what doesn't kill us only makes us... less human??

As Peace Corps Volunteers, we are forced to adapt to many things that are very different from our former reality. The weather, the food, the language, the culture, the bugs, the beds, the "social life". Physically, mentally, emotionally, our bodies are challenged to react and survive in circumstances that are very new to us, some being extremely difficult. But in an effort to fully integrate and not offend, we are encouraged to take whatever comes at us with grace, acceptance, and... silence. What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger right?
Actually I'd like to say wrong to that. After being in Paraguay for over a year, enduring many hardships and overcoming many challenges, I'm starting to notice that there is a line between conditions that we should accept and those that we should not. And I am not talking as a Peace Corps "we", but as a collective whole, Paraguayans included. Too many times I hear people justifying things as "just part of the culture" or "that's just the way it is."
Yes, some of the things that have been difficult for me are just the Paraguayan way. For example, the unbearably loud music or the roosters' crows sometimes are bothersome for my ears. And I don't particularly enjoy waking up at 4:30 am to drink mate for 2 hours before starting my day, but if you do, that's fine with me. And the fashion magazines I read don't necessarily condone wet hair, sequins, glittery flower hair clips, or unbelievably tight clothes, but it all looks great on you. And you know what, since I'm the one visiting your country, I'll even wear it too! All of these are examples of what I call adapting to a culture without question.
But there are lots of things that should not be written off as cultural differences because they are just as difficult or unenjoyable for Paraguayans as they are for us as Americans.
For example: buses. The bus companies, particularly the one that goes to my site, are on my list right now. I have been traveling a lot recently to and from Asuncion (shall I remind you, a 9 hour ride) and have been completely disgusted by the quality of service. (To the point that last week I had the ultimate breakdown, crying and hyperventilating in the bathroom of a bus station at 4 am.) A majority of the buses in Paraguay are recycled from Brazil and Argentina's trash meaning dirty, gross, and uncomfortable. No air/heat, broken seats that don't recline, break down regularly. As if the bus experience wasn't pleasant enough, there also is no such thing as a full bus, seeing as companies sell tickets and drivers pick up people over the capacity leaving them to stand scrunched together in the aisle, leaning on the seats. As my friend Miguel said after taking a midnight bus to his site and standing the entire 6 hours, it's like transporting cattle!! It's dehumanizing! As much as I try to protest and avoid supporting the terrible bus company that goes to my site, the unfortunate thing is that there is no other option and for that reason, they don't care. They don't have to.
As hard as it is to fight against institutions such as bus companies, luckily Paraguay is up and coming, and at some point, they will have to update their standards. Hopefully the same can be said for certain aspects of their culture that are subtly dehumanizing as well. As a country very young in democracy, there is a terrible lack of self-esteem and individualism in this country, and this problem is only further promoted by the ways in which people talk and treat each other. It is very common for someone to pick apart another person's appearance, from clothes to hair to skin to body. Unfortunately PCVs are not exempt from this. Actually we might even be more of a target! Comments I have received: "your clothes look like a grandmother's", "your hands are too small", "your hair looks like a broom that was used to clean a dirty corner", and countless other comments on my clothes, my dirty feet/shoes, and my weight. That's the favorite: people looove to comment on others' weight saying to their faces "estas muy gorda ahora" "you're really fat now". I used to get so confused because one day they'd tell me I'm chubby, the next I'm skinny, the next I'm too skinny and so on and so on. But regardless of what it is that they're saying to me, it always hurts. It does not feel good. And I'm a comfortable, confident, even hermosa woman! Lots of other Volunteers have tried to say "it's just their culture" but after talking with my Paraguayan friends, the truth is it hurts them too. So why should we continue allowing this vicious cycle to perpetuate, destroying even more people's self-image and life possibilities?
Even sadder is the explicit physical and emotional abuse that people endure, justifying it as part of the culture. Men beating their wives, the commonness of infidelity in marriages, children having to walk around selling oranges to buy their dad his daily pint of caña. These things should not be accepted in any culture, and every time that they are swept under the mat as "the way it is", it gives them power and allows them to continue.
As Peace Corps Volunteers, we are charged with the job of empowering people to take control of their suffering and make changes in their lives for the better. But if we shrug things off and continue to allow subpar conditions to be recognized as cultural and therefore acceptable, we are failing to do our job. We can't turn the entire country around in 2 years, but I personally am going to make it known to whoever I can find the things that I refuse to adapt to. And hopefully, in my broken Spanish, I will be giving a voice to the same shared feelings of the Paraguayans.

A Veteran Volunteer

Peace Corps Paraguay has a rotating schedule of Volunteer groups. When a group arrives from one sector, they have a sister group at their 1 year mark, and another sister group that is finishing their service and returning to the United States. The new Education group arrived at the beginning of February, marking my 1 year anniversary in Paraguay. In honor of my "cumple-año", I baked a chocolate cake and took it around to the families I lived with and the people I worked with in my first year. I gave each person a piece of cake, a kiss, and a gracias for being a special part of my first year. As expected, I found myself reflecting on the past year, painfully remembering the hard parts such as breaking my arm and cheers-ing the successes such as my Swearing-In Ceremony at the Embassy. Of course there have been hilarious experiences, for example, when I unknowingly agreed in Guarani to marry this ancient as time, toothless security guard at the Municipalidad. The most frustrating times always involved work or the teachers like the 3 month teacher strike that took place right after arriving in site or the daily disappointment I feel when I enter in a classroom and see that the teacher still is not using the technique I taught. When I think of happiness, I see myself in different settings - drinking terere with Paraguayans, laughing uncontrollably with Erik, having 40 sets of eyes on me in a literacy workshop, or laying down comfortably in my bed each night. As always, when recalling the best moments, I cannot remember the day or the time, not one detail. Only a feeling. The feeling of overflowing energy, a bubbling contentness and a stark appreciation for la vida.
That being said, I have become very aware of why Peace Corps is a 2 year commitment. When I look back on my first year, it seemed to be all about adapting. First the basics of immersing in the culture, meeting people, exploring my community. Later on it became deciphering: how institutions function, which teachers are willing to work with me, who is actually my friend and someone I can trust. Now as I come around the bend of my second year, I feel a settling peace, a different angle with which I'm approaching everything. In general, I feel more comfortable and more in control of my daily life, allowing me to be free of distractions and more focused. Professionally I have a clearer, more realistic directive and have laid the groundwork for lots of hopeful projects. Now it's just time to get to work! As one of my fellow Volunteers said, if I went home now, I don't feel I would be able to say that I accomplished anything. In this next year, I hope to work efficiently and effectively and achieve some kind of development for my community.
At the end of February, I hosted a visit from one of the new Trainees. Coincidently, Johanna, the Trainee, is a good friend of my sister's from Study Abroad in Argentina 4 years ago! (It is a verrrry small world.) I had a great few days with Johanna, getting to know her and now having another good friend here within Paraguay. It also was a prideful experience, being able to show off my community, my friends, my house, my work. It made me aware of how far I have come, how normal some things have become to me and how I have molded myself and everything around me to mesh. I remember during training, 27 months seemed so big, so long and I just wanted to make a dent in it. Now here I am at my halfway point, and I feel like time is escaping from underneath me. I only have another year to finish my projects and actually achieve my goal of improving the health, education, and knowledge of my community.
I also realize, aside from work, I only have another year to enjoy this experience, marvel at beautiful Paraguay, and the most heartbreaking - spend time with the people whom I care about. Towards the end of March, I received another visit from a fellow Volunteer. Amanda is also a Education volunteer and is in the sister group that is on their way out. She was a Volunteer in my site for her first year and then moved to a different site for her 2nd year so I was chosen to replace her. She is on the brink of finishing her service and is returning to the States on the 20th of April so she came down before she went to say goodbye to our community. We spent the entire weekend visiting different families, taking long walks around town, and taking pictures. There was an air of sadness and nostalgia as we toured around, and it made me imagine the day when we do leave and the mix of emotions that will overwhelm us. To spend 2 years day in and out tucked into the pocket of South America, in polarizing Paraguay, a place with which you either fall in love or get fed up, to be a professional and an individual, mixed up in the turmoil of thoughts, emotions, responsibilities, challenges yet all the while learning and changing and growing... And for there to finally come the day when it all ends? What will that be like? What will going back be like?
Regardless of whether or not you could sum up your experience as a positive or negative one or your work as a success or a failure, I think one thing is always guaranteed for us as Volunteers. There will always be people, a family, a child, a sweet old lady, who will steal your heart, and that will always be painful to leave behind. We spent Amanda's last night sitting in front of the Ortega-Torres home, a family that is very dear to both of us. There were laughs. There were beers. There was even a soccer jersey ceremony, where Amanda was presented with the gift of a sacred Olimpia jersey signed by all members of the family. And in the end, there were tears.
Goodbyes are always hard, but these goodbyes are different. They're harder. Of course, for one, you're going to miss them. And sometimes you don't know if you'll ever see them again. But a lot of the times, it's because there are not enough words to express how much they mean to you. To express your gratitude for their food, for their advice, for being able to trust them. For taking you in as if you were one of their own. There are never enough words to tell them how much you love them and how you will always carry them with you for the rest of your life. And these goodbyes are harder too because you also know they don't have the words either to say the same thing.