a surreal day

Went with my neighbors today to visit the estancia, or ranch, of the former mayor of Tacuati, Lindstron. Was a little worried that this would be an awkward situation and I’d be refusing marriage proposals all afternoon, but it turns out that couldn’t be farther from what happened.
But first, let me set the scene: imagine, in the middle of nowhere, driving down a tiny dirt road off the main dirt road and seeing a huge modern concrete house. Then, inside that house, feeling like you’re in a European lodge from the 1950s – wooden paneling, knickknacks, little porcelain plates hung on the walls, fireplace, cabinets and cabinets full of various glassware, etchings of various German towns (the former owners were German), not to mention the SWIMMING POOL and gorgeous view of the fields outside. But, onto the conversations… excerpts, condensed and translated of course:

HIM: What’s Peace Corps?
ME: Our three goals are to provide technical assistance to people in developing countries, share our culture, and learn about other cultures
HIM: Aha, so you’re a spy! You learn all about Tacuati and what it’s like and what we do here and you give that information to the government.
(note: at this point I’m sympathetic. The US gov’t does in fact send spies places, South America in particular has been screwed over by US foreign policy in the past, and it must seem weird to them that I come just to live for two years)
ME: It’s not like that at all. I learn about the culture so I can be a part of it during my time here. I don’t report back to the government.
HIM: Yes you do. The American government wants to control the world, and the CIA sends spies everywhere.
ME: Well, some Americans think they should control the world, but I am not one of those. Peace Corps is a government agency, but we are apart of the government and independent- I don’t consider that I work for President Bush and I certainly don’t agree with his policies. Plus, it’s actually prohibited for Peace Corps volunteers to have ever or ever in the future work for the CIA. I won’t deny that there are American spies in the world, but I am not one of them.
HIM: Yes you are. Are you an American? There you go.
ME: Do you really think the US government is interested in who’s sleeping with who in Tacuati and what type of terere you drink? And do you think I’d give up a great apartment and good job and my family and friends to come here and take notes on these kinds of things? Do you see me here with a notebook taking notes? At no time do I have to do a report to the US government about Paraguay.
(note: all this said over the course of probably an hour, and not as accusingly as it sounds here)
HIM: Yes, they are interested in all that, and you are paid by the government so you do what they say. And you will give them that information some day, you just don’t realize it yet.
ME: Are you saying I may be here to enjoy the culture now but that some day I’m going to be kidnapped by the US government and made to give them all the secrets I’ve learned about Tacuati?
HIM: Are you American? Well, there you go.
(note: I’m frustrated, but not angry, kind of just confused. This is an educated guy, he studied in Mexico and Cuba for a few years, usually by this point in the above conversation – of which I’ve had pieces with several people during my year now – the folks come around. Not this guy, though, he’s convinced I’m a spy) later on….

HIM: And do you think your work here is successful?
ME: (trying to be modest) I think some teachers are bettering their practices, and that some students are learning more than before, and that’s all I can ask for.
HIM: You’re wasting your time. You’re not making any difference.
(still trying to be sympathetic – this is the guy who once was mayor of Tacuati and then saw all his good work of 5 years destroyed with the next corrupt guy who was elected)
ME: Oh?
HIM: Two years isn’t enough time to do anything. Playing with bottlecaps with teachers isn’t really helping.
(note: my fault for not explaining well what I do, mentioned the bottlecap thing earlier without explaining that it’s a valid teaching method for math)
ME: I agree that two years is very little – volunteers usually follow up each others work, so I’m the second ed volunteer here, it’s considered really four years, which is a more appropriate amount of time. Other work I’m involved with is teaching computer skills to teachers and a youth group. We talk about issues such as communication, values, sexuality.
HIM: They don’t listen to you at all. That’s dumb. By the time they’re 15 years old they’re already formed. You’ll never change anybody.
ME: Well, I don’t want to change anybody. It’s not my job to tell Paraguayans to do this or learn that, or to stop drinking terere or learn the computer. But for those who want to learn, to improve their lives, I’m here to help them.
HIM: You need to work with the little kids, one at a time. Only then can they change.
ME: I think that people of any age can improve their lives if they want to. And I would argue that instead of me working with ten kids individually, I’ll have more impact working with ten teachers who teach twenty kids each year.
HIM: None of them are really learning anything, the teachers or the youth or anyone. You should just go home. Nothing ever changes. The problem is in the blood. You know that group of indigenous people that lives in Concepcion? You’ll never see any of them working. Paraguayans are lazy and don’t want to improve, and nothing you can do will change that.
ME: So I should just go home?
HIM: Yes.
ME: Oh.

It’s hard to have patience, explain complicated things in a foreign language, be respectful of the fact that I’ve only lived here a year and that Paraguayans know their culture better than I, combat stereotypes and racism, defend my country while being critical of its policies, and concretely explain my reasons for being here – especially when questions like "Am I making any difference at all?" are hard for me to answer at times too. Good thing I’m going on vacation tomorrow!!!!! For now I think I’ll make brownies for dinner, I think I’ve earned them.