Snapshots of a Shower

After we got back from Serrinha, building the dam (see post below), we had a choice to make: where to go for Easter? Serra Verde or the Delta of Parnaiba. We chose both. We went to Serra Verde first to build a shower. I use “we” very loosely. It was definitely the people there that built the shower. We just brought up the materials, and even that part was simple. All we bought was a big blue barrel, a small shower head, some rope and some nails. Total, it probably cost $40 US, and that’s a high estimate.

Serra Verde is trying hard to become a site for ecotourism, and they have everything necessary. Well, almost everything. There are welcoming people, worth getting to know, a different way of life, worth exploring, loads of cute kids to take pictures of, good home-made food, and interesting history (for example, Sr. Paulo was actually threatened at gunpoint to leave his land by the owners, and he didn’t back down. He told the people they could shoot him, but that’s where he was born, where his kids were born, his grandkids and where he planned on dying. So, the people left…and haven’t come back. This sounds complicated, but since there have been 6 generations born in Serra Verde, they have squatter’s rights to the land) continuing with my list of things worth seeing: beautiful hikes to amazing views, lots of interesting bugs and animals (trust me, I’m a biologist…he he), and even rooms and beds that people can stay in if they don’t have a tent or don’t like sleeping in a hammock.

However, there are some things that people expect, no matter how much they want to delve into the local way of life and a shower is one of them. The water is clean, and people there do shower, they just use buckets. I don’t mind, but there are some people who do. Not to mention it’s a convenience for the families there. Now they don’t have to carry buckets of water to and from the well. The project went swimmingly.

We were a little worried about how to get the 250 L bucket up the mountain, but one of Manuel’s brothers rolled up his t-shirt and wrapped it up and put the barrel on his head with the t-shirt in between. He and Manuel took turns carrying it up the “ladder” as they call it. There was also a 8 ½ month pregnant woman walking up with us, so no matter how heavy my camping pack seemed I didn’t complain one bit!

Rather than explain exactly how it was constructed (there is a link below to our pictures that can explain better), I’d rather just give you written snapshots of what I felt and saw.

I laughed into the camera when all the little kids picked up the barrel together and chanted “Forminginhas”-“Little Ants” as they carried it away to be washed.

I laughed until I cried as I watched Manuel Filho hammer nails into a board and carry buckets of dirt, copying every move his father made (he’s 2 years old).

I cringed under the hot sun as I watched Manuel climb to the top of the structure holding the barrel and kick down loose tiles.

I filmed the work on the shower, trying to both photograph and experience what was going on at the same time (it’s hard!).

I smiled and took pictures as the shower was baptized by showering water on the not-yet-baptized (Manuel Filho, they’ll wait and do him and his sister together when she’s born).

I talked in my accent-laden Portuguese about my parents, and my sisters, trying desperately to explain and understand how life is different here, and yet everyone I know is fundamentally the same.

I listened in the dark kitchen as Senhora Rosa sang the songs she wrote that she has guarded in her memory about good times, bad times and God.

I hiked far into the hills and tried to imagine doing it every day as Manuel does.

I watched as a boy flew a kite made out of a plastic bag high above the world on “Pedra Americana,”and felt a sadness when he let it fly away on the wind.

I swam in the cool water of their man-made dam, filled with murky, dirty, nutrient-rich water in my shorts and tank top, and surprised the wet kids with my ability to do a handstand.

I burned in the mid-day sun as we walked back from the swimming hole for lunch.

I apologized as I explained that we couldn’t stay for all of Holy Week since we had already bought tickets to Parnaiba.

I tired as we hurried back down the mountain at a moment’s notice so not to miss our bus.

I waited as the rain poured, literally poured down on us as we watched for motorcycles to take us to the nearest town with a bus (Rafael Arruda).

I prayed as the bus driver narrowly missed oncoming traffic to pass a slower car (no worries, that’s Brasil, and they’re good drivers, I promise).

I arrived in Sobral refreshed, alive and ready to go back to Serra Verde again.

There are pictures online of this adventure

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2048596&l=64a92&id=28201280

I know it’s a lot like looking at someone else’s vacation photos, not always the most fun thing in the world. But I hope that this blog and my descriptions can give you a little more of a window into our world right now and that the pictures help :o) Just remember that all the people you see in the pictures are people we’ve talked to, touched, laughed with and listened too. It’s a beautiful place to be, and we truly wish all of you could be here too.

Beijos!