Parable of the Cracked Roads -- Pirajá

(29th day in Brazil)
The "Parable of the Cracked Roads" [a story used at the FPC mission meeting last Sunday] is, actually, quite literally applicable to Pirajá and to the city of Salvador as a whole after the recent heavy rains. Major arteries are pock-marked with huge potholes. Traffic on these major arteries, which normally travels at about 40 miles per hour, must crawl across these holes at slower than a walking pace. This has caused horrible traffic jams, and a bus trip that would normally take 45 minutes takes two hours.

The picture at left is of the street directly in front of the Quilombo. At least this hole is on the side of the street—there are lots of others right in the middle. Some cars and truck trying to get up the street are unable to do so, because the street is so steep they need a running start, but can’t maintain their speed over these holes.

The people of Pirajá are poor (in our eyes), but they aren’t stupid. They are the ones who face problems day to day, and they find solutions to those problems. However, just like us, they are sometimes blinded by Mother Culture (as presented in Daniel Quinn's book Ishmael), and can’t see the forest for the trees. The truth is, they proceed through life mostly relying on the “quick and easy” physical solutions to their problems. It keeps people employed, after all. Short-term fixes mean having to do the work over and over again. Sometimes this is the only job security people have. Have we ever thought about the possibility that by coming here and doing physical work, are we taking work away from people who need it?

Just in case you think this is a deficiency unique to Brazil, think about these examples in the U.S.:
• Why is it that every year PennDot has to set out orange cones on the freeway? Why must they dig up the road foundations so often? Why can’t they find a permanent solution to the problem? Is there anything WE can do to fix this problem? If so, how difficult would the process be? Do you think it would be any different in Brazil, easier or harder?
• Why is it that appliances and cars seem to fail just after the warranty expires? To what degree is “strategically planned obsolescence” a part of our everyday life? How purposeful is it? If things were to last as long as we wanted (forever), then how many people would be out of a job? (This scenario is treated humorously in TV ads for Maytag and chewing gum.)

Although the quick fix is often used, people here recognize the value of longer-term solutions. A solution for holes in the road that lasted two or three years or more would be considered quite acceptable. But Nature, after all, is a formidable foe, and there simply may not be any “permanent” solutions available. A “warm and fuzzy” solution, developed in concert with local residents, is perhaps the best we can expect for a mission trip. Working with local residents is a must, because “warm and fuzzy” solutions required more money, prep time, and follow-up. How can we, as we try to enable social justice, be the financiers of these projects without being patronizing or demeaning to the people here? How do we prevent our mission from becoming “donor-driven,” since tangible, physical results are contingent first and foremost on money?

The most important thing we need to do in addressing the deeper needs of the residents of Pirajá is to understand how Mother Culture blinds them to certain aspects of their lives, just as Mother Culture blinds US to certain aspects of our lives. For example, Americans live in a consumer society where buying power is the most important thing in our lives. We consume for the sake of consuming, not because we need things. We eat for the sake of eating, not for nourishment. If you watch the commercials for the evening news, you’ll see ads for cholesterol drugs, diabetes meters, weight loss programs, depression and anxiety, and in between those, ads for fast food, devices like the Blackberry that enable us to work more, and all manner of machines that automate our lives and keep us from exercising our bodies and interacting with others face to face. Mother Culture blinds us to the fact that the only thing we need to do to be healthy is physical work and have a healthy diet. She tells us that we should eat what we want, to indulge ourselves because “we deserve it,” and then tells us to buy drugs to treat the symptoms of our behavior.

In Pirajá, Mother Culture tells another story which blinds residents to what might be obvious to us, being outsiders to their culture. For example, rubbish of all sorts is constantly in the street. They have trash pickup, but it is sorely ineffective because they would need shovels to collect it all. No one has a trash can; no one has garbage bags. Garbage bags take money, so they just use little grocery bags, which are free when you buy groceries. Dogs and cats, some stray and others belonging to people, roam the streets and tear open these bags, strewing the garbage all over the street. This is normal, everyday life. They don’t consider it a problem. What is Mother Culture telling them about how to deal with waste that blinds them to the unsanitary and unsightly reality of garbage?

Another example: all those dogs and cats have their sexual organs intact. They breed at will. There is no awareness nor desire to spay and neuter their pets. What is Mother Culture saying to them about the place of dogs and cats in their lives? What does Mother Culture say to them about sexuality and birth control, whether animal or human? We see over-population, teen-age mothers and fathers, and feral animals. These problems could be fixed by simply using birth control and by spaying and neutering pets. They KNOW this, yet don’t do anything about it—Why?

It is only after studying and understanding what culture has implanted in the minds of the people here that we can begin to address the long-term, deeper needs of the people. And even then, we can’t just preach to them the value of clean streets and birth control. We have educate them in a non-patronizing way about why they might consider changing.

Quilombo Zeferina is named after a great Afro-Brazilian warrior woman of the 18th century. She was part of the Urubu quilombo, which had its settlement in what is now the preserve next to Pirajá. Quilombos were, and are, communities of people (escaped slaves in the past) who seek autonomy, self-suffiency, and rule over their own lives. Quilombo Zeferina could become an institution that helps the people here have more control over their own lives by providing education and needed services. With education and community solidarity comes the ability to change the system and affect the government. We must remember, however, that ultimately it is THEIR priorities that will win in the end. We can only bring our humble impressions and observations, and our own experiences, to help them get a bigger picture of the culture of which they are a part. If done right, they will also help us see a bigger picture of our own cultural disposition.

Not everyone who goes on a mission trip is meant to become a long-term player in the search for social justice. Many will (and should) content themselves with “warm and fuzzy” service. There is nothing wrong with this. But those who really want to bring social justice to Pirajá should realize that it is a long-term commitment based PRIMARILY on establishing relationships with the people here. Not just pats on the back, but real relationships. Doing this requires communication, and our language barrier makes it difficult. But it is not impossible. A lot can be communicated through non-verbal means, and, luckily, what is in one’s heart is communicated very easily (I would say almost involuntarily :-)