Good Times

I can’t imagine I’m ever going to get sick again. My immune system will be stronger than the strongest steel, faster to react than the quickest cat, and be more knowledgeable about various germs than the largest germ database in the world. And why? Because I’m living in Paraguay. I’ve been meeting dozens upon dozens of new people, and have been sharing just as many straws and cups and utensils with every one of them.
Folks in Paraguay are not squeamish about sharing anything related to food and drink. The most important cultural and culinary example here is the phenomenon of yerba mate. It’s a sort of green tea, grown and made famous in Paraguay and shipped all over the world. Enjoyed everywhere from the dark and dense tropical forests of traditional Brazil to the light and airy coffee shops of trendy California, yerba mate is a powerfully energizing and healthy antioxidant drink that finds its origin among the Paraguayan people.
Yerba mate can be had with hot or cold water. The former, sipped slowly and carefully in the mornings or during cold weather, is the steamy mate. The latter, a warmer-weather and afternoon/evening drink, is the frigid terrere. No matter the weather or time, every fourth or fifth person carries around a thermos for mate or a jug for terrere. Whenever there is a break in the day or any sort of socializing, out comes the giant thermos or jug alongside a small cup filled with the yerba mate.
From what I’ve learned so far, etiquette teaches that the youngest person in the group ought to be the one who fills up the communal cup. From my experience, though, it’s most often been the owner of the jug of water who fills the cup and then passes it around. Inside the prized cultural chalice, yerba mate floats freely and mixes with the water, which is then sipped through a filtered straw. The cup holds enough water for about two sips, the second of which is the most enjoyable because the tea mixes with the air and makes playful mate bubbles.
The cup is passed from person to person, each one taking their two sips through a shared straw and then passing it back to water-jug-holder. The mate or terrere continues as long as there is water, and it’s not uncommon on a summer night to refill a water jug several times in the course of an evening. From after-church activities to lunch-time breaks from work, yerba mate touches every part of Paraguayan life and provides a common shared drink and experience.
And the germs? I’d imagine they’re passed along with the cup and straw, too. In the name of friendship and hospitality, however, no one cares. Community takes precedent over individual well-being or illness. If everyone is fine, everyone is fine together. If someone has a bug, everyone may get it and that’s just the way it is. This is, perhaps, the great blessing of living and sharing life together. The shared cup brings Paraguayans to a place where they can know very intimately the health or sickness, the joy or pain of their neighbors and friends. It very practically requires a participation in the rejoicing or weeping of everyone taking sips from the cup, and unites all together in a grand spirit of Christian empathy.