Rain is made of water. We are made of water, mostly. Our skin is waterproof, we don't melt in wanter and germs give you the flu, not water. So why is rain such a big deal for Paraguayans? Absolutely NOTHING happens here when it rains. Businesses close, school is closed, appointments are canceled and the only people out of doors are the homeless and a few hardy farmers in their chacras.
Usually, I don't mind this cultural quirk. In fact I rather enjoy it; I have time to plan tomorrow's English lesson, read one of my books, study Guaraní, or just chat with the family (aka. study Guaraní) in the smokey kitchen while chicks and dogs look up at me, eyes begging. Rainy days are home days. Days to relax and do your thing. Maybe this is why Paraguayans don't plan things. "Ikatu, otro día, puede ser mañana." (Could be, another day, maybe tomorrow.)
Well jeez. I'm American and I plan things. I have contingency plans. I have contingency contingency plans. I set goals and have semi-flexible schedules that I try to follow. I have expected outcomes and follow-up plans to build on my progress, aiming to achieve new heights of development and eventually save the world. What could be more Peace Corps than that?
My Health Camp was all planned: I folded, cut and stitched 45 damn booklets for the kids to record their progress and take home to show their families. Michelle kuña (or Michelle 1, as my host mom calls her) was all prepared to make friendship bracelets and do all kinds of other activities with the kids during craft time. Michel hombre (aka Michel 2) had written 5 wonderful, and actually very catchy songs about hand washing, tooth brushing and how you can't play and have fun when you're full of parasites. We practiced them in my house, and a few hours later I heard my host dad singing a little song to himself about drinking milk for healthy bones and teeth. I smiled.
And then it rains.
The weather report predicted rain on my origional start day. (The camp was scheduled to go for 3 mornings in succession.) But I was a clever one and made an "in case of rain" plan for the following week. It rained then too. My third desesperación day was rained out as well. Not only rainy, but cold. Lots of my kids don't have warm jackets, some don't have shoes. Rather than plan yet another back up, go around and tell the kids and parents, and then have it rain again, forever dooming the reliability of my plans, I decided to put it off until a more secure date.
And then, el Señor Murphy, High Lord of irony, makes his move. Winter vacation was extended for another week, and the weather is BEAUTIFUL. I almost considered reinitiating the now-defunct Health Camp, but unfortunately none of my would-have-been coworkers can make it to help me out, and really truely, I need a vacation. Time to dive into that novel again, practice my Guaraní, and fall asleep after lunch in my hammock.
Quote of the day: (Upon gazing down a tube of wrecked and mutilated Pringles) "What the (heck), do they air drop these things into Paraguay?!"
And now for your enjoyment, and because I have extra time, I will attempt to write part of this blog post in Guaraní.
Ama ha'e y. Ñande ha'e y, ma o meno. Ñande pire y'ÿre, ndojajajorái ýpe, ha bichokuéra ojame'ë flúpe, nahánari la y. Upéicharö mba'érepa la y ombopy'apy heta Paraguayokuérape? Oky ramö, ndoroku'éi nte! Ñemuhakuéra omboty, mbo'ekoty omboty, ndaipóri mba'e. Kokuehára nte osë ógagui.
Wow, astudia hína heta la guaraní, ma ihasy gueterei! Pero kuehe antendi kuri che peteïha conversación guaraníme! Woo!
Monday, July 26, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
Not dead! Not dead!
About a month ago my internet decided to go belly-up, and I haven't gotten it to work since. I live out in the campo campo, so I am [was] likely the only person with internet access in the whole village.
I usually like to post longer, more well-written entries, but I'm cruched for time so here's the bare bones:
My host family: Still amazing. I've been unofficially adopted. My host brothers are my age and really fun to hang out with. A few of my friends, both Paraguayans and other PCVs, have come to visit, and they all agree that I have pretty much the most awesome living situation in all existence. So what if I don't have running water, a shower or a bathroom? Those are all secondary luxuries anyway.
My school: Even worse than before. The teachers told me flat out that they don't want to work with me. Their reasoning: "We're too busy." (Heh, doing what?) Only if I pay them for my time and services. I could go on for hours about the rediculous disaster that is my school, but I spare you. Despite the terrible leadership and staff, the kids in the school love me, and the other volunteers (from another Pguayan org, not PC) are great people and have been great support.
My community: It's still a bit difficult to meet people, since almost everyone is a farmer, and they're out in the fields all day. I'm getting to know people little by little, however, by attending community meetings, going places with my host brothers, and stopping for random tereré sessions with old men on my way home from work.
My Guaraní: My Guaraní is so-so. It's difficult, but I'm learning a little big more every day. My family speaks pretty much only Guaraní, so I hear it A LOT when we're chatting together. I even bought this cool bi-lingual (Esp-Gni) book about Guaraní mythology that I've been using to study. [Che guaraní ma o meno... avañe'ë hasy, pero aprende hína michimi cada ára. Che família oñe'ë guarani nte, upéicharö ahendu heta ñañemongeta jave che família ndive. Ajogua avei peteï kuatia moköi-ñe'ëha ñe'ëgua'u rehe astudia hagua.]
Other news: It is winter vacation in the schools right now. For the winter break, I've been organizing a 3-day long "Health Camp" for the kids. I'm working with 2 other PCV's (Michelle from Urban Youth and Kristen from Health), 2 Paraguayan volunteers from the BETEL organization, and a Paraguayan friend from Asunción. My Paraguayan friend is a music teacher from Asunción, and he has re-written the boring PC health songs to make them "more Paraguayan". I just heard them yesterday, and they're really awesome! We're going to spend one day on tooth-brushing, one day on hand-washing, and the last day on sevo'i, or intestinal parasites, which are a big problem here. We're using activities, games, songs and sports to teach the subject material, rather than the typical "silent copying off the board" method.
I've also been teaching English classes at the school two days a week. I don't think that learning English is actually very important for the kids, but it is at LEAST a way for me to get them to open up a little bit and start taking an active role in their education. It is also gives me an indirect way to show the teachers how much better the kids learn when they participate rather than just copy. Thirdly it's a way for me to help the kids try and catch up a little bit to what their grade level should be. That's hard. I tried to teach counting in English to a bunch of 5th graders... then realized that they didn't know how to count at all. That was sad, but in 2 hours they could count to ten in both English AND Spanish! This is more than they learned in 6 years of class in this school. THAT'S how bad it is.
Those are the headlines from this myserious "radio silence" period of June-July. I'll try to get my moden fixed this coming weekend, but I can't promise anything. I will post whenever I can, in greater detail, and in a more interesting fashion. I promise. :) Love you all, jajotopáta!
I usually like to post longer, more well-written entries, but I'm cruched for time so here's the bare bones:
My host family: Still amazing. I've been unofficially adopted. My host brothers are my age and really fun to hang out with. A few of my friends, both Paraguayans and other PCVs, have come to visit, and they all agree that I have pretty much the most awesome living situation in all existence. So what if I don't have running water, a shower or a bathroom? Those are all secondary luxuries anyway.
My school: Even worse than before. The teachers told me flat out that they don't want to work with me. Their reasoning: "We're too busy." (Heh, doing what?) Only if I pay them for my time and services. I could go on for hours about the rediculous disaster that is my school, but I spare you. Despite the terrible leadership and staff, the kids in the school love me, and the other volunteers (from another Pguayan org, not PC) are great people and have been great support.
My community: It's still a bit difficult to meet people, since almost everyone is a farmer, and they're out in the fields all day. I'm getting to know people little by little, however, by attending community meetings, going places with my host brothers, and stopping for random tereré sessions with old men on my way home from work.
My Guaraní: My Guaraní is so-so. It's difficult, but I'm learning a little big more every day. My family speaks pretty much only Guaraní, so I hear it A LOT when we're chatting together. I even bought this cool bi-lingual (Esp-Gni) book about Guaraní mythology that I've been using to study. [Che guaraní ma o meno... avañe'ë hasy, pero aprende hína michimi cada ára. Che família oñe'ë guarani nte, upéicharö ahendu heta ñañemongeta jave che família ndive. Ajogua avei peteï kuatia moköi-ñe'ëha ñe'ëgua'u rehe astudia hagua.]
Other news: It is winter vacation in the schools right now. For the winter break, I've been organizing a 3-day long "Health Camp" for the kids. I'm working with 2 other PCV's (Michelle from Urban Youth and Kristen from Health), 2 Paraguayan volunteers from the BETEL organization, and a Paraguayan friend from Asunción. My Paraguayan friend is a music teacher from Asunción, and he has re-written the boring PC health songs to make them "more Paraguayan". I just heard them yesterday, and they're really awesome! We're going to spend one day on tooth-brushing, one day on hand-washing, and the last day on sevo'i, or intestinal parasites, which are a big problem here. We're using activities, games, songs and sports to teach the subject material, rather than the typical "silent copying off the board" method.
I've also been teaching English classes at the school two days a week. I don't think that learning English is actually very important for the kids, but it is at LEAST a way for me to get them to open up a little bit and start taking an active role in their education. It is also gives me an indirect way to show the teachers how much better the kids learn when they participate rather than just copy. Thirdly it's a way for me to help the kids try and catch up a little bit to what their grade level should be. That's hard. I tried to teach counting in English to a bunch of 5th graders... then realized that they didn't know how to count at all. That was sad, but in 2 hours they could count to ten in both English AND Spanish! This is more than they learned in 6 years of class in this school. THAT'S how bad it is.
Those are the headlines from this myserious "radio silence" period of June-July. I'll try to get my moden fixed this coming weekend, but I can't promise anything. I will post whenever I can, in greater detail, and in a more interesting fashion. I promise. :) Love you all, jajotopáta!
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