From site, 7/11/07Well, I’ve been back here in Paraguay after a whirlwind visit back to the homeland. I’m pleased to say I enjoyed my visit to the states immensely (which is an understatement), but also that I wish that I had had more time to visit more people and spend more time catching up. Two weeks was not enough!
I had some anxiety about returning to Paraguay after seeing the states again. I’d heard stories about other volunteers who visited home early on in their service and who were miserable upon their return, having been reminded of all they were giving up by being here, how much they missed folks back home, etc. For some volunteers, it’s just too much and they decide they’re better off going home early after all. I really missed folks back home, so I decided to risk it. I was in a pretty decent place in my service before I left, so I was hoping that bouncing back would be bearable.
Though I enjoyed every second of being home, I am pleased and relieved to report that I’ve had just the opposite experience returning to Paraguay. When I got back to site I was so happy to see my host families. It made me realize how much I’ve bonded with them already. Also, I’d heard that some volunteers struggle with language after speaking so much English during their visit to the states, but I came back speaking and understanding considerably more Guarani than I had before. I think my brain just needed a rest from it to let my subconscious mind process all that language I’d been hearing. Now I am literally amazing myself on a daily basis. I almost always get the gist of conversations. I share
mate’ tea with my host mom every day and we casually chat about all kinds of things. This depth and ease of communicating was not possible before. Who knew that the best way to jumpstart your Guarani is to hang out in Arkansas and Ohio for a while?!? Go figure.
I’ve chosen to come to this country twice now, and since my recent return I really have a sense of ownership of my time here that I hadn’t fully developed prior to my trip. I am excited about the remaining year and a half I have here; the work I have the opportunity to do, the people that are and will become my Paraguayan family and friends, all the wonderful things I will learn along the way. My attitude is noticeably better. I am so much quicker to laugh and I feel a sense of relief. Most of all, I’m having a lot more fun.
Being back on my home turf reinforced for me just how different life really is here. It also made it clear how different it is for me to be in Paraguay as a cultural minority. (When I first arrived at the Miami airport it actually felt odd to be in public without being stared at.) But I think as a result I’m much more at peace with my role as a total outsider. When I first got to site I felt claustrophobic with all the attention to my differences, especially given the fact that Paraguayan culture is very homogenous and does not tend to value diversity. A few months ago I had a conversation with a college buddy of mine who is living in Italy and we commiserated with each other, both of us being cultural outsiders. I recall whining to her about the conformity and saying that I felt like I was living in an Amish community where everyone speaks Guarani. But after spending some time in my own culture again I am eager and even tickled to point out my differences to Paraguayans, to share my American-ness with them, to say “Look how we’re different! HA!” and laugh about it together. Part of this is because I was reminded throughout my visit of all the truly great aspects of American culture. I’ve never felt more pride for my country—for the incredible opportunities it presents to individuals, for the variety of culture, art and industry, for the unshakeable faith we have in striving towards something better. Another part of it is because I realized that perhaps the most important thing that I can share with them as an American is a willingness to publicly appreciate the differences in myself and others.
Being in the states also showed me just how accustomed to Paraguayan culture I really am. First of all, nothing bothered me. And I mean nothing. Ask any Paraguayan to describe Paraguay in one word, and they will say
“tranquilo” (tranquil, peaceful). Paraguayans do not get ruffled or upset. They do not get stressed out. This is in no way due to the fact that things don’t go wrong here. Quite the contrary, actually. You can pretty much count on stuff to screw up in any number of ways. But when things do mess up, Paraguayans don’t let it stop them from enjoying themselves and they don’t see it as a Problem That Must Be Eliminated At All Costs. They don’t let it raise their blood pressure and they don’t seek vindication through temper tantrums or hissy fits. Instead they see the messiness as a natural part of life and just deal with it. In fact, I suspect that Paraguayans love the unpredictability of life and even count on it to keep them entertained. They would never understand why someone would want things to be completely predictable.
But in America people can get upset at the tiniest of inconveniences, the most miniscule grievance or simply something unexpected. (Road rage, anyone?) And the funny thing is, life is so easy in America. Everything is so convenient; everything you need is more or less available, things are more or less reliable, and there’s usually help to be found if you just keep asking the right questions long enough. As a result, I think we tend to go overboard when anything at all goes haywire. The standard response to life’s little trials in Paraguay is
“Tranquilo, no mas!,” which roughly means “Peace, it’s all good.” It’s the
Hakuna Matata of Spanish. I can’t even tell you how many times I thought to myself
“Tranquilo, no mas!” during my visit. Truthfully, I was pretty
tranquilo as Americans go before living in Paraguay, but a deeper change has taken place.
Tranquilo is not just a phrase; in Paraguay it is a philosophy of life. In this sense I’ve been acculturated to Paraguay in a deep way.
Here’s an example. Finding a parking space. In the United States, some consider a close parking space a moral entitlement as a consumer, if not an inalienable right of citizenship. At one point during my visit I was staring longingly from the back seat of our car at a restaurant full of wonderful food I hadn’t even allowed myself to think about in months. My mouth was already watering and I had a slight pang of anxiety when it occurred to me that I couldn’t order everything and that I’d have to make a decision from a large number of choices, which is something I just don't do much of these days. As I was mulling this over we circled the rather small parking lot, yet again, in search for a closer parking spot, passing up all the empty but perfectly good spots towards the back. I was suddenly struck with an absurd sense of straddling two cultures as a picture flashed in my mind: I am dropped off by the bus on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. It’s 5km away from where I hoped I'd be dropped off. I’ve been shopping and I have a lot to carry. It’s in the hottest part of the day and the bus pulls off in a cloud of dry dust that chokes me and forces my eyes shut. There is no breeze and the dust hangs suspended in the air like a fog. The very old lady who got off with me asks me where my bike is. I tell her I left it at home this time. She jokes that she left hers behind as well.
“Caminando, caminando…,” she says, and we both laugh. (“Walking, walking..”) We both pick up our bags, say goodbye, and start walking our separate ways.
Another example. While taking the bus back from Asuncion earlier this month we started having engine trouble. The road to Concepcion goes through the Chaco region, which is some of the last truly wild country in the world. The region makes up over 60% of the land mass of Paraguay, but only 2% of the population lives there. It’s that wild. Like badlands. Thankfully we made it to Pozo Colorado, which is a town about halfway. We were stuck at the gas station while they worked on the engine. No one complained. Paraguayans saw it as an opportunity to go inside the gas station and watch the Cup of the America’s soccer game. It was a big night of the tournament, after all, since Paraguay was playing the United States and nothing brings lighthearted joy to the rest of the world like America’s utter inability to succeed at soccer. (Final score: Paraguay 7, USA 0.)
Luckily I was with another volunteer. We decided we might as well get a few beers since we had a wait. She went in to buy the beer and everyone was so absorbed in the game that the attendant told her to go behind the counter and just grab what she wanted, then bring him the money. Finally we were up and running again, but about an hour later we broke down again. So there we were in the middle of the Chaco at night, bus broken down, no other cars around. In America as soon as the engine cut out there would be an audible response, nervous laughter at first and then people getting cranky or frantically upset. In Paraguay? Nothing. No complaining. Nothing.
Tranquilo, no mas. I turned to the volunteer next to me and said, “Ya know, if they have to send another bus we won’t make it into Concepcion until tomorrow morning.” Being also acculturated to things in Paraguay, she said “Nope, sure won’t,” laughed, and popped open a beer. What did we have to complain about? We had comfortable seats, good company, crackers if we got hungry, an iPod full of music, and there was even a toilet on the bus.
Tranquilo.And so the long and short of it is that I’m feeling a lot more comfortable here. There’s not a whole lot of work to do right now since it’s winter and that’s downtime for the bees, but I’m trying to keep busy in other ways. I finished seeding my garden and it’s growing nicely. I went to the school to talk to the director about teaching, which I’ll begin doing after their vacation is over in a week. So I’m preparing for that. Been doing some coloring with the kiddies. I’m finding it ever more enjoyable (and easier in many ways) to work with the kids, and so I’ll probably be doing more of that. I’ve been invited to help out with a weekly radio show that two volunteers do over in Horqueta, which should be amusing to say the least. They usually do it in Spanish, so maybe they’ll let me come on as the volunteer that makes all the listeners laugh by trying to speak Guarani on the air.
Two other really amusing and fun things since I’ve been back: I went to a birthday party for one of the volunteers in Horqueta, who come to find out does fire-dancing. (Actually it’s called
poi, if you want to look it up.) You sure meet some interesting people in Peace Corps! She broke out the kerosene and special Kevlar-tipped chains during the party and put on quite a show right there on the patio. It was incredible! Later she taught me a few of the moves, but of course when they were not aflame. I have since crafted my very own practice set out of two cans of baking powder, some rope, a bit of ribbon, safety pins, and dirt. I’ve been having a ball practicing and my host families, who have long since decided I’m nuts, are amused to say the least. (Talk about being comfortable sharing my differences!) I have no plans to EVER try it with fire (Mom...), given my natural clumsiness and regrettable flammability, but its a lot of fun nonetheless and an experience I won’t soon forget!
Also, I brought my mountain dulcimer back from the states with me and I’ve been playing it a lot. Nothing says
“tranquilo” like the sound of a mountain dulcimer in the campo. My host families love it; it blows their minds, which always tickles me. Try as they might, they can’t say “dulcimer,” so they call it my
baraka’i which means “little guitar” in Guarani. I’ve tried to explain that it’s just as strange and rare to most people in the US as it is to them, but I’m not sure if they believe me. Ha! I've really missed playing it and I love that I can share one of my favorite parts of American culture—the folk music—with my families here. It's one of those warm-fuzzy Peace Corps moments. (I'm also proud to take credit for bringing the frisbee to Colonia Roberto L. Petit, Paraguay.)
Here's a warm-fuzzy for ya: One night my host mom showed up on my doorstop after dark. I was cooking eggs. She told me a
Señor had come and that she wanted very much for me to come sing and play my dulcimer for him. So of course I grabbed my
baraka’i and off we went. I ended up sitting on the front porch with 12 other people, playing my dulcimer and singing “Where the Soul Never Dies,” “My Old Kentucky Home,” “Hard Times Come Again No More,” and “Bury Me Beneath the Willow,” followed with a 10 minute or so improv jam session. It was so much fun! Only later when they asked me to come into the house for a prayer did I realize that it was a baptism for my host nephew and that I was the band! HA! That’s Peace Corps life for ya—you never really know what’s going on, but you just hang in there and hope to have some fun along the way!
Peace, Love, and
Tranquilo,Sarah