Mission to Brazil: Back to the Start

The grinder drones and whines as Ir. (Brother) Gedeao (Gideon) presses the wood to the abrasive wheel. I peddle the keys of my computer close enough to smell the sawdust. As I reported earlier the grinder is mounted to an old excises bike, this is only a counter weight against the torque of the machine. A picture shows brother laughing as if he was riding it, although these foot-powered machines do exist.

It has taken me 3 weeks to start to understand where I am, and with time to grasp many of the things I am seen. I have the ability to share those now, and a good internet connect to assist me. This will take a few parts to explain as the first week still spins like a lifetime to me.

I arrived at the Sao Paula airport (GRU) at 10 AM Tuesday Morning. I waited an hour pretending not to be from the US at the baggage carousel. I was transporting two large checked bags for the Order. I placed stickers on each of the non-descript black bags; one of goofy and one of Donald Duck. My niece Lyle gave me the stickers, maybe for good luck, or maybe as her contribution to the mission. Five year olds do value stickers as cash, and I thank her for the good moo-ju. Goofy made it, but Donald did not. After an hour, I went to get help at the bag center at the end the security area, and after language confusion and many discussions I was not able to understand, they returned my bag searched and OK’ed. I walked into the pickup area. A young couple saw me looking for a man I had never met, seen a picture of, or spoke too; that was hopeful wearing brown robes. They said, “We speak English can we help you?”

“No I am fine.”

They made sure to instruct me to stay in the airport until this mystery person arrived, not to talk to anyone without authority, and not to let my stuff out of arms reach. I laughed to think of a thief with 1000 yard of lace material, but understanding better now it would have real value to a theft.

Brother Gabriel walked into the airport, I walked up to him, introduced myself, and he embraced me. In the United States hugging is reserved for those you know well – not here. Brazil is a hugging culture and the Order never withholds affection. Note: you might avoid me for a couple weeks when I get back, if you are averse to hugging.

I take pictures around the airport of my new friends. A lay associate, who volunteered his services, drove us for two hours in near standing traffic to the train station somewhere further inside the city.

The lay associates are members of the community, and are understood as critical to the success of the Fraternity of Missionary of the Poor of Jesus Christ. They are married or single, youths or adults, and male or female. Like the Brothers and Sisters they take serous vows. They are required to fulfill religious observances, contact or visit the houses of the religious, aid in the missions to the poor, and live a life style that reflects Christ.

We discover our inadequacies of language, mine in Portuguese and Ir. Gabriel in English. The dictionary becomes our translator very quickly, as conversation becomes a mix of work association and pantomime. We pull into the train station. It is now mid-afternoon when say good-bye to the driver and press on to our final destination in Zona Su. I have no idea where we are going the whole 3 hour trip to the outside of town. Brother lead the way as we change trains 4 times, flowing along colored arrow marked paths pointing: the yellow line, the blue line, the green line, and red line. As we moved on thousands of people from each direction built into a channeling mass. A rush hour that may not ever slow down. It’s is a city of between 10 and 17 million people, but know one I ask can give me a real number. The last train is on ground level, not elevated like the trains in the central metro, and runs to the edge of Sao Paulo. The first train is full from the stops it made to the north of us. The next is busting at the seams, but I follow brother in as we are shoved in by all commuters pushing behind me. Just seven stops before we reach ours. We are the last stop on a train never seems to empty, it just gets more dense with people. I was joined into mass with shoulders, butts, elbows, and for a time a forehead pushing against me. The woman that came up my chest coughed deeply for most of way. The air vents whiffed air without much relief.

I was wide eyed despite the closed in space. I would give brother and excited look and he would smile until I broke direct eye contact. I watched the river/water channel that was on the side of the train. It was all so foreign that I didn’t know to be afraid or jubilant.

The train hit our stop, everyone got off, and filed to the tall stairs leading up and around to the walkways, out of the train depot, and to the bus station. The buses would be the final leg to distribute everyone to their homes for the night.

In a city of stone roads and hilly neighborhoods the bus was like a rollercoaster. The bus made dead stops without warning, and fought traffic made up of 30 percent cars and 70 percent motor cycles. I held to the bar as I stood bumping around. I finally looked at brother and said, “yee-haw”. The gesture was noted, he smiles until I broke eye contact. We got off the train at a three way stop, which was a 4 way stop at one time. Now, one street was blocked with rubble and debris, with a city works sign kick off to the side. The sun was now completely down, street lights were very sparse, and pack of dogs walked infringing me until they found something to attract their attention. I walked very close to brother.

We walk up a short steep hill, which turned to a long straight away on the back side of a major street. The backs of the houses showed how small the living spaces were, plastic water tanks with improvised plumbing using simple gravity, and blankets acting as doors. We pass a grade school with high fences and prison wire. The road dead ends into a statuary garden hugged by a large u shaped building. The sign reads, “Bem Vindo, (welcome) to the house of Mother Theresa”. The whole back side of the property sits high above the massive favela. The moon shows little light as the streets below are colored by amber street lamps and open fires. We are in Zoni Su.