Saturday, March 26, 2005
Full moon, fish, Friday night party and word choice
Under a brilliant full moon, with reggae blasting (literally) through a set of speakers, some volunteer friends and I gathered at my capoeira teacher Alán's house for, yes, you'll never guess, fish.*
It was a party to celebrate the full moon. Alán's tia (aunt) made this amazingly savoury tuna pie and later on, we had some baked white fish in a sauce with potatoes and eggs (I didn't eat the eggs - not a fan) and rice. Apparently it's a dish typical of Bahia, another state in the northeast, known for its capoeira, percussion music and maintaining its people's African roots.
The party was in his backyard, which was a concrete terrace surrounded by concrete walls painted black, yellow and green and that were faded by the sun. A giant Jamaican flag, was painted on the wall where the stereo system lay on the windowsill. Posters of Bob Marley peppered the walls. The guy is quite a fan! Reggae (pronouned heg-eee) is very popular here in Fortaleza. And when most bands sing covers of Marley songs on the beach, the crowd goes wild, singing along. Seems they never tire of him.
So we danced and danced and drank some very very sweet local red wine that tastes terrible on its own, so we mixed it with ice and coke. "Gross!" was my initial reaction, but then I tried the concoction and it wasn't so bad. It sort of tasted like sangria, minus the fruit. It's cheap stuff, so that's why we drank it.
Alán lives in a favela, but his house is much nicer than many others in the community. It's quite large, in comparison (with a kitchen, living room, bedrooms and a toilet that flushes). He sleeps in a smaller building that has one room, on the same property, just behind his mom's house. In talking to many of his friends there, I began to realize, even more so, how I choose my words. And not only that, but how my word choices reflect my presumptions.
When I say word choices, I mean I am very conscious about how I describe people of lower classes (there I go, I was just careful about how I describe people living in poverty). I was quite intimidated and unsure of how to approach the topics I was curious about (poverty, inequality) when I first spoke to the people who live these realities, when I was in Recife last month.
For example, people living in favelas don't call them favelas, but instead use the word "communities". I believe its a way to use language to give oneself confidence and a way to think more positive. It's a way of empowerment. And I believe this is essential to whether and how people improve their lives. (And this applies to everyone, I believe. How we use labels and the labels we choose to use to describe our lives tells others and ourselves who we are). This may seem obvious, though, it's so interesting to be aware of these details in conversations. And I don't think people deny the injustice of how they live, by using less-harsh words. They are very aware they are poor.
Another example: In conversation with two friends last night, I learned about the minimum wage here. It is a little over R$3,000 per year. That's per year. That's about $1,500 CAD per year. That is slavery. This gives people earning minimum wage NO CHOICE but to live in a poor community. Poor communities mean more dangerous communities and of course, not the same educational or job opportunities as the "rich" have. According to some friends, there are huge unemployment rates among people in favelas because many employers don't want to hire people who live in favelas. The stereotype is that these people are lazy and don't have good work ethics.
So after the friends described the minimum wage for me, I shook my head and said "I can't believe that!" Later in the conversation, one man used the word slave to describe himself. This really struck a soft spot in my heart. It hurt me to hear this man call himself a slave. And this was not used casually or dramatically as people in Canada sometimes use the word. However, the truth was, these people were being over-worked, (considerably - say, 12 hour days) for almost nothing. Most often these people have two or three kids and one working parent. In the favela where I teach in the mornings, it's common to see the kids eating lollipops and candy or chewing gum for breakfast, as there families have such little money.
Ah the problems are so layered, so deep and the people who live them everyday have no hope. They have no idea how to answer the question, "So where do we begin with improving Brazil?"
* Most of you already know I have not been vegan while travelling in Brazil. It's very close to impossible to find food that doesn't contain dairy and eggs here. The veggie selection is slim and basically, my body was telling me it needed more nourishment. And heck, I'm tired of eating rice and beans everyday! So I eat vegetarian, except for the occasional fish meal. And it feels good.
It was a party to celebrate the full moon. Alán's tia (aunt) made this amazingly savoury tuna pie and later on, we had some baked white fish in a sauce with potatoes and eggs (I didn't eat the eggs - not a fan) and rice. Apparently it's a dish typical of Bahia, another state in the northeast, known for its capoeira, percussion music and maintaining its people's African roots.
The party was in his backyard, which was a concrete terrace surrounded by concrete walls painted black, yellow and green and that were faded by the sun. A giant Jamaican flag, was painted on the wall where the stereo system lay on the windowsill. Posters of Bob Marley peppered the walls. The guy is quite a fan! Reggae (pronouned heg-eee) is very popular here in Fortaleza. And when most bands sing covers of Marley songs on the beach, the crowd goes wild, singing along. Seems they never tire of him.
So we danced and danced and drank some very very sweet local red wine that tastes terrible on its own, so we mixed it with ice and coke. "Gross!" was my initial reaction, but then I tried the concoction and it wasn't so bad. It sort of tasted like sangria, minus the fruit. It's cheap stuff, so that's why we drank it.
Alán lives in a favela, but his house is much nicer than many others in the community. It's quite large, in comparison (with a kitchen, living room, bedrooms and a toilet that flushes). He sleeps in a smaller building that has one room, on the same property, just behind his mom's house. In talking to many of his friends there, I began to realize, even more so, how I choose my words. And not only that, but how my word choices reflect my presumptions.
When I say word choices, I mean I am very conscious about how I describe people of lower classes (there I go, I was just careful about how I describe people living in poverty). I was quite intimidated and unsure of how to approach the topics I was curious about (poverty, inequality) when I first spoke to the people who live these realities, when I was in Recife last month.
For example, people living in favelas don't call them favelas, but instead use the word "communities". I believe its a way to use language to give oneself confidence and a way to think more positive. It's a way of empowerment. And I believe this is essential to whether and how people improve their lives. (And this applies to everyone, I believe. How we use labels and the labels we choose to use to describe our lives tells others and ourselves who we are). This may seem obvious, though, it's so interesting to be aware of these details in conversations. And I don't think people deny the injustice of how they live, by using less-harsh words. They are very aware they are poor.
Another example: In conversation with two friends last night, I learned about the minimum wage here. It is a little over R$3,000 per year. That's per year. That's about $1,500 CAD per year. That is slavery. This gives people earning minimum wage NO CHOICE but to live in a poor community. Poor communities mean more dangerous communities and of course, not the same educational or job opportunities as the "rich" have. According to some friends, there are huge unemployment rates among people in favelas because many employers don't want to hire people who live in favelas. The stereotype is that these people are lazy and don't have good work ethics.
So after the friends described the minimum wage for me, I shook my head and said "I can't believe that!" Later in the conversation, one man used the word slave to describe himself. This really struck a soft spot in my heart. It hurt me to hear this man call himself a slave. And this was not used casually or dramatically as people in Canada sometimes use the word. However, the truth was, these people were being over-worked, (considerably - say, 12 hour days) for almost nothing. Most often these people have two or three kids and one working parent. In the favela where I teach in the mornings, it's common to see the kids eating lollipops and candy or chewing gum for breakfast, as there families have such little money.
Ah the problems are so layered, so deep and the people who live them everyday have no hope. They have no idea how to answer the question, "So where do we begin with improving Brazil?"
* Most of you already know I have not been vegan while travelling in Brazil. It's very close to impossible to find food that doesn't contain dairy and eggs here. The veggie selection is slim and basically, my body was telling me it needed more nourishment. And heck, I'm tired of eating rice and beans everyday! So I eat vegetarian, except for the occasional fish meal. And it feels good.
# posted by claudia @ 6:17 AM 
