Impressions of Pirajá

(written June 2, 2009, 28th day in Brazil)

I moved into Senhora Antônia’s house almost a week ago. It has been a fascinating experience living among my friends here.

First, a little bit about Fabricio’s family. I learned that Antônia, who is in her mid-70s, had 12 children, 8 of whom still live here in Pirajá. These include Isabel, Jocelita, Wilma, Adami, and Paulinha, all of whom I know. She has 32 grandchildren, and about 15 great-grandchildren already. This family tree explains the clan-like social fabric of the neighborhood. It isn’t just that Fabricio knows everyone, he is also related to many of the people I have met. And if you count the husbands and wives, and ex-husbands and ex-wives, of these relatives, I have met a LOT of people!

Antônia’s son, Adami, a bit younger than Isabel, is single and lives in a room just in back of Antônia’s house. He has taken over the role of “man of the house” since her husband’s death. The relationship between Adami and his mother, Antônia is similar to that of my great-uncle Lee with my great-grandmother Sarah Ward, or my great-uncle Bill with his mother Hazel, or my uncle Keith with my grandmother June. It seems that if you are a part of an extended clan, the single (perhaps unambitious) men get to stay at home and care for their mothers. In this case, it has also turned him into an alcoholic, so he goes on binges that lasts for days.

Antônia’s 2nd to youngest daughter, Paulinha, who just turned 28, is married to our old friend Bola, who was our “bodyguard” in 2002. They have a son, Iago. They live, as best I can tell, in a newer house built in the backyard. I say “as best I can tell” because it seems that everyone in the clan makes themselves at home in many different locations. For example, Antônia’s grandson, Paulinho, lives in the room next to mine. But while I’m staying here, Fabricio is taking his room and he is staying at Jocelita’s house. I woke up one morning to find Jocelita’s son Naia sleeping on the couch, and another morning to find Paulinho on the couch. (If they happen to wake up in the middle of the night and want to sleep on the couch, it’s about half a kilometer up the steep hill from Jocelita’s to Antônia’s.) Fabricio’s sister, Monique, sleeps at her father’s house, but during the day and evening, hangs out at with Isabel. Claudio, Fabricio’s brother, lives with his grandmother (on his father’s side) down the street. Even Madonna, the dog, makes herself at home at both Isabel’s and Antônia’s.

Personal note: The longer I live here the more embarrassed I am that I can’t remember everyone’s name. It’s just that the family is so big!!!

Interpersonal relationships extend beyond the family, of course. My social schedule is a testament to that! The day I arrived, we were invited to Joelma’s birthday party, which took place at the bottom of the canyon between old and new Pirajá. I’m not sure why it was there, but the bar next to the stream was the provider of drinks. Guests brought salgados (hors d’ouvres). Joelma and one of her friends were strutting their stuff, dancing to the popular arrocha style. I actually joined them on a couple of tunes, which was quite a source of amazement and amusement for them, since they didn’t expect me to be able to dance.

Thursday night was a night with the boys. Luciano, two of his neighbors, Lukas and Lukas, and I, played dominos on their “porch” while yet another birthday party took place next door. Out in the alley, Hugo and some other kids about his age (4yo) were having a great time mooching cake and Guaraná off party guests, and were being casually watched by Patricia (Pate, pronounced Pah-chee), a beautiful young woman who lives alone with her baby in the house next to Fabricio’s. Hugo has no sleep schedule. He stays up as late as he wants. On this particular night, he was out until 12:30am.

Saturday night, we went to a big concert in a neighborhood nearby featuring the well-known arrocha artist Silvano Salles (see video below) and local pagode group that has hit the big time, No Styllo. Fabricio introduced me to about 100 people. He knew the guys in No Styllo, he knew the security guys (everyone entering was patted down for weapons), he knew the bartenders, and he knew a lot of females. The young ladies are quite affectionate with Fabricio! The first opening band went on about 10:00pm, the second band, Nossa Africa, went on about 11:15pm, Silvano Salles started at 12:30am, and we left before No Styllo could start. According to Bola, they finished around 4:00am. Almost noone was there for the first band, but by the time Silvano Salles started, the place was full, perhaps 2000 people, almost all dancing and drinking. I only saw one person hustled out in a headlock by security.

Sunday night, there was a big festa at the old historic square between old and new Pirajá (This square has a very old, small church, and a memorial to the battle of Pirajá between the Brazilians and the Portuguese in 1822, and the tomb of famous General Labatut.) It was really a fair, with rides for all ages, trampolines, etc. I’d say roughly 1000 people were there. Lots of food and drink stands were set up, and little groups would stake out spaces for their friends. Jocelita and Nadson showed up, as did Willian and Fabricio’s cousin. It was a fun time, but Fabricio was a little upset because his ex was supposed to show up with Marcello and didn’t. During the two hours we were there, there was only one fight. The general mood was extremely friendly but not wild or chaotic in the least. I was on the lookout for people with weapons or people who looked like they were selling drugs, but I didn’t see any.

One of the most intriguing aspects of living in Pirajá is the street life. To give you a sense of what it’s like, I decided to count the number of people walking or hanging around on the street along the road in old Pirajá while passing by on the bus. Roughly, it was 600 people! Only a very few people out here have cars, and a few more have motorcycles (preferred by young people). The vast majority walk to the bus stop or to the store or to the bar. To socialize, one only needs to step outside the house to meet friends and acquaintances passing by. When Fabricio walks up the street, he’s stopped at least two or three times by various people wanting to discuss something or other. The street seems to be where most “meetings” or “business” takes place, similar to the impromptu meetings faculty have while walking through campus. For example, it was on the street where Fabricio learned that a painting partner “friend” had run off to the interior with his payment (R$250) for a job they done together.

Sometimes it is impossible for me to tell the difference between street life and work. Most of the work I see happening is contruction. It seems that almost every building up and down Avenida Elisio Mesquita is under constant construction, adding second or third floors, plastering walls, or setting tiles. There currently is also work being done in the street itself. A deep hole (4 meters) has been dug through the street along the big building on the corner. I’m not sure if this is for sewer or water—I didn’t see any pipes at the bottom of the trench. In addition to construction, you also see a lot of people doing things that we North Americans allow machines to do. A great deal of time is used for hand-washing clothes, and hanging them up to dry, usually under a porch since it rains so much (lately). Groceries are bought daily. The bakery next to where I live always has a line late in the afternoon of people buying their daily bread. Fruit and vegetables are always bought fresh and ripe at stands along the street. It seems that many, if not most, of the people in the neighborhood make their living providing goods or services for their neighbors: fresh produce, candy, beer and liquor, hairdressing, masonry work, painting, washing cars and motorcycles (Casilda’s kids), recharging phone cards, making and selling snacks or acarajé, among many other things. It seems that next to every bar is a church, almost all of them pentecostal. Since most churches hold services at least twice a day, you always see churchgoers mixed in with the workers and drinkers as they pass through the streets.

Music is everywhere. And it’s almost always played loudly on nice stereo systems. Silvano Salles is the current favorite, but is mixed with pagode and a little forró, especially now that we are approaching the São João holiday. (São João is strongly associated with tradition and the country life of the interior, and forró is the Brazilian version of country music.) But it is not just recordings one hears in the neighborhood. At any given moment, you can find someone sitting on their porch playing violão (guitar) or cavaquinho (ukelele). The rumbling sounds of drums often roll across the neighborhood from rehearsals of bloco afro groups.

All in all, I’d say that this is a better life in many ways than what we lead in the U.S. Certainly, it affirms the ideas of Daniel Quinn in his Ishmael books that “there is no single correct way to live.” The neighborhood functions differently, but it functions nonetheless. I’m not sure I would even say the people here are poor. They have what they need, and if they don’t, their neighbors share. No one goes hungry. No one sleeps on the street. No one is naked. If the people of Pirajá are victims, it is only because there is a government (city, state, and federal) and other institutions (banks, schools) that “interfere” in their lives. This interference isn’t direct, but is what I would call passive aggressive. The city says it is responsible for infrastructure, but then does nothing to fix or improve infrastructure in the neighborhood, yet at the same times, prohibits residents from fixing these things themselves. Bills must always be paid in person at the office of the utility. Banking must be done in person at the bank. To accomplish these things means taking a bus, and whenever you have to take a bus anywhere, you can pretty much guarantee that your whole day is consumed. The account for Quilombo Zeferina is at a Bradesco Bank in Garcia, a 1 ½ hour bus ride away. The line at this particular Bradesco, which I experienced trying to cash a check given to me by Marlene, was 40 people long, being serviced by three tellers. I stood in line for 1 ½ hours. Mind you, this was not at peak banking time, but rather the middle of the afternoon.

The "deep" mission work of our church here is important because it might eventually help people find a way through this tangle of bureaucracy.