Once PCVs get to their sites, their APCDs formally present them to their communities in aptly named “site presentations.” Normally, these are performed shortly after arriving at your site, but mine was postponed due to a case of Dengue which my contact came down with early on in my service, then postponed again due to an unfortunate mugging incident. PCVs get accustomed very quickly to explaining who we are to curious observers. I’ve noticed that I sometimes fall victim to my own periphrasis, and make this simple explanation an overly complicated one. Site presentations help explain to the community what Peace Corps is and why this really strange looking guy that you all stare at is living near you.
I was running late, so I decided to grab my freshly-ironed shirt and button it up as I walked. As I walked briskly towards one of the schools I work at, I ran into a teacher I work with, who was riding her motorcycle. She offered me a ride since she was going to the same meeting I was, but such invitations force me to give my well-rehearsed spiel about how PCVs cannot ride on motorcycles. As soon as she sped away, the rain started. I sped up into a jog, buttoning my shirt as I went. I made it to the school, soaking wet, and met up with my APCD.
I walked up as the 60 students, parents, and community leaders were filing into the school’s multipurpose room. Wind and rain slapped the brick walls of the building, and the squeaky ceiling fans tried, futilely, to cool the audience. The presentation began with my contact, Esteban, introducing Josefina, my APCD. She then gave a 15 minute talk about what Peace Corps is. The major theme of her presentation was about the relationship between volunteers and their communities, and the importance of the cultural exchange that goes on between them. She talked about how strange it sounds for someone like me to have never heard of some of Paraguay’s most important holidays, but then asked how many people had heard of Halloween. No hands went up. Most of the audience had expressions of shock as she explained that American children dress up as monsters and offer neighborhood residents the choice between giving them candy or suffering the consequences. This example was used to show that PCVs don’t come to change anyone’s culture, only expose them to another one. My APCD then stressed an understanding in the diversity of volunteers. There is, as she explained, a huge variety in how volunteers look and the types of skills they have. They are tall and short; light-skinned and dark-skinned; young and old; some eat meat and some are vegetarians. One audience member asked if I was one of those vegetarians he had heard about, and the audience laughed (more in agreement than amusement) as I joked that it would be “casi-imposible” (almost impossible) to be a vegetarian here. At the end of the presentation, a copy of my resumé was passed out to the audience.
After my site presentation, I caught a ride back to Asuncion with my APCD and her coordinator in a fancy PC vehicle. We generally seize upon any opportunity to skip the uncomfortable bus ride to the capital whenever a seat is available in a PC SUV. The buses take about twice as long, and for some reason, the company we use insists on showing pirated Kung Fu movies with the volume turned all the way up. I can still hear that artificial cracking-noise of Bruce Lee’s fist breaking a bad guy’s nose when I sleep.
A good number of PCVs were in town last weekend for the 4th of July, which the embassy celebrates every year with a BBQ. We got to see volunteers that we hadn’t seen since swearing-in, and I got to chat with our old trainer, Jonathan. I was excited to get some non-Paraguayan food for a change, then quickly remembered that when it comes to BBQ, the line between “American” food and Paraguayan food is practically invisible. We celebrated Independence Day with meat and beer, which would have been special, if that wasn’t what my Paraguayan family served the day before.
After the embassy, most of us headed down to a park where a couple PCVs had organized a party for the night. It came complete with music, fireworks, marshmallows, meat, a guy on stilts and a real-life Michael Jackson impersonator, (seriously). Conspicuously missing from the festivities were many of the volunteers from more rural sectors. I suppose the prospect of spending the night outside and eating food cooked over a fire on the ground was just a bit too indistinguishable from their everyday experience here.
Consciousness slowly permeated the camp the following morning, and we got our things together to leave. I was heading back to Guarambare to visit my host-family from training, while others were heading to hotels to sleep for the rest of the day.
As soon as I made it to their house, one of the most powerful thunderstorms I have ever seen rolled into town. (Paraguay must be rubbing off on me–Here I go talking about the weather). The power went out, and we ate by candlelight. Going back to the training community always feel strange. I wake up when I am there feeling like I should be getting my stuff together and heading down the road to language class. My family doesn’t have another trainee living with them at the moment, because the two sectors that are in training right now are Municipalities and Rural Economic Development, and apparently the trainees from those sectors live outside of Guarambare.
On Monday, I bid farewell to my host family, and caught the bus back to Asuncion. Another UYD volunteer of the north and I were planning on catching an afternoon bus up to Concepcion, but when two other Northerners missed their bus, we decided to change our tickets for the next day. I eventually made it back to my site on Tuesday, to find that our main market burned to the ground. Luckily no one was killed, but there are now dozens of families without work. This is the same place where a guard was killed during an overnight robbery about a month ago, so people here are talking about it being a case of arson.
It is currently school vacation, so my workload has shrunken considerably. There is a vote set for next week which will decide whether or not to extend winter vacation here by another week. Swine flu (or whatever the new name for it is) continues to kill people here in Paraguay, and the government is considering adding vacation time in hopes of preventing any kids carrying the flu from spreading it to their classmates. We are, as one might expect, quite cut-off from news back in the states, so I’m not sure if the flu is generating the same sort of fear there. I see more and more people here wearing “tapa-bocas” (mouth-covers, like surgeons’ masks). Paraguayans’ fear of the flu has taken a fascinating, albeit comical, priority: Everyday I see more people riding their motos with their tapa-bocas, though none of these riders are wearing helmets.
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