“Rock out like the mangos are in season.”

Early season mangos.

“Rock out like the mangos are in season.” -Anis Mojgani

How can I presume to have a handle on a country that is still figuring itself out?

Paraguay surprises me every day. Still. Nearly 20 months in and the moment I think I have this place pegged it throws me for a loupe. Some days the surprises give me a little smile and a soft flutter in my heart--a random neighbor kid calling me by my actual name (as opposed to Doña Kevin or la yankee). Other days, these surprises drop my jaw to the ground--peering 70 meters over the edge of Salto Cristol and climbing down over boulders to take a dip in the pond formed from the falling water. Lately, my favorite surprises come in art form.

Volunteers spend a lot of time discussing frustrations related to standard teaching methods present throughout Paraguay’s classrooms. Teacher reads from book or writes on board, student copies. Teacher draws something on the board, student copies as exactly as possible. Parents and teachers often discourage children to paint a tree pink or a dog purple.

However beautifully and skillfully Paraguayans may produce traditional ñanduti and leather-work, these pieces often lack evidence of the artist’s hand. A hold-over from the dictatorship, they all tend to look the same. Tightly controlled governments--especially those requiring the submission of a few million people--generally do not push art education initiatives that include personal expression. Interested in keeping a nation under your thumb? Control your artists. Art inspires critical thought. Art builds self-esteem. Art teaches creative problem solving. None of these qualities help maintain the status quo under an oppressive regime.

Though much of Paraguay’s national cultural identity lies within this highly available craftwork, it does little to reflect today's burgeoning democracy. Finding work that does proves quite a challenge. 

Nonetheless, I feel the tide changing. Every time I come into Asunción I see more and more street and installation art. New galleries--supporting more mediums--keep popping up. Art activists get more visible. Paraguay’s growing artist scene includes brilliant minds and inspiring personalities, many of whom as dually dedicated to art-making as to reaching younger generations of Paraguayans.

This year I have had the distinct honor of working with Ahecha Paraguay, a participatory project that enables Volunteers to teach basic photography. Since 2007, this program has served 150 Peace Corps communities and nearly 1,000 Paraguayan youth. And 2013 holds something very special in store: ImaginARTE. Partnering with some of Paraguay’s most influential artists and cultural promoters, we proudly announce a three day, two night creative arts camp benefiting fifty youth from all over Paraguay.

Participants will meet like-minded peers, working artists, and professionals working in art related fields. They will have the opportunity to learn new skills, see workshop space, and gain a toolbox full of strategies for living an artful life. In short, for three days these kids will "rock out like the mangos are in season.” And they are in season.

To make this event a reality, we need your help. Please visit: tinyurl.com/Ahecha to make your tax-deductible donation today.

Even a $10 donation makes a difference. 

Thank you for supporting our work. Thank you for supporting CoCuMu, Ahecha, and ImaginARTE. Thank you for supporting the youth of Paraguay.

I’ll Never Take Score Again or The Trouble With Democracy

I now completely understand elementary school sporting leagues who do not keep score.  Please strike any of my previously snarky comments from the record with my deepest apologies.

I’ve heard parents liken having children to allowing your heart to walk around outside your body.  Although I have no children of my own, I understand this sentiment increasingly-every day with our kids from youth group.  When they have a good day, I feel great.  When I see them struggle, I wish I could feel the frustration for them.  And most of all, when I see them try something new--push themselves and embrace something outside their comfort zone--I feel overwhelmingly proud.

I would not describe Paraguay as a nation of risk takers.  Culturally folks tend to stick to what they know.  Whether dinner, professional paths, or gender roles, although exceptions spring up regularly, for the most part people here stick to what traditionally works and don’t venture into the unknown.  (You might remember me having to bully my host mother in Ita into trying peanut butter with chocolate.)

Although this could spark a chicken or the egg debate, I attribute a lot of this attitude to the Paraguayan school system.  When teachers follow a curriculum designed towards a test and center study on the answer key, a nation runs the risk of raising a generation focused on getting the right response--as opposed to the process of learning, critical thinking.  Accordingly, most of the kids we work with have such deep fear about getting things wrong that if they can’t do something perfectly, they won’t try it.  I’ve stopped counting how many times a kid has called me over during a lesson on self-esteem to approve their reply to a question about their feelings.  I never expected the concept of “no wrong answers” to cause such trouble.

Eager to validate their presence in the community, last week our youth group held elections--and it nearly ripped my heart in two.  Six of our kids stood up announced their intentions to run for the offices of President, Secretary, and Treasurer.  The runner-up to the presidency would serve as vice-president, the others would form an executive committee.  While I felt no surprise certain individuals declared their candidacy, when one of the quietest kids threw her hat in the ring I felt a lightness in my chest.   

Among our most dedicated participants, she has an almost painful shyness about her.  Her thirteen year old fingers shook she gave a speech to her peers highlighting her qualifications.  She made herself vulnerable in a way most of her classmates wouldn’t dare. 

In an effort to promote transparency in a country often labeled the most corrupt in South America, we counted the votes out loud in front of everyone immediately after voting.   As we sorted the ballots, her opponent (also a great kid but less prepared for the position) started to pass her and a pit formed in my gut.  In the end, he received the same number of yeses as he had cousins the in group.  

She appeared visibly crushed.  After, she asked me to sit with her and her best friend to talk it out.  Even though she giggled as we said goodbye, I couldn’t quite tell her true feelings. 

Americans take risks to an almost pathological level.  On one end of the spectrum, we create jobs if we don’t like the ones available.  On the other, we reward the most controversial behavior with a fifteen episode run on TLC.  But how often do we do the terrifying things build our character?

Our youth took the loss hard, but she came back the following week and pledged to support her former political adversary.  The ache I took on as the election results rolled in grew into admiration.  She tried and failed and returned with her head held high.  A risky move and an example for us all.

Executive Committee

Thinking Smaller

Volleyball at dusk

I’ve spent a lot of my time as a Peace Corps volunteer struggling.  I struggle with language.  I struggle with finding my place in my community.  I struggle with maintaining relationships back home.  I struggle with finding projects and people to work with.  Then I struggle with sustainability.  I struggle with what comes next.  Inherent to the Peace Corps experience, every volunteer I meet struggles with something--more often, many things.

Ready for another icebreaker?

A recent RPCV reflected in her blog that as an organization Peace Corps finds success in teaching us how to fail.  When you grow up playing on soccer teams that don’t keep score, you don’t always learn how to deal with rejection gracefully.  And Peace Corps volunteers face constant rejection and failure.  We interview our neighbors about their needs and when we set up trainings to meet those needs nobody comes--even when the whole town promises that they’ll attend.  We facilitate the foundation of a much anticipated community group and meeting attendance nose drives after the third gathering.  The sit-down your community contact agreed to during your first few days in town gets pushed back weekly.

Over and over again we tell ourselves, “you only need to reach one.”

During training, our country director shared the story of a pair of volunteers serving together in the early 1960s who reached one: Alejandro Toledo.  As in former Peruvian president Alejandro Toledo.  Born into extreme poverty, he ended up with a PHD from Stanford.  A potential reached, he frequently explains, through the support and guidance of Peace Corps volunteers.

When you reach one, they reach others.  Alejandro Toledo reached millions.

I have no intention of holding myself to the standards set by Nancy Deeds and Joel Meister, arguably some of the most effective Peace Corps volunteers in the history of the program.  I do, though, try to place my focus on reaching just one and celebrating small wins.

"Who will change the world?"

This past week, many members of our sector (Community Economic Development) got to reach just one as a group.  Ñande Ha’e Tenonderã (We Are the Future) Leadership Camp gathered almost thirty volunteers with seventy Paraguayans between the ages of fourteen and twenty-four to share four days of leadership, development, and self-esteem training.  Youth participated in seminars presented by various Paraguayan NGOs, engaged in many team-building exercises, and partook in countless icebreakers.

Opening night charlas

Teatro'i and creative problem solving

In our final activity, the youth formed two circles, one inside of the other.  While the inner circle stood with their eyes closed, the outer circle walked around them and responded to a series of questions by touching members of the inner circle on the shoulder.  “Who made you laugh this week?... Who changed your mind about something this week?... Who will change the world?” 

By the end of the exercise, many of the youth could not contain their tears.  Many of the volunteers could not contain their satisfied smiles.  The camp meant something--something maybe even life changing--to these kids.  They met, they exchanged ideas, and they realized that they really could change their worlds.  The volunteers didn’t create any of it, we just supplied the tools these youth needed to get there on their own.

Early morning Taekwando

Only in Paraguay... do harps make the summer camp packing list

I had personal goals for each of our kids.  I hoped our fourteen year old would gain a new perspective while seeing more of Paraguay, our fifteen year old would start to realize his own leadership potential and gain some organizational skills, and our sixteen year old would connect with like minded individuals and learn that others share his dream for his country.  All of them grew more in four days than I knew possible.

Introducing s'mores to Paraguay

A train of excited jovenes pulls into the Caaguazú bus terminal

As we left camp, the kids sang and danced in the Caaguazú terminal and promised to keep in touch.  They made plans for our re-connect camp in July and confirmed everyone’s name on Facebook.  I started to question if we’d ever manage to herd them all on to buses.  Eventually, the southern contingency made our way onto a packed double decker headed back towards the capital.  Little did I know, on the way home from camp I would reach one of my personal goals too. 

Standing in the aisle and pressed against strangers, our fourteen year old surrendered to motion sickness all over herself, me, and another man.  Surprisingly, no one got up to offer her a seat.  In fact, no one seemed all that put off by the incident.  About twenty minutes later the seat next to where we stood opened up.  As I ushered my youth toward it, a young man tried to sneak in. 

Now, we’ve all heard the story about the mother, who upon seeing her toddler stuck under the wheel of a car, summons the strength to lift the vehicle and pull her kid to safety.  My “(substitute) mom” adrenaline came in a different form: without thinking, I grabbed this teen by the waist, pulled him from the seat, and plainly explained to him why he’d have to stand for just a little longer.  Evidently I have picked up a little Spanish along the way after all.  (Of course my body language could have had a lot to do with my clarity, but this still counts as a victory.)

Later that night, around 9:30pm while our youngest slept off her nausea, I got to do some eavesdropping.  Nearly nine hours into our journey and still an hour and a half from home, in a pitch dark bus surrounded by dozing strangers, our fifteen and sixteen year old started planning a project that would ultimately benefit our entire community.  They even considered logistical issues regarding reaching our most isolated rural areas.  To call myself proud wouldn’t even begin to cover it.

When we finally reached the entrance to our town, the boys excitedly bounced ideas off each other as we walked the two kilometers back from the main route.  Our fourteen year old, still not quite yet awake held back, half listening.  Worried that a rough bus ride sullied her camp experience, as we approached her house I asked her, “Did you miss our town?”  “A little,” she replied.  “But I miss camp more.”

Over the next few months, I can’t wait to see where this new-found enthusiasm takes them--even if it means struggling to get our camp’s theme song out of my head.  Aaaaaaaauuuuuuuuttttoooo-estima....

"Auto-estima, no se puede comprar. Auto-estima, viene de adentro...."

"Self-esteem, you can't buy it.  Self esteem, it comes from within...."

The Southern Contingency: On Wednesday, we left before sunrise.  At 4:45am we collected the kids from each of their houses and exchanged goodbye kisses with their mothers.  In the dark of early morning, we could barely make out their expressions.  Excitement?  Fear?  Two thirds of our youth had never before traveled without parent and yet they headed halfway across the country with two Nortes who possess only limited Spanish.  Around 11pm the following Saturday we returned everyone safe, sound, and ready to work.

Kevin, Vero, Damian, Joanna, and Luis