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!

More pictures!

Hey everyone!

I just wanted to let everyone know that Caitlin put some pictures on her Facebook page from the Serrinha trip that she described in the previous post. You can find it here:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2048593&l=a4232&id=28201280

We love you all and we'll be talking to you soon!

-Andy

Mission Accomplished...kind of

It’s been a while since the last post because we’ve been traveling a lot lately. I’ll do my best to update you :o)

Last week we went up to Serrinha (the same community where we had the mass) to install an underground dam near on of their main wells. It was an experience that I learned a lot from. It was both a communal success and a personal failure at the same time. I’ll explain.

This dam is important for a number of reasons. First of all, they’re going to build 26 water cisterns over the next year. Each house will collect the rain water off the roof and pipe it into the cistern to be used during the dry season for home use. They’re going to modify it a little, since there aren’t any families living up there, and use the cisterns to help w/crop irrigation too. They’re hoping to have at least 5 finished and full before this rainy season ends. The rest, we hope, will be filled by this well where we installed the dam. Unlike some of the other wells, it never goes dry. It gets low, but never dry. There’s an electric pump there that runs off of solar energy, so the water can be piped just about anywhere to fill up the cisterns. So, if we can keep that dam as full as possible during the dry season, then it’ll help fill up the cisterns in the coming months.

To give you an idea of the area, the well sits on one end of a small valley between two hills. Makes sense, right? The rainwater runs off the hills down into the valley and fills up the well. However, a lot of water runs down the hills, into the valley, and then continues running down the valley. Our goal was to slow down the water run within the valley, and keep it closer to the well. The idea was to dig a trench across the valley (hitting rock on the bottom) lay our plastic against one side of the trench creating a sort of impermeable wall, and then fill it in again. Our tools: thick plastic, picks, shovels, hoes and a lot of man-power.

There was one problem: a giant cashew tree. It’s probably been standing there for a hundred years, about 20 feet down-flow from the well. We had to decide whether to put the dam on the well side of the tree or on the other side. As the resident biologist I was asked what I thought. Obviously we didn’t want to hurt the tree. I looked at the tree, looked at the well, and said that the main roots probably went either straight down (like a tap root) or towards the well, since that’s where the most water is. So, the men started to dig on the other side of the tree. Well, I was wrong, and looking back now, I realize that had I spent a little more time thinking about it I would have suggested we dig on the other side. The tree was in fact leaning towards the well, so obviously the roots were running in the opposite direction in order to counterbalance the tree’s weight. (I know this is probably confusing, the pictures above should make it easier to understand) Within a couple hours it became very apparent that the main roots of the tree were running directly through our trench. The guys decided to cut through them. At this point it started to rain. Andy and John went to the school to make some lemonade for everyone and I stayed for a bit to keep watching. Eventually I went back to the school too.

Within half and hour we saw the men walk by in the rain with their shovels and picks, and Ribamar said that the hole had collapsed in on itself because of the rain. The men, however, were in good spirits and said they’d just finish it up the next day.

We woke up the next day to the news that the cashew tree had fallen down during the night. I felt so guilty I was almost sick. I was so disappointed in myself. The only consolation was that there were so many other things that could have gone wrong because of the fallen tree. I went down there to look. The two main branches had just barely missed the well, they landed on either side. Attached to one of the branches was the electric line that ran to the pump. It was pulled tight, but it hadn’t broken or ripped out of any connection. All things considered, we were very lucky. It just created more work for the farmers, who were already spending time doing this project instead of taking care of their crops. They pruned off some of the branches, freed the electric wire, left the rest of the tree as it was and started digging the hole again.

In true Brasilian fashion, the guys tried to make me feel better. They said it was an old tree that didn’t make much fruit any more, and that they would plant other, more useful and shady trees there in its place…but I still felt (still feel) horrible. All those families have countless memories of climbing and playing and eating of that tree by the well…

That day, I let Andy and John make the decisions with the guys. I had a really hard time trusting myself. If I couldn’t be trusted to make a decision concerning something I know a little about (trees), how could I be trusted to make decisions about something I know nothing about (dams). I realize now that it wasn’t entirely my fault, and I’m not writing this to ask for sympathy or consolation. Someone very close to me told me before I left to write about the good and the bad, that this was going to be an amazing learning experience, so I’m just trying to share how I’m growing and learning. Even if I learn some things the hard way.

It was almost lunch time when we finally hit rock all the way across the trench. The hole ended up being about 2 meters (~6 ft) deep, a meter (~3ft) wide, and about 10 meters (~30ft) long. It was a big hole. Senhor Geraldo rallied the troops and decided to finish the project before lunch break. Water was flowing into the hole from the direction of the dam (a good sign, as long as we could trap it), so that had to be bailed out before we started. The plastic was lowered in slowly, and folded at the bottom to create a sort of “L” to trap the water. I jumped in and helped. That, more than anything, made me feel better. I’m a hands-on type of girl, and it was nice to feel like I was tangibly helping after making such a blunder. The plastic sheets were only a meter wide, so we lowered another layer down behind the first sheet to overlap just a little bit. Then dirt and mud and rocks were packed in tight to keep the two layers together. Man did I get dirty. It was a wonderful feeling.

The men worked so hard. It was amazing to watch them shovel and ho and dig tirelessly. It’s easy to see how Ribamar and Mauro can eat a bucket of food at lunch. To them, this was just another day of work. I’m sure they sweat just as much raising their crops. And they do it to feed their families. The more time I spend with them, the more admirable they become.

All the water that flowed into the hole while we were working stayed there. It didn’t run through. In fact, it made a sort of quick-sand situation, and no matter how much dirt we piled on top, the area stayed saturated. It could be that the ground just wasn’t packed as tightly, but I like to look at it as a tentative sign of success. I have hope that it’ll work. We won’t be around to see the results since they’ll appear during the dry season.

The men left the fallen tree there. Some have hope that it’ll continue to grow. In this time of Easter, a time of resurrection, who knows? That’s my selfish wish too, that it’s not really dead. But, like the dam, that’ll take months to find out. I won’t be here. I’m still trying to figure out what I learned and in what way I can grow as the tree dies. I think that’ll take a while as well.

Levando Esperanca (Bringing Hope)

Last weekend, we three Americans made the long hike back up Serrinha’s ladder. And we did it at night. There was some mix up with information about the bus we were supposed to take from Sobral to Serrinha. When we arrived at the pick up spot, we found not a bus, but a van. AND about 20 people already waiting to get on (an easy fit in Brasil). Even if we hadn’t had our camping backpacks we probably wouldn’t have fit, so it was looking rather dismal, and no one wanted to help us. The conversation that followed went about like this (in Portuguese of course):

John, “Is this the 4 o’clock bus to Taperuaba?”

Brasilian, “Yep.”

“Is there another one”

“Nope”

“I was told there was going to be a bus, not a mini-van”

“Well, you’ll have to talk to the owner of the van if you want to get on”

“Ok, where is he?”

“Over there” points vaguely across the street.

“What does he look like?”

“Oh… you know… a guy.”

At that point it became pretty clear that the waiting Brasilians had sized-up us and our packs and decided they didn’t really want us on the bus. Surprising to me, because I’m used to the Brasilian phrase “Dar um jeito” which pretty much means “we’ll find a way.” So John, with his amazing connections, called City Hall, talked to his important friend Alex and Alex called a different bus that had been hired to take teachers to and from a conference. This bus had already left and was about 15 min outside of the city. He actually got it to turn around and pick us up! It was practically empty, a MUCH more comfortable ride than trying to squish into that little van. That’s more like the Brasilian hospitality I’m used to :o)

So, long story short, we arrived in Valsores (the city at the bottom of the hill) around 6:30 (already dark), and started hiking up at 7. It’s been raining so the road is filled with erosion run-off. Some cracks in the trail were 4 or 5 feet deep. We all have head lamps, so it was fine. We were all sweating like pigs the whole way up. I mean literally dripping. I think it was more humid than during the day and there wasn’t even a hint of a breeze. Oh, and we carried our packs up this time instead of loading them on a donkey. They probably only weighed 25 or 30 pounds, but when you’re hiking straight up a mountain, it sure feels like more. So, we just took it slowly, stopped every once in a while to look up and out. The lights from the cities below were like a reflection of the bright stars above us. Beautiful.

We were at the school (where we put up our tent) around 9 and there were already people there. I forgot to mention this past weekend was the “rejuvenation mass” that I wrote about in an earlier post. We went up there to take part in the celebration. The brothers who celebrated the mass were already at the school when we got there. There’s a shortage of priests in Brasil, just like any country, and so the community got a hold of a group of… monks, I guess you would call them. Alexandre and Edison decided to hike up and take part. Apart from having a shortage of priests, they were hard-pressed to find a priest that would be willing to hike up the 800m to the top. Several said they would go if they were paid $150R…so Alexandre and Edison were the best option. They were careful to call it a “celebration” since it wasn’t a complete mass, we used pre-consecrated hosts.

From beginning to end, it was a simple and beautiful weekend. The Holy Eucharist was kept locked in the school office with a candle burning. Since Andy and I spent Friday night in the school, we changed the candles when they burnt out, and it created a sacred space where we could do our nightly prayers. That evening we sat outside, listening to the frogs, and talked to the brothers. Alexandre listened attentively as John, Ribamar and Mauro told stories of what Serrinha used to be like, when the families were together. They talked about what it’s like now… separated and dry. Actually it’s been raining, so the whole area is super green, thanks be to God. And they talked about the future, the need for the cisterns and underground dam, and the hope for a road that someday will reunite everyone.

The following morning, during the celebration, it became apparent that Alexandre took to heart all that he had heard. A simple alter was constructed on a table in the school and around 50 people crowded inside and outside the building to attend the celebration. It’s a different picture than mass in the US. Imagine adults sitting in school desks in a semi-circle around the classroom. Children peak in through the windows from outside, and often run inside to sit on someone’s lap. People are standing and sitting and nursing and hushing and laughing and crying. There are old and young, women and men, brown and white…and yet everyone is there for the same reason: to bring comfort and hope to each other.

Community members read the bible passages and the brothers lead the congregation in prayer and song. Alexandre stood up to give a homily and did a fantastic job. Ultimately our hope lies in Jesus, he said. He wove in parts of the readings with stories he had heard from the night before. He told of brave men who suffered to bring up all the materials to construct the school that was now closed. He made people laugh as they remembered how Cid (the governor) landed his helicopter on a giant rock up there to visit the people. Tears fell as he related how difficult it is now to remain a community. He even said that John, Andy and I were living symbols of hope, that we were there to show that Serrinha is a place worth believing in and hoping for…The most humbling experience of my life…As he was speaking it started to rain. Rain here is the ultimate symbol of hope. It means that the crops will grow. It means the children will be fed. It means the animals won’t starve. It means that all their work will literally bear fruit. As the rain trickles down into the ground to water the crops and stimulate growth it refreshes to soul too. What a beautiful image.

The sign of peace was a giant hug-fest, and I don’t think my smile could have stretched any further than it did. We shook hands and hugged everybody. Some people we had known for a couple weeks, others we had met just that day. It didn’t matter. Everyone felt like family. Afterwards there was a big lunch with chicken and pasta and rice and beans. We talked for hours with people of the community. Andy even spoke English with a couple of the young men who are taking classes (that made him happy). I divided my time between conversation and taking pictures of half-naked babies dancing in the rain. Judging by the smiles and laughter I heard during lunch, I would say the celebration was a great success. Now Andy and I have an idea of what it must have been like 5 or 6 years ago. It was wonderful to see everyone together.

I don’t know if they’ll ever get a road. John says it’s unlikely but he’s going to try hard to make it happen. I don’t know if the families will ever live together up top again. Maybe the men working now will be the last generation of farmers in Serrinha. Regardless, it was an honor and a joy to take part in the service. A service that brought the hope of better days.