Semana Santa 3 Ways | Part 1

Paraguay’s National Snack, Chipa: Fat, Eggs, Cheese, Anise Seed, Salt, Milk, Mandioca Starch, and Corn Meal.

Kevin and I started hearing about Semana Santa the week we arrived in our community. An event bigger than Christmas, our host mom made it clear from day one that she expected us to participate in her celebration and did not want to hear any nonsense about us visiting friends in other sites. Next year, she explained, we could do what we wanted. This first year we belonged to her. In an afternoon in August, she cemented our plans for the following April.

Semana Santa refers to the week between Palm Sunday and Easter. Growing up, I remember solemnly observing Holy Thursday and Good Friday, but didn’t pay much mind to the rest of the week. In Paraguay, most preparations start on Wednesday--the principle day for preparing food (primarily chipa) for the rest of the week.

A side note about Queso Paraguaya: Somewhere between mozzarella and feta, this cheese plays a role in most Paraguayan dishes. Consumed both fresh or when it’s mature, some cooks speed the aging process up by leaving young cheese in the sun for a few hours. Volunteers either love or hate Queso Paraguaya. There is no in between.

By siesta on Thursday afternoon, no one engages in anything high energy. The local parish priest serving in our highly conservative, proudly Catholic town recommends that on Friday people avoid even speaking. As all the women in our host family work outside the home and did not have Wednesday off, we planned to cook all morning on Thursday.

On Wednesday evening, our host mom informed us that she intended to start preparing chipa around 7am. After nine months with this woman, we understood this figure as an early estimate. Although we arrived in her kitchen technically an hour late, we still beat our sister-in-law by forty minutes. Greeted by a mountain of flour and an oversized bag of pork fat, we quickly learned a hitch in the plan. Our host father, who maintained an informal business selling eggs to the neighbors, sold off nearly his entire stock the night previous.

During the brief period where we had power, the television program switched between infomercials for the George Foreman grill and a cartoon where Jackie Chan (the actor, not the Paraguayan dog) battled Siegfried and Roy’s white tigers.

Evidently he assumed the chickens would line up their “A” game for the big holiday, however these birds missed the memo. Our meal required only eight ingredients; and we were missing a big one. Already off to a late start--and with every store in town closed for the holiday weekend--we had no choice but to wait for the hens.

Bad Journalism Alert: This photo is fraudulent. My 

host mom only allowed me to touch the chipa batter 

long enough to take one picture. Luckily, that was 

plenty of time to leave my hands stinking of 

pork fat and old cheese for the rest of the day.

Luckily, we had enough raw material to make a tiny batch of “special” chipa for our lactose intolerant nephew. Our host mom had me watch as she kneaded anise seeds, salt, mandioca starch, and corn flour with non-dairy fats and a splash of water. Once the mixture hit just the right consistency, she rolled out the dough into tube shapes and sliced the bread into bite size pieces. Carefully she laid each piece across a large banana leaf before setting it aside to wait for its turn in the oven.

As my family refuses to believe that I have any culinary experience, I was not allowed to help prepare the chipa in any sort of meaningful way. Instead, my host mother insisted on taking one photograph where she had me pretend to roll out dough and then relegated me chicken chopping duty. Unfortunately, years of vegetarianism have hindered my development in the meat department and my mediocre deboning only served to perpetuate my reputation as a poor cook.

By a quarter to ten the hens finally got on board and offered up enough bounty for sopa, but not yet chipa. About the same time, wild weather moved into town. Grey clouds made their presence known from dawn, but when the wind picked up it brought with a dust storm of biblical proportions. Eventually the near microbursts transitioned into a downpour for the remainder of the afternoon.

Kevin runs to close up our house in the dust storm.

Then the lights went out. As we sat in the dark, I watched my host mom and sister-in-law fill empanada shells by candle light. (Some of you may recall the one incident when they allowed me to help with this task. During my first try, a couple of my pouches opened up while cooking, thus forever banning me from this job.) The indoor electric oven rendered useless by the power failure and the outdoor setup unavailable due to heavy rain, we arrived at an impasse. Eventually, the candles burnt out. For what felt like an eternity, we sat in the dark in silence waiting for chickens to lay eggs.

By late in the afternoon, the power restored and the hens cooperating, we made up for the morning’s hiccups and gathered for a big family lunch--a la the Last Supper. After the meal, we all retired to our homes for rest and reflection. Other neighbors brought us more chipa and the town went into hibernation throughout the weekend.

On Sunday morning, signs of life crept back in view, and we met again for Easter asado. Although that famous bunny never came up, my host sisters-in-law hide some candy around the house for the kids. After dinner we asked our host mom about how other parts of Paraguay celebrated this holiest of weeks. She furrowed her brow, grumbled something about fire in San Ignacio, assured us that it wasn’t worth the trouble, and suggested we confirm our plans to spend next Semana Santa with her as well.

My host mother supervises as Kevin adds woods to the oven. Many families bake their chipa (and other items) in a large, brick outdoor oven called a tatakua (very similar to the outdoor pizza ovens that you see featured on HGTV high-end remodeling jobs.) My host family prefers to use this smaller, wood-burning metal oven.

My host parents carefully load a batch of chipa into the oven. During Semana Santa, many people have fun with their chipa and sculpt their bread into different shapes. Since one of the grandkids has allergy issues, we kept things simple and baked pieces in two shapes: one safe for him to eat and the other hands off.

Chipa Central: pieces ready for baking, banana leaves, mate dulce, and coquitos (think plain croutons) for snacking.

¡Chipa Caliente! The banana leaves act like parchment paper. 

Fresh chipa is airy and soft. After a few hours, however, this snack turns into a weapon, harder than most rocks.

Stayed tuned to learn if the trip to San Ignacio was worth the trouble in Semana Santa 3 Ways | Part 2!

Mima, aka Chipa Cat, loves chipa like Garfield loves lasagna.

Packing for Peace Corps: Making the Cut

I can’t hardly believe it; the earth has made its way around the sun once again and another group of Peace Corps Paraguay Community Economic Development (CED) Volunteers is learning just how little fits in 80lbs worth of luggage.

El Centro Cultural de la República el Cabildo (The Cultural Center of the Republic) welcomes you to Paraguay!

Last year, I put together a more or less exhaustive list of essentials. This year, I’m thinking less literally. Everyone has things they bring with to Peace Corps that never get touched. Things that seemed like a great idea back home and never leave your suitcase in country. Everyone also has things that they wish they brought with. Here’s a simple quiz to help you make the right decision.

Answer yes or no to the following questions:

1. Does the item in question fit into your bags?
2. Does the item bring you joy/comfort on a regular basis?
3. Is the item replaceable?
4. Is it legal to cross state lines with the item/check it on an airplane/bring it into Paraguay?

If you answered yes to ALL four questions, pack it.

I thought FOR SURE that the card game I loved three years before leaving for Paraguay (but sat on the shelf since) would get worn out during my time here. It’s small, cheap, and lots of fun. I’ve broke it out once. So much for sensible. On the other hand, sometimes the seemingly strangest items yield the highest return.

Ahendu's Wall of Brass

Case in Point: Taylor’s slack line

In a million years I would have never considered packing a slack line. Then again, I never used a slack line in the States. However, when my rock-climbing, fitness guru friend broke this item out at gatherings everyone went crazy. One of my only PCPY regrets is that I never got to see a señora try it out.

Case in Point: Accordions, bass guitars, didgeridoos, and trumpets

You can find cheap guitars almost anywhere in the world, but other instruments may prove more elusive. I know PCVs who have taught trumpet lessons and others who plays bass in Paraguayan rock bands. If you love music, how better to share your culture with new friends?

Case in Point: Costco tub of taco seasoning

In our house we love to cook and good food is important. Before my host dad passed away, one of my favorite things was to cook American treats for him. From cookies to ice tea to black bean burgers, he tried (and loved) everything I served him. (Never mind that my host mother still believes that I do not know how to cook.) In the short time we had together, our kitchen provided a comprehensive introduction to the United States.

When it finally comes time to fill up your suitcases keep the two philosophies of Peace Corps packing in the back of your mind: Bring whatever you need to make you happy or take this opportunity to live simply and leave it all behind. (The longer you serve as a Peace Corps Volunteer, the less these will seem like mutually exclusive concepts.) Peace Corps is not an exercise in suffering, but it is an incredible opportunity to live differently. If you’ve never walked more than a block without noise canceling headphones, leave them behind. (Or maybe just save your iPod for long bus rides.) Bring things that help you engage and remind you of home. Don’t bother with those items that give you distance from the people around you. And if you sleep best with soft sheets, pack them. They’ll feel great under your scratchy mosquito net.

This dog would prefer if you left your didgeridoo at home. This cat would prefer if a dog wasn't in her bed. We can't always get what we want.

When Great Trees Fall

On March 25, 2014 we lost one of the world’s great citizens.

Nearly five weeks ago, Peace Corps Paraguay Volunteer Porter Knight passed away in his host community. A quiet man, neither chatty nor boastful, Porter did more to improve the quality of our environment in his 28 years than most of us will in 80. Innovative, strong, curious, passionate, a little goofy. Kevin says that Porter embodied what men strive to be. A cruel twist, many Volunteers learned more about him in the days after his death than they had gathered since his arrival in Paraguay. In a ceremony under the mango trees that one of his dear friends assured me he would dislike (too long, too much fuss), we shared, we cried, we laughed. We got to know him better.

Most people will never understand the bond that occurs between Peace Corps Volunteers. Even people who knew him only a little are devastated. He was one of us. He is one of us and our hearts are broken.

Though we spent mere moments together, his legacy--his model, his example--will endure. Mr. and Mrs. Knight, I am so sorry for your loss. Half a world away, we honor your son. We love your son. We miss your son. Thank you for sharing him and his bright smile with us.

During his service, one of Porter's G-mates read Maya Angelou's "When Great Trees Fall." 

Be and be better. For Porter existed.

To learn more about Porter and his accomplishments, please click on this sentence.

All donations to the Porter Knight Memorial Fund will support approved Peace Corps Partnership Program (PCPP) projects in Paraguay that focus on the environment. To contribute, please click on the following link:

Porter Knight Peace Corps Memorial Fund