Speaking in the Third Person in a Third World

An eventful week. Let`s get down to it.

On Monday, we had two current volunteers help us with a beekeeping session. Matt is a bee keeper and Zach is in environmental education. Our mission that day was to transfer the hive that we had captured to our apiary, and fuse it with part of the crazy hive that chased us out last time. When we first arrived, we initially worked to try to find a queen to place in our new hive. We had no luck, but for the sake of practice we carried on. I initially received one sting on my arm, but wasn´t phased. We continued working the hives, when I received two more in succession. I had to put my panel down to relax for a second and asked another trainee to smoke me to mask the attack pheremone that is released when a bee stings. I got back to work and continued to receive 7 more stings, which at this point I had to leave.

I eventually returned and we completed our mission, but I was aching. Three on my left ankle, one on my right knee, two on my right arm, and four on my back. It was a night of tossing and turning, with my back aflame and my ankle itching like mad. As I showed off my swollen ankle and big red forearm to fellow trainees the next day during a tour of a Permaculture farm (see picture above, on the left), I managed to stand on an Ant hill and have my right ankle bit up. Oh, when will I learn.

The tour of the farm, however was fantastic. We were afforded a glimpse of how this Paraguayan family has created their own eco-system of sustainability. The waste from their cows and rabbits is broken down by their worms which in turn fertilizes their plants which feed their pigs, whose waste is decomposed by maggots, thereby releasing a methane gas with which they use to cook in their kitchen(!). The whole layout made so much sense, with the farmer working more as a manager than a laborer. When the father of the family was asked to speak of his Permaculture (Permanent-Culture) techniques however, he spent more time focusing on his life philosophy and all that his work had to teach his family and other farmers. It was a very educational field visit.

Wednesdays are our days to travel to the main headquarters to have bigger sessions with all of the other trainees. Since it is now week 5 (Can you believe it?) we had our second language proficiency test. I didn´t have to take a Spanish test, but I did have be interviewed in Guarani.

In class so far I´ve been able to grasp most of the many grammatical and syntax rules, so as I entered my tester`s quarters I felt somewhat confident that I could hold my own. We began. Disonel, another language teacher who has been teaching with Peace Corps longer than I´ve been alive, and in fact taught our current Country Director Michael Esschelman when he was a trainee way back when, started off with some easy questions. He lobbed up a few slow pitch softballs, hoping I could knock them out of the park, and I somehow managed to ask how his Husband was. ¡Que lastima!

My stomach sank, my concentration fled, and in no time I was broken man. I left the room with my head hung low and I tried to curse in Guarani, but I couldn´t find the words.

I cheered up in about a half an hour and was reassured by my language teacher that my Guarani would come with time.

The next day was the Paraguayan holiday "Dia de los Santos" (All Saints Day). My family traveled to the nearby city, Ita, in order to visit their deceased relatives in the graveyard. I managed to tag along. As we got off the bus, I was overwhelmed by the amount of people in attendance. We passed through the gates and I was met with a small village of pastel colored Casitas (small houses under which families bury their dead). I felt like a giant following my host mother as she wove her way through the neverending labryinthe of families, light blue houses, flowers, and trees. Children brushed past my elbow as they shouted to their friends ahead. "Chipa, Chipa, Chipa" advertised the bread man to any potential buyers. Widows wailed to their past lovers while old friends shook hands and made jokes. The sun beat down on us as we finally found our site and paid respects to my deceased Paraguayan grandmother.

What I found the most amazing of it all was the celebratory nature of life´s end. Before coming here I had read or understood the idea that Latin American countries take Death as a natural part of Life and celebrate it just as much as any other stage, but it wasn´t until I walked through this scene, saw its sites, and felt its energy that I fully grasped it.

That night, after returning, I spent time with my neighbors and friends in the community. They all claim to be interested in learning English, but as soon as I we start identifying exactly which phrases they want to learn, it always deteriorates into translations such as ¨Do you want to go steal a chicken with me?"

One friend of mine, Christian, however, was interested in delivering some messages from me to his host sister, a fellow beekeeping trainee. I wrote them down and had him practice them for me before he went to pass them on. Here´s a rough transcript:

Christian: Yuu Arr..
Casey: Si, You Are a...
Ch: Yuu Arr a Duurty Hoppy.
C: Casi. You are a DIRTY HIPPY.
Ch: Yuu Arr a Durrty Hippy.
C: Muy bien. Ahora, necesitas decirlo a Sarah!

The other trainee told me the next morning in class that she appreciated the message, although at first she had no idea why her host brother was calling her a ¨dirty happy." She did, however, enjoy the "Yuu arr Assunn" which was Christian´s broken version of "You are Awesome." I was in stitches.

Okay, this is entirely too long. I just had a great week. I hope you enjoyed the entry (if you made it this far) and that you´ve been getting my letters. Keep in touch and know that I´m thinking of all of you (except you Jeff).

Casey

Picture guide: 1 Group shot at Permaculture farm.

2 Me showing off the sweet Batea beehive that I built.

3 A glimpse at my open-air dining room at my house. You can even see my clothes drying in the background.

4 The tall one on the left is Ever who lives next door and has been a great friend and teacher so far. He is stretching Florencio who is my "cousin" who when I first arrived couldn´t look at me for more than 3 seconds before bursting into tears and running to his mother. Now, however, he calls me "Kurrui!" which is Guarani for "Senor" and we´re friends. The next one over is Freddi, who is one of Florencio´s older brothers. They all live two doors down. And the last one, is the one and only Carlito. They´re all family and spend a lot of time together, for example, playing Frisbee in front of my house.

5The next is a photo from when I went to visit the Jesuit ruins way back with my volunteer visit. I just thought it was a cool picture.

6 This photo is just a run-of'-the-mill in front of my house. Here the group is unloading sugar cane to make a juice for the final night of my grandmother´s prayer services or Rezos.ç

7 And last but not least is a picture from when I went to visit the volunteer Danny. Here I am standing with Danny (in the yellow) and a family that he works with in his community. Of course it wasn´t until after the picture was taken that Danny let me know that Paraguayans don´t smile in photos. ¡Que lastima!