Nightfall last Tuesday saw thousands of Paraguayans take to the streets. The flag-waving masses climbed atop vehicles, let off fireworks, chanted slogans and blocked roads with their bodies. It took until past 3 a.m. for the police, sirens blaring, to disperse the crowds and restore calm to the historic centre of downtown.
The events of early last week weren’t a protest but a rowdy celebration. Paraguay’s national football squad had just rebounded from an early setback to clinch a 2-2 draw away against Colombia in Barranquilla. The qualifying-round tie had the flavour of a historic victory. It brings Paraguay one step closer to a place in the 2026 World Cup: its first shot at glory since being knocked out by Spain at the quarter-finals in South Africa in 2010.
Reflecting a few days previously on La Albirroja’s unblemished record since he took the helm last August, head coach Gustavo Alfaro told reporters how a worker had approached him in the supermarket. “Coach, I find it really hard to make it to the end of the month. The team gives me my only moment of happiness,” the shelf-stacker, later identified as one Claudio Rejala, supposedly said through tears. “The only moment of joy is when I see the lads leave everything on the pitch for La Albirroja, and knowing that my family’s happiness rests in their hands.”
Alfaro’s viral anecdote struck a chord. Not only because it spoke to the underdog, fairytale quality of Paraguay’s recent winning streak against Venezuela, Brazil, Chile, and reigning world champion Argentina (along with other hard-fought stalemates against Uruguay, Ecuador and Bolivia).
Rejala’s frank confession in the fresh produce aisle also captured a bitter reality: life is tough for many — if not most — Paraguayans.
A tale of three marches
Despite the positive headlines — the economy is growing, poverty is falling — plenty of people in Paraguay live day-to-day. Even formal workers lucky enough to receive a regular paycheck are often only one medical emergency from ending up destitute. In increasingly sweltering temperatures, their kids go to schools without fans, drinking fountains or working bathrooms. While the president soars in his helicopter from palace to lakeside pad, regular folks cram onto dilapidated buses to brave the capital’s gridlock, potholes and floods.
Last week, the country had an opportunity to air such grievances in a trio of demonstrations several months in the planning. The first came earlier on March 25, the same day as the Paraguay-Colombia game. It featured nearly a hundred social movements and civil-society groups, according to the EFE news agency. Among those filing past the Pantheon in heavy drizzle were elderly people in wheelchairs and on crutches, demanding a doubling in the state pension paid to over-65s. Pensioners currently receive 25 percent of the minimum wage, adding up to just under 700,000 guaraníes ($87) per month.
Other marchers wanted the state to guarantee people access to healthcare, education, and their first job. Veteran anti-corruption campaigner Esther Roa demanded the resignation of attorney-general Emiliano Rolón, who has been notably reluctant to take action on Lalo Gate or corruption allegations against former president Horacio Cartes (2013-18). Some shouted “fuera Santi Peña,” calling on the president to quit or be impeached.
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