What’s so great about the city anyway?

For 5 months I have been traveling to the interior (country) every weekend to work with the PRECE communities in Pentecoste, Ombreira, Cerota, Cipó, Boa Vista ad Providencia. Every weekend I have loved my time with the students and communities but have sighed a deep breath of relief when boarding the bus and heading back to city. It wasn’t because I didn’t like being in the country or spending time with the people. It was because I knew that I would be heading back to the bustling streets, the music on the square until 2 a.m., the restaurants with every imaginable dish of seafood, and the lights that never dim. I might have my roots in the country, but it is the constant motion of the big city that gives me energy.

So, I could never really understand why (except for their commitment to PRECE and improving their communities- kind of a big deal!) the university students chose to return to their communities in the interior… until recently.

Since I have been spending an extended period of time in the community of Boa Vista I have begun to see the beauty that they see every day and that pulls them back to their community. The tranquility of hearing nothing but farm animals at night provides a sense of peace and security. The millions (billions!) of stars that shine bright here could never been seen through the light pollution in Fortaleza. The ability to walk down the dirt roads and know the name of each person you pass gives a strong feeling of community and solidarity.

Here, in the country there might not be running water, or functioning internet or cell phones, or paved roads or access to all the luxuries the city provides, but there is something compelling here. It is the ability to breathe clean air, to see for miles and miles without your view being obstructed by apartments or factories, the freedom to ride on the back of a moto for hours without once stopping for a stop sign, and the sense of peace that you and your family can rest safely in your home at night. There is a beauty to the rawness of the country.

I may have forsaken all of my country roots for the big city, but I am glad that once again, thousands of miles from Wabash, IN, I have re-discovered the peace, beauty, simplicity and truth that only the country-side can provide.

Our Struggle (Nossa Luta)

It always happens that the “teacher” learns more from his or her students than he or she actually ever teaches them. This is exactly the case for me and the students of PRECE. Recently I have been learning so much more about their life and their existence which always circles around to the reality of their struggle. Below I want to reflect on some of the “stupid” questions I have asked recently which have shed so much light on to the plight of the people living in the interior of Brasil.

When coming out to the interior I had to bring 2 weeks’ worth of clothes, teaching supplies, fruits/water, toiletry items, etc. They filled up 4 bags. I thought that life was difficult holding everything as I rode on the back of the moto-taxi… until I saw a man carrying an oversized armoire on the back of his moto.

Me: Do you want to have class at night as well as in the morning? I have time and material.
Paulo Gleisson: Well, we want to. But, we can’t.
Me: Why not?
Paulo Gleisson: Well, because some of the students walk 10 kilometers to get here and it isn’t safe at night.
Me: Mouth drops as I think “walk 10 kilometers!!!! Who does that?!?!?”.

Me: Do they have resources in Pentecoste (the city 30+ kilometers away)?
Paulo: Not really. For example- my cousin broke his arm and they drove 40 minutes to the hospital in Pentecoste. But, they didn’t have the material there to set his arm in a cast, so they had to drive another 1.5 hours to Caucaia.

Me: I am so impressed that your mom cooks, cleans, etc. without running water.
João: There is actually water underground but we can’t get to it.
Me: Why not? With a blank expression on my face.
João: Because we don’t have the money to drill. And the county government won’t provide the system. They don’t really care about us.*
Me: Blank stare and evil thoughts toward the local government.

Me: Why won’t I be able to keep the same schedule traveling to the PRECE schools in the rainy season as I have now?
Andrade: Because during the rainy season the rains wash out the dirt roads making them impassable. No one can get anywhere.
I learned this first hand yesterday when Jose Nildo (my moto-tax friend) and I strategized how to best cross over the “ponds” and “streams” that had developed in the dirt roads after only one night of rain.

Me: So, you like the country more than the city?
Paulo Gleisson: Yes. The city is so polluted and dirty with too much trash. And, the sidewalks have cracks. And, there are too many people and vehicles.
Me: But, life here is so difficult.
Paulo Gleisson: That is true. We don’t have running water and just 11 years ago we got electricity. When I was a kid we used to watch TV with a battery in black in white, and we used to burn an oil lamp at night. And, here people don’t have resources. We don’t have money or even a bank or transportation. And because the land is so dry it is hard for people to grow crops like fruits and vegetables or make milk or cheese.
Me: This is going to sound stupid, but if people don’t have money and can’t grow things, how do they live?
Paulo Gleisson: They grow and make just enough for their family to survive, to sustain.
Me: But, you still prefer life here where life is so hard? If you could change anything what would you change?
Paulo Gleisson: Yes. This is our struggle, but it is my home. But, it would be better if we had access to resources and technology. We don’t have a newspaper because no one can deliver one out here. We only have access to one phone company and sometimes the service isn’t any good. The internet doesn’t work well out here, especially during the rainy season because the antennas break and don’t function. If we had access to resources I think things would be better.

* I continually hear the phrases ” the government doesn’t care about us” or “it’s like everyone has forgotten about us” or “nobody really cares about us” from people in the country. I think that this abandonment sheds a great deal of light on the hopelessness that people in rural areas often feel. And, fortunately it is one thing PRECE is fighting against. PRECE is telling people that they are not forgotten about, but that they are the ones who have the potential to change their own future and improve their plight.