They go to the city,and sometimes they come back: Conceptualising rural and urban spaces through experiences of circular migration in Paraguay

Abstract

In this paper, I examine what people’s reasons for migrating from, and subsequently returning to, a rural community can tell us about the inter-related ways that rural and urban spaces are conceptualised. Drawing on research in a small, agricultural community in Paraguay, I explore two illustrations of women who are circular migrants, in order to demonstrate some of the potential circumstances, aspirations, and experiences that can shape decisions to migrate for work and then eventually return to rural spaces. My discussion demonstrates the importance of migration in the construction of a rural present and future, in which movements between rural and urban spaces help to support rural life and aspirations.

Keywords

Paraguay circular migration livelihoods rural Latin America

Introduction

In this paper, I draw on the experiences of circular migrants from a rural, agricultural community in Piribebuy District, Paraguay. I argue that for circular migrants, urban spaces are critical for the maintenance of a rural present and also contribute to the construction of a rural future. I demonstrate that these spaces are linked by material issues and non-material understandings, and migrants construct them in opposition to each other in terms of categories such as money earning opportunities, land ownership, and control, safety, and family. In doing so, it is not my intention to debate the positive, negative, and potentially exploitative facets of national or international rural-to-urban migration.¹ Rather, I draw attention to the ways that migrants from this particular community conceptualise rural and urban spaces, and their reasons for moving between them.

Aguayo (2008) has noted that urban places, particularly core cities, may be at the centre of discussions of globalisation, while rural locations and ‘non-global cities’ (2008: 542) are further marginalised. These rural or urban non-cosmopolitan places are conceptually different from what Aguayo calls ‘global villages’ (2008: 542), where central village economic and social activities like food and craft production, or ideological production, have led these areas to become globally important rural spaces. In these cases, rural and urban, and local and global, can intersect in practical, economic and ideological ways. While Aguayo (2008) focusses on a revisioning of entire villages and large-scale intersections, it is important to recognise that rural–urban intersections can also be analysed in terms of individual aspirations and the more personal dimensions of everyday life. These smaller-scale, individual understandings of how rural and urban spaces are conceptualised are my focus here.

I first discuss community background and research methods, and go on to address migration decisions. I offer two case illustrations to demonstrate facets of circular migration, highlighting how it can fulfil individual, context-specific wants and needs, and how this can shape the ways people think about what it means to live and work in rural and urban spaces. Suarez-Orozco (2003: 55) has discussed a pattern of migration characterised by people who ‘constantly shuttle back and forth’. This is similar to the migration pattern that I discuss, in which individuals undertake repeated movements that are relatively long in duration between rural communities and urban localities. However, the term ‘constantly’ implies potentially short periods between these movements. My illustrations focus on people who move for longer periods of time. The first illustration demonstrates how an individual can negotiate ideas of economic opportunity for herself and her household, while the second illustration highlights some of the emotional implications of migration. These illustrations are accompanied by discussions of how rural and urban spaces are conceptualised, and a consideration of some of the social and household implications of migration.

Community background

This article emerges from data collected as part of a project on agricultural and culinary practices in Lindo Manantial,² Piribebuy District. A community of approximately 86 households, Lindo Manantial is about 75 km from Paraguay’s capital, Asuncion. Community members are smallholder farmers (part of the minifundia system), who primarily grow mandioca (English: Cassava, Latin: Manihot esculenta) for household use. The project, which took place between 2009 and 2013, focussed primarily on agricultural decision-making and the challenges participants experienced when attempting to make agricultural livelihoods. This included explorations of the social meanings of foods and notions of inclusion and exclusion within the state. Data collected included information on crop preferences and farming practices, marketing and livelihood options, food procurement strategies, culinary traditions, community dynamics and infrastructure. Poor transportation options, including roads that could wash out during periods of heavy rainfall, limited marketing and processing options for cassava (the primary crop in the area), an aging population with decreased youth interest in farming, and environmental changes emerged as central issues for farmers. At the same time, farmers continued to grow crops that were key to their personal, household use, even as they were increasingly reliant on purchasing everyday food items.

While migration in and of itself was not at the centre of the research project, discussions of migration emerged in various contexts and in various ways. Migration was also a visible phenomena – throughout the project period, some community members returned to the village from nearby locales, and then left again. Others returned from afar, and still others left, sometimes for the first time. Participants tended to conceptually link migration with agricultural livelihood and labour problems. As farmers aged, it was becoming harder to find family members or non-family workers to help with manual field labour. Statements about youth ‘going to the city’ were common among interviewees. As a 58-year-old man said during a discussion about agriculture, finding people to help with field labour was difficult because adult children, including his own children, were more likely leave for life and work in cities or towns.³

Yet, even if youth were leaving for the cities, there was, at times, the option of circular migration. During the first two years of fieldwork, this option was discussed by participants in an almost off-hand way, as a kind of ‘side-story’ told in relation to concerns about out-migration, aging, poor agricultural markets and environmental changes. If out-migration was a common concern and topic of conversation, stories of return were typically treated as incidental, and not really considered remarkable or interesting by most participants. During the third field season, I followed up on asking about the ways people felt about circular migration, to better understand how people viewed this type of migration in terms of their home communities and relationships.

Data were collected via participant observation and everyday conversation, semi-structured interviews and follow-ups, and three focus groups. The project included three field seasons (2009, 2010, 2011) and a final community visit in 2013. In total, we worked with adult members of 32 households throughout the project period. Community demographics are skewed both in terms of gender and age. Although all adult age ranges were represented in the community, most participants were 30 and older, with the largest number of participants (56%) between 45 and 74 years old. Just over 70% of the participants were women, with women between the ages of 25 and 44 outnumbering men in the same age range by almost five times. This gender skew reflected the community as a whole and the gender and age skews reflected the groups of people who were more likely to leave the community to find work – younger people, and men. Men were more likely to either work outside of the community on a permanent or semi-permanent basis. In addition, several adult women had never been married, and either lived with their children or grandchildren.

Migration decisions

In Lindo Manantial, reasons for leaving the village echo the themes found in the wealth of migration research in South America and in other parts of the Global South (Acosta, 2009; Arizpe, 2014; Aruj, 2008; Jelin, 1977; Jokisch, 2002; Perez-Crespo, 1991; Shaw, 1974), and in the literature examining Paraguayan specifics, including a lack of local economic opportunities, limited land, desires for access to other resources, and desires for material goods that cannot be easily accessed in a rural location (Gillespie and Browning, 1979; Parrado and Cerruti, 2003; Richards, 1990; Rivarola and Galeano, 1998). Migration to urban areas can be linked to what Acosta has called a ‘hope of opportunity’ (2009: 455), whether that be economic opportunity or the opportunity for service, educational, entertainment, and other resources or experiences that cannot be found in home communities. Moreover, as Rivarola and Galeano (1998: 136) note, rural youth may aspire to participate in the consumer lifestyle associated with urban spaces; limited employment opportunities in rural areas can intersect with the construction of the urban as allowing for this lifestyle. This can contribute to permanent, occasional or circular migration. Richards (1996) has also noted that within Paraguay, urban–urban migration between Asunción, Paraguay, and Buenos Aires, Argentina, is not uncommon, although migrants might have first moved to Asunción before moving on to Buenos Aires.

In their analysis of men’s circular migration between Paraguay and Argentina, Parrado and Cerruti (2003), highlight the dynamic, social and economic elements of migration practices. Among their Paraguayan participants, 54% made multiple migratory trips to Argentina, and initial trips were associated with limited employment opportunities in Paraguay. However, social networks, including family members already working in Argentina, increased the likelihood of a first trip. This is similar to Fussell’s (2010) findings in a five-country analysis of the cumulative causation of migration and decisions to migrate to the US, where the presence of social networks in the US helped shape decisions to make the first trip to the US in most countries. Returns to Paraguay, they found, were related to ownership of property in Paraguay (house, land), and that these property owners may be more likely to see migration as a ‘strategy for short-term capital and financial accumulation’ (Parrado and Cerruti, 2003: 118) rather than a settlement strategy. Subsequent trips to Argentina may then be related to previous migration experiences, the size of the family and microeconomic reasons.

The most common forms of work for Lindo Manantial migrants are in the service or industrial sectors. As Jelin (1977) found was the case among Latin American women the 1960s and 1970s, Paraguayan women émigrés tend to end up in the service sector (Heikel and Bahr, 1993: 117). For many women from Lindo Manantial, such employment includes domestic work in family households (casas familias), working as a cook in households or elsewhere, or selling street foods. Domestic work is easy to find, and as Arizpe (1977: 33) notes, it can be understood as an ‘economic safeguard’ because there are always opportunities for employment. Men may be involved in construction, garment, shoe or other semi-skilled industries, or may work as private security for a family or organisation. All of these jobs have limited security, although participants stated that if you need to leave one job, it is usually easy to find another.

Case illustration: Celia, late 30s

Celia’s migration experiences illustrate her ‘hope of opportunity’ (Acosta, 2009: 455). Her discussion highlights her reasons for returning, and demonstrates some of the frustrations associated with leaving and the benefits of coming back. During an interview about agricultural and dietary changes, Celia off-handedly mentioned that she had recently returned from Buenos Aires,⁴ where she had been doing domestic work in a family household. She described a regular cycle of migration and return: leaving for about 2 years, and then coming back for 1–2 years until she felt she needed to go again. Her motive for leaving is economic, while her reasons for returning include property, land and safety.

When discussing her decisions to migrate, Celia made it clear that she did not feel she had much of a choice. Celia said, ‘Here, there is no work and all the people who studied and have a diploma can’t find work in Paraguay. The government doesn’t have opportunities for work’. Celia’s situation, in which she had trained as a beautician in Paraguay but worked as a housekeeper in Argentina, is something she argued was just a small part of a larger problem. Not only were there no jobs in Paraguay (especially in rural Paraguay), but Paraguayans who emigrated to Argentina could not get jobs equivalent to their qualifications. She said, ‘If you have qualifications, you still have to do small work in Argentina because the government of Argentina gives opportunities for small jobs only. You need to go to school in Argentina to get other work’.

These days, she said, it takes more than one person earning money to keep a household; her husband’s work in their agricultural fields is not enough, particularly given the difficulties they have selling their products. As she bluntly said, ‘Life is better if you have food to eat’. In the absence of a secure agricultural livelihood, Celia’s migration, while her husband stays home to manage their agricultural land, is a key part of being able to afford both goods and life in general. Similar attitudes have been found elsewhere. Galván (2008), for example in her work with rural Mexican women, found that during uncertain agricultural times, migration for the sake of work is critical to ensure that families can afford food, and other necessary household items. Arizpe (2014) has argued that migration, particularly relay migration, in which family members successively leave for urban centres, has become increasingly critical to rural survival.

Celia also had clear reasons for returning. The village is home where she owns a house and agricultural land, and has social connections. Life in a city – and in another country – is not something that she prefers. If working in a city provided a kind of economic security (even if it was for a short time) for her rural life, it also meant a decrease in other kinds of security. Buenos Aires, she felt, was more dangerous, and in general she considered Paraguay, particularly this part of rural Paraguay, to be safer. In contrast to cities, rural life was ‘tranquilo’ (relaxed).⁵ She said, ‘Cities are more dangerous, and life in the countryside is much better. Cities are nice, but only if you have work. Otherwise, life in the city is difficult. I know and like the city, but I prefer it here’.

Celia’s experiences working in Argentina can be understood as a trade-off that allows her some economic security in her home village, but which also must be balanced by realistic concerns such as having your qualifications considered inadequate, taking work that is potentially precarious, and staying in surroundings that she considers to be less personally secure. Celia trades a kind of personal security offered by the home, land and personal connections she has in Lindo Manantial for a shorter-term urban economic security that ultimately helps support her rural life. Essentially, circular migration allows Celia to both maintain present rural ties and ensure a rural future for herself and her family. Migration is not the ideal, but in the absence of local opportunities, this is her strategy for survival – for Celia, without these urban trips, the rural as a relaxing, liveable space would collapse. Nevertheless, she would prefer to stay home. When asked if she thought people would prefer to stay in Lindo Manantial if they could, she emphasised the tension between economic needs and personal preferences: ‘I don’t like to go to other countries because it’s not my land [property] and I can’t make decisions about it. I go there because I need money’. Like some of Parrado and Cerruti’s (2003) property-owning participants, for Celia, migration is a strategy that addresses her at-home capital needs.

Leaving and (sometimes) returning

Celia’s concerns about the lack of local opportunities were not isolated. Residents of Lindo Manantial consistently commented about the lack of job opportunities. The rural-to-urban migration of youth and younger adults is linked to the reality that smallholder farming today is not a viable livelihood, as well as the increases in the costs of food and consumer goods, and changes in the nature of work opportunities. The closing of processing mills, which used to buy and process raw mandioca tubers from local farmers, reduced the economic demand for mandioca cultivation. One 65-year-old woman described the situation this way, ‘Now there is no work here. In the past there was the fabrica [mill]. We would work to make almidon [mandioca flour] … . There were many fabricas around … . But now nothing’. When speaking about her own children, one 74-year-old woman said, ‘… they go to the city, they can get more money there … . Here they can’t get money’. Money is important not just in terms of what the non-essential material and non-material goods that adult children want, but also because rural households require money for essentials such as food, household supplies, health care and home repairs. The more non-earners there are in a rural household, the greater potential economic burden is placed on the household.

Moreover, farmers argue that many younger people are often unwilling to do manual agricultural labour, especially since it does not make money. As one 56-year-old man put it, ‘None of my children farm here. It’s too expensive to buy land here and nobody wants to work in the fields’. A 55-year-old woman echoed these sentiments when she said, ‘Children don’t want to work in the fields … . The work in the field is too heavy and it doesn’t pay well’.

Of course, longer-term circular migration is only one of the types of mobility that are a response to these economic problems. Some people leave and permanently settle elsewhere; others work outside the village for 3–5 days a week, returning for weekends or holidays. This latter kind of migration is most common among men, who may work on large ranches or in construction. In other cases couples or individuals may go and work in the city, generally as household or security staff, for a few days a month. Migration happens for diverse long- and short-term goals, including saving to buy land or other goods, saving to build houses, and earning specifically to be able to support family who remain in the rural community. This is related not just to limited opportunities, but also to the availability and fragmentation of agricultural land. As one woman, 43-years-old, put it, ‘There are some people who don’t have much land, so the teenagers try to find work and bring money to help their families’.

These kinds of migration are conceptually different from the longer-term circular migrant, who may temporarily close a household entirely – redistributing household animals, for example while they are gone – or leave a household functioning in the absence of a key member. Just as with other kinds of migration, the reasons for circular migration can be diverse, including returning for a short time in order to have a baby near family support networks, spending time with the infant and any other children before leaving again, moving to facilitate the education of some children, and other changes in family circumstances. For example one woman in her early 40s stated that as a girl in her 20s, she worked in Asunción for approximately 8 years. When asked why she decided to return to Lindo Manantial, she laughed and said, ‘I found my husband! When I found him I wanted to come back here’. Another woman, in her early 60s, returned to the village when her mother died, leaving her as the owner of a house that needed to be cared for. I also observed that some older villagers would regularly move between urban and rural spaces, alternating between living with adult sons or daughters in a city, and coming back to the village to care for homes and land, and to reconnect with rural friends and family members.

Case illustration: Alicia, mid-40s

I first met Alicia in 2009. In discussing migration, she highlighted the emotional elements, and personal sacrifices that circular migrants may make. After over a decade of working away, beginning in her mid-20s, Alicia had eventually returned to Lindo Manantial and built a small house. Alicia’s comfortable house, her livestock and pets, and her everyday visits with friends and family suggested a rich personal life in a rural community.

Pessar and Mahler (2003) and Lawson (1998) remind us that gender plays a key role in migration patterns and related social interactions, and it is therefore important to consider it in discussions of migration patterns and outcomes (see also Castellanos and Boehm, 2008; Chant, 1998). While this has been examined in terms of the relationships among mobility, gender, and the kinds of work migrants find (Chant, 1998; Eaton, 1992; Jelin, 1977; Lawson, 1998), another way to do this is to consider the emotional components that may intersect with gendered roles and relationships (e.g. Camacho, 2008; Castellanos, 2009; Galván, 2008). In her work with Mexican campesinas, Galván (2008) asks how global restructuring implicates women differently, particularly in terms of women left behind when their husbands migrate for work as a result of decreasing agricultural options. Castellanos’ (2009) work with Maya migrants has examined how migration circuits engender emotional strains and obligations. Research looking at sentiment suggests that, regardless of whether a woman is migrating herself or is left behind, emotional sorrow is a considerable burden that must be coped with in some way. Galván argues that women may feel both physical and emotional sorrow when a husband leaves, such that they must work to be ‘mujeres fuertes’ (strong women) (2008: 537). Castellanos (2009) details the ways that migrant women may try to maintain close relationships with those left behind, using visits home, extended stays and familial care.

The emotional aspects of leaving emerged in Alicia’s discussions of migration patterns in Lindo Manantial. She shared concerns about the strains this could put on familial relationships; at the same time, she acknowledged that there may be little choice for people who want to earn money, learn new skills or partake in new opportunities. Alicia left her young children with her mother and other relatives when she moved away. It was unrealistic to bring small children with her while working for other households in the city. Despite the benefits of leaving, even temporarily, she in particular worried about the implications for children and for family life.

The migration of a parent (or both parents) while children are left behind is not uncommon in Paraguay and in other parts of the world (Heikel and Bahr, 1993; Ye and Pan, 2011), and comes with its own challenges. Research into the experiences of children left behind has examined who cares for these children, their educational needs, labour burdens, psychosocial development and social justice dimensions, among other things (Adumitroaei and Dafinoiu, 2013; Bennett et al., 2013; Boccagni, 2013; Dillon and Walsh, 2012; Dreby, 2007; Gheaus, 2013; Graham and Jordan, 2011; Lahaie et al., 2009; Pan, 2011; Wang, 2011; Ye, 2011; Ye and Pan, 2011). For example Boccagni (2013) examines the complexities of transnational emigration in Ecuador, noting the societal stigmas associated with the emigration of parents (particularly mothers), the greater work burden this can place on the older daughters of women emigrants, and the scopes and relative strength of transnational family relationships and cross-border care; Wang (2011) has explored the emotional lives and sense of loss among children left behind via an analysis of letters written to their parents.

In Lindo Manantial, children left behind by migrating parents is a visible phenomenon. For example some households support both children and grandchildren of the household heads, while in others, grandparents cared for young children. When I would inquire what the parents of the grandchildren were doing, I would be told that they had left to earn money in cities, leaving the children to stay with members of the rural family network.⁶ For Alicia and others, the pattern of rural child-rearing resulted in family units that were simultaneously rooted in rural and urban spaces. The intergenerational family relationships were key to being able to make a living in urban areas. For some households, grandparents and the younger children were the present faces of the rural, while parents were representations of urban mobility and opportunity.

Alicia’s discussion of this reality was poignant, indicating the familial costs associated with migration.⁷ She largely disapproved of this situation, and said, among other things, ‘many mothers work outside of the village, and this is a problem because families are very close. So when mothers work outside, it’s a loss. For example, it’s important for mothers to cook for their children because it helps them develop strong bonds’. While Alicia made this a broad statement, she was also speaking about her own experience, articulating a sense of loss. Boccagni’s (2013: 13) work in Ecuador indicates part of a sense of loss related to leaving children behind is not just about physical separation, but also ‘the increasing difficulty in understanding the lived realities of the kids left behind, and in maintaining non-formulaic patterns of communication with them’. Cooking, for Alicia, can be understood as a form of communication, in that cooking for the household is a key role of rural Paraguayan women, one that Alicia considered essential in building and maintaining bonds between mother and child. Although Alicia had periodically returned to the village, this had only been for short visits. Not having been able to cook consistently for most of her now mostly adult children was something to be regretted. Dustmann (2003) has discussed how the perceived welfare of children can play an important role in international migrants’ decisions about whether to return home; if migrants feel that the ‘a more appropriate environment for the offspring is provided in the country of origin’, including economic opportunities (816) increases with a return to the natal country, this can increase the likelihood of a migrant family returning. Alicia’s story demonstrates some of the complexities of similar issues for internal migrants, in that returning to her natal community was seen as beneficial for mother–child relationships, even if those children were now primarily adults.

Alicia’s pride in her home (and her financial wherewithal) was evident via its well-organised layout, the visually pleasing detail in its construction, and its meticulous neatness. Leinaweaver’s account of house construction, migration and social relations in Peru (2009), highlights how, for international migrants, house construction and home improvement can ensure a life for family members left behind, representing emotional maintenance, kinship relationships, as well as ensuring to family members that they plan to return. Similarly, the construction of a house represented two important facets of Alicia’s life: the years of urban work that were necessary to save the money to buy land and build the house, and a declaration of a renewed commitment to her rural family, to the community and to a rural life.

Like Celia’s story, Alicia’s experience demonstrates the differences in what can be accessed in urban centres but not in the village, and vice versa. Returning to Lindo Manantial highlighted a personal embeddedness in her natal community, and the desire to be close to her children – whether they were living nearby in their own households, or living with her in her new home. Being able to cook for family is a marker of caring and intimacy, and Alicia was proud that she was able to cook a variety of diverse, unique, ‘city’ dishes for her family, while also passing along her culinary skills. The sharing of these skills, which we can consider social remittances (Levitt, 1998) was an important part of her migration experiences and outcomes.

Linking rural, urban and a cash income

Circular migrants like Celia and Alicia must, at least temporarily, leave behind non-migrant family members. These family members represent one link between rural and urban, in that they serve as reasons to leave, visit and return. Another link, related to family and household needs, is income. As Celia and Alicia’s stories highlight, migration and the consequent cash income that a migrant generates, is key to maintaining the rural present for those left behind, and to the future possibility of rural life for circular migrants themselves. While the larger goal of migration might be to save money to build a house, or to supply a small shop and allow for agricultural activities, everyday remittances and emergency funds are also crucial to rural household viability and comfort.

Although international remittances represent a small percentage of Paraguay’s GDP (Acosta et al., 2008: 100), remittances from family members living in urban Paraguay or abroad are a reality of life in Lindo Manantial households. These remittances, typically small, have not yet resulted in the pattern of ‘new rurality’ discussed by Yarnall and Price (2010) in Valle Alto, Bolivia, where regular, large remittances pour amenities into rural communities while facilitating changes in the focus of cultivation. That is, remittances in Lindo Manantial are not so large or regular that the community is challenging the ‘economic balance between agrarian communities and urban centres’, where rural inhabitants may have more money than urban dwellers, and rural centres attract investment and development (Yarnall and Price, 2010: 117).

Nevertheless, in Lindo Manantial, 54% of interviewed households with children old enough to work outside of the community received regular remittances, generally in-person or sent through others travelling to the village, from children living and working in towns, cities or other countries.⁸ An additional 15% had a household head who regularly or periodically worked outside of the community to earn a living, or who had worked outside the community until recently; each of these households did not yet have children old enough to migrate for employment.

Money earned outside of Lindo Manantial may be used for luxuries or special treats. In 2011, one woman took great delight in telling me about her recent birthday, illustrating an example of a non-essential use for the money earned in urban settings. Her son came for the celebration, and surprised her with an evening of live music. His urban job meant that he could afford this extravagance. The outlay on this occasion encompassed the cost of the musicians themselves, and the expense incurred getting them to the village.

However, it was more common for people to discuss the ways that remittances were of critical importance for diverse aspects of everyday lives, or for emergency situations. The most immediate involves access to diverse foods. As indicated earlier, households with land continue to grow mandioca for their own consumption. In Ecuador, Jokisch (2002) notes that household agriculture remains an important risk-averse economic activity for households with migrants who send remittances. Agricultural labour is also an important cultural activity that provides both key, preferred staple foods and possibly small amounts of money for everyday needs. In Lindo Manantial, continuing to farm mandioca helps offset some food costs and helps maintain a preferred food source. Not cultivating something, even when there might be labour or other uncertainties, would be ‘culturally foreign’ (Jokisch, 2002: 542). However, while household cultivation of mandioca contributes to food security and provides people with a staple, starchy, food they love to eat, it is not enough to adequately feed a family. Households must also purchase foods to maintain dietary diversity, and the money for this often came from adult children or other household members who had taken on paid employment outside of the village. In some cases, adult children who migrated would also bring groceries on a monthly or bi-weekly basis when they came to visit for a weekend or holiday.

Money is also used for smaller everyday expenses such as cell phone minutes, costs associated with sending children to school and other household needs, or for larger-scale expenses like a motorcycle, re-roofing or other repairs or house extensions. During times of economic stress uncertainty, the option of being able to call on a family member for emergency funds is key. For example, in 2009, one household’s dairy cow died in an accident. This was a substantial loss, as it can cost upwards of US$300–400 to replace a cow. The sale of the hide and meat made the best of the accident, but it did not come close to the replacement cost. In addition, losing the cow meant a loss of milk and cheese, and the income generated by selling cheese to neighbouring households. Luckily, this household had a son who had permanently migrated to another country. He was able to provide money to buy a replacement cow. Although he permanently lived outside of Paraguay, his mother described him as someone who was able to send money and help with problems because he was primarily concerned with looking after the family.⁹

Remittances also play an important role in providing medical care to parents or grandparents. Health care in Paraguay is largely private. Public hospitals tend to be under stocked, understaffed, and overburdened, and people will choose private care if they can afford it. In 2011, for example, an elderly villager was undergoing an extended stay in a very expensive hospital in Asunción after a series of critical health problems. This stay included surgery, medication and considerable post-operative care. This was made possible by one son who worked in an urban centre; the family simply would not have been able to afford this quality of health care without the money he earned.

Rural and urban have a long history of being intertwined in Paraguay. The nature of these relationships can change over time, will be shaped in part by household and place specifics, and may vary according to macro-level circumstances and the micro-level experiences and perceptions of the individual. Parrado and Cerruti (2003: 108), in their work with smallholder farmers in Paraguari district, adjacent to Piribebuy district, note that, ‘The viability of the minifundia as a subsistence strategy is often dependent on the constant outmigration of farm workers to other areas’; Gillespie and Browning (1979) indicate that Paraguayan emigration to Argentina, either on a permanent or temporary basis, is also closely related to the minifundia system in which land is progressively subdivided with each generation (see also Galeano, 1979; Heikel and Bahr, 1993). In Lindo Manantial, remittances and other financial resources from migrants make rural living viable and more comfortable, allowing those who do not migrate the possibility of maintaining family land and close community relationships and networks. For circular migrants, this means that they are facilitating and maintaining a rural future for themselves.

Concluding thoughts

Stories about circular migration in Lindo Manantial tell us about more than individual or household aspirations. They offer a lens through which we can consider how rural and urban spaces are constructed in the everyday on a smaller-scale. They tell us about the ways rural and urban areas depend on, and are shaped by each other. These stories provide insight into how rural-urban lines can be both materially and conceptually blurred and strengthened. Dufour and Piperata (2004: 399–400), in their discussion of human biological implications of rural to urban migration, note that the line between rural and urban is increasingly blurred due to infrastructural and geographical issues such as urban sprawl and the fact that some people in rural areas may have continuous contact with urban spaces. Similarly, for migrants, the conceptual line between rural and urban may be blurred by economic realities that promote continuous contact, at least for some households. Migration highlights that for many households in Lindo Manantial, the rural space cannot economically exist without some livelihood incursions into urban spaces.

At the same time, this blurring of economic ties can be paired with clear delineations of the ways rural and urban life are constructed by people who move between these two spaces. If Lindo Manantial today is considered a space with limited income-generation opportunities, poor infrastructure and educational opportunities, and decreased access to goods, this understanding must be created in opposition to something else; in this case, it is national and international urban centres. At the same time, while urban spaces offer what rural spaces cannot, rural spaces have attributes that urban spaces lack. These attributes include more personal dimensions of everyday life that include family relationships and friendships, a sense of security and safety, and ownership and personal control over one’s land and home. Like the reality that urban work and remittances are increasingly important for the survival of those who stay in Lindo Manantial, for circular migrants, the meaningful, social, emotional dimensions of rural life may not be possible without the material opportunities of urban spaces.

Even as migrants like Celia and Alicia work in urban spaces, rural spaces remain imbued with complex and important meanings; this blurs the line between rural and urban, such that Celia and Alicia can be understood simultaneously as rural locals whose identities are connected with rural life and aspirations, and as cosmopolitan workers, thanks to their skills and experiences negotiating urban livelihoods. Ultimately, circular migrants like Celia and Alicia are not exclusively rural or urban citizens. In going and returning, they draw on different sets of skills and experiences, bringing urban ideas, knowledge, goods, or money to the rural space, and carrying the importance of rural relationships, networks, and life ways with them to urban spaces. A move to an urban centre might come with opportunities, but the accompanying sacrifices mean that the ultimate goal is to return home.

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

I thank Clotilde Benitez, Fatima Candia, Maria Jose Aparicio Meza, Domitila Pereira, Sasha Planas, Noelia Rios and Daniela Aguero Gomez for their invaluable contributions and support. This work would not have been possible without the welcome and enthusiasm of Lindo Manantial inhabitants, for which I am very grateful. I gratefully acknowledge the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (Canada) for funding this research. I also thank Jenny Chio, Christopher Vasantkumar, Chantelle Ramsundar and the anonymous Critique of Anthropology reviewers for their insights and suggestions on various earlier drafts of this paper.

Declaration of conflicting interests

The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: The author received funding support from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (Canada).

Notes

Author Biography

Elizabeth Finnis is an Associate Professor in the Department of Sociology and Anthropology, University of Guelph.

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