Awkward Machete Situations and American Soil

After three very quick months of training, our group swore in as volunteers last weekend. The end of training brought a mix of emotions for our group. The monotony of language and technical training sometimes made the time drag by. There was also a lack of independence that sometimes made us feel like we were demoted to teenagers with curfews. I didn’t actually have a curfew, but if I got back late, my family would sit me down for an uncomfortable conversation about thieves, and of course, monsters. There are a ton of myths in Paraguay related to monsters, but that is big topic that I’ll have to write about some other time.

The week after my birthday was Semana Santa. Paraguayans take the Thursday and Friday before Easter off from work, and spend Wednesday cooking a traditional food called Chipa with their extended family. Since you don’t work on these days, you eat the already prepared Chipa since cooking is considered work. I had eaten Chipa here before, (it is rather ubiquitous and tough to not try within your first few days), but had never seen it made. I had been at my future site of Concepcion until Tuesday night, but promised my Guarambare family that I would make it back in time to spend Chipa-making Wednesday with them. I took the night bus back and got to Guarambare at 8 o’clock, right when their extended family was showing up. I didn’t sleep on the bus, since the road between Concepcion and Asuncion has pot holes that the drivers swerve around while traveling at highway speeds. Consequently, I was in a fog during the Chipa-making, and don’t think I absorbed any recipes. But I did manage to take some good photos.

For the rest of training, we all suffered from pretty severe cases of “senior-itis.” We knew our sites, and were all just ready to get there for good. We took trips to the Peace Corps office for formal paperwork and information sessions on health and security. On our final day of training, our trainers performed some sketches to roast some of us trainees. The Rural Health trainer did a vignette about me, poking fun at what my experience being the only guy in my UYD group has been like. It wasn’t exactly PG rated, so I won’t share it. It did get quite a few laughs though.

During last week of training each group received gifts from their technical trainers. We sat down with our trainer in a circle, and he put a box down in the middle. Many of us had already suspected that the rumors of our group receiving machetes were true, and the size of the box confirmed it. We each randomly selected a machete that was wrapped in newspaper. When we unwrapped them, we found words written in marker on the sides. We were then supposed to go around the circle and talk about how we would implement the lessons on the machete. The topics ranged from the environment to career prep. Mine was “sexual education.” When I got home, my host brother and host dad were playing cards and I joined them. When I mentioned that I had received a machete for a graduation gift, my host father told me that he would be able sharpen it, since he has a special tool for it. I handed it over to him, forgetting that sexual education was written on it, and in Spanish no less. The next day, I realized at breakfast that no one was looking at me in the eye. I explained the nature of the exercise that we did the day before, and they got a kick out the irony of having sexual education written on a weapon. I do plan on using the machete a lot, (although not for any sort of education). Other UYD volunteers tell me that they use theirs for gardening, security, and of course, killing snakes and prehistoric-sized spiders.

Two days after my uncomfortable machete situation, my G-29 group swore in at the US embassy in Asuncion. After three months of training, no one had ET-ed, (a Peace Corps term that simply means to have decided to go home). Apparently, it is pretty rare for a group of our size to not have at least one person decide that two more years in this situation was not for them. All 31 of us sat down at a small ceremony with the PC Country Director and Ambassador, listened to a few speeches, then took the oath. I was surprised that the oath wasn’t PC specific and did not even mention volunteerism. Instead, volunteers take the same oath that most US employees take, (the one about protecting the constitution from enemies, etc.). Supposedly, even the Vice President takes the same oath. I am not sure how many enemies of the US constitution I will have to fight off, but I promised I would all the same. After the swearing in, we had a small reception with the Ambassador. I had a chance to speak with her for a few minutes about her job, and how she feels about the PC. She talked about her background in various parts of the world, and how she came to be Ambassador here.

After the ceremony, we headed back to the office for some administrative stuff, like getting our bank account information, and of course, our cell phones. When I made my first call to a fellow volunteer, I realized that I had forgotten the luxury of cell phones. We don’t have the world’s best plan as you might imagine, but it is actually possible to call me from the states. I would probably not try, as the cost for you to call a cell phone in a developing country would likely be catastrophic on your next bill. But if you are feeling brave, have a calling card or have an emergency and need to speak with me ASAP, my number is 0971.233.673. The directions that I have been given for calling me from the states go as follows: dial 595.971.233.673.

We spent the following weekend celebrating in traditional fashion for graduating PC groups. We all stayed in a hotel in the capital, (one with hot, running water!), and ate at some ridiculously nice restaurants. Ok, ridiculously nice by Paraguayan standards. But honestly, your standards change drastically after just a few months here.

I spent a few days prior to leaving for my site with my family in Guarambare. They made me my favorite meal for lunch on my last day, which is a soup made with corn and chicken. On my last night they began negotiating when my first trip back will be. I said my goodbyes the next morning, and my brother gave me a package of my favorite Yerba, (the herbal mix which you use for Terere). Ironically, my favorite brand is from Argentina, so he told me not tell many Paraguayans that it is my favorite. I lugged my suitcase onto a bus and headed to the terminal in Asuncion. I met up with some other volunteers who will be living in the north and traveled with them. Its about a six hour trip on the bus, so when I got there I was pretty exhausted. I dragged my bag a few blocks from the bus stop to my contact’s house. My contact, Esteban, is currently getting over a very bad case of Dengue, which is a serious disease that gets spread by mosquito. Its something that I am hoping to avoid, but the chances of catching it are much higher here in the north because of the climate.

For now, I am spending time here in Concepcion learning my way around and integrating into the community. Most of the people are very interested in what I am doing here, and I have become very good at giving my Peace Corps introduction / monologue. The rest of my language skills are coming along pretty well. I scored Advanced-Low on my exit interview from training in Spanish. The levels are divided as Novice, Intermediate and Advanced, with Low, Medium and High subcategories, so that means I’m at the bottom part of the top level. In three months, I have probably quadrupled the Spanish that I learned from three semesters of Spanish in college. I owe this quick improvement to spending time with a bunch of patient and accepting listeners back in Guarambare. Having the opportunity to speak to people who gently corrected my mistakes helped me gain confidence. I probably learned more, though, by listening. Being placed in a situation where all around you people speak a different language, (or in my case, two different languages), forces you to pay closer attention. Of course, I have learned the bulk of my current Spanish and Guarani from mistakes. I can’t imagine a faster way to learn the subtle difference for the Guarani words for “penis” and for “food” than by having a room full of people laugh out loud when you tell them you enjoyed the penis.

Aside from these dangerous similarities, it’s frustrating that instead of using several words to convey a message, Guarani takes a single word and adds several prefixes and suffixes. This makes dissecting what someone just said to you a much slower process. It is an interesting language though. Rather than give original names to something, the language often just names something by describing it. An outdoor oven isn’t an oven, but a “fire hole.” It is also a fun language to curse in, since a lot of the translations into English are quite elaborate. If someone tells you “Terehona ejapiro tunare,” be offended. Be very, very offended.

Read more popular entries in the “Featured Posts” category.

Tagged as: Ambassador, Birthday, Chipa, Concepcion, Dengue, Featured, Graduation, Liliana Ayalde, Machete, Semana Santa, Terere, Training, US Embassy