Jaha Pomberorógape!

Today´s Post: Let´s Go to Pombero´s House


On the eve of my return to the States, I want to add a brief, photographic post to illustrate a recent tree encounter in my colleague Heather´s site, a compañía of Tobati, in the state of Cordillera. Heather lives in a pretty area quite distinct from Prettyview. Rolling hills with seasonally wet grasslands in between create an interesting geography. Villages develop up each ridge, with houses up against the grasslands and fields further uphill. The region is also known for brickmaking, and the elaborate brick kilns had a baroque and antiquated appearance.

But most exciting to me was our visit to a gigantic ombú (Phytolacca dioica) tree in Heather´s host family´s yard. A member of the toxic pokeweed genus, the ombú is native to South America, but is more often found in the northern Chaco region of Paraguay, rather than the Oriental region where most volunteers live. Nevertheless, this ombú, called, affectionately, Pomberorógape (Pombero´s house) has thrived in Cordillera.

Heather´s host mom, a self-described ´´juguetona´´ (joker) with a sweet, one-toothed smile and a love of her American daughter, took us out to see Pombero´s house, located, horrifyingly, next to her gigantic pig. The initial sight of the tree took my breath away. Standling taller than the species that typically comprise the upper canopy in Heather´s region, many normal-sized trunks rose up from a gigantic base almost the size of a small Paraguayan house. As the various trunks climbed upward and branched out, their broke apart from the base unevenly, creating caves, holes, passageways, and staircases. This ombú isn´t a good tree for a treehouse; it already is a treehouse.

Naturally, the neighborhood kids have long loved to play in Pombero´s house, which is rumored to be over 100 years old and bears strange burn marks in its caves. The tree´s name identifies it as a den of Pombero, the Guaraní mito (mythological being) who lives in the forest, steals eggs and animals, and occasionally plays tricks on farmers. Kids, by the way, often call mushrooms ´´Pombero rekakakue´´ (Pombero´s old feces).

All I know is that I was enchanted by his home, as were my friends. From the minute I saw the first ´´staircase,´´ my zapatillas came off and I was eagerly climbing up to hang out in my first ombú.