After three weeks volunteering and visiting friends in Palmas, Brazil, I´m now again in Porto Velho. I'm overdue for writing about my experiences at
the Foundation Casa Grande-Memorial to the Kariri People (FCG), in Nova Olinda.
This story will have to be told in installments, from the outside in and the inside-out.
During my travels, I often trade my time for cheaper plane
tickets. After leaving Porto Velho in April, I traveled by an outrageous
route (PV -- Brasilia -- Sao Paulo -- Recife -- Fortaleza) in order to
arrive in the small city airport of Juazeiro do Norte. This was the
trip during which I had my intestinal adventure.
J, who is in his early 20s and runs a Community Tourism
business associated with FCG, picked me up at the airport with a big
smile and some welcome containers of cold water. Community Tourism was
an important part of my time with FCG, and is based on the idea (for me,
the reality) that relationships with local folks and culture are at the heart of one´s travel experiences. Additionally, this form of tourism keeps one's spending inside
the community in which one travels (rather than, e.g., in the hands of corporations, conglomerates, external travel groups). Per J's blog, Community Tourism has the deeper goals of
supporting justice and world peace through connection with others.This makes sense to me.
For my first visit to FCG, my friend E in Rio had recommended I stay in Ir's and Ch's
home, which is one of the semi-hostel housing options available through
the Community Tourism program. Some of the parents of current and/or
former FCG child-participants offer such housing, and I followed E's
advice. Ir is a retired teacher and endlessly creative craftswoman, and Ch is a former bricklayer-builder
who had stopped working due to a back injury and is now a driver. Their home is simple, clean,
and full of light from the sun, their hearts and their senses of humor. Their daughter, her husband and their two young sons live upstairs. Ch's car is protectively "garaged" inside the house, in the first room
one enters from the street. I never once smelled anything to do with
automobiles, which is an indication of the care taken of both car and home. Ir
and Ch share their home with an outrageously sweet dog, M, whose energy
and playfulness bely her advanced age.(By the time I left at the end of my second visit, a young cat, T, had also joined the family.)
When I arrived at Ir and
Ch's home, I was shown to my airy room in a separate space behind the
house. There were two single bunk-type beds (along with bathroom and small
fridge), but sadly I had the room to myself. It turned out that I was
Ir's and Ch's first American guest, and that this had caused some
anxiety for Ir, who takes primary responsibility for guests in the home.
She has housed and cared for everyone from regular folks to important political figures, singers-musicians, authors and others from many parts of the world. However, as had been the case in Porto Velho, there was some concern that an
American might not take well to the "humble" (Ir's word) abode -- things
like cold-water only, a simple room, and presumably simple services.
Additionally, Ir was concerned about cooking for a vegetarian. She need not have had any fears: I enjoyed the
cold-water showers, loved the dog, did my own laundry by hand (enjoyed the big wash sink outside), did not expect or need
any special services, shared the cooking and dish-washing, and adored Ir's cuisine. Being a handcraft person myself, I had very high regard for Ir's skill and creativity in all things fabric and thread. Inspired by Ir's energy, I engaged in some craft projects of my own, and Ir and I got on famously in this area as well. As for Ch, his stronger local accent was challenging for me (though less so over time). Ir "translated" when necessary, and Ch was very patient with my frequent requests for repetition. Further, his infectious laugh, warmth and great sense of mirth easily made up for any problems I had with language comprehension.
On my first day in Nova Olinda, I
walked the few blocks to FCG and stepped into a new universe. Children
greeted me warmly when I arrived: they explored my hair and clothing
while asking me questions about myself, pulling me gently to sit closely with
them, and telling me about themselves. One of the things I love about
the children of the Brazilian interior is how much they touch. Well, come to find
out that virtually everyone in this area hugs warmly and offers a
kiss to the cheek as part of the standard welcome; it's the cuddling and
hair touching that are icing on the cake.
At FCG, I met with the founders (Alemberg Quindins and Rosiane Limaverde) and some of the team. (As an exception to my choice to use initials only, I name Alemberg and Rosiane because of their formal role in this remarkable endeavor.) As Alemberg and Rosiane talked with me about their foundation, Alemberg appeared to also check me out as regards my character and philosophy for living with, experiencing and teaching within FCG; I had the advantage of coming recommended by E and P, but care is taken with those who come to join the community of FCG friends. I was asked to teach English to the children, and I suggested also supporting the local English teachers. We agreed that, additionally, I could be of help translating various materials.
One doesn't learn a new language in three weeks, so I spent my time playing games with the children to support their interest in English, and to help with pronunciation and vocabulary. On occasion I formally taught grammar, but I generally used improvisation and other games to keep things light and lively in order to allow space for the learning. (I "invented" the game "come-stop-go!": say "come" -- with beckoning gesture -- when I am smiling, but use "stop" and then "go!" -- with gestures -- when I am a monster. Children have adored this game in the many places I've used it, both in Lima and parts of Brazil. At FCG, they creatively modified the game to say "come" as an invitation for change if I made a sad face when sent away in spite of smiling. Where I volunteered in Palmas, the children have wanted to direct me to be happy, turn into an animal, dance, sing, or "go!" after a particular peer. When kids are spinning out of control, I like to play "go -- go fast -- slo-mo" and we all take turns being in charge.) I did meet with local English teachers on several occasions to support
their grammar and pronunciation while also sharing language teaching
strategies and on-line resources.
The FCG grounds include a museum (anthropological artifacts of the local indigenous Kariri, examples of spiritual and religious objects, illustrations by the children of some local history); the building was the first school house of the area, and is an old waddle-and-daub structure that is painted with color washes of blue, red and yellow. There is also an eatery (large kitchen with open eating area), small sales kiosk with T-shirts and items crafted by the participant moms, ample theater, and rooms that are used for anthropological research, meetings and the like. Additionally, there are a children's literature library, research-oriented library, comic/graphic novels library, DVD library, radio station room filled with CDs and records, sound recording and editing rooms, and TV station (put on hold by the communications department of the Brazilian government shortly after its debut). Though all of these spaces are functional, none of them should be pictured as particularly modern or comprehensive; all are in progress, the spaces are relatively small and simple, and the resources are simple. The buildings are in an open square formation, with a small dirt soccer area and a small playground in the center -- children at the heart. FCG offers free wi-fi, and many people from the community use the comfortable patio area for computer work and socializing. Each time I spoke with someone from the community, I invited that person to come in the afternoons when I was generally hanging out and available to teach, answer questions, etc.
I had such a remarkable experience during my first visit that I decided to return for a full month in July. The children were on winter (southern hemisphere!) break, so their days were more open. They were spending considerable hours of their vacation time cleaning, painting buildings, organizing materials and otherwise preparing for an important event later in the month, and this seemed to contribute to their having less energy for English. I jumped in with the cleaning, painting and organizing, as well as continued with translations of FCG materials. (To be explicit, my Portuguese is not good enough to simply translate what I read. For me, this process is a combination of Google Translate and multiple conversations aimed at better understanding the meaning and intent of the materials. I have deepened respect for the work of translators, particularly those who translate poetry and literature.)
A week into my visit to FCG, I was videotaped talking about my experience of this amazing place. That video will eventually be available with Portuguese and Spanish subtitles, and I´ll make sure it´s available on this blog. Additionally, a lovely video of a young FCG participant will eventually be available with English subtitles, along with my translations of the Portuguese WordPress blog.
Odds and Ends:
* Most of the children play soccer barefoot, even when they have shoes or flip-flops. The soccer area (maybe 20' x 40' in size?) is full of small sticks and pebbles, and the goal nets are quite small. None of this seems to impede enjoyment, and the area is very often in use. The playground is all wood, rope and tires set on uneven dirt amidst trees. The children use every available structure to run, climb, hang and swing.
* Ir is very observant, and she was intrigued by the way I sewed, crocheted and cut vegetables. She said that I did everything she did, but "with an accent." It struck me that culture is comprised of so many details of this sort (though it´s also possible that I just have a strange way of doing things).
* At a building under construction, there were animal footprints in the clay floor tiles. They were the calling card of an animal that had walked through the factory at night when the tiles were drying. I later realized that there were different animal footprints on the floor of the FCG theater. It appeared to me that the tiles were not used as art, but rather simply because they were functional tiles.
* The mid-sized cities I visited in this region were a remarkable blend of old and new. Though I saw what looked quite like mid-sized US cities in many regards -- modern architecture, technology, well-paved streets with clear overhead signage, cars in good condition -- it was not uncommon to see a burro pulling a wagon in the middle of town. On one occasion I saw a person jump onto a horse after completing business at the bank and, on another occasion, I saw a man on a burro that was carrying several large milk cans on either side to make deliveries in a residential neighborhood. Next to tall, modern buildings of glass and steel were construction sites using dried, trimmed saplings to support structures in progress, and "fenced" by woven mats of palm leaves. Also side by side, or at times actually the same building, are wattle-and-daub structures and TV satellite dishes.
* In the smaller cities of the region, cobblestone streets were common. In poorer neighborhoods, pieces of irregular stone had been set by hand to pave the streets. Many streets remained unpaved.
* Religion is a fundamental part of and way of life here. Crosses and Christian images are everywhere: public buildings, clinics, supermarkets, businesses. People routinely say, "God willing" when talking about plans, and they wish God's blessings for one's journey. A large church with tower is a central point of reference in Nova Olinda, and sermons are broadcast from speakers high on the tower. (I was told that, years ago, the speakers were the primary means of disseminating important information, as people did not have radios or television.) The local gym, run by a delightful woman, has multiple references to Jesus on its walls. One large wall is covered by a modern factory-produced canvas image of a Caucasian-looking Jesus, along with Bible quote. An even larger wall has a factory-produced image of a peaceful landscape and a Bible quote extolling the virtue of exercise. (More about my experiences in this Christian country when I write from the inside-out.)
* When I was a child, family friends from New York City went to visit some cousins in a southern town. On their first evening, sitting on a porch swing just swinging, one of the New York cousins asked, "So, what is there to do in this town?" The reply was, "You're doing it." Although I never saw much "to do" in Nova Olinda, young people I talked to were routinely happy with the town. They enjoyed hanging out, riding bikes (or motor bikes), going out for ice cream, and attending the occasional formal outdoor event. These events included high school soccer games, "fanfarra" (high school marching bands), and "Quadrilha" performances and competitions. Quadrilha is a narrative dance-and-theater form involving large numbers of partnered dancers (picture rhythmic lines and circles of interweaving, swirling figures), fantastic handmade dance costumes (along with special, highly-detailed leather shoes), recorded and live music, and many months of practice. I came across my first rehearsal when I followed the sound of music late one night to arrive at an outdoor pavilion. There, I found people from their teens through perhaps 40s, all engaged in the learning and precision training of their particular choreography. I recognized some of the younger people in the group, who informed me that they had started dancing quadrilha at ages as young as seven or eight, practiced several nights a week or more, and considered this to be a lifetime activity.
with love, meg September 12, 2013
