A Paraguayan Bean Harvest

The rainy afternoon had kept me closed up in my house all afternoon reading about Frank McCourts challenges as an Irish American immigrant. I was beginning to feel restless. Somehow our journeys seemed similar, entering an unfamiliar land all alone and trying to adapt. When the rain finally stopped I walked over to my neighbors house for a visit. Na Flora invited me in as she always does and I was given a chair. We chatted about the weather and her pollitos. She asked about my recently planted beans. Then she asked if I wanted to go harvest some beans with her in her kokue (fields). "Ko´aga", now? "Si!" She said. "Jaha" Lets go!
So she grabbed her harvest bag and I followed her. She, barefeet, me in my chaco flip flops. We reached the gate and I knew this wouldnt work. The red dirt had turned to mud and I knew the instant I crossed the gate I would sink into the mud or slip and fall. I kicked off my sandals and passed through the gate into the kokue. We walked through cow poop, grass, and tall weeds. I was nervous that I would get pikay, step on a prickly weed, or encounter a snake. Na Flora continued on and I followed, my feet squishing in the mud, as we passed the old Bitter orange trees, sugar cane, and Mandioca. We arrived at the bean field. It was like an ocean covered with mature bean plants. It reminded me of my days picking beans on ploughshare farm. Na Flora showed me which ones to pick. "The yellow ones" which yellow ones? I was lost. This was new territory for me. I thought Paraguayans only harvested the dry ones. As I followed Na Flora trying to pick out the yellow ones she pointed to another group of beans to pick, but these were purple. Then she kept pointing to others that were ready but I couldnt seem to follow her finger. I was frustrated by my lack of knowledge, like the first time I picked beans on Garys farm, except that Na Flora didnt scream and shame me for my lack of knowledge and experience. She patiently pointed out the ready ones. All the while my bare feet sinking into the mud, becoming caked in soil.
Once we finished we headed back to the house with a full bag of beans in hand, although I am sure most of the picking was done by Na Flora. I asked what you can use them for. She told me they were for me. I have no idea what to cook with them, but she told me that my host mom will be able to cook something.
I bid farewell, jajatopata! and carried my back of beans home, satisfied with my visit and excited about trying a new type of bean.