It's Like I've Learned to Communicate Like an Ape

Hello all!  I need to apologize for not being up to date on my blog.  I should being doing better, and I hope you can find it in your hearts to be forgiving.

First thing’s first: happy holidays!  I’ve been told that this part of the year is the worst for homesickness, but I don’t know that I’ve really been experiencing any thus far.  This might have something to do with the fact that it feels like 104˚ Fahrenheit right now at 4:30 in the afternoon.  (Not an exaggeration, http://www.wunderground.com/weather-forecast/PY/Asuncion.html.)

I continue to feel like I fit in here as the time passes.  I’m extremely grateful to be working at La Amistad with kids who enjoy being around me.  It never fails to make my day when kids yell “TIA SARAH!!” and run over to give me a group hug.  Yes, it’s as adorable as it sounds.  I’m thankful for the abundance of unbelievably delicious (and cheap or free-depending on the type) fruit.  I’m grateful for the beauty around me.  I notice something different every day: trees, flowers, clay roofs in contrast to the blue sky, et cetera.  I’m grateful for being accepted.  I continue to be overwhelmed by the hospitality that I’m shown at home, in homes of others, at church, and at work.  I’m grateful for friendships that bring joy to my day.  People all around me joke and love and care and laugh and share and it’s beautiful.  Life really is good!

Some things aren’t easy, though, when living in a previously unfamiliar culture.  For me, the language barrier has been really tough.  I never fully appreciated being able to communicate with those around me when I was surrounded by English speakers.  I find myself becoming frustrated with not being able to fully communicate with people when I want to and especially when I feel like I need to.  My Spainish improves daily, yes, but it’s not yet self-sustainable (a term I stole from Sam), and I continually wish that it was.  When it’s the worst, I feel insecure, unintelligent, and ditsy.  I feel as though I’m not taken seriously because I speak like a babbling two year old.  To be able to say what I want to say and to be able to fully understand what those around me are saying would be divine. 

I’ve found that I cope with not being able to fully communicate a few different ways.  First, I laugh a lot. Several times I’ve been trying to say something, come to a complete road block, and started giggling uncontrollably.  I suppose in some situations one can choose to laugh or to cry, and I love laughter.  I also use hand motions or make weird noises.  It’s like I have learned to communicate like an ape, and some of the people around me have learned to understand me.  Example: I refer to the blender in the kitchen at school as the ‘eeeerrrrrrrr’ and do a swirling motion with my hand, and Vidalina, the amazingly fantastic cook, always knows what I mean.  Also, I apologize a lot.  People are so forgiving and so patient with me but still I feel awful about being such a pain.  Communication is extremely complex when everyone is fluent in the same language; it’s especially hard when not everyone is confident in saying what they wish to say.

In light of the holiday season, I was wondering if you would all do me a huge favor.  Huge, but simple.  I’m asking you this because I’ve been having such a hard time communicating, and because I assume that I’m allowed to give you all small homework assignments.  I’d like you to be extra patient with the people that you have a hard time communicating with.  I realize that most of you don’t deal with people who aren’t fluent in your language on a daily basis, but I’m sure that there are people in all of your lives with whom you’ve found it hard to connect.  So in this holiday season, try a little harder to understand one another.  Work a bit more at connecting with each other.  Be patient, be kind, be understanding.  If not for yourselves, then in solidarity with me.

Much love,

Sarah

Learning to Live

Last week my Aunt Marga was rushed to the hospital with stomach pains.  She ended up having a tumor removed from her large intestine.  It was 5 cm wide and the doctors said it was hard as a rock. They took it to study to see if it was cancerous, even though they said they didn't really need to because they were already sure it was.  Because of the characteristics of the tumor, the doctors believed that Marga had cancer, and that they should start chemotherapy as soon as possible.

Nonetheless, Marga was stuck in the hospital waiting for the lab results on the tumor.  She stayed in a public hospital for people whose work insurance covered their treatments.  She was in a room with two other patients who had undergone similar surgeries.  The room was painted white, it had tile floors, it had 3 rolling hospital beds, 6 chairs for visitors/care takers, and no privacy curtains.  Being in this hospital was a significantly different experience from being in a hospital in the States.

My host sister, Celeste, stayed with my aunt every day from 7 in the morning till 7 at night.  She would run errands for the doctors and Marga, like bring blood samples to the lab or fill out paperwork.  At night, different family members would watch over Marga in the hospital.  It was pretty remarkable to see how close the family was during this time.  Everyone was pitching in and doing something, and there was an incredible amount of support for each other as well as for Marga.  During visiting hours, when more than just one person could be with the patients, it seemed like the whole extended family was in the hall of that hospital.

Someone explained to me that when a person finds out that they have cancer, it’s usually too late to do anything but buy time.  People were sure that Marga had cancer, which means that they were pretty sure that she limited time left to be with her family.  The heartbreak was visible and devastating.

For a week Marga was in the hospital.  There was someone with her for every moment of every day, and a plethora of visitors when it was permitted.  She continued to regain her color from her previous surgery and became more herself as the week went on.  It seemed, though, that time crept by as everyone looked forward to Tuesday, when we would know what the next step was.

On Tuesday, the news came that the tumor wasn’t cancerous and that Marga could go home and be with her kids again.  It was the best news that anyone could have asked for.  It was almost as though she has come back from the dead.  She’s still recovering from the surgery, but she’s doing a lot better and is continuing to improve.

This was a remarkable experience.  It reminded all of us of how delicate life is, and how we should treasure it.  It reminded me that time is precious and that I want to do something meaningful with mine.  It reminded me of the importance of a good support system of family and friends.

Here’s to you all and here's to Marga,

Sarah

Tia Sarah

This is a picture of La Amistad school.  The second story is still under construction, but there are two or three classes that meet up there.  Fun fact: the roof is built around the trunk of one of those palm trees.

The kids at La Amistad (The Friendship) school call me Tia Sarah, (‘tia’ translates to ‘aunt’ in English).  It’s the most adorable thing since puppies.  

As I’ve mentioned before, my work assignment here in Paraguay is to help out in a primary school.  I mostly lend a hand where I’m needed; cleaning, cooking, doing dishes, wiping kids’ noses, playing, and occasionally helping out in classes as a teacher’s aide.  The most intimidating thing that I’ve been asked to do, though, is teach English twice a week, to five classes of 20 children under the age of 6.

We sing lots of songs and do lots of repetition.  One teacher has asked me to come in every day and sing a few songs in English with the kids, so that they can sing them to their parents.  Thus far, the classes have learned colors and body parts in English, as well as a few songs. 

It’s been a lot of fun.  Here are some pictures, because it’s much easier to show than tell you all what happens inside the classroom. 

Enjoy!
Sarah

Miguel (in back) and Tobias (in front) are currently not at all listening to what I'm saying and are pestering Roxanne to take their picture in the back of the class.  I think I'd have better classroom management if they weren't adorable even when they're misbehaving.



We're learning body parts, and this is the stomach.  Kids more easily learn when they have actions to accompany words, and have more fun when the actions are silly and/or obnoxious.  So do I.

Here we're singing Head Shoulders Knees and Toes.  "Eyes and ears and mouth and nose."  Typically I consider it to be a success when over half of the class is paying attention (notice the two in the back wrestling).



This is what a classroom full of children reviewing colors in a foreign language looks like.  Notice how whatever in the front of the classroom (me, of course) has their rapt attention.



The Spirit Was Among Us

Singing at church got pretty intense today.

It all began with one woman, who went up to the front to kneel and pray.  That’s normal. Usually a few people kneel at the front during the last song and pray.  Pastor Alfred goes and prays over them and then they go back to their seats: usually.

Today, though, it didn’t stop at a few.  Soon it seemed like half of the congregation was standing or kneeling at the front of the church.  Alfred and Edulia (his wife) went from person to person praying with them.  This went on for 45 minutes or more as we continued to sing “let it rain, let it rain, open the floodgates of heaven” or more accurately “haz llover, haz llover, abre las puertas del cielo”.

I stayed in my seat and from there was able to observe what was happening around me.  At one point, Alfred was praying over a woman and I saw him motion to a man sitting close to the front.  The man stood up and went to the woman just in time to catch her as she fell backwards.  She had fainted.  Another woman was shaking violently and shrieking.  A couple people went and held her hands and stroked her face until she was calm again.  Many people were on their knees, many people were praying aloud, and many people had tears rolling down their faces.

I had never seen anything like this before.  The only way I can think to describe it is to say that the Holy Spirit ascending on us.  The spirit was filling each person, one after the other before my eyes.  The energy in the room was so strong; it almost brought me to tears multiple times.  There was amazing power and love.  There was a divine presence.  It was real.  It was there.

 ...

I need to make a correction to my last blog.  I thought my shower didn’t have the capability of being warm, but in fact I didn’t know how it worked.  It turns out I can take warm showers, although recently I’ve been choosing not to because of the heat.  Basically, the hokey pokey shower days are over for me.

Life goes on here.  I’m doing well and really enjoying my work, which I’m planning to blog more about at a later date.  My family has opened their home to me as my own, which is extremely humbling.  I continue to be blessed far beyond my needs. 

Much love from Paraguay,

Sarah

Things To Get Used To

The Metric System

Here, as in every other country besides the United States, the metric system is used.  It’s like I have little to no bearing on how far distances are, or how warm or cool it is outside.  People say that something is so far away, or that the temperature is this or that, and it means almost nothing to me.  I’d never realized how grounded I was in my use of Fahrenheit , gallons, or miles. 

Hokey Pokey Showers

This is the term I’ve adopted to describe the way that I now bathe.  You put your left arm in, you take your left arm out (and soap it up), you put your left arm in (to rinse it) and you shake it all about.  My shower is not super warm; it’s not the coldest it could be, either, but it’s definitely not warm.  From what I’ve learned from talking with other people, my shower is special and other people have warm showers.  I have decided that if everyone in the world took cold showers, water usage would go down by a significant amount.

Wandering Cows

Being from Kansas, I am used to cows being inside fences.  When a cow is not in its perspective fence, common curacy is to call the person to whom the cow belongs so that they may get their cow back into the fence.  I’m not sure cows have fences here; they just sort of wander.  They wander down streets and in the Jardin Botanico, they wander where they want it seems, and no one bats an eye.

Obnoxious Men

It is rare for me to be able to walk here and not attract some whistles, lots of stares and sometimes comments.  Out of all the things to get used to, his has been toughest.  I really just want to tie their tongues in knots so that whistling isn’t an option.  Respect for women is viewed very differently here than it is in the U.S.  I think that it doesn’t really bother women here when they’re whistled at or when men stare.  It’s not that I’m going to say it’s viewed as a complement, but it’s sort of viewed as a complement.  It’s like someone saying ‘hey Sarah, you look nice today’ but more direct and, for me, more disgusting way.  Even so, it’s pretty difficult for me to get used to or get rid of my fantasy of tying tongues in knots.

Mealtime differences

I’m not the biggest meat eater.  If I had an option between a steak and my mom’s black beans and rice, I’d go for the beans and rice most every day.  Here, however, I’d be hard pressed to find someone who’d agree with me.  Every meal that we’ve had so far with the extended family has included a large slab of meat on the grill and chorizo (little sausages).  Meals with the family almost always contain a lot of meat, too.  I’m learning to enjoy meat a lot more, or at least trying to learn.

Much love,

Sarah

Primavera

Yesterday, September 21, was the first day of spring here in Paraguay.  Primavera (spring) is a really big deal in Paraguayan culture.  I think that because of the blisteringly cold winters, spring becomes a bigger deal here than it is in the United States.  JUST KIDDING.  Winters here aren’t very cold at all.

For school yesterday, the kids dressed up as different things, much like Halloween without the creepiness.  There were quite a few super-heroes and princesses.  Both the teachers and kids wore flowery hats and got their faces painted.  There were snacks for everyone, and candy was shared with classmates.  Classes danced and sang songs and people were in very cheery moods. 

Yesterday evening I went to a concert of Paraguayan music with the family.  The concert was in a nice concert hall, and many people were dressed up for the occasion.  Although I didn’t understand much at all, it was a lot of fun.  Songs were sung in Guaraní (the other national language of Paraguay) more than they were in Spanish, which didn’t help me understand what was going on whatsoever.  There were story tellers, individual singers who wore ball gowns, dancers, and a band including two acoustic guitars, an accordion, a flute, a keyboard, and a bass.  During the music, much of the crowd clapped or sang along.  I enjoyed myself; it was a good cultural experience no doubt.

Here are some pictures of the concert, and the requested picture of my family.

Hugs and love,

 

Sarah

Traditional dancers with the colors of the flag doing a beautiful dance that you can't see because this is a photo.

One of the singers doing her thing in a very fancy green ball gown.

A duet.  This was my favorite dress, just in case you were wondering.



More beautiful dancing.

 

My fantastic family after the concert.  From left to right: Laura's boyfriend Manu, Brother Dani, Sister Laura, Sister Janet, Sister Celeste, Mother Mercedes, and Father Francisco.
I should have taken another when Mercedes' eyes were open, but at the time I didn't notice.  Beautiful family, right?

Thoughts on Walks

Today I went on a walk with Roxanne.  We explored a little of the streets around the church and the school, just so we could get familiar with the place.  We were talking about how we were adjusting and how this experience has been for both of us, so far.  She told me that her parents had asked her how she was dealing with the poverty here and how it was affecting her.  She said she didn’t know how to answer the question.  I said that I wouldn’t have either. 

Before that moment, I hadn’t thought of anyone here as impoverished or even of poverty at all.  I had been thinking of myself as an equal; nothing more, nothing less.  Yes, if you think on terms of financial wealth, I have much more than the people with whom I’m in community now.  I think, though, that in terms of wisdom, or culture, or joy I am not better off than these people.  If anything, I’m the impoverished one.

I just think it’s about time we took a good, long look at who’s really underprivileged, and who has what they need.

Love,

Sarah