Going back to Paraguay and Argentina

22nd August to 8th September 2022

Read about Patrick, Rosie and Johnny’s recent visit to Paraguay and Argentina.

Monday 22nd August

So we’re finally returning to Paraguay, the place where we lived for fifteen years and has formed such a significant part of our family story. I remember well our departure in 2009 and all those we had come to know and love coming to the airport. It was Luke’s 16th birthday and Jess, aged 12, sobbed all the way to Sao Paolo. The time had come of us to leave Paraguay, but would we ever adapt to life back in the UK? When would we get to see Paraguay again?

I wish I could say we kept in touch with all our Paraguayan friends throughout the years but it was too painful. Even social media only served to accentuate the distance rather than bring us closer. So I know for many years those we had known and loved were a little bemused by our silence.

It took a decade before we could contemplate a return. For Rosie there was a whole other layer of complexity involved. Her childhood years in Argentina in the seventies and eighties meant South America was far more part of her identity than it was for me. To return would re-awaken the feelings of grief and loss (she left Argentina during the turmoil of the Falkland War) and whilst she desperately wanted to she was aware of the emotional upheaval it would cause.

But then in 2020 Jess got engaged to Sam and wanted to introduce him to the land of her childhood, so we made plans to all go to Paraguay together. No sooner had we booked the flights when COVID hit and the trip was cancelled. Then in January 2022 Jess made her own visit for a friend’s wedding taking Sam, now her husband, with her. She came back full of memories and friendships rekindled. ‘Mum, Dad’ she said, ‘you’ve got to go back - everyone is desperate to see you’.

So Paraguay take two. Mark was still at the travel agent in Fleet and yes, he remembered booking our flights two years ago and yes, he could do the same for us again (this time just three of us - Rosie, Johnny and me). As before we requested to fly back from Buenos Aires as Rosie wanted to show Johnny the city in which she grew up.

So here we are on the flight to Asuncion. We set off from Fleet at lunchtime (leaving my mother who has just come to live with us in the capable hands of my brother Anthony and his wife Nicky) drove to Gatwick and boarded the flight to Madrid.

As I write we have just taken off from Madrid. Johnny is next to me, now 18, and more than excited to be returning to the place of his birth. He left when he was five years old. Luke and Jess have texted us asking to be remembered to everyone we meet and in twelve hours we will arrive in Asuncion where it is early spring. It will be 5am and Sofi has said she will be there to meet us. She will then take us to her parents Silvia and Juan Carlos where we will stay. We know them well and they live in the same part of the city we used to live in.

Our plan is to stay in Paraguay for ten days, then visit the waterfalls at Foz de Iguazu on the Paraguayan, Argentine and Brazilian border. We will then fly to Buenos Aries where we’ll stay in an Air BnB before returning to London from Spain.

Much like my cycle trip around Europe the next few weeks will be a time to remember and reconnect with people and places from the past. There is much to say about Paraguay and this chapter in our lives; how we came to be there, the work we did through the Anglican Church, and the way it shaped our lives. But for now, with the cabin lights dimmed and voices lowered (though it is good to catch strains of the Paraguayan accent around us) it’s time to get some sleep. Early tomorrow we will land at the airport which holds memories for another reason - it’s where I first set eyes on Rosie one evening in October 1988. But more about that later.

Tuesday 23rd August

We get as good a night sleep as one can on a transatlantic flight and land in Asuncion at 4.30am. It is 21 degrees as we step off the plane and immediately we feel the humidity. By lunchtime the temperature will be up in the thirties. Passing through passport control we wait by the carousel to pick up our cases.

I realise it is thirty-two years since I first landed at this airport. It was in October 1988 and I was 27 years old. I had trained as a Youth Worker and worked for a couple of years in a local authority youth centre in Hull. A long-term relationship had come to an end and the time seemed right for a new adventure.

Since coming to faith in my late teens I had always wondered if working overseas might be part of the plan, and now, through SAMS (the South American Mission Society), it was arranged for me to spend a year in Asuncion, Paraguay. A new Anglican bishop had recently arrived there and I would work as a volunteer helping in San Andres School and with a diocesan micro-finance project.

I remember sitting in the airport waiting for Bishop John Ellison to pick me up. When he arrived he was accompanied by his 20-year-old daughter Rosie. Two years later she and I were married. Six years later Asunción would become our home for the following fifteen years.

We are relieved that all our suitcases are on the carousel so we grab them and head to Arrivals. There we find Sofi with four other ex-San Andres students waiting for us with a sign reading 'Welcome Home Patrick, Rosie and Johnny'. These are some of the girls (now in their thirties) Rosie has stayed in touch with over the years. Long hugs and we are deeply moved.

We drive into town where we stop for breakfast at a cafe. As it's still dark we don't get to see how much the city has changed in the time we've been away. The girls tell us of the various gatherings and reunions they have planned for us. Jess was right when she advised us us to pre-plan little and just go with the flow when we get there.

Juan Carlos and Silvia welcome us into their spacious home with its tiled floors and ceiling fans. We unpack, shower and change, and then go for a walk through the barrio we know so well but haven't seen for so long.

First off, we walk down General Santos. The pavements are just as we remember them, broken, uneven and rubbish and rubble everywhere, the same thick traffic and miles of tangled overhead cables . But also a number of new high-rise flats and offices.

After ten minutes we come to the plazita where I spent hours on the swings and slides with each of the children when they were little. I'm just taking a 'remember this' photo to send to Luke and Jess when a man riding by on his bike slams on his brakes. 'Patrick, estás de vuelta!' he says. 'You're back!' It's Cesar who lived up the road from us and used to sell newspapers. Only in Paraguay!

We turn right into Concordia and a few minutes later we're standing in front of our old house. It's been turned into offices for a picture framing business. The garden is overgrown and the house itself is shabby and run down. We feel a mix of sadness and nostalgia. But Johnny is loving every minute of it as his childhood memories come flooding back.

We turn right up the hill and come to the house where Rosie's parents used to live. John was bishop for thirteen of the fifteen years we were here, so our children grew up with Granny and Grandpa just up the road. The house is now unoccupied and also badly in need of some tlc.

By now it's lunchtime and we wonder if Don Vito's is still where it used to be. It is, and soon we're sat in the little café eating empanadas - the most amazing little pasties ever invented. We order meat, ham and cheese, and sweetcorn. Every mouthful stirs a memory and we reminisce for half an hour as we wash them down with bottles of guaraná.

We walk past what was our local supermarket (now impressively upgraded) and arrive at Colegio San Andres. This is the Anglican school our children attended and where Rosie and I both taught. It also became the home of EJE, the youth ministry we ran for a decade which I’ll say more about later.

We're just about to explain to the door staff who we are when Analia runs up and gives us a big hug. We're welcomed in and for the next hour or so find ourselves reunited with familiar faces. A number of the students we taught all those years ago are now themselves teachers at the school.

Colegio San Andrés was founded almost sixty years ago when an English missionary Dorothea Wedgwood Clarke arrived in Asuncion with the intention of working with the indigenous Indians in the Paraguayan Chaco. But health issues meant she had to change her plans and stay in Asunción. So she decided to open a kindergarten in the English Chapel not far from the city centre.

It started with just a few children until, one day, the mother of Paraguay's then President Alfredo Stroessner asked to enrol her grandson. This attracted other wealthy families and within a few years Dorothea started a primary school and later a secondary school.

Colegio San Andres is now one of Paraguay's more prestigious schools offering a bi-lingual English/Spanish Christian based education to four hundred students. Unlike English schools, the children stay in the same class from when they enrol at three years old until they leave at eighteen. So classmates form incredibly deep friendships. Luke, Jess and Johnny were all students there.

Analia continues to show us around the school. It has expanded considerably in the past thirteen years and we come to a new block where she takes us into a classroom of fifth formers. 'This is the person who composed the school hymn' she announces to the class. Soon Rosie and I are surrounded by a group of seventeen-year-olds who all want a selfie. 'We love the school hymn', they tell me enthusiastically.

I wrote the hymn in the year 1999. With millennial celebrations coming up and having been in the school for five years it struck me that we could do with one. So I took the school emblem with its shield of a cross and stars as a starting point and went from there. The resulting hymn stuck as now they sing it every Tuesday and Thursday in assembly.

As we come out of the classroom Analia turns to me. 'Something else I've been meaning to tell you about the hymn', she says. 'A few years ago one of our ex-students recorded it as a Cumbia (Brazilian dance) track and it now gets played in night clubs. While you're here you need to register at the national copyright office as apparently there is some money waiting for you'. Only in Paraguay!

We leave the school via the back entrance and find ourselves by the English speaking chapel and the larger and somewhat grandly named cathedral. The chapel was built in 1920 and the cathedral in 1985. They have stood there side by side ever since and, along with the school, reflect the different aspects of Anglican ministry. But again, more about that later, though both have personal significance as I was ordained in the cathedral and then became the chaplain of the chapel during my final two years in Paraguay.

We call into the Anglican office and we’re pleased to see that Teresa Maidana is there. We worked closely with her and her husband Agustín, who is now Vicar-General in the absence of a sitting bishop. Big hugs with Teresa and a brief catch up as we’ll be seeing them on Tuesday evening.

Back to Silvia and Juanca’s for a couple of hours rest. Paraguay is five hours behind the UK and our body clocks are all over the place. Already it feels like we’ve been here for days.

In the evening Sofi drives us across town and drops us off at Raquel and Charlie’s house. They met through EJE, both studied theology in Chile, have four young children and Charlie is now an ordained pastor in a Presbyterian church. So good to see them, catch up on their lives and hear about many of the young people we used to know and love.

Just before 10pm Raquel drops us back at our house. Another couple are there, Yasmín and Mauri. They are there to see one of Sofi’s sisters but as we chat Mauri reminds us how he came to faith through EJE. It is all deeply humbling.

It’s 11pm, our body clocks tell us it’s 4am and we are exhausted. What a day! We still can’t believe we’re here and there is so much to give thanks for.

Wednesday 24th August

We're woken in the night by dogs barking but otherwise we sleep well. The only fixed appointment today is a meal out with the San Andrés girls with their partners so in the morning we decide to have a look around town.

We're told that Uber is the best way to get around, but for old times' sake we decide to go by bus. Here they are known as 'colectivos' or 'collectives', as each route is owned by a separate company. And because they all paint their buses different colours you can spot a mile off which number bus is coming your way. Since COVID the buses have stopped using cash so we pop into the supermarket and buy a travel card.

Within half an hour we're on the 30 bus headed out to the 'shoppings'. Everyone tells us not to bother with the old city centre as it’s now so neglected, rather to head for the commercial district where the business centre and shopping arcades are now located (think Canary Wharf only ten times smaller). So that's what we decide to do.

Two minutes into our journey someone calls over to us from the seat behind. 'Excuse me', I heard you speaking English and I love the British accent. Where are you from?' We turn round to see a man in his twenties smiling at us. 'We're from near London', we reply - 'are you American?' 'No', he says. 'I'm from Argentina'. 'So am I', says Rosie and soon they are comparing notes about Buenos Aires. His name is Matias and he tells us he is settled here. 'Where did you learn your English?' I ask him. It's near perfect. 'I learned it from playing video games', he says. I am seriously impressed, but also by his friendliness as he engages Rosie Johnny and me in conversation for the whole of our twenty-minute journey. 'I just love finding out about the world', he says as we say farewell and jump off the bus.

It's now above 30 degrees (and it's supposed to be winter) so we walk straight into Shopping del Sol. This is one of the first malls to be built in this district and one we used to come to on days off, more than anything to escape the heat. It's smart, full of boutiques, and frequented by the wealthier Paraguayans.

Rosie spots a shop called 'Overall' selling Paraguayan art and craft. She goes in, sees a mug she thinks Jess would like and takes it to the counter. As she's being served the shop assistant looks at her. 'Your face looks familiar' she says. 'So does yours', replies Rosie. They realise they knew each other years ago when Rosie would buy gifts before travelling to England. 'I also remember your parents', said the assistant. She is sorry to hear that John is no longer with us. Rosie asks her name and assures her she will remember her to her mother. A few moments later we're come down the escalator leading to the food court when a young woman rushes up and throws her arms around Rosie. It's Rebecca, a friend of our Jess and the daughter of a couple we know well. She is thrilled to see us.

Now reading this it may seem as though we're minor celebs but to be honest it's not totally unexpected. Firstly, Paraguay has a relatively small population - around 7.5 million. Asuncion has a population of about a million. So it's all quite a bit smaller than the UK. Secondly, nice places to hang out are limited so it was never unusual for us to bump into people we knew when we would go to a mall. And thirdly, we were here for fifteen years so we got to know a lot of people in that time.

We leave Shopping del Sol and walk towards the newer developments. More malls and high-rise buildings that wouldn't look out of place in London or Paris. We're impressed, though the chaos of the traffic, the shabby pavements with children cleaning windscreens and jumping on and off the buses selling anything from chewing gum to biros, are reminders of the poverty that lies beneath.

We walk around another ostentatious mall and end up in the food court. We decide on empanadas and as we eat I ask Johnny what he notices. 'No people of colour', he replies, 'and very few elderly people'. He's right. It is very rare to see a black person in Paraguay (unlike Brazil) and it does have a high percentage of young people.

Perhaps, at this point, it might be helpful to tell you a little bit about Paraguay and its history, so here is a somewhat potted version.

Paraguay is one of South America's two landlocked countries (the other being Bolivia). Its land mass is a third greater than that of the UK yet its population is ten times smaller. A river divides the country into the inhospitable Chaco to the Westand the more fertile 'interior' to the East. This where most of the towns and villages are. When the Spanish conquistadores arrived in the sixteenth century, they integrated with the native Guaraní population more than they did in the other lands they conquered. Consequently, Paraguay is the only South American country with two official languages - Spanish and Guaraní (our children had to learn Guaraní at school). It gained independence from the Spanish in 1811. Paraguay is a predominantly Catholic country yet many of the Protestant denominations are present. Emerging from a long line of dictators in the 1980s it could now be described as a fledgling democracy. It is hot and humid, people are friendly and laugh easily, and there are a lot of mosquitoes!

It's now 2pm and time to get back for a rest before our meal out in the evening. So we jump on a bus back to the house. Unfortunately I get the wrong 30 and we end up on Mariscal Lopez instead of Calle España. But no matter, the longer walk home through familiar streets only brings back further memories and increases the feeling that we never left.

Four hours later we are at a restaurant sat outside in the cool night air catching up with those we shared so much of our lives with when we were here. We talk about their careers, their families, how Paraguay survived the pandemic, and looking back how the youth ministry helped shape their lives. Johnny handles it all really well. 'I feel like I'm in a never-ending listening comprehension exam', he says. But he uses his A level Spanish to the full. At one point in the evening I hear him engage with Mauri in a fascinating discussion about philosophy (this one in English) and the merits of the jazz greats.

Rosie with her ex students Adri, Silvia and Ali.

Thursday 25th August

I’m up early and decide to start the day with a run, only by Paraguayan standards it’s not that early given that shops open and schools start at 7.30am. So the streets are already packed with cars and pedestrians. The pavement constitutes a serious trip hazard but it’s good to be out running in familiar streets.

I pass Cesar, the man who greeted me in the square on the day we arrived. He’s selling newspapers on same street corner he always did but he's engaged with his phone, so I don’t stop to greet him. I head for the Costa Nera, the new road that follows the river from the airport to the city centre, at last relieving some of the Asuncion traffic congestion. It gives me a different view of the Asuncion skyline and I can see how much it's changed. Though early, it is hot and humid and fifty minutes later I arrive back dripping.

Johnny is Ill. He's woken up with a fever so he will need to stay in bed. He's good about it and determined to have the fever beaten by the end of the day. Silvia finds him some medication.

Juan Carlos offers us the car. He invited us to use it when we first arrived but for the first few days I didn't feel ready to take on the Asuncion traffic. But now I am (after all I did drive here for fifteen years) so Rosie and I jump in the car to visit some of our old haunts. We go to the Garden Club where we used to play tennis and swim, and then to Parque Nu Guazu where we used to walk. We drive back via the city centre which is every bit as run down as we were warned. Despite the new buildings and road networks at ground level Asuncion has changed little.

We have two things planned for the rest of the day. One is to visit Julio at the School of Rock, and then in the evening an EJE reunion. We are intrigued to see Julio again. Rosie used to teach him at school and for many years he was part of our youth ministry. Confident, laid back and charming, he formed a cachaca pop band in the mid noughties - The Cachiporros (look them up on Spotify). By the time we left Paraguay they were enjoying considerable success and over the past thirteen years their fame has spread across South America. Now, apart from continuing to front the band, Julio runs School of Rock, teaching children and young people keyboard, guitar, drums and bass.

Silvia (not the Silvia we live with) picks us up at 5pm to take us there. It is located in one of the smarter areas of town and when we get there Julio is pleased to see us. 'When I heard you were back in Paraguay I really wanted you to come', he says. He shows us around the studio with the various recording and rehearsal rooms full of children and teenagers playing different instruments. It's an impressive set up and he has three hundred students on the books. He's also opened a second school a couple of doors down, this one teaching graffiti and street art. He has another hundred enrolled there too.

There is a wine bar next door and over a bottle of red the four of us chat (Silvia was a classmate and has kept a close friendship with Julio). He wears his success lightly though admits that fame has not always been easy. It was COVID in the end that forced him to slow down and now he is in a much better place. He separated from his partner but sees his four-year-old daughter every day. We remember all we did together over the years, and he comments how formative they were for him. Sadly he can't be at the EJE reunion this evening.

Silvia drops us back home to shower and change before Norman comes to pick us up. A barbecue is planned at Adri's house and they are expecting around twenty-five to be there. Rosie tells me she is feeling a little nervous and I admit to the same.

But before I say anymore, what is EJE? And for that matter, what did we do in Paraguay from 1994 until our departure in 2009? I'll try to sum it all up in few sentences though remember this was over fifteen years and not all at once!

Encourage, support and train leaders in the six Anglican church youth groups across Asuncion, plus one in Concepcion two hundred miles to the north.
Help organise and lead diocesan youth camps.
Teach English (Rosie) and Social Studies (Patrick) at Colegio San Andrés
Take groups of students to help in children's homes, build houses with Habitat for Humanity, and visit the indigenous Indian villages in the Chaco
Give talks and lead worship at the annual school camps
School assemblies
Lead bible studies for university students (these would start at 10pm in our home after their evening classes)
Preach and lead worship regularly in our local Spanish congregation and in the English speaking Chapel
Visit Tacumbu prison every two weeks (since featured in the Netflix series: The World’s Toughest Prisons - worth a watch)
Plant a Spanish speaking youth congregation
Run Alpha Courses
Serve as Chaplain to the English speaking chapel (2007-2009)
Run EJE in Asuncion (1999-2009)

This last one was probably the most significant aspect of our ministry in Paraguay. Pronounced E (as in elephant) CH (as in loch) and E (as in elephant), EJE stands for 'Encuentro de Jóvenes en el Espíritu', or Youth Encounter in the Spirit.

I first came across EJE during a visit to Chile in 1997. I was in Santiago helping to plan a provincial youth camp when on the way to a meeting we dropped into a school late one evening. There I was met with the sight of sixty or so young people in their teens and twenties setting up the school hall for a weekend event. They were working with a seriousness and a passion that caught my attention few adults around. 'What is this?' I asked Gonzalo, the Chilean youth leader I was with. 'It's EJE', he replied, and then went on to tell me about it.

Apparently EJE originated in the Catholic Church but the Anglicans in Chile had been running it for five years. The programme centred around two weekends a year, usually held in a local school, during which young people got to reflect on the key relationships in their lives - with mother, father, siblings, grandparents, friends, and God.

The weekend is run by young people between 16 and 25 and you can only take part if you're invited by someone who has already participated in a weekend themselves. Unknown to the participants their parents are also involved, writing a letter to their child and joining in at the end of the weekend. It’s an incredibly affirming experience. Following the weekend there are six fortnightly follow up meetings during which young people train to become leaders on the next weekend, to which they invite their friends. Gonzalo commented that EJE was transforming their youth ministry and proving to be a powerful tool for sharing faith and forming leaders. I was deeply impacted by what I saw and as I flew back home over the Andes I felt the strong conviction that we should bring EJE to Paraguay.

How to cut a long story short? Rosie was totally captivated by the idea. We established EJE wasn't already in Paraguay. We prayed. We consulted. We settled on the school as the best place to launch EJE. We met with the parents and with their blessing (and money) took a group of a dozen students to Chile to experience an EJE. We invested in a hundred mattresses (for which the school amazingly found storage space). Teams of young people from Argentina and Chile came over to help lead our first weekend. And we were off.

A decade later a thousand young people had taken part in an EJE weekend. A hundred at a time would come to the fortnightly follow up meetings. Many found faith. Many developed leadership skills. They came from all over the city. It was ecumenical. And we absolutely loved it. Rosie led the weekends from the front, always training up a second leader, while I oversaw the teams working behind the scenes. A hundred and fifty young people would sleep for two nights in the college classrooms. EJE became a part of San Andres' programme and culture. Some young people would stay with us for a year, others for five or more.

One advantage we had was that, unlike the UK, students rarely go away to university. Rather they live at home while they study, often working during the day and then attending classes in the evenings. This meant we didn't lose young people when they reached 18 which resulted in much greater continuity.

As soon as Rosie and I arrive at the reunion all nerves disappear. Adri has laid on an amazing barbecue and for the next four hours we catch up with many young people we used to know and love: Vicky who is now Vice Principal of one of Asunción's largest schools, Alejandro who runs a successful business selling power tools, Georgie who is training to be a Baptist Pastor, Charlie who is now a Presbyterian Pastor, Silvia who is a paediatrician, Andy, miraculously recovered from the motorbike accident that left him with horrendous burns and a leg amputation, and Leti who trades in commodities and lives in Maryland: 'I happened to be in Asunción this week and just had to come along'. Most are married with children; one or two separated or divorced.

Towards the end of the evening I say some words and then Guille stands up and gives an impromptu speech. EJE clearly had a huge impact at a key moment in their lives. Someone produces a guitar and next thing we know we are singing all the songs. Memories are shared, the banter starts to flow and soon it feels like we're back where we were twenty years ago. It's a moment I want to bottle and keep.

Whenever Rosie and I look back at this time we maintain something extraordinary happened. The Greeks have a word for these God moments you can neither fabricate nor repeat: kairos. We were simply called to journey for a season with a generation of young people and there was blessing.

Jess, back in the UK, has been following our adventures online. She finds an Instagram post of the evening which she sends to us. It's from Ana Ma and below the picture of us all gathered she writes: ‘When life stops for a moment to remind you of one of the happiest times of your entire life.' For us too Ana Ma. For us too.

Friday 26th August

A relaxed morning and another warm day. Johnny is as good as his word and has sweated out his fever in just a day. Later we will go to Altos, an hours drive from Asuncion to stay at the ranch of Ali and Maurizio.

But first lunch with Edu and Karen, another couple who met through EJE and now have a young family. Edu runs an online marketing business and Karen teaches Business Management at a secondary school. Together they lead a small church that meets in their home. They take us to their high rise flat on the outskirts of Asuncion where we are joined by Steve and Fiona, a brother and sister we used to know well. Then we drive to a rustic restaurant on the banks of the river Paraguay run by local fisherman and serving freshly caught fish.

We leave for Altos at 4pm taking Juan Carlos’s car and following Ali and Mauri's four by four out of the city. The Friday traffic is manic but I'm getting better at pulling out fearlessly and we manage to keep up. Soon we are out of the city driving through countryside thick with palm trees. Lake Ypacari is on our right and the hills are ahead.

After half an hour or so we pass through a small town and stop by the side of the road where they are selling chipa (pronounced 'cheeper'). Chipa can best be described as bread made from starch flour, often shaped like a donut, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. Served warm and with a cup of hot 'cocido', a sweet burnt tea made from the Yerba plant, it’s hard to beat. It is uniquely Paraguayan and no car or coach journey is complete without it. It tastes every bit as good as it used to.

It's 5pm and the sun is already sinking low as we turn off the asphalt road and onto a red earth track. After a kilometre or so we arrive at the ranch where we will spend the weekend with a wonderful Paraguayan extended family.

Ali was one of Rosie's students, part of EJE for many years and became godmother to our Jess at her baptism when she was 8. We attended her wedding to Mauri shortly before we left Paraguay. Ali now teaches at San Andres and Mauri is a corporate lawyer. They have three children, Rafa, Ezequiel and Julia, all of whom already speak good English.

The ranch is called La Valtellina, named after the Italian village Ali’s family originates from. It was built by Ali’s grandfather and then further developed by her Aunt Guio who meets us at the gate. It is a beautiful, spacious house in a stunning setting - even more so as the sun sets over Lake Ypacari with the lights of Aregua on the far shore a mile or so in the distance. Soon Ali’s sister Pati arrives with her husband Ulyses and their two children.

Between them, Guio, Ali and Pati run the ranch which includes stables with a dozen horses offering treks on horseback in the countryside. The three of them live in houses next to each other in Asuncion and meet at the ranch most weekends. The closeness of family is something that has always struck me about Paraguay. It is usual for extended families to share a meal together once a week, and watching the children play I realise that they will have a depth of relationship with their cousins that I never had with mine.

I wonder if these strong family ties have something to do with Paraguay’s extraordinary history. In 1864, somewhat optimistically, Paraguay attempted to take on Argentina, Uruguay and Brazil all at once in a territorial dispute. It didn’t end well. The War of the Triple Alliance lasted six years and by the end of it Paraguay had lost 80% of its male population leaving only old men and young boys. Sixty years later the same thing happened in the Chaco War against Bolivia. As a result the need to repopulate the country meant it became common for men to have families with several women, thereby elevating the status of the matriarch in the home. This also helps explain why the Catholic Faith, with Mother Mary at its centre resonates so deeply with Paraguayans.

More guests arrive; Ali’s cousin Viki and her daughter, then Silvia and her family, so that in total there are twenty of us. A supper of warm focaccia bread with goats cheese, tomato and basil with a glass of red wine to the sound of cicadas and lively conversation brings another great day to a close.

Saturday 27th August

Today it’s 32 degrees and we get to enjoy the ranch and the full hospitality of Ali and Mauri.

We ride horses, quad bikes, play guitars, have deep conversations about life, faith and different cultures, and I am amazed by the way the children will meet you more than half way as they practice their English. (For example eleven year old Rafa: ‘My dad says that Paraguay is the greenest place in the world. And it’s true. I went to his - how do you say? - office. It is very high up and I looked out of the window and it was so, so, so green!’)

Johnny even gets a Guarani lesson from them. We end the day with an asado and more red wine. I’ll let the pictures tell the story.

Sunday 28th August

We wake up early to find the temperature has dropped considerably. Today it will reach just 14 degrees and for the first time we wear warmer clothes. I always used to dread these sudden drops in temperature as I would invariably catch cold and spend the next few days with a runny nose and sneezing (and it will prove to be the case this time as well).

We say our farewells to Ali and Mauri and leave the ranch at 8.30am taking the road back to Asunción. We want to attend the morning service at the cathedral which starts at 10am. This is the church where we used to worship.

The Sunday morning traffic is light and we get to the cathedral in good time. We find the congregation considerably smaller than it used to be, around twenty, but we are warmly welcomed and it is good to worship there once more.

The cathedral (more like a medium sized parish church) is one of six Anglican congregations in Asuncion and it may be helpful at this point to say something about the Anglican work in Paraguay and how the church came to be in Paraguay.

It really starts in 1889 with an intrepid 26-year-old Scotsman, Wilfred Barbrooke Grubb. Grubb was sent by the South American Missionary Society to make contact with the indigenous Indians in the Paraguayan Chaco. The Chaco, a vast and inhospitable terrain the size of England would become his home for the next thirty years. His efforts bore fruit and over the decades Indians were baptised and churches were planted. He would later earn the accolade from the Paraguayan government of ‘Pacifier of the Indians’.

Some years later in the 1960's missionaries were sent to share the gospel in the cities. Over time churches were planted so that in the next decade or so there were six Anglican congregations in Asuncion. These were mainly made up of those from humbler backgrounds and within twenty years almost all were led by Paraguayan pastors.

As already mentioned, Colegio San Andres began educating the children of wealthy families in the 1960's and later founded a second school in the Chacarita shanty town so that those from poorer backgrounds could receive and education. It was hoped that the Christian ethos of the college would help shape the values of those who would later become leaders in government and industry. This has proven to be the case; the current President Mario Abdo Benítez is an ex-San Andres student.

So the Anglican Church found itself touching all stratas of Paraguayan society - the indigenous, the urban poor and the wealthy. And although not Catholic, to this day it remains respected and recognised for its positive contribution to the country.

Over time the church became increasingly Paraguayan led, though UK mission partners (the new term for missionaries) were still invited to support and strengthen specific areas of work. So when Rosie and I arrived in the early nineties there were Brits involved in theological education, healthcare, Bible translation, teaching in the college (where parents were particularly keen for their children to learn English from native speakers) and, in our case, youth and student ministry. The emphasis was on invitation - that mission partners would only come at the request of national leaders (for us this came in the form of a letter from the Paraguayan pastors) and very much in the spirit of Acts 16:9 where Paul has a vision of a man from Macedonia saying, 'Come over and help us’.

In recent years the number of expat mission partners has decreased from around twenty when we were there, to five or so today. The last ex-pat bishop, Peter Bartlett, retired three years ago and is now likely to be replaced by a Latin American.

As I write this I am aware that missionaries have often had bad press and that some of you reading this will have misgivings about overseas Christian mission per se. What right does anyone have to influence another’s culture or foist their beliefs on others? Certainly church history would suggest the church hasn’t always covered itself in glory in this area. But I guess it stems from the human desire to share what we ourselves have found to be good and life giving. This is never an excuse for control and coercion, but where faith is shared transparently and respectfully history also shows that God’s love in Christ has transformed lives and communities in extraordinary ways. As I say, the church hasn’t always got this right, but where it has millions have found peace, reconciliation, hope and purpose, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

The other thing I would want to say is that when it comes to a culture being exposed to change, this is bound to happen sooner or later. It just depends who does the changing and for what purpose. A hundred and twenty years ago Barbrooke Grubb argued his presence in the Chaco protected indigenous communities from a greater cultural upheaval: forced labour by Paraguayan landowners. Twenty years ago I remember the debate amongst the Indian communities as electricity gradually made its way up the Trans Chaco Highway. Did they want electricity? Some already had mobile phones which they charged at a local garage, on the highway (with a generator), but what would fridges, washing machines and TVs do to their culture? It seems that now they not only have electricity but that most live in brick houses rather than in their traditional wooden homes. As a result their culture has now changed beyond recognition, but is this wrong?

The service ends and we see a late arrival has slipped in to the back of church. It is 78-year-old Beryl Baker MBE. Beryl is a nurse who left the UK some forty years ago to set up a medical practice in the depths of the Chaco. Living fearlessly on her own, known and loved by hundreds of indigenous Indians from the surrounding area, she has brought nothing but health, healing and hope to those for whom medical assistance simply would not be available. She gives us a big hug and it is great to see her again.

We find out from Beryl that another mission partner, Tim Curtis, is still living and working in the Chaco. Tim is a gifted linguist who moved from the UK to Paraguay thirty-five years ago. Already speaking fluent Spanish, Portuguese and Guarani, he set himself the task of learning the language of the Enxet Indians. He then spent the next twenty-five years working with a small team of Indians translating both the Old and New Testaments. This was the first time Enxet had ever been written down. We won't get to see Tim this time, but we are glad to know he is well.

Now and then over the years I have tried to evaluate honestly what we achieved during our fifteen years in Paraguay. Did we impose our values and beliefs on those around us? Did our presence impact negatively in some way? Where we intended to sow faith, hope and love did we in fact sow confusion? Did we come with a cultural superiority that de-skilled rather than equipped? I don’t honestly know. But one thing of which I am is that Paraguay had a massive impact on us. Our children grew up shaped by its language and culture and as the years went by we grew to love the country deeply. There was even a point when Paraguay felt more our home than the UK.

And did we try to distance young people from Catholic faith and culture? No, that was never our intention. EJE was always ecumenical and we were equally pleased if a young person found a closer walk with God through their traditional Catholic expression of faith or through a different one. And I think meeting many of them years later this has been borne out.

At the end of the day, I think God called us to do what he called both Beryl and Tim to do; to use our gifts to journey for a season with those from another part of the world; to be ourselves; to be ready to give, to love and to learn. And that’s what we did. And as our cultures collided something good happened and we were all changed and blessed. And it is only now, all these years later, that we can see the lasting impact on our lives and the lives of others, and it is deeply humbling.

It's lunchtime and Pastor Agustín and Teresa want to take us out to a local restaurant. Several others, including Beryl, join us. We then go back to our house to rest.

In the evening we join the Caceres family for their weekly get together. Juan Carlos and Silvia have four daughters all of whom we know well: Karen (who, with Edu, took us to the fish restaurant), Sofi (who met us at the airport), Sabri (expecting her first child) and Sarita (who was in the same class as our Jess and lived with us for three months nine years ago). It is great to be with them all and their four little ones. One of the things we talk about during the meal is our impressions as to how much Paraguay has changed. As we’re chatting there is a power cut. We remember how frequently this used to happen and they assure us this is still the case. No change there then!

Friday 3rd September

It’s been almost a week since my last blog, not because there hasn’t been anything to write but simply because I just haven’t had the time to write it.

After ten amazing days, yesterday we said goodbye to Paraguay and jumped on a coach headed to Brazil. We are now relaxing for a couple of days in Foz where we will visit the famous Iguazu waterfalls on the border with Paraguay and Argentina. Then tomorrow evening we will fly to Buenos Aires for the last few days of our trip.

How to sum up this past week? From Monday through to Thursday it has been non-stop conversation, catching up with those who have been part of our story and we haven’t seen for so long.

We see Yasmin and Georgie who take us out for coffee. Now in their thirties we’ve already met at the EJE reunion but they want to tell us of all that’s going on in their lives, of Georgie’s studies to become a Baptist Pastor, and their sense of call to Central America.

We meet with Alejandro and Britney also for coffee. They want to emigrate to Britney’s native America with their two children which will mean Ale giving up his successful ‘mini Amazon’ online business here in Asunción.

We meet with Agustín and Teresa who we have known for over thirty years and worked closely with at the cathedral. Their children now have children who are now adults; it’s hard to keep up with them all.

We see Neil and Daisy. Neil is the son of mission partners who lived here for many years. After his parents retired Neil chose to settle in Paraguay where he married Daisy. He now teaches at San Andres.

We meet with the Scavone Family who own Paraguay’s main pharmaceutical company. Their children were classmates of Luke and Jess and Jess went to Guili’s wedding earlier this year.

We sit in a shopping centre eating ice cream with Sofi, Ezequiel and Sarita until one in the morning. They run a publicity company with around twenty employees, some of whom are gay. ‘It’s so difficult to talk about LGBT’, they say, ‘especially in our church where everything is so black and white’. We share something of our journey leading a congregation where different views on same sex relationships are held.

There are many other meetings and conversations, all of them special, but perhaps the most moving of them all is with Silvina. For twelve years we employed Silvina to clean our house twice a week. She lived in the Chacarita shanty town with her husband Jorge and their four children. She was always friendly and efficient and over the years we came to value her hugely.

One day we were given a sum of money by someone in the UK to put towards a need of our choice. We decided to use it to help Silvina and Jorge build a house on some land they had purchased on the outskirts of Asunción. It was enough for them to complete the ground floor and move out of their shack in the Chacarita.

Now back in Paraguay we want to see Silvina again but can’t remember the exact location of her house. Neither do we have a phone number. But on Monday evening we visit Feliciano and Rosa (another lovely reunion) and as we chat we mention Silvina and Jorge. ‘I think I know where they live’, says Feli, ‘It’s not far from here. Jump in the car and let’s see if we can find them.’

We bump our way along the stone roads for half an hour or so and it’s dark by the time we arrive at their house. Silvina can’t believe it when we appear on her doorstep and she hugs us for a long time. We learn that she is living with depression and clearly life remains tough for her and Jorge. Their house now has a second floor and their four sons, their wives, and their children (about eight of them) all live with them. After an hour we must go and it is hard to say goodbye so is soon. After a tearful farewell we drive off once more with Feliciano and Rosa.

Another memorable conversation during the week is with Johnny. Just before we left for this trip he got his A Level results. He did well with three Bs, but not well enough to get into his first choice of university (Bristol). He now realises his heart just isn’t set on his second choice (Bournemouth) and anyway there seems to be a shortage of student accommodation. As we’re not around we wonder if deferring for a year may be a good option. Added to that, he has loved every minute of his time in Paraguay so we begin to explore the possibility of him spending seven or eight months. The school is always looking for native English speakers and Juan Carlos and Silvia say straight away there is a room for him in their house. We’ll see what transpires in the coming weeks, but Johnny is warming to the idea of improving his Spanish and getting to know for himself the country where he was born and has so shaped the identity of his older brother and sister.

So as I write we are in Foz and for the next two days we will visit the Falls, one of the Seven Wonders of the natural world. We know it well but couldn’t come this way again without another visit. We’re staying in a nice hotel near the entrance to the Falls and this will be a welcome break for us after the intensity of our time in Paraguay. Tomorrow we will visit the Argentine side of the falls and then on Sunday the Brazilian side before our evening flight to Buenos Aires where Rosie spent her childhood.

Wednesday 7th September

The Igauzu Falls makes up the biggest waterfall system in the world. Spanning a mile and a half, it can be viewed from both Brazil and Argentina, the first offering a breathtaking panoramic view and the second providing walkways that weave their way in and out of the falls. There is also a boat ride that takes you up the river and right underneath the falls. Over two days we do all three of these and it’s every bit as amazing as we remember it. As Johnny was so young when he last went it is is joy to watch him taking it all in. He has brought an SLR camera with him and takes his time to compose some amazing shots.

Another thing about the Iguazu Falls Falls is that it is one of the reasons I first thought about coming to this part of the world. It is the setting for the 1986 movie ‘The Mission’, about the Jesuits in Brazil and Paraguay. The opening shot of Jeremy Irons climbing a waterfall is filmed here and when I first saw the film it somehow put South America put on my radar for the first time.

But now we are in Buenos Aires enjoying our last few days in South America. On Sunday evening we took an internal flight from Puerto Iguazu and landed in BA close to midnight. Friends of ours recommended a taxi driver called Luki who could take us to our Airbnb. ‘You can’t trust the airport taxis’, they said. ‘Luki is a relative of ours. He will charge you a good price and you can trust him’.

Rosie has done well finding our Airbnb. It is neat and spacious and on the sixth floor of a block of flats in Palermo district. Argentina is going through a financial crisis so prices are favourable for tourists at the moment. Also, we have been advised to bring dollars with us and change them on the ‘dollar blue’ market. This will give us twice the official rate and is, apparently, legal. So we are given the address of a little office behind an Alfajor shop a mile away and the next day that is what we do.

We have three things we want to do in BA. First to meet up with Andy and Maru, second to see Bill and Graciela, and third to visit the barrio where Rosie grew up. She lived in Buenos Aires for twelve years so let me say a bit about how she came to be there.

Rosie was born in Woking where her father was serving his curacy in a church. When she was three her parents John and Judie were accepted by Scripture Union to work in Buenos Aires running youth camps and teaching in a Bible College. After language training in Mexico they moved there in 1970. Rosie remembers a happy childhood spending the summer months on the coast where her parents ran the Scripture Union camps. Later she would become aware that the seventies was the decade of the ‘dirty war’ where hundreds disappeared under the ruling dictatorship. So certainly for John and Judie, they were living in a climate of considerable fear and uncertainty.

Some years later John became vicar of San Salvador Anglican Church in Belgrano where he led a Spanish speaking congregation. By this time Rosie was in her early teens and, though bi-lingual, very much considered herself Argentine. In 1982 the Falkland conflicts broke out. At school she found herself knitting scarves and writing letters of encouragement to the Argentine soldiers. Within a short time, however, the anti British feeling was so strong that John and Judie knew they would have to take Rosie and her younger siblings Rich and Liz out of the country.

The family moved to Uruguay. Rosie recalls going to the cinema to see Chariots of Fire . During the film, when the British National Anthem was played, to Rosie’s amazement the entire Uruguayan audience stood up in support of the British. A month later it was clear the family couldn’t continue to live and work in Argentina so they returned to the UK and Rosie found herself at boarding school near Bristol. She was fifteen. The family eventually settled Aldridge in the Midlands. Rosie looks back on this time as hugely traumatic. To find herself wrenched from a settled life and friendship group, to find that her adopted country now perceived her as the enemy, and then to find herself back in the country she herself believed to be in the wrong - all this marked her deeply.

After her A levels Rosie read Hispanic Studies at Birmingham University. It was during this time that John and Judie were invited to consider moving to Paraguay where John would serve as Bishop of the Anglican Church. They accepted and moved back to South America in 1988. A few months later it was time for Rosie to spend a year in a Spanish speaking country as part of her course so chose to join them in Asuncion. Soon after that she accompanied her father to the airport to pick up a volunteer and, well, you know the rest!

So today we wake up to another beautiful spring day. Rosie is feeling considerably better having spent the past couple of days lying low with cough and a fever. That said, she insisted on being up and about yesterday when we met Andy and Maru in a nearby park. Andy is an engineer and he and Maru have a little girl, Emilia. Maru is just days away from the birth of their second child. Andy was living in Paraguay when we were there (his father was with the Argentine Embassy there) and his journey to faith began with EJE. So good to see him again. Within minutes a photo of us all is up on social media and the comments start coming in from friends in Paraguay.

I am impressed with BA. It is fifteen years since we were last here and compared to Asuncion (and even London for that matter) it is clean and smart. The temperature is up in the mid twenties and the trees are in bud just as they were in the UK six months ago. We’ve been warned of the high number of assaults in the city but the streets are busy and the atmosphere is relaxed. Something that does catch our attention, however, are the number of signs referring to the Falkland Islands. Some say ‘Las Islas Malvinas son Argentinas’ - The Falkland Islands are Argentine, and others, ‘Las Malvinas nos une’ - The Malvinas unite us. It is the fortieth anniversary of the Conflict and it is clear that as far as the Argentines are concerned the matter is far from resolved.

This brings back a memory of a youth camp in Paraguay. It must have been in the early noughties and we joined up with a church from northern Argentina. One of their leaders was called Juan and was just a few years younger than me. During our conversation Juan told us he had been a soldier in the Falklands conflict. ‘I was from a small town in the north,’ he said, ‘I was just a skinny seventeen year old when we were all conscripted, given some basic training and then sent off to the Malvinas to fight. We found ourselves up against a highly trained and much better army and soon we were captured.’ He told us that this was a relief as their commanders were under so much pressure they were afraid they would be shot by them. They were held on a British boat as prisoners of war but were well treated . The really difficult part Juan said came later. When they went back to their towns and villages there was such shame that they had surrendered, they had to stay indoors due to the hostility from friends and neighbours. ‘You are the first Englishman I have ever spoken to,’ Juan told me.

On the closing day of the youth camp we had a service of Holy Communion. During the moment of ‘the peace’ when we could greet one another, Juan approached me. He put his arms around me, held me tight and burst into tears. He continued to hold me as he sobbed and sobbed. I realised he was making peace with the enemy. It is a deeply moving moment I have never forgotten.

So today is our last day and we decide to take a bus to Olivos where Rosie used to live and where she went to school. We jump on a 59 bus and head north across the city. Again I’m impressed - this time with the buses. For only 20p a ride (that’s what it works out at for us as tourists - probably nearer a pound for locals) buses arrive frequently and the network of bus lanes means they are fast and uninterrupted. Everyone wears a face mask.

Our first stop is the San Salvador church in Belgrano where John and Judie ministered for many years. The church looks every bit as English as a local Parish church and was built by the Brits in the eighteen hundreds. A man in his late sixties is standing in the porch as we approach and asks if he can help us. We say who we are and that Rosie is the daughter of John Ellison and he breaks out into a smile and says he used to know John well. It turns out his name is Augustin Marzal. We had met him many years ago when he came to Paraguay in the nineties. ‘I’ll give Hernan, the vicar here a quick call’, says Austin. ‘I know he would love to see you’.

Minutes later Hernan dei Castelli appears and Rosie realises it is the same Hernan she grew up with in church. We remember, too, that years ago he came to stay with us once in Asuncion. The four of us chat and reminisce for a long time. We remember those Rosie grew up with and we discuss the Pandemic (churches here have been affected much in the same way as in the UK). We also take time to think of John who died three years ago. I find it moving to imagine him here in this church where he and Judie ministered for six years. For Rosie it is a special moment and for Johnny a chance to get a glimpse of the life of his grandparents when they were here.

We jump on the bus once more and visit Rosie’s school Saint Andrew Scot School in Olivos. Much like Colegio San Andres in Asuncion it offers a bi-lingual education to several hundred students. Rosie was very happy there. She is full of memories as we walk around and we even come to the bench in the park where Rosie tripped broke her elbow when she was twelve.

We get back to the flat in time to change before Bill and Graciela pick us up to take us to a steak restaurant - a must in Buenos Aires. Bill is a fifth generation Anglo-Argentine. Now in their seventies they were friends with Rosie’s parents and their children grew up with Rosie. More conversation and reminiscing and a lovely way to end our time in South America.

Thursday 8th September

Luki our friendly taxi driver arrived early this morning to take us to Ezeiza airport. Our flight left soon after midday and now we are on the plane somewhere just over the northern tip of Africa. We will land in Madrid in five hours (and only on landing learn of the death of Queen Elizabeth). All our journeys on this trip have gone incredibly smoothly - on time, connections made, no luggage lost and no problems with documentation. So now a few thoughts to close as our trip and this blog come to an end.

Going back to somewhere you haven’t been to for a long time is a bit like opening a box of letters and belongings stored in an attic. You know it's there and you think you have a rough idea as to what might be in it. But when eventually the time comes for you to clamber into the attic and find the box, to brush off the dust and to open the lid, nothing quite prepares you for the surprises it holds and the powerful memories it triggers.

The last few weeks have felt like that. Returning to South America, the joy of the memories and the warmth of friendships rekindled has been, I think, more moving and deeply satisfying than we could have hoped for.

Firstly the people. We needn’t have worried about the years of silence. In most cases there was an immediate connection and even though thirteen years had passed everyone seemed to look and act the same. It certainly didn't feel a gap that long - two or three years at the most.

Secondly the culture. Within the first couple of days Asuncion felt familiar, my Spanish came back and we quickly remembered how things were done and how to be and to behave. It felt like putting on an old coat you haven’t worn for ages that immediately feels comfortable and familiar.

Thirdly what we left behind. This was a surprise - the fruit that came from simply being there and walking alongside people at a particular moment in their lives and the difference this made to them. This came as such a surprise as two of the main ministries we had started (EJE and the youth congregation) stopped within a couple of years of our departure. So when I would think back to our years in Paraguay I would sometimes wonder what it had all been for. But over the past couple of weeks two scriptures have come to mind. One is where Jesus talks about the growing seed in Mark 4:26-29. Day and night the seed grows without the farmer knowing how it does so. The second comes from 1 Corinthians 3:10-12 where Paul talks about the work of the builder that can be likened to either straw or gold. I feared ours might be mainly straw, but in the last few weeks we discovered precious nuggets of gold that have been so encouraging.

Fourthly, for Rosie, the double memories of Argentina and Paraguay. For her the two go together and our story in Asuncion builds on her childhood story in Buenos Aires with her mum and dad being a part of both. Altogether Rosie spent 27 years of her life in South America.

Fifthly, what this trip has meant for Johnny. A few days ago he commented, ‘I always felt I knew Paraguay second-hand. Luke and Jess were the ones who spoke Spanish and were a part of it all, but all I had were a few childhood memories.' This trip has now opened up a timely opportunity for him to write a further chapter of his own as he returns to work in Colegio San Andres early next year. Luke and Jess are delighted for him, and so are we.

And lastly, appreciating God's faithfulness to us since leaving Paraguay. When the time came for us to leave Asuncion thirteen years ago, we couldn't imagine what life would look like in the UK. But going back to South American has helped us to see how faithful God has been since we left and the journey he has led us on to Church on the Heath.

Right, that’s it. The only thing to add is a big thank you to Tina for putting this blog up online over the past few weeks. Some Paraguayan alfajores coming your way and I promise no more travelling from me for a while!