Wednesday, June 29, 2011

walking on fire

"Do it Ali! Cross! Go! But if you are scared you shouldn't do it. Cross!" My heart was pounding as I heard all of them yelling at me, and I was slightly fearful but trying to calm myself. Diego grabbed ahold of my hand and pulled me slightly forward, looking intensly into my face. He had just done it twice and the utter calmness of his face only reminded me of how uncalm I was. "Are you ready?" he asked. I nodded my head, took a deep breath, looked at the 2 meters of live coals spread out in front of me and started walking forward.

No, I was not dreaming. I was at San Juan festival. I don't know how San Juan got started, but my best guess is that several Guarani men got very drunk one night and began playing with fire and had so much fun that they decided to make it a tradition. At some point it became a national fire festival celebrated every June 24 with extra celebrations in the weeks prior and folliwing the actual date. It is, I think, my personal favorite tribute to any and all saints. It is also perhaps the only time and place when playing with fire is not only sanctioned by parents, but encouraged, organized, supervized, and funded as well. Every school has a festival as well as many churches and families. In addition to the traditional dance and food normally available, there are games and activities devoted to fire.

A group of men or children dress up as "kamba" in mismatched clothing, masks, capes, antyhing to make them look scary, ridiculous, and protect their true identity. Often the object of the kamba is just to run around and scare people, but sometimes they "capture" people and take them to a "jail" where they must pay a fee to be released. A greasy pole is set up and the kamba must climb the pole in order to shake down the treats on top. There are often small fair-like games set up for the kids to play, but the best games are the ones with the fire. One of my favorites is pelota tata (fire ball) when they set fire to several "soccer balls" and kick them around the field or at each other as if they were passing a real soccer ball. Children are given bundles of kapi'i (long, dried grass), and they set fire to them, running around like children in the United States run around with sparklers on the 4th of July, chasing each other, playing swards, and screaming from sheer joy. They stuff a mans pants and shirt to make a type of scarecrow, tie him up to a soccer post and set fire to him. And as if the element of fire wasn't enough, they often put small explosives in his clothes just for kicks.

In some places, such as the school where my host mom teaches, they still do the jahasa tatapyi ari (we pass over the coals) which is said to only be possible on the eve of San Juan between the hours of 10 and 12 at night. If you do it any other day or any other time, you will be burned. This year I went with my host family to the school, curious about this whole coal walking thing they had been telling me about since last year. At about 8:30, a couple of teachers began setting up a large fire to burn down to coals in preparation for the big event. Every 20 minutes or so, they would put on a couple more logs, keeping the bonfire going. This became another game and the boys started taking running starts to jump over the flames. It was only after two boys, coming from different directions ran into each other and fell, that I heard parents and teachers reprimand for reckless behavior. And it was only after the flames jumped higher than the boys' heads that they took a rest at the game.

At 11:30, the firewood was gone and what was left was a large pile of glowing coals. As couple of teachers began raking out the coals to make a 2 meter walkway, people started asking me, "are you going to do it?" My brother Hugo told me that if I did if first, he would follow and then he took off his shoes and socks in preparation for my crossing. Diego was a tall skinny kid, who did the jahasa tatapyi ari every year and I watched him prepare himself, cool as a cucumber. Wanting to take advantage of the opportunity, but still highly doubtful about the success of the event, I began grilling Diego. "Really, you do it every year? Does it hurt? Does it feel hot? Really, dos it not hurt at all? I don't think I believe you. Seriously, you don't get burned... at all? And you just walk normally?" He patiently explained that no, it didn't hurt and no, you didn't get burned, and yes, you just walk normally. He said that if you are scared you will be burned, but there is no danger. Then he said he would walk across with me and hold my hand. I wasn't convinced and watched in disbelief as he calmly walked across the coals by himself. Others then followed his leand and one show-off danced his way through, upsetting the evenly raked coals.

By this time, the pressure was really on. "Come on Ali! Do it!" My host brother and mom were telling me. "Are you gonna do it?" I asked my host mom. "No!" She shook her head violently. "I'm too scared." Strangers heard the discussion and began to encourage me and then Diego (at least I think that's his name... I forgot the introduction in the excitement of it all) came over to grab my hand and pull me in front of the coals.

I still can't really believe it did it; it seems so insane. Nelly didn't even get a picture because she didn't snap it fast enough. It was quite an adrenaline rush and I will admit my hands were shaking afterwards. And my feet? They have 2 very small and extremely minor burns. Apparently I was still scared when I started walking.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

and to you, welcome back

The last few months I have been absent from my blog for a variety of reasons which are too many and too complicated to explain here and now. But my most recent excuse is that I was on vacation. After staying put for over a year, I finally got the opportunity to go on vacation with my aunt and uncle. We visited both Brasil and Argentina before doing a very brief tour of Paraguay.

In Brasil we stayed one night in Sao Paulo and four nights in the Pantanal, the largest wetlands of the world. Of course you can`t see much of a city in one night and you could spend a lifetime in the Pantanal and still not see everything. I felt like our time was far too short to see everything that I wanted to see. It was an incredible and fantastic place... except they didn´t speak Spanish or Guarani and they didn`t drink any terere. I felt slightly displaced. After seeing an abundance of animals in the Pantanal, we headed to Iguazu falls in Argentina to see an abundance of water. It was at this point in the trip, my uncle informed me later, that I stoppped speaking English. I don`t think I was fully aware of what I was doing because it came so naturally, but I was told that if there was another person present, I spoke only in Spanish, even when that other person could speak in English. I completely forgot that my aunt and uncle couldn`t follow the conversation and sometimes turned to them as if they would jump in and add a comment but was quickly reminded by the looks on their faces that I would first have to translate. I would translate and then without noticing it, slip back into Spanish.

I didn't fully realize that I missed Pagaguay until we were getting ready to come back and I defnitely hadn't expected to miss it in the week and a half that I was gone. I thought I was sick of Paraguay and sick of the people, yet I found myself longing for both. It wasn't just the language that I was craving, although that was a key part of it. I was aching to sit around and drink terere and joke in Guarani. I wanted to stain my feet again with the red dirt on my street and greet every person I passed. There was something about the land that I missed, as if it had become a part of me.

On the day we left for Paraguay from Argentina, we were picked up by a driver and guide to escort us across teh Argentina border into Brasil and across the Brasilian border into Paraguay and finally drop us off at the airport. It just so happened that both the driver and guide were born and raised in paraguay and before I knew it, the guide and I were talking about Paraguay and its culture. I think we were mostly talking in Spanish, but t be honest, I couldn't tell you which parts of the conversation were in which language. Being from Paraguay, the guide also spoke Guarani and was shocked to hear that I did too. We made a few jokes and I finally heard the sounds coming from my mouth that had been absent for the last week and a half. It felt so good, yet strange after the time off, as if my mouth was scared to speak it again.

Eventually we came to the bridge that connects Brasil and Paraguay and I eagerly leaned forward in my seat, as if that would help us cross faster. As we crossed over onto Paraguayan soil, our guide turned to my aunt and uncle and said, "Welcome to Paraguay! And to you," he turned to me. "Welcome back."