Friendship in Palmas

I`m now in Lima, Peru, after nearly three weeks of volunteering at the Foundation Casa Grande (FCG) in Nova Olinda, Brazil. I arrived two days ago after about a day of travel, and was met at the airport by my friends. Once outside the airport building, we were immediately surrounded by taxi drivers offering a series of competitive bids for our fare, and I learned a lot just watching my friends negotiate the situation (by walking away until an acceptably lower fare was offered).

I finally have an opportunity to write about my time in Palmas with R, M, their two daughters (I, age 7, and baby M, 5 months), and their cat, V. I’ve known R for about 15 months now. He was and is my first Brazilian-in-Brazil friend.

You may remember E and P of Rio de Janeiro, who had recommended that I “experience” FCG. In preparation for an eventual visit there (until two days ago, “here”), I started learning Brazilian Portuguese. I was very fortunate to have a bilingual, bicultural Brazilian friend in Santa Cruz who was willing to get me started (thank you, B!). Meanwhile, other friends had recommended an on-line program (“Livemocha.com”) used by their son to further and deepen his mastery of Japanese (thank you S and B!). After getting some Portuguese basics from B, I decided it was time to check out Livemocha.

Livemocha provides useful, free on-line lessons in a wide range of languages. Each time one submits a written or audiotaped exercise, it is sent to the community of native speakers of that language, who can choose to correct the exercise. At the same time, someone else’s exercise shows up for correction in the native language of the person who has just submitted an exercise. If people like the nature of each other’s corrections, they can formalize Livemocha “friendships.” These can be used for correction of exercises only, but can also lead to skyping and/or emailing for further language and culture exchange.

My friendship with R began in this way, and I remember how much we struggled and laughed during our first Skype call back in February of 2012. R and I skyped just about weekly thereafter until I left the US. Since we first met, we have also exchanged birthday presents, taught and corrected each other, sent links of interest, and shared our stories, dreams, disappointments, worries, jokes, laughter and tears. The experience of ongoing, shared struggle and joy is always powerful; the building of relationships that bridge language and culture divides is a particular gift. R is an attentive teacher who is always concerned for the details of my learning experience (e.g., pronunciation, grammar, culture, vocabulary). He is also a great student who does lots of extra work on the side.

R works for the Brazilian Federal Police, and is studying law with the goal of becoming an attorney. R’s wife, M, is a social worker at the main hospital in Palmas; her area of specialization is work with children who have cancer. When planning my visit to Brazil, I arranged to be in Palmas toward the end of M’s six-month maternity leave, during which time R would also have a couple of days off. I was blown away when R told me that, in spite of the pressures of his job and studies, he had decided to move his vacation so he would be free during my entire visit.

R is one of the most tender men I’ve ever met. He loves spending time with his daughters, and has great joy in sharing their lives as they grow up; he knows that this time will pass all too soon. R takes his older daughter to school each day because he loves holding her hand as he delivers her to the building, remembers how his mother held his hand on the way to school, and imagines that his daughter will do the same with her children one day. He cries when moved by something – including, he said, by the beauty of the Brazilian constitution when he read it. R reads others’ feelings well, and speaks openly about his own.

M is a smart, stylish yet down-to-earth woman who has an endless capacity for play with her children. Brazil strongly supports the reality of breast-feeding and mother-child connection – thus the fairly standard six-month maternity leave. In M’s case, connecting is what she does naturally, and I was full of admiration for her ability to spend endless hours really being with her children. M has a relaxed and grounded quality about her. She is also a terrific baker.

I is a smart, creative, imaginative and talented girl with a great capacity for entertaining herself. She seemed a bit leery of me, or perhaps just disinterested. She loves to make her baby sister laugh, and she’s good at it. Her baby sister, M, is a sturdy, healthy girl whose face lights up when she laughs, which she does often. R and his family are all very beautiful.

Much of my time with R and his family was spent simply enjoying family time: meals, shopping, running errands, cleaning up, etc. I practically had to beg to be allowed to help out around the house, as there was a notion that I needed to rest and should not be bothered with such things. At R and M’s home, I got my first taste of traditional Brazilian meals. I have to say that I particularly love the Brazilian beans, as well as M’s wonderful arugula-and-mango salads!

R made every effort to introduce me to as many Brazilian fruits as possible, in many forms: fresh, as popsicles (the best I’ve ever tasted) and in blender drinks (yum!) Knowing that I didn’t like my fruits sweetened, he made açaì with and without sweetened condensed milk so I could sample both. This fruit has an extraordinary taste that is difficult to describe: it is fresh, rich and spicy, like a blend of blueberries, allspice and chocolate. I could happily eat it all day every day.

In addition to being a way to spend time with the family, the errands themselves were fascinating cultural outings for me. For example, there was a trip to a store that mostly sells items in bulk; for those of you who know Costco, this place made Costco look like a small neighborhood market. It sold a wide range of items, accompanied by overhead speaker announcements and a man who walked around hawking particular items on sale. The store was packed!

The most interesting part was the check-out. Brazil has a system in which four categories of people have priority in all lines and in all service situations: pregnant women, women still carrying babies or young children in their arms, people 65 and older, and people with physical impairments. (As was explained to me some time later, Brazil still has a notion that women are frail and need extra attention. Men carrying babies do not get priority service.) Although we were in the priority line, the store was so crowded that it took us a full hour to get to the cash register. The store was designed in such a way that it was difficult to maintain any kind of order in the lines, which were backed up quite a way into the already congested aisles. Nevertheless, there was no grousing or even negative attitude during the wait; people simply waited. Some stools were made available for people who were in the priority lines, and these were shared.

There was also a trip to a local clinic, where baby M received a vaccination that was due. This was a simple place: an open area with chairs under a roof (with no walls), where people could show up and be seen by a nurse or doctor in one of the rooms. M explained to me that such clinics are used for routine or preventive care and small health issues, as well as for getting referrals to specialists or for particular procedures when warranted.

While I waited, I read a large banner about the push for six months of breast-feeding, followed by another 18 months of both mother’s milk and formula. The banner explained the many health, relationship and economic benefits for baby, mother and family. I was struck by the difference between this approach to breast-feeding and that in the US, where we also know about the benefits of breast-feeding but seem to view it more as the road to droopy breasts. As a feminist doctor once said in response to a statement that breast-feeding will ‘ruin’ a woman’s breasts, ‘Ruin your breasts? What are they for?’

Apart from such daily-life outings, there were also special outings. Among these was a tour of I’s school, which is a private school serving children aged two to 17. I found it simple, clean, organized and full of light. The school’s director explained to me that the older children are not allowed to mix with the younger children, that there is a program in place to address and minimize bullying, and that children with special cognitive needs are generally served within the general education classrooms. There is a ballet class for girls and a soccer class for boys, but any child can take either class. There are some schools with classrooms that specialize in the care and education of children with cognitive difficulties. M and I talked about the difficulties of making decisions re: the placement of a child with particular cognitive and/or developmental needs, and these difficulties appear to be the same in Brazil as in the US.

M also took me to visit the hospital in which she works. Although it is a public (i.e., completely free) hospital, it is supplied with modern equipment and has specialist doctors and departments. On the other hand, by US standards, it was a low-key place – not necessarily a bad thing. M took me through a particularly crowded section where the hallways were lined with people in hospital beds, along with their family members. M explained that there simply were not enough rooms for everyone who needed attention, and she said that the situation was much worse in the earlier morning when everyone first showed up for care. People in the hallways were those with non-critical needs. I met briefly with the social workers, all of whom greeted M as the long-lost friend she was. M explained to me that the social workers’ job is to educate people – particularly poor people – about their care options and available resources. I later (in Porto Velho) found out that, in Brazil, health care is a constitutional right.

M also introduced me to one of 30 (count ‘em!) thirty psychologists who work in the hospital, who explained to me that the psychologists do various neuropsychological evaluations and other kinds of testing, but provide little in the way of therapy. The psychologist showed me how truly tiny the spaces were for the evaluations, and said that the hospital felt these spaces were enough. In addition to her work at the hospital, this particular psychologist serves 50 (yikes!) schools, where she works with the teachers in order to assist children with emotional and/or behavioral difficulties.

R took me to a local park where he and many others like to take walks around a lake. As was the case in every part of Brazil I have visited, there were lots of bats that came out at dusk. I quite like bats, and I loved that this important mammal was as normal a part of the bio-diversity as were birds. More remarkable than the bats were the capybaras in and around the lake! They are the cutest rodents I’ve ever seen, and I couldn’t believe that this animal – for me, an exotic animal – was simply swimming, walking and chomping about in a community park. The babies were beyond adorable. Look them up!

After the first outing to the park, R took me to a huge open-air but roofed market filled with tables full of fruits, vegetables, cheeses, prepared foods and every imaginable form of yucca. I was very taken by the method for displaying and selling heads of butter lettuce: lined up sideways on a long metal skewer, so that the ‘flower’ of the lettuce faced outward. Enthusiastic as ever to introduce me to new tastes, R purchased a wonderfully delicious pudding for me to try, made from fresh corn with cinnamon sprinkled on top.

It had started to rain quite suddenly toward the end of our walk in the park, and the market was my opportunity to experience the sound of the rain I had only imagined in Rio, pelting down on the corrugated metal high above us. It was stupendously loud. At one point, all of the lights went out briefly and there was a simultaneous exclamation from everyone in the crowd (including me); R was surprised that I had made the sound along with everyone else, and asked me if people do this in the US, too. It reminded me that some sounds are actually quite culturally specific; I later learned (in Nova Olinda) that, for Brazilians, a sharp inhalation is a sign of admiring wonder rather than one of fearful surprise or concern as it is in the US.

The crowning glory of my outings with R was a trip to a set of waterfalls. The drive was often spectacular, with views of green and rocky bluffs and a huge sky filled with huge clouds. The walk to the waterfalls was a ‘wow tour,’ with all kinds of amazing vines, seed pods, and various other botanical life. Here was where I learned that termites are a big fact of life in some parts of Brazil. Their nests in the trees take many shapes, and I saw sizes up to 20 inches in diameter.

On the way to the waterfalls, R and I met a cheerful couple, G and L, and we quickly established a chatty relationship. The second waterfall had a lake under it and was suitable for swimming, with sweet, soft and refreshingly cold water. G and I did a little water ballet while L took photos. I tried to swim closer to the waterfall itself, but the ‘wind’ coming off it (from the water impact) was so strong as to make that impossible – for me, at least. R commented that, when in places of such natural beauty, he always feels they are evidence of God’s existence. I was reminded of my mom’s dad, who had said something similar the first time he stood in a redwood forest on a visit to California. Though I don’t believe in God (in the sense of a person-like being), I do believe that this world is bigger than I am, and that the sheer force of life is a marvel with an unfolding logic all its own.

In strong contrast to the beauty of the open spaces in Brazil is the reality of houses built behind walls. Everyone explained to me that this is a response to crime. Some of the walls have electric wires above them, and others have glass shards. Many of the walls have a section with a large metal door that slides open to allow people to drive their cars inside. All of this creates a barren and forbidding appearance on the streets that I found quite unattractive. In R’s relatively newer (but not new) neighborhood, all of the streets are still unpaved; they are dusty with red clay, and are deeply rutted. R explained that the mayor has promised to pave the streets, but won’t actually do so until he is running for re-election. I guess some political tactics are international.

Once behind the forbidding walls, one finds lovely homes, gardens, and verandas. R and M’s home is modern, streamlined and filled with light. It boasts a recently added outdoor area, including a kitchen with built-in grill, and a swimming pool that I never used because I was having too much fun doing other things. R and M were consummate hosts.

One of the humor highlights of my time in Palmas was when R and M had a long talk that included the word for clock: ‘relogio.’ When they finished, R turned to me and asked if I had understood their conversation. I smiled and replied, ‘relogio,’ which truly was the only word I’d understood. It became our code for, ‘I don’t understand anything you said.’ I’m on a mission to get that expression into the Brazilian vocabulary.

There were many lovely and interesting conversations with people to whom I was introduced. This alone – the happy introduction to family and friends – really stands out for me in the Latin-American culture. People are really eager to share the visit, and to introduce the visitor to others. Topics of conversation have often included politics, and I’ve done my part to correct the image of people from the US as arrogant world-dominators. In one discussion (with M’s brother-in-law), I was asked what I had found most strange in Brazil, and R answered for me: avocado with sugar. It’s true. I was able to drink a blender drink with sweetened avocado (it was buttery), and I enjoyed the creamy sweetness of the avocado popsicle, but I still find it a strange combination. R and M enjoyed the guacamole I made in an attempt to introduce them to my norm: avocado as a vegetable rather than a fruit.

The same discussion with M’s brother-in-law took us to the topic of gun violence. I was informed of a law forbidding people to leave their homes with a gun. Some Brazilians had objected to the law, using the same argument as many in the US (including the NRA): ‘But then only the criminals will have guns!’ This has not turned out to be the case, and violence has, in fact, gone down since the law was enacted.

The most challenging experience during my visit to Palmas was when I joined my friends at their Presbyterian church. There was a great deal in the service that I didn’t understand at all, but I did understand the part about marriage being only between a man and woman. I told R that I found this difficult, as well as inconsistent with the notion of an all-loving God. He agreed with me and commented that it’s a sensitive topic. I don’t know if people made any assessment of my sexual orientation, and I found the community itself very warmly welcoming. This has always been an important challenge for me: knowing that people with beliefs so different from my own – so wrong in my opinion – can be such lovely people. I hope I’m also cut some slack when on the receiving end of that equation: ‘Oh that Meg! You know, she’s so wrong on the topic of _____, but she’s a good person.’

The most surreal experience of my trip to Palmas was when R and I watched ‘The Shawshank Redemption’ together. I had never seen it before. R loves it, and really wanted to share it with me (which I'm so glad he did). At some point toward the end, having been completely pulled into the movie, I suddenly realized where I was. I thought, ‘OH, I’m here in Brazil, watching an older American movie, in English, with my Brazilian friend, R! He recommended this movie to me, and now we are watching it together! Here in Brazil!’ It was crazy and disorienting and beautiful. R and I both cried.

As I sat in the plane after my tearful good-bye with R, crying again, I realized that I hadn’t said good-bye to V, the cat. V had been an important part of my visit with R and his family, a small connection with my own cats. I realized how much I had enjoyed and been nurtured by the daily contact with this animal, with whom I had also established a small relationship. I know that all of these good-byes bring up other important good-byes in my life, of all kinds, spoken and unspoken. What a journey this is!

With love, meg      May 15, 2013

I’m currently trying to resolve some problems with Dropbox, so only this photo for now….