San Miguel

On Wednesday this week my friend Sofi invited me to come with her to the nearby town of Capiata. Sofi’s friend Anna, a volunteer from Germany, has been working in a school there for the past three months. In this town there is a neighborhood called San Miguel, which looks very different today than it did five years ago. Situated in a rural area outside of the city proper, San Miguel used to suffer from all of the typical problem associated with rural poverty in South America—poor housing, bad water supply, a terrible school, lack of transportation, and little (or no) access to health care.

Even in the midst of all of the poverty in Paraguay, San Miguel had a reputation—sort of a rural version of the Chacarita. For this reason, Sofi’s church began to invest in this community in a thorough and dedicated manner. As a result, the neighborhood has changed dramatically. There is a health and dental clinic where doctors come to volunteer every week, and people come from miles around to receive care. There is a small, symbolic fee (less than $1) attached to services, but the bulk of the cost is covered by donations. Probably because of these health clinics, several buses now run within walking distance of the barrio. Simple, tidy houses have been built along the narrow red-earth roads. A large water tower provides a clean water supply to the surrounding homes. There is a modest but useful library that everyone in town can use. There is a sizable bakery where some individuals from the town work and make food for the school and homes. Best of all, there is a charming, colorful little school with five classrooms (including a Special Ed. Class), where the teachers use rather progressive methods of teaching that encourage freedom and exploration. All of the kids have a padrino, a sponsor from the church who pays for their tuition, uniform, etc. These padrinos come from the same church movement, but live in different countries around the world. Nancy, the director of the school took us around to all the classes to introduce us. The kids sang songs to us in Spanish and Guarani, although they seemed a bit baffled as to why the German girl had brought an American and a Paraguayan with her that day. It is unfortunate that the school is too small to accommodate all of the kids in San Miguel. But in the afternoon the school provides merienda (snack) for all of the kids in the neighborhood, and all kids have access to the building and the library. The three of us (Sofi, Anna, and I) ate lunch with a couple of the teachers who live in that community. While I generally find foreigners easier to understand than Paraguayans, the German accent in Spanish is especially difficult. Even so, we did all right.

After all of our introductions in the school, Javier, the grounds keeper, took us on a tour of the town. He showed us the homes and the water tower. He showed us the river where people used to drink and bathe that the town cleans up every spring. He showed us a small, organic farm that a number of the men of the community work on. (Sofi and I both bought a kilo of strawberries for less than $1. Yum!) He showed us the avocado trees and told me that in a month of so giant fruit would be falling on their heads. They use the avocados not only for food but also as a treatment for various skin ailments. Incidentally, both Sofi and Javier were disgusted to learn that Americans generally eat avocado as a salty food and not mixed with milk and sugar. Anna, however, seemed to agree that avocado was not meant to be eaten as dessert. They pointed out small yellow wild flowers that they add to their terere and matte herbs. Javier showed us the guava trees and explained the medicinal uses of the leaves and buds. I was sent home with some branches because I had a sore throat. I was told to boil a number of broken leaves and buds in water for about 10 minutes and then gargle the water when it cooled a bit. Gargle, not drink—they made this distinction several times with lively pantomime despite the fact that I understood them perfectly the first time. I did, in fact, try this when I got home. It did not taste very good, but it made my mouth tingly and numbed by throat. At the end of the afternoon Javier and Anna walked us to the bus stop about a half a kilometer down the road. Javier asked me if we had coconut trees in Kansas and told me about his seven kids. I described the Kansas landscape and weather as best I could, and told him about my brother who lives in California.

It was an encouraging day for several reasons. For me, it was one of my better days in Spanish—I was able to understand nearly everything (as long as I was paying attention) and communicate my questions as well. It was also wonderful to see a place that has been transformed so completely. What was once a burden is now a resource and a hope for surrounding communities. And the work that has been done was not simply an intervention performed by outsiders, but a partnership. The people of San Miguel are proud of where they live and continue working to make it better.