6/23/2010

Asunción, Paraguay

Several days have passed since the last time I wrote anything. I will try to get caught up now.

On Monday we were headed out to the village when we met up with Juan, Vicenta’s husband [I can’t remember his last name.] He is still working at the mission, doing yard work and maintenance. He was surprised to see us. We got talking about our family. He was especially interested in Gene and Carrie’s family. Then he started to talk about his family, his adopted Maka daughter, etc. He told of her terrible fight with lung problems and how, thanks to Dad and Mom and Gene and Carrie generosity, she had received medical help and slowly grown out of the problem. She is now married and has a baby boy. Their other two daughters are doing well too. He told some sad stories of how he had had several of his animals stolen or killed by neighboring thieves. He says he spends most of his time now working or at home with his family. He doesn’t have much time to do the gardening he used to do [like when we were working along side him]. Juan seemed to just want to talk and talk. Gene you would have loved it. He spoke in Spanish for my sake. You could tell it was not his preferred language. Every now and then he slipped in a word in Guarani. Finally, we said good-bye.

It was then afternoon. We headed out to the Roque Alonso village. Roads were wet as you can see in the pictures [see Facebook]. It sprinkled on and off. We parked at the Ulrich’s and walked in.

Due to the rain the soccer field was vacant, but there were players waiting under a tree, hoping for a chance to play. Folks were mostly indoors. But as we were walking along several women with family in tow came out. One was the woman that I believe greeted you Dad and Mom so warmly when we came two years ago. She said when everyone else didn’t want our family in the village, she and another person stood up for you. I am sorry I can’t remember her name. But she spoke of you as though you were her relatives and to be sure to greet you. Moving a bit further on…some folks were confusing us for “tulista” [their version for “tourists”]. Then Patricia’s daughter came out to greet us. She was so happy to see us. She wanted to know how you guys were. I think especially Mom though. She also introduced her family to us. Of course both the previous lady and Patricia’s daughter thought that Gene was strong and I was lazy, because Leanne and I didn’t have very many kids. They really got a kick out of our “grandkids” when we showed them the photo of Jason, Amy, Kristen and Kyle with their dogs. At our age they would have, what, great grandkids? Still, the great love they have for our family is so evident. They really want to know how Gene, Carol, Marva, Loren and Lisa are. The pictures we brought have helped tell your stories a bit.

Going down the muddy paths there beyond the field we arrived at the church, then the school, and finally Tsemheyi and Tsiweyenki’s. They were out waiting for us, wondering if we were going to come after all. They arranged chairs out in front of the store, protected from the drizzle. Tsiweyenki’s friends were there, sort of off to the side, but definitely part of the circle. It is so obvious that there is a hierarchy and Tsiweyenki is royalty. We just visited for quite awhile. I can’t remember what all was discussed. I continue to update them on Gramps. They are always saddened by the news, yet there seems to be such hope too. At some point Tsiweyenki brought out some bead-work she had been working on, using the beads you sent, Mom. She gave us each a necklace patterned off one you gave her many, many years ago, one with a little person made out of beads on it. She said that she had shared the beads with her friends, pointing to the ladies off to the side. Then she showed us some weaving, bags, bracelets, etc. The other ladies also brought some things they had ready to sell. We bought a number of items. They were delighted, saying that now they could eat, as the cold, rainy weather had made it difficult to go anywhere to sell their wares. [Reality hurts sometimes.] Then we headed back to the car.

It was now dark and walking the path a bit more difficult. We ran into a lady up towards the gate out onto the cobble-stone road. I can’t remember her name, but Leanne took a picture of her. Dad, she was wondering if you might have any photos of her family. She said something like her husband was gone now and that all the photos they had of their kids went with him [buried with him?]. I am not sure, but I think I understood that he was dead. I guess she had been up in Ciudad del Este when this happened. Anyway, I told her I would tell you about this. Maybe you could email them to Matt’s or something.

We headed home then…Insane traffic on dark, wet streets…motorcycles weaving in and out of traffic, some with NO lights front or back. We saw several motorcyclists carrying large metal propane tanks. One man [alone] was carrying one on the gas tank in front of him. The other bike had two passengers. They were carrying the tank between them. I call that suicidal! By the time we got home we had had enough of that for a while. [But again, reality.]

Yesterday, Tuesday, we did not go to the villages because of the rain over the last several days [roads would be too muddy] and because Tsemheyi and his wife were going to be busy in town. So we decided to get out of town. It was a beautiful sunny day, still quite cool though. We wanted to go out to the town where they make the Ñanduti [spider weave]. The name of the town is Itagua. Remember we haven’t been out this direction in some 24 years. We had a general idea of where we were headed, but how things had changed! The traffic and the construction had drastically changed the landmarks. But we braved it and continued east towards on the same highway that eventually would take you to Ciudad del Este and Brazil. About the time we got to San Lorenzo things started to look a bit more like old times. We especially enjoyed the open feeling of the country. Once in Itagua we went into a couple “tiendas” and bought some ñanduti. Such amazing artistry! The ladies who attended us were probably your age, Mom, so kind and attentive. I told them I remembered when it was easier to find the weavings, when shops were all over the town. Now due to the increased traffic, the highway was wider and traffic moved faster. There were less folk interested in selling the “artesania”. Many had sold their businesses, they said.

Then we headed home, hoping to stop somewhere to eat. We made one other detour to see if we could find the town famous for pottery wares, I think it is, Aregua. We headed in that direction, the road narrower and less well kept, but paved. It was fun to see an area less “modernized”. Traffic was less and you could drive slow enough to enjoy the view somewhat. We stopped to photograph a church in a small town, which overlooked a lake quite a distance away. It was a neat place. But from there we were lost. We never found the pottery and, not wanting to really get lost, we turned around and went back to the main highway and headed back to Asunción. Unfortunately we missed our turn onto Mariscal Lopez and ended up heading too far into town and MORE TRAFFIC, horrible, slow, crazy traffic. Finally, after a few good guesses we found our road and headed towards Recoleta and the grocery store. We ate there and bought groceries. By then it was fairly dark. We shot some pictures of the “catedral” there and the colors of the “albiroja” [the national soccer team] wrapped around the trees opposite the church. We arrived home safely then.J