Cleaning house

Desmontar: To clear ones yard of shrubs, brush, tall grasses, and the like. Literally “to de-mountain.”

Porear: To share in the consumption of yerba mate from one communal wooden chalice or “poro.” Literally, “to wooden chalice.”

Coquear: To chew coca leaves as an aid in strenuous labor, to settle ones stomach, or to just pass the afternoon. Literally, “to coca leaf.”

These are just a few examples of the beauty that is Bolivian Spanish. There are so many activities unique to the region that Chaquenos nearly have their own dialect. They engage in all these activities “lindo” (literally: pretty. Chaqueno interpretation: nice-like) on a daily basis. Since arriving in country nine months ago my Spanish has gone from the scholarly type to a filthy, versatile, useful, colorful Guarani-Chaqueno hybrid. I was warned that my Spanish would change drastically but I had a hard time believing that 10 years of speaking formal Spanish could change so quickly.

I was thinking about this fluidity of language among other things as I was desmontar-ing lindo por che guazu (around my abode) yesterday afternoon. This week we had our first SERIOUS storm of the rainy season, all gusts of wind and sheets of rain. Never before have I felt so close to a thunderstorm. Im not sure if it was the silence of Chimeo or its positioning on the mountain above the bowl of Villa Montes, but each rumble of thunder rattled my ribcage and the lightning was a show meant for nothing more than to frighten me. The dry season had kept the trees and grasses a tame shade of brown, but with this first rain every inch of earth has spring to life: the mountain is turning green and lawns have sprouted on what was once dirt. My forager instincts leap with joy upon seeing my yard so seemingly alive, however there is an aspect to flora and fauna in the Chaco that was not present in the formulation of my sense of astetics: snakes. Yarara, cascabeles, amarillos, the list goes on. In order to clear my yard of the green stuff, I have to turn every bit of soil. Judging my this weeks growth, Ill be engaging in this labor once every two weeks.

When Im not hoe-ing, Ive been spending increasing amounts of time in the monte around Chimeo. I try to make it up into the monte a couple times a week, be it for bee boxes or, my personal favorite, swimming in Caiguami. Each Sunday of late the kids of my closest friend and I hike the two hours up to the river that feeds Chimeo and Villa Montes to munch on fruit, splash around, and generally take it easy. This apparently was also a pastime of previous Chimeo volunteers who were in Chimeo about a decade ago. (Through the magic of google, they’ve also found and read this blog-hi guys.) Ive been shown fotos of them swimming in the corros a bit further up the mountain. I can tell that the volunteers were hip to the midnineties by their round glasses and jeans that just aren’t quite right for 2007, but other than that nothing in the fotos seems to have changed. They hung with the same family of brothers that I hang with (albeit I kick it a bit more with their wives and, according to them, drink a lot less beer.) I have even noticed some of the same hats in these decade-old fotos being worn today. It’s a strange feeling. I know that I tell family and friends that this two years, while it may crawl by for them, is really a short period of time. Because it is. In the eternity of a town where everyone lives across the street from their mothers and brothers and the age of the eldest folk is always an estimate, two years is a flash.

So, that’s where Im caught right now. Time itself moves in slow motion while the foliage is stuck on fast forward. My projects are chugging along. Im likewise balancing the feeling that I should have something concrete by now with the tranquil pace of life, where drinking tea and making lunch takes precedence over all else.

Take care and happy haloween!

Jacqueline