Indigenous Inspiration

Yesterday I visited an indigenous community about an hour and half outside of Asuncion, the capital city of Paraguay. It was my favorite experience I've had while being abroad thus far, and also the experience that has affected me the most personally.

My program has been on a field trip in Paraguay for four days now, and at the beginning I was feeling very uncomfortable. This is the capital city of a country, so it's the best they have to offer. Yet it is still very poor. There are tons of people sleeping in the streets and begging for food and money, lots of starving animals running around, and not many people who are dressed professionally like they have well-paying jobs (this is not a judgement, just an observation). I think because I am used to traveling with the intent of serving in impoverished areas, I am hyper-sensitive to things like this. It made me uncomfortable that our group of 18 students and 3 leaders would pass a young woman sleeping in the same spot on the street every day, and just keep walking without a word like it was nothing. I was internally confused because I couldn't justify being here to learn and have fun, things that are self-serving, while there are so many people who don't even have their basic needs met all around me. I didn't understand what I was supposed to be getting out of the experience, until we visited the indigenous village.

As we got off the bus, the kids from the village surrounded in a pack to giggle and point at us. They followed us as we made our way to their school to hear from the leader of the community, a woman, and three teachers, all men. Everything had to be translated to us because they don't speak Spanish, only two indigenous languages Qom and Guarani. They explained to us the basic struggles of their community, which have a lot to do with the government in Paraguay. Very basically, the rights to land are very unfair. This makes the distribution of land, and therefore wealth, extremely skewed throughout the country. Because there is no land they are permitted to farm on, the indigenous people cannot be self sustaining. The whole process makes it impossible for them to ever have the upper hand.

That being said, their main struggle is unemployment. The men who can find jobs mainly do construction work. Many of the women make various weaving to sell, or work as housekeepers for wealthier people outside of the village. However, working as a housekeeper comes with the risk of of getting caught in human trafficking. On top of all this, there is also the matter of language. Paraguay is a Spanish-speaking nation, but these people only know their indigenous languages.  Once I began to realize how isolated these people are in society, I fired off questions to the members speaking to us. Do the kids learn spanish in school? How hard is it to learn the native languages? Are there translations of the bible in the native languages? Are there ways to produce job opportunities while also preserving the unique culture of the community? I had to choke back tears when I got the answers.

The school is funded by a presbyterian pastor from Korea. The money he sends buys some school supplies and food for students during the school week, but not enough to meet the need that exists. The school is technically a christian school, but I'm not sure to what extent. The kids go to a chapel-type gathering on Wednesdays, but I also heard mention of native religions. Translations of the Bible in either Qom or Guarani do not exist at all, so the Bibles they have are in Spanish. The children don't really learn Spanish in school. Until a certain age their classes are all in their native dialects. The intent is that the older grades will begin to learn spanish, but teachers who know both languages are scarce. The kids may learn some Spanish during their time in school, but not enough to communicate, much less read a Bible. None of the kids I tried to interact with understood Spanish. And the reality is, most of the children will not finish school anyway.

Studies have shown that the average amount of time a person in an indigenous community attends school is 2 years. Out of 140 families in this particular community, only 25 have completed high school. Within the community, the highest level of education offered is only the second year of high school. Only 3 have ever attended college. Most of the children will not complete their schooling, because their families will need them to work to contribute to the family income. The leader of the community said she left school when she was twelve to go and do domestic work outside of the village.

To watch the kids running around outside, so innocent and care-free, yet knowing that life will never be on their side, broke my heart. I look at their smiles and I want to give them the world. I wish there was a button I could press to make it all okay for them. I would press it and they would all have closed-toe shoes for running around among tall weeds. They would all have education and opportunities to advance in life and do whatever they're passionate about. They would have meat and vegetables and fruits sufficient for three meals a day. But as much as I wish there were an easy fix for poverty, there just isn't. I can't just fix it.

But I can try anyway. As broken hearted as I was seeing the hopelessness of their situation, it set a fire inside of me to make the world different for them. Because Jesus exists, there is no such thing as hopelessness. I've been struggling while being abroad, because it's hard for me to study the development of countries apart from God's desire for the nations. I know that a country can be as successful and rich as it wants, but still be spiritually impoverished. Of course I want to see people have their needs met, and live in free societies with just governments. But what I want more is that they know who their savior is, so that even if they don't have all those things, they will look forward to eternity with their eyes set on Jesus, knowing that eternal life with him will be so much better than life on this depraved planet.

Visiting the indigenous community was a divine blessing. It reminded me why I am so passionate about different cultures and global development in the first place. When I saw real people with names and families and real struggles, I knew that my experiences here have a purpose beyond lectures and readings. The world that allows these people to experience the oppression described in this blog post is not the world I want to live in. And while I know I can't just fix it all, I will spend my life trying to fix it a little.

Bienvenida!

I have been in Buenos Aires for about two weeks now, and it's awesome. This city has so much history, with monuments and beautiful architecture everywhere you turn, but at the same time it's very alive with unique bars, stores, coffee shops, and restaurants. I am loving every second (well… almost) of life here.

The main struggle I've had has not been the spanish, surprisingly. It has been the transportation. I like to joke with my friends from South Carolina that I know what city life is because I'm from Knoxville and they are from small towns. But in THIS city, I am completely out of my element. Knoxville may be big-ish, but I can still drive everywhere I need to go. Figuring out the subway and the bus system may be the death of me. Hopefully by the time I leave in June I will be able to get on a bus in the right place, and get off in the right place. Hopefully. Just to put this in perspective, Spartanburg has approximately 38,000 people. Knoxville has approximately 183,000. And Buenos Aires… 3 million. Living in a city this big also means getting used to the noise, at all hours of the day. I sleep with earplugs because there are train tracks directly next to my apartment building. If the train doesn't wake me up, speeding motorcycles or screaming people or barking dogs or a car alarm will.

A story about one of the many time's I've been lost in Buenos Aires: It was the first day of actual class, and I was determined to get back home on my own. My host mom accompanied me to school that morning to teach me the route, and I stubbornly denied her company returning at the end of the day. I'm twenty years old, I don't need to be walked to and from school. Wrong. I got off the bus three stops too early and wandered around for about 15 minutes before I took out my map and found a policeman. I then managed to get to the correct street, but couldn't remember what my apartment building looked like. I called my host mom and she had to come find me. I was beyond frustrated with myself, but this is the spirit of discovering a new place! I'm learning to have fun with my mess-ups, and also that being twenty years old does not make you above being walked to school.

Speaking of my host mom, my host family is the best. Mario and Maria Luz are an older couple who have three grown kids and several grandkids. They are incredibly sweet and accommodating. My first weekend here they took me around the neighborhood and showed me all the things I could ever want or need that are within walking distance of our apartment. Maria Luz has toast and coffee waiting on me every morning, and also an apple for me to take to school in case I get hungry. She is also my secretary (her words, not mine), and knows my class schedule better than I. She cooks things for dinner she knows I like, and gives me ice cream for dessert. She also insists that I talk to my real mom to tell her that I am eating and sleeping and doing fine. Mario always starts very profound conversations with me at dinner. At first it was intimidating, but having these long conversations has already significantly helped the fluency and vocabulary of my spanish. We talk about politics, religion, family, education- anything and everything. It fascinates me to hear about these things from his point of view, through the lens of his culture. He also loves to read, so he looked up everything there is to know about Tennessee before I came. He asks me about the weather, the economy, and the famous people born there. It makes me feel special that he cared enough to read up on where I'm from. He has also traveled to many places in the US for his job, and gladly informed me that he prefers the cities in the south.

When I'm not with my host family, I'm with the other students in my program. There are about twenty of us from all over the United States, and I enjoy every single one of them. It's refreshing to spend time with people who think about the world like I do, and who also love the adventure of figuring out a new culture. A typical lunch conversation among us would be a very deep commentary and analysis of the topic we learned about in class that day. I love it.

The first week was definitely hard, and emotions were high at times. But I'm feeling more like myself than I have in a long time, because I'm doing what I am most passionate about. I was made to travel, and I was made with the desire to learn about different people and places. People who love sports can practice anytime they want. People who love to draw can pull out a paper and pencil. But people who love to travel have it hard. Buying a plane ticket and leaving your job and family are not as convenient. So right now I am very content as I settle into the Buenos Aires life, public busses and all.