Paty's adopted 19 year old son), and Jose (15 year old Hogar resident). After a beautiful hour and a half drive into the less populated areas of Paraguay we arrived at the city of Eusebio Ayala where three trucks full of contraband tomatoes had been confiscated by the police. (I'm still unclear as to how the tomatoes were illegal, but I just went with it.) 50 crates were to be donated to the Hogar. The boys filled the bus with the boxes--a messy operation. On the way back to the Hogar we stopped at Lake San Bernardino, a beautiful place where the wealthy people of Paraguay have their summer homes. Paty lived in a house there for much of her childhood. What started out as a stroll along the beach turned into swimming with our clothes on. The bus was already dripping with tomato juice, so a little lake water wasn't going to hurt anything. Really fun and refreshing. Of course, when I got back to the Hogar we were immediately overwhelmed with children who accused us all of peeing our pants. My response (the only logical response, really) to these accusations was to chase them all threatening to hug them.