Brazil: a day of perspective

Today, we went on a tour of two of Rio's favelas, or shanty towns.  It was through a reputable company called Favela Tour, which according to the brochure is "informative and surprising[ly] not voyeuristic."  We were in ten-passenger van with our tour guide, Alfredo, the driver, Elvis, and six British people (two couples and a pair of young ladies).  Other than the natives, James was the only one who spoke any Portuguese.  At one point in the tour, we stopped by a local bar and (it being a very hot day), James ordered us two guarana sodas (so good, by the way!  I didn't truly appreciate the allure until drinking one ice-cold on a swelteringly hot Brazil afternoon), and one of the couples asked us what it was we were drinking (they had gotten water, those poor saps), as they'd seen it in their mini-bar but were unsure as to what it was.  I've never been so smugly satisfied that I came here with someone who knew the local language and culture!

Anyway, back to the favela tour.  Alfredo related the various economic and other disparities between the classes in Brazil, much of which James had already related to me when referencing his mission or his classes in Latin American studies, but this time it was presented in a thick Brazilian accent over a PA system in a van full of semi-interested Britons.  He addressed problems with public education, healthcare, sanitation, and employment, as well as touching on politics near the end of the tour.  He took us on a tour of an after school program in one of the favelas, a sort of grass-roots project akin to Head Start to better prepare kids for the college entrance exam and other important life-altering hurtles for the under-privileged.  The price of the tour was quite a bit higher than I expected for a van ride around the slums, but when we learned that 75% of the school's funding came from the tours, I decided not to grumble.  The kids also make crafts which, when sold, earn 50% of the profit for the kid's family, and the other 50% goes back into supporting the school.  In addition to the after-school program, we stopped by a place to buy souvenirs made in the favelas (though since we only stopped there for 10 minutes, we didn't buy anything), through several neighborhoods, and the aforementioned bar.

My thoughts on the favelas: (1) They were much more permanent structures than I had imagined based on what James had told me.  There were solid buildings with tiles and separate rooms, radios playing, and cement stairs and sidewalks between buildings.  (2) There was a more ethnically diverse population than I had anticipated.  True, there were more people with African heritage there than elsewhere, but I also saw many people with more light-Mulatto appearance.  Our tour guide was still the lightest person (excepting the eight extremely white tourist) in the favelas that I saw.  (3) There was a lot more trash than I expected.  When we rounded the corner from the American School (the most prestigious private school in Rio) to Rocinha (the largest favela in Rio) the mounds of trash were overwhelming.  I don't know why I thought that 60,000 people would somehow produce tidy little cans of trash, placed on their non-existant street corners every Tuesday night.  Perhaps I thought that, being poor, they would use things out more efficiently, like Native Americans using every part of the buffalo, and therefore produce very little trash.  In any case, I was wrong.  Alfredo related how sanitation was a major problem, in spite of the city paying some residents to manage the trash collection.  We were even passed by some construction equipment (quite a feat on the narrow, winding roads there) carrying trash out of the favela, but nothing they do is enough.  The trash just keeps piling up, sometimes in pre-determined trash-piling areas, sometimes not.  (4) Not everyone on the favelas is poor.  Alfredo related that many people living in the favelas were considered middle class by Brazilian standards, but continue to live in the favelas either because they're established and they have community there, or to perhaps raise others up by staying in the community.  Or maybe because living in Rio is so expensive that even middle class would have a hard time making ends meet outside the favelas.  Brazil has a squatters law that if you build a house and live there for five years, it's yours and no one can kick you out.

The view from the rooftop of one of the favela homes, illustrating the contrast between the favelas and the high-rise condominiums.  The favelas are built on the hillsides (more at risk for mudslides) and therefore command some of the best views of the city.

 

Street in a favela.  Note the pirated electricity from the power lines (on the right).

Typical Rio favela homes.

Walkway between favela homes - so much more common than actual streets.

Anyway, a thoroughly enlightening morning.  So how did we employ our new-found perspective?  James bought me a more Brazilian swimsuit (caution: photo below - it isn't quite as spectacular on my pale bod as it would be on a bronzed Brazilian), we bummed around the beach all afternoon, and then went out for Lebanese food that evening.  I love Rio!

Two pale people

James on the the famous Copacabana walkway

Gorgeous view of the beach and ocean