“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…