counterclockwise

I’ve finished my first crochet project - a pair of fingerless gloves. They’ll be useful for typing and other precise work during the winter. Or for more crocheting, for that matter. This assuming the weather ever gets serious about turning cold. Right up into the beginning of June, we still have afternoons in the low thirties, Celsius. In American terms, that’s the equivalent of having 80-something degree heat at the first weeks of December.

Somehow, the 110 degree days in the middle of summer were easier to take. The summer scorch felt like a necessary evil, unpleasant but not unfair. That it stayed so hot so late, less than a month from the winter solstice, felt more like the weather was just cheating. But we’re finally enjoying days in which you can look forward to hot yerba maté and can close your doors without stifling in the heat.

My new gloves are, of course, as ugly as sin. I still have a lot of beginner problems with gauge and tension, which magnify the visibility of my other errors. But they’re structurally sound, so I’ll call that a victory for a first, off-the-cuff stab at yarn work.

The Guaraní word of the day is kuã, meaning finger. Here’s hoping that mine stay pleasantly warm and pleasantly occupied this winter. Guaraní, unlike Spanish, has a separate, specialized word for toe, which is pysã.

I’ve spent nearly a year in Paraguay now.

Computer lessons given: 68
Capybaras eaten: 1
Tech support house calls made: 6
Radio appearances: 3
Text messages sent in English: Probably around 600
Text messages sent in Spanish: Probably around 300
Text messages sent in Guaraní: Two or three
Trains heard, squirrels seen, and cars driven: 0
Pique infections: 2
Highest number of pigs in my yard at any given time: 6
Of chickens: 15
Of cows: 2
Of horses: 2
Of children: 9
Approximate monthly consumption of electricity: 75 kWh
Kinds of bug spray on my desk: 6
Palanganas purchased: 3
Packets of seeds purporting to be acelga: 5
Packets of seeds which actually are acelga: 2
Haircuts: 4
Cab rides to the bus terminal at 4 AM: 10
Successful departures from same: 8
Snow days: 0
Rain days: 5
Too hot to move, think, or sleep days: 200

The Guaraní word of the day is pakova, meaning banana. I am about to have heta pakova, because one of the plants in my backyard is putting out a big old stalk of them. It’s really cool to watch, not least because the developing bud looks like some kind of alien monster about to extrude a pseudopod and go searching for brains. And the day I can express that last thought in Guaraní, I’ll know I’ve been in Paraguay for way, way too long.

So I’m in Asunción for a little unscheduled medical visit. Nothing serious at all, just a convoluted it-could-only-happen-in-Paraguay story. I’d had a bit of the flu up in Tacuatí for several days. A little fever, a rotten migraine, nothing to write home about. But I started getting really woozy and shaky around Tuesday, and the weather was getting messy.

It’s just the flu; we all know the modus operandi. You feel awful for most of a week and live on ibuprofen. Then it gets better on its own and there’s nothing a doctor can do about that. But all the same, I decided to play it safe and get myself within range of medical services before the rain took that option away from me.

Of course, by the time the bus rolls into Asunción, my symptoms have pretty much cleared up, and I feel like a stupid cry baby. But no sooner have I struck off for the office, but a massive allergy attack comes over me, the worst I’ve had in years. In the space of five minutes (and to the complete horror of my fellow city bus passengers) I go from a relatively normal kind of non-Paraguayan freak to some sort of oozing extra from a zombie movie. For some reason, my right lower eyelid swelled up like I was trying to bring a pet caterpillar along for a scenic tour of the country. I’m still kicking myself for not bringing my camera. This kind of thing has to be seen to be believed.

So by the time I get to the Peace Corps office, my appearance puts small children in tears, and I actually do need to see our staff doctor. Nothing like a Cortizone shot in the butt to put some zing in your afternoon. It must have been a self-fulfilling prophecy, that’s all I can figure. I came to Asunción because I was worried something bad would happen in a place where I can’t get much help. And then in the absence of any real complaint, my immune system decided to backfire up one of its own once I got within a needle’s reach.

And now my eye is back to normal, my flu is gone, and I’m heading back to site. If I make it through the ride back without acute appendicitis, I think I’ll be ahead of the game.

The Guaraní word of the day is chivivi. This is a digestive symptom I did not experience this week, although most people in Paraguay do sooner or later, especially in those households where the well is too close to the latrine. Living the fancy life, as I do have running water and a flush toilet, I get off light on those kinds of problems.

Well, Paraguay’s election day has come and gone. This has been the closest fight in the presidential race that Paraguay has seen in living memory. The dominant Colorado party’s candidate, Blanca Ovelar, though a loser in the popular vote, is the first woman to ever have a serious chance at the presidency here. I wish I could say that this is truly a progressive sign that machismo is finally ceding to modernity. But the reality is, she’s mainly a passive stand in for the country’s current president, Nicanor Duarte-Frutos.

Term limit laws prevent Nicanor for running under his own name. During his presidency, he tried and failed to amend the constitution to let him hold onto power, which was a profoundly unpopular move. Paraguay has a long, tortuous history with dictators-for-life and is still recovering from forty years of oppression at the hands of a megalomaniac by the name of Stroessner. So Nicanor, thwarted but not deterred, fell back to Plan B: appoint a tractable cabinet secretary to take his place.

Large factions of the Colorado party, including the vice president, did not take this move very well. The Colorado primary elections were acrimonious. Party unity was at its lowest ebb in years.

In previous decades, the Colorado candidate has had the guaranteed vote of every beneficiary of the government’s pork, graft, and dole (40% of the working population, by some estimates). There’s very little private industry here. Most services are provided by government bureaus. And the government bureaus are largely staffed with loyal Colorados, right down to the office errand runners and contractors. Disloyalty can cost a Paraguayan his irreplacable job. Conspicuous disloyalty can extend the penalty to his sons and brothers. So an extremely high level of outrage has to build before the Colorado machine breaks down under its own corruption.

The underdog opposition party, the Liberales, were actually a few points ahead in the pre-election polling. Their candidate is a popular guy by the name of Lugo. He’s not necessarily the best guy from an American perspective, but the Paraguayans could do worse. If that were all there were to it, I’d say he has just won this election. The problem is, Lugo was ordained a Catholic bishop.

Now in Latin America in general, being Catholic is more of a prerequisite for holding political office than a handicap. Paraguay is no different. But Paraguay’s constitution does mandate the separation of church and state. The separation laws here are toothless compared to those in the US (Prayer in public schools? Not just allowed, but compulsory) but they do prevent clergymen from holding positions of secular power.

Any Lugo supporter can tell you that the candidate is no longer acting as a Catholic bishop, that he has essentially abdicated his authority with the Church. And any Jesuit can tell you that Catholic ordinations just don’t work that way. When Lugo took his vows, there was no escape clause permitting him to leave if it became politically inconvenient. As with the Italian Mafia, once you are a made man of the cloth you cannot be unmade. At least, not by anything short of excommunication. In short, Lugo can’t disentangle himself from his staff and mitre without committing political suicide.

A few months back, in what looks at first glance like an extremely noble gesture of largesse, President Nicanor gave Lugo permission to run for office anyway. This sounds generous of him on the radio news, but is actually a shrewd display of gamesmanship. Nicanor can no more legalize Lugo’s candidacy than I can gift the Grand Canyon to him. As he demonstrated during his bid to overcome term limits, the president doesn’t have the authority to rewrite the constitution no matter how much he holds his breath and stamps his feet.

Nicanor and his advisors were quite aware that even though Lugo could pull off the upset and win this thing, they’d retain the ability to promptly haul him before the supreme court of Paraguay. Even if the justices weren’t all loyal Colorados down to the last man, Lugo would have a weak case. Now it remains to be seen if the Colorados will actually do this, or whether they’ll just take the loss as a done deal.

Nicanor’s permission is also a particularly deft act of political revenge against the supreme court. The same justices who shot down Nicanor’s last, frantic attempts to grab power are now going into the unenviable position of having to rule against the likeable, Catholic candidate who won the popular vote, and all for reasons that the average Paraguayan sees as befuddling technical quibbles.

You know, I only wish Nicanor’d been half this competent in actually running the country.

The Guaraní word of the week is rugua, meaning deep or internal. The Colorados typically do better out in the country because they are better able to mobilize campesinos from Paraguai rugua - the interior, the campo, the boonies, the back of Paraguay’s beyond. On election days the buses bring citizens of the hinterlands in to the polling places from dawn to dusk, but there’s no mistaking the party affiliation of each coach.

Well, if I’m going to end up a crazy old maid cat lady, I suppose there’s nothing to do but embrace it. The next logical step is to take up needlework, so here I go. I’m starting with crochet. So far, I’ve more or less got the hang of chain stitching, slip stitching, and I’m working on single crochet. My main problem is gauge. I read that a pro can work with yarn at any level of tension. It’s the mark of an amateur to need every strand locked down tight, and it leaves the end product stiff and less attractive.

So I’ve got a ways to go till I’m turning out works of art, but I’m having fun. Che mbaracajakuera are very jealous of anything that gets this much lap time, of course. It’s also good to sit and think warm thoughts because we’ve finally gotten through summer’s last insufferably hot gasp and into fresher weather. I’ve got all the neighbors intrigued. Thanks, Aunt Rite!

The Guaraní word of the day is kuña karai, meaning woman. Or more literally, female gentleman. Lots of women crochet out here. Most of them are making simple chains of white thread to decorate table cloths and traditional blouses for dance recitals. But every once in a while, you do see some remarkable, complex designs. My contact in Tacuatí made a meter square tapestry of swimming swans. The host mother I stayed with in Valenzuela gave me a very intricate embroidered pillow case. They’re both younger, professional types although there’s a fair share of grannies out there, clicking away with their hooks and needles.

This past week, my mother and her sister (my aunt) came to visit. That was wonderful on many different levels - wonderful to see them, wonderful to show off some of the fascinating parts of the life I’m living, and wonderful what they did for me while I was here. I have an elaborate new drainage system on my front patio now, a hammer, and a mind-boggling assortment of plastic bags and second-hand capri pants.

You have to have lived in Paraguay for a little while to understand how exciting some of this is. But take my word for it, I’m enormously grateful. And I’m especially grateful for their patience and flexibility. We had some hold ups in our travel arrangements. Nothing completely devastating, but some definite frustrations. I’ve known people who would have melted down in the face of being stranded by a broken bus, 20 kilometers from anything. But not these cool chicks.

The Guaraní word of the day is for giving commands. If you want to make an imperative statement to one person, you prefix the verb with the sound e. For two or more people, you use pe. There are various suffixes you can add to make a request more or less forceful. So if you wanted to politely request for people to come visit any time, the verb form would be pejumi.

I’m in Asunción for a few days. There’s always a lot to do when I’m here. Groceries and supplies to be bought, library books to exchange, e-mail to read, air to be conditioned, and green vegetables to be consumed.

This time, I’ve also got a ton of photos to be developed. My landlady’s oldest daughter (who’s also one of my computer students) recently had her fifteenth birthday party. So this month, in lieu of rent, I’m developing about a hundred different shots of friends, family, and frilly dresses.

Digital cameras are getting more popular in Paraguay, in much the same way that cell phones are. We seem to have by-passed film cameras and land lines completely. But cameras still aren’t quite ubiquitous yet, so I offer to take pictures when I get invited to events. And looking over the photos after the fact is a good way to get to put names to faces.

The Guaraní word of the day is the suffix -hape, meaning one’s presence at an event or party. Jahata fiestahape? Yes, thanks.

The good people of Tacuati have (correctly) figured me for a sucker. Yes, I’ve taken another step down the road to dying a crazy, old maid cat lady and accepted a second kitten.

I couldn’t not do it. The whole sordid story involves half a dozen sad-eyed children, a dead mother stray, two piteously mewling fuzz balls, and the cool, drenching rain of a Paraguayan autumn. And now (The shame! The horror!) I’m a single woman writing about her two cats on her website.

The new one is female, white with a few spots, possibly a distant relative of Mimosa’s. She’s a wretched little beast, an incessant screamer and an inveterate clawer. I’d finally gotten Mimosa 100% litterbox trained and coming when called. Now this newcomer has me starting over from square one with spoon feedings and urine mopping.

The kids who found her suggested the name Margarita, which means daisy in this part of the world. I’m going to treat that word’s English meaning (along with that of Mimosa) as entirely irrelevant and coincidental. You can’t buy tequila and triple sec in Tacuati, nor champagne. Or even real orange juice, as far as that goes.

The good news is, I should be getting passionfruit this year. In the five months that I´ve been in my house, my vine has gone from a little 10-leafed twig to a 20 foot long monster plant. There are plenty of things that don´t grow well in my part of the country (green vegetables, for example), but when it works, it really works.

The Guaraní word of the day is -kuera, which is the suffix used to make plurals. Che mbaracaja’i has become che mbaracaja’ikuera.

Sad to say I haven’t gotten a whole lot of teaching done at the coop here lately. Our computer monitor burnt out, which means a temporary halt to classes.

Which isn’t to say I haven’t been productive. We’ve been doing a lot of work with our actual business of giving loans and offering savings accounts. Sometime during 2006, the coop got behind on its bookkeeping. Some recent questions about our financial solvency have prompted us to do a complete re-tally of all our accounts. If I were trying to do that, and teach thirty hours a week, and design a new spreadsheet system, I’d go bonkers.

But the teaching load is off my shoulders for a bit here, and the timing couldn’t be better. I’ve done some nifty things in Excel. Now we just need to hire our next secretary so I can train somebody to use the new “hojas de calculo“.

The Guaraní word of the day is yva, meaning fruit.  The ciruela tree in my backyard has been raining little wild plums for about the last three weeks. Before that, it was the mango tree, and before that the lemon tree. The neighborhood kids tell me that the mandarin oranges are all but ready, but the grapefruit look like they need a month or more. Still no sign from the passionfruit and banana plants, but they’re good healthy specimens, so I live in hope.

I’ve been nothing but busy as of late, working hours that make 9 to 5 look good. There’s a certain amount of business with the financial co-op I work for, but largely it’s teaching computer classes that fills my days. It’s crazy. I went for months all but begging for people to sign up, and then at the first of the year they all came, so many that I’ve had to turn prospective students away.

I’m still not sure what it was that opened the flood gates. I don’t think New Year’s Resolutions are a big tradition here. It could be that the start of the New Year makes people think of the upcoming school year - and reflect on all those things they still need to get done over summer break. Whatever it was, the difference is night and day.

I’ve also found differences here in how people approach the material. Especially with my younger students, the Spanish language literacy requirement is a real challenge. Paraguayan culture has traditionally been more oral than written, which works for me and against me, both. Against me, because the written parts of the user interface are a little less intuitive in this environment. For me, because my students seem more at ease with receiving complicated instructions just by voice than Americans would be. 

I’ve known plenty of university students who dreaded that one class where the professor had a thick accent because they couldn’t follow him easily. Far as it goes, I’ve been one of those students. And now I’m the professor with the impenetrable foreign accent and awkward diction, and I really appreciate the patience my students have shown with me.

The Guaraní word of the day is mbo’e, meaning to teach. “I teach” would translate to ambo’e. “I teach computer” would require Spanish loan words because the Guaraní Indians certainly didn’t have computers. Or forks. Or wheels. Or any of thousands of other technologies we take for granted in day to day life. They did leave us an awful lot of words for different species of grass, though.