One of the doors of the favela. It is an arc. Strait. Overlook little heads from stairs, windows, roofing, Onduline, breaches in the walls, curious and suspicious. Careful. Sentinels.
Kites crazy over our heads, waiting impatiently to know that we do there.
Fabio has been here a lot. Moved to take a year of anticipation and work here, for the priests (not would hurry up so fast, but I am not yet clear to me what is good or bad this whole world - of course is that Fabio has done well and also to friends that you did here) has run won the respect. Working with children. The access he was allowed. And we're with him.
I realize that there is always someone who follows though.
We stopped in a bar where Fabio buy some 'stuff to eat. Rice croquettes.
Along the way we let an old man who lives in the garbage. The house is dug in the trash. Can not move because it is without legs, but Fabio says that sometimes you move a bit 'walking on stumps. I see
Rats size cat a few inches from the old and warn. In response, he shares the croquettes with them, in equal parts. What an embarrassment. I'm pretty domestic fund.
Grandpa greets us warmly and thanked passionately clasping her hands vigorously.
big heart and sincere greeting
Maybe ... I think we're settling in a bit, 'but we have eyes everywhere and anywhere they have eyes for us. In fact
us all of a sudden in situations so different from our own frightens us a bit '.
Fabio, with a loquacity which had not, also tells of the wars between traffickers of cocaine that are fixed forever in dozens of deaths, the last is of some day before.
Our vulnerability and paranoia of foreign money in his underwear put us slightly uncomfortable. I admit that if I were alone rather than with Mary would be more comfortable ... But the friendliness of the people that we are introduced to the streets of the favela we melt soon.
Here the buildings are brick, except the "edge" and the feeling that follows is relatively peaceful. The degradation is still absolute, but shines through individual commitment to making the civil situation: either in the radio neighborhood bare wires connected with the airlines. Want to skillfully painted the murals on the walls of asbestos. Do you want the absolute humanity exploding in the streets.
We climb in the fourth.
ladders stolen from a building and the other make us go from level to level. Often seem to ignore the laws of physics. To get to the third floor through at least twenty properties. Far and wide. When you reach the top back down. I am reminded of those pictures in which perspective planes merge into a kaleidoscope irrational.
In one of the landings there are children. Svaccati. Svaccati and armed. They stop and talk
Fabio.
smiled. To us. We continue trying to find where to put your feet without limbs or shippers. Fortunate that Fabio knows them.
the fourth quarter. In the sense that it is a room. Two for two, maybe. Hammocks pull the diagonal one above the other. Three. Outside is a terrace with views over the rooftops. It offers a good view (which does not mean a nice view).
that Rio is not the dreams. It is Rio.
On the street many children who play soccer, all barefoot, blacks, bare-chested and with a vitality that most of our does not know.
In the sky, everywhere, hundreds kites of all colors, bound to us only by an invisible thread, they seem to dance a samba cheerful banner of freedom.
are perhaps the symbol of the contradictions of living in this Brazil. Poetic image contrasts that evoke a stark reality: in reality these ballets planes are real wars, as I explains, the boys bathe the threads of kites with glue and then sprinkle them with powdered glass, so during the spectacular developments befall one another.
Broken Dreams. Pulled down.
What more than this may be the war between the poor, where there is room for everyone and your executioner is about as close as you can exist.
Even here, where poverty is everywhere, comments that speaks to the usual news of yet another massacre of street children reveal the tolerance for this infanticide, if not the justification for them unconditionally. I thought it was murderous practices requested and funded only by a band of rich and respectable population, but the intolerance which is the breeding ground of this reality, paradoxically, also belongs to the poorer segments of the population. Without
generalize. Why islands of absolute humanity and solidarity necessarily emerge only from their own here.
know the neighbors. They have twin side-by-quarter that of Fabio. They are father and son, a family. Heat up food in a can on a camping stove. And all around the laundry, immaculate, in its many colors to dry in the sun.
dignified poverty.
From there you see the sky. With all of his kites.
And the earth. With all his shit.
children from armed want to stay low at least tonight Fabio in the fourth. I find that they do not even know him. It is better to let them do.
On the wall above the door of the fourth makes a fine show if a gust of nonsochecalibro. Better let them do.
The neighboring community in some way to Fabio and priests becomes quickly known. We welcome wonderfully. It spreads the rumor that there are two foreigners and we are surrounded by curious children. Most sounds improvised percussion and dance. They seem happy.
The largest and invite us to his brother on the evening of the show that tests the next day. Enthusiastically accepted.
decide to dine. Fabio takes us on a very decent restaurant in its simplicity. The quiet presence of small families almost clashes with the surrounding environment. It's like being in a "bubble" of normality indifferent to hell around her. Tables on the street and a guy with a guitar singing "No Woman No Cry."
The music is deafening and people partying around.
Let's do some 'hard work to understand each other, but Fabio has a great desire to tell us what he did in the past six months and, more importantly, what will you do in the months to come. All right, begins to have some problems with money, but it goes well. And most importantly, what they are doing gives him satisfaction. Within a few months
want to end up a shed, inside which would place the machinery for cleaning and refining of the products of ranches.
This would allow landowners to buy wholesale from the work product of their "employees" that subject - it can be said - to slavery, do not qualify. The work should be redistributed to them in a fair manner.
I realized that such operations are very dangerous here.
step on their feet also means these people mortgage their lives, even if you are covered by a recognized organization.
However, this is a discourse that does not deserve to be treated so superficially. I refer to the depth when I'll know more.
discussing with the owner if he has won more cups Flamengo Juve or say goodbye. Excellent dinner and spend very little.
Time to go to watch the spectacle of children. Lead us into a courtyard enclosed by four walls. It is a small football pitch. They set up a stage and sound system.
Everything has already begun and the show that we face leave us without words. There's a dozen children, each with a percussion instrument and craft sticks.
The rhythm is triggered.
In the middle of the semicircle formed by the instrumentalists two girls dancing with an innate ability.
is useless here the rhythm is in their blood.
I explain that that is a mixture of rhythms, in part imported from Salvador de Bahia, but defined over the centuries in the favelas of Rio. However originates from the tribal rhythms of African slaves blacks.
be for the 6-7 liters of beer they drink at the restaurant, but I can understand and explain very well.
I'm fine. Even Mary.
The next pick us up. Let's go somewhere with the children pulled the band in uniform and ready to challenge the neighbors with their drums.
A side of the road is a wild sow with its large size litter that rooting in the garbage. I do not know if it is cynicism that I take on Western or what, but the first thing I thought why not eat it because many people really hungry. In fact, I am told, is part of the community and no one would dream to harm her. Paradoxically
through what should be a football field, but that is a rocky expanse dotted with household goods. In the midst of a construction of bricks, laid to dry two meters by two and three feet high. A window on one side and a machine gun placed in the middle-height man who looks at sonnacchiante children chasing those clusters that use rags like balloons.
In there there are people who like to change to control the district.
is normal, they say.
spent a few days to wander around. Shirtless and Bermuda shorts that we did not see anything interesting on. Of course, no camera, no watch, no chains, no portfolios (not in Milan or Naples to get better ...). Quite curious about our presence. It is obvious that you wonder what are we doing there. As you try to appear relaxed shines through our non-membership in those places. I believe or think that we are crazy or we're covered by someone important among the traffickers in the area. I'll confirm later.
It is evening. Scorching heat of just mitigated by un'Antartica order on the table folding iron kiosk corner of the street. Fabio comes to pick us. Ahead. You have to go.
Climb on an old VW, what I call Elah because they look like a toffee, and bring us up, up, up, up to Christ the Redeemer.
should be a surprise on the ride at full speed for safety reasons, in the hills above Rio is a tremendous blow.
Night. The "postcard" is typical. Adelaide, Manguinho of Rio leans against the railing to admire the bay. In ecstasy. Like us. It is a wonderful show. Seamlessly. You feel the life go up. Clinging to the shores of the hill to sit up, and even one miserable meters. A teacher
Portuguese in Rio, next to me, indicates the distance to Marta, a tiny cluster of lights that is Manguinho: "See You there! What is this and that's what."
And Martha looks at him incredulously. Viewing Portuguese Watch and see Rio Manguinho. Zoom to which his eyes are not accustomed to.
is the first time coming out Manguin. His neighborhood. This is the first time he sees Rio from up there. This is the first time you realize where he lives.
disbelief in his eyes. Perhaps even fear. Thrown into a reality that is perhaps not his.
few evenings later we are asked if you wish to attend a traditional ritual. It's not something pre-packaged for us. They will go the same place and if we want the same old VW van there.
We aggregate the large company.
The priest comes to him and dozens of other people, especially women, dressed in traditional clothes. Tuto bem, bom tuto. The room is decorated with statuettes of Christian saints and other characters. When there was no religious freedom, the slaves concealed the worship of their gods imported from Africa behind the guise of various saints. Religious syncretism. This cult is especially
"Candomblé de Caboclo."
The children are laughing and rituals long before they are taken continuously. The ritual lasts all night and pounding rhythms at a very high volume in a trance send more than one. Spirits incarnate at the moment in some of the participants and the priest delivers them. This is what I explain.
continue to distribute small portions of various food wrapped in banana leaves. Viewed the show I wonder if there are hallucinogenic hidden spot in the meals you Mary ...
influence. Has not eaten anything but go out the same. I worry. Indeed, the haunting music and fatigue after many hours can provoke emotional reactions unpredictable.
Returning to the fourth note of the "altars" set up in the middle of the intersections of all streets that are careful to avoid. There are holy, half-full glasses of cachaça, slaughtered chickens, playing cards and various small crafts.
Better go to sleep. It is late morning and we are no longer standing. The emotions were quite strong in those days.
I have found that the tattoos that I bring him raise curiosity and caution to my interlocutors. It's like in Italy decades ago, when the tattoo was synonymous with prison. Tanned as they are, explain to me, surely I must be a member of some gang of drug traffickers guest at one end of the place. And then I'm not here with the priests even if I know who works for Fabio un'onlus respected. I do not know if it protect me or otherwise I create unnecessary risks. Certainly the questions are becoming more pressing. Already
Nova Irão, north of Manaus in the Amazon, a month ago, I found myself in a similar situation: they thought I was a hired killer by a fellow who became my enemies in a municipality on the Rio Negro. Only Italy have decided to appease the reassurances minds.
From the terrace of the fourth known that every night, at the same time, our neighbor, it stops in the courtyard of the house opposite: always with him a bucket and some bricks.
discover that collects the day off work, a couple of Reales, and that takes away from the yard a bit 'of cement dust, the way he steals a few bricks here and there and eventually goes on the construction of what will be the room of his son. Every night adds a brick or two (and now almost on the second floor) to a wall without windows or doors, but still more solid than an accumulation of cardboard or Onduline with stoic endurance.
Last week could add three. This only two, if all goes well. And the child goes at school, with codpiece and colorful striped shirt "Ordem Y Progresso" linda like mine never has been, and the dignity that only a life like this you can impress on the face.
leave, banal to say, is as hard as ever. Of course, this is an experience difficult to repeat, either because not every day you have the conditions for a cruise this in relative security, either because in my plan things too much devoid of emotion experience. Last but not least, from experience, not often you find the right travel company, we found ourselves in sometimes dangerous situations, but my girlfriend was always rise to the occasion. Indeed, a couple of times, if she was not there ... So, when in doubt, better to answer only to themselves.
Jvan
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