I am sitting at a work table the brothers use to make 8 inch
wooden crosses, some they wear on their belts and some they sale. The crosses
are works of art made to a loose set of dimension, but better tools mean a more
homogenized result. I have seen safely knives, broken glass, wheel grinders,
and full wood shops to create these symbols of the Christian yoke. In Kansas
City, Kansas, at the Shalom House Men’s Shelter, you can tell by Sister
Agatha’s or Sister Paula’s stained hands when they in production. Other tale
tell signs are piles of tree limbs, wood shavings, poly-cans, shards of glass
bottles, and spent razor boxes.
In Brazil, there are more industrious methods to creating
them. They cut them out of wood planks with jig saws along with using tree
limbs to utilize more wood and save time finding those perfect limbs. I saw near
Sao Paulo at order’s drug rehabilitation mission called the chácara de San Francisco, or the St.
Francis country house, that very assembly line from jig saw, to grinder, to
sander. I am staying in Governador
Valadares in the state of Minas
Gerais, at this house the brothers have two grinders. One can be set on
a weighted stand which I sit next to now, and the other is on a get up I have
yet to ask about. My idea is you can
grind the wood as you petal on an old exercise bike. The handles have been replaced with the other
grinder mounted to a board. I will need to check on that, but it’s colder to
say the order is going green.
My mind wandered off of crucifixes as I gazed at the giant
cockroach chattering by my feet. He just seemed to know where he was going and
I didn’t feel inclined to direct him as he disappeared across the room and out
of sight. Settling my eyes into the night sky, I was overcome by the moon over
the favela’s roofs. The last two nights I saw the moon gain size and intensity
at wild rates, growing from a distant bead to an electric lemon. Now I stood
and walked over to the half wall of the upper floor of the casa to watch. Under my vista are six families living in what
would fit in basketball court – give or take. I can’t tell if the rain keeps
from running into their living areas, nothing seems to be very water tight.
Brother Gabriel, my handler and professor of Portuguese for
the next four weeks, paused in his thoughts’ audibly by clearing his throat and
smacking his lips. I heard him and turned to look down as he stood three stairs
from the second floor. He wistfully locked his eyes at the moon. He spoke slowly in his Brazilian Brogh, “I
love the moon, she is the Madre. You cannot see the light of the
Moon without the sun, and the sun is God.”
I nod. “Beautiful, I…” Start to create a Portuguese phase,“
I- Eu gostoso(like) this second floor dos(second).” I re-start in English, “it
is good here, the moon, the Rio Doce (which means sweet river), the air
through the open vista…”
Brother Gabriel, “you could live here if you would like.” He
smiles, looks at me, and back the moon.
“That would take a total change in wardrobe.” I smiled as I
walk to back the bench. He laughed and I turned to laugh with him. You
get to know someone on a 15 hour bus trip.
Vista Govenador Valadares
Machine Shop at Country House de San Fransico
The view from the my house Brother Gabriel is in the middle
