Clarity

Summer dropped into Paraguay two and a half months ago and brought the heat with it. But this lovely country brought us a special treat this year – a two month drought coupled with clouds that pour seemingly everywhere but here. 

The grass has withered thatch-brown but for small stands that remain verdant. The roads, which stuck like glue after rain, have turned to dried silt and sand. When it mixes with the sweat on my feet, it paints them slime brown. Fruit crops, especially guava (which should be in season right now), have plummeted, both in overall numbers of fruits and individual size.

My well, which was full to the brim a few months ago, has dropped, week by week. A few days ago, I could see the clay bottom for the first time of my time here. And work around Potrero Pucu has all but stopped, except for the chores that are absolutely necessary.

Oh for my high-pressure shower and cool basement back home…

The heat usually drops off at night, but from 11am-6pm, there is nothing to do but stay in the shade and try to stay cool. This is not as easy as in the states, obviously. Sometimes relief comes in lying on the cool pavement of my house, other times, liters and liters of terere infused with mint and other refreshing herbs. So I walk through Potrero Pucu in my rolled up jeans, flip-flops, and t-shirt, seeking the shade, a guampa, and some minty terere.

Frustrating as it is, the experience can be sort of bracing. It cuts through the humdrum and the distractions and the silliness. Instead of spending time focused on irrelevancies, all I can think is “It’s hot. How can I cool down? When will it rain? Please let it rain…” And it’s a lesson in patience. How can I expect people to want to work on manual construction projects or more involved cooking practices if it means they are going to spend more time baking in the sun, or working over a stifling fire?

So instead of working, we sit, pass the guampa, and share stories. We’ll get back to work after it rains.