| August 15, 2005 |
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| Written by Michael Berg | |||||||
| Friday, 19 August 2005 | |||||||
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I just spent the afternoon translating Neil Diamond songs into
Spanish for some retro-obsessed friends. According to Jorge and Carlos,
Neil Diamond came to Paraguay in 1980 and it was magical. I found the
afternoon to be almost tolerable but something less than magical. Jorge
and Carlos are both around forty years old and they spend every Sunday
listening to musica retro, which to them means any American song more
than 10 years old. They drink beer as they listen. But
this week is different. This week Jorge and Carlos spent all of Sunday
AND Monday listening to retro and drinking beer. Today is the holiday
marking the foundation of Asuncion. So the country has a day off from
work and we Peace Corps trainees are all off from attending training.
On Friday I will swear to defend the Constitution of the United States
of America against all enemies domestic and foreign. Then I can
officially be a Peace Corps volunteer and go to my site in Paso Yobai.
(Does this oath oblige me the lay siege to the White House or would it
be sufficient to just begin the process of impeachment?) After
the swearing in there will be party, organized by the group of
volunteers who are going home, which will have a seventies theme, so
the two hours of Neil Diamond was good preperation. Jorge's
wife Fani (who is getting a little of tired of Jorge's retro)
is actually from Paso Yobai. The two of them are hosting my friend Jen
who is another trainee. Fani has told me all the gossip
about every one of the nearly 2000 residents of Paso Yobai. So I
am prepared. Yesterday I cooked with my friend Chris. We
made a Mexican meal for Chris' host family. This consisted of little
pieces of beef and chicken, beans, onions, tomatos, lettuce, served as
tacos. We couldn't find and didn't know how to make Mexican tortillas,
so we put all the stuff in pita bread (known as pan arabe) that we got
in Asuncion. It was the best food I have eaten in two months. Chris'
family loved it - they are really great people. The meal very
closely resembled what I would eat everyday in the US. I am very happy
that soon I will have be able to cook my own meals and control my own
diet. The place I will be living in has a little
stove to cook on, and I can use the refrigerator of the people
downstairs. It has a beautiful view from the room of the rolling hills
and fields of sugar and yerba mate. Last night I went to
a birthday party for a ninety-three year old man, the grandfather of
somebody or other (I have trouble remembering so many names). This man
was dancing up a storm. At the party I repeated a scene I that has
happened many times, but this was unique for its intensity. My friend
Leonardo, who is Mexican-American was there. So people were asking if I
was Mexican too. Then someone said, no he's Chilean. I said, no I'm
American. Then they asked, but where are you're parent's from? I said,
the United States. This did not satisfy anybody. But what are your
roots? So I said I was Jewish. Three people pulled their
heads back and made motions of disgust with their faces. The thing that
was interesting is that one woman actually made the sign of the cross
with her fingers and put it in front of her face as she hissed. Garlic
will not faze me, I eat it everyday, but I am hoping never to receive a
stake through the heart. To that I am not immune. Then I
had a long talk with this one man, Mario, who grew up in Argentina. He
told me his theory about the Jewish control of the Masons and the
Sabios de Sion, which I believe are the Elders of Zion, from the
infamous anti-semetic tracts. I told him that I think its far-fetched
to believe that these conspiracies control the world, and that if they
do exist why have I been left out of the action? He brought up the
Wolfowitz and Perle and other evil Jews who have been part of the Bush
cabinet, so I brought up Rumsfeld, Cheney, Bush, General Boykin and
other evil Gentiles in the US executive. So we talked about these
kinds of things. Then he started talking about pre-cognitive dreams and
mind reading and we talked about different concepts of time throughout
the world. Then we all danced in a conga-line, shook hands and hugged. Jews
are not particularly liked here, but few people have actually met a
Jew. So my theory is that I'm going to be open about who I am, listen
to what other people think and be open about talking about what I
believe. This is how I try to always behave and I'm not going to change
it just because I am in Paraguay. If people actually know a Jew and
perhaps like a Jew then a Jew becomes more like just a person and not
some kind of caracature or conspiracy. Earlier this week
I took a tour along with some other tranees of the sugar processing
plant in Guarambare. I figured I should go because around Paso Yobai a
lot of sugar is grown. We were supposed to get the tour at 8am, but had
to wait until 9am. The plant is 103 years old. It's full of pipes and
machines that I barely understood. I would name the plant 101 Ways to
Die a Painful Death. There were burning pipes everywhere, thrashing
teethed machines to fall into, rickety corrigated metal stairways that
are easy to fall of off. It was pretty amazing how the sugar gets
processed from cane to molasses to white sugar. Lots of boiling water.
The molasses actually tastes the best. On Saturday night
I saw this play called La Madama, written by a Paraguayan
playwrite who somehow was not exiled during Stroessner (I forgot the
name). It is a play a small town which gets all its money for
development from a rich woman in Asuncion who left the town as a child.
Nobody knows why she is rich. Then here brother visits her asking for
money for a tractor, and he learns that she is the Madam at a
whorehouse and that the young girls she brings from the town supposedly
to educate are actually her prostitutes. Then the play is about the
moral dimentions of whether or not the town should keep accepting the
money and what it means. Is it dirty money? Is all money dirty? Is all
money clean? Does it really help for the medical clinic to disappear
because they refuse to accept money from the Madam? I am almost cured of my illness and have most of my hearing back in my left ear. Just a little bit of a hack remaining. If you want to write, I am now going to be a Volunteer, not a Trainee, so you should write to: PCV Michael Berg Cuerpo de Paz 162 Chaco Boreal c/Mcal. Lopez Asunción, 1580 Paraguay South America I will pick up mail about once a month. If
you are wondering, the ¨c/Mcal. Lopez¨ means ¨cerca de Mariscal Lopez¨
or ¨near Marshall Lopez¨ the main street in Asuncion It is named
after Marshall Francisco Solano Lopez, the dictator who led the country
in the War of the Triple Alliance, when almost everyone was killed by
Uruguay, Brazil and Argentina.
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