tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24337886181025289092024-02-19T08:08:40.987-08:00RocinhaChris Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13973482585782892794noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2433788618102528909.post-88747462675582088192009-03-29T10:38:00.000-07:002009-03-29T10:54:03.803-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2CMKuow-LJpzrne6hIcEbQnKxPQgF48niT-JlKhoJ0aOayPkhm3fnM146cPveZsiCCslNX49eXr_apnr2rcdaaVMApc4Ye-rpzEEXq6MwM5erWNt11w-lE79qFSdt27tzFzUiyMqc5qc/s1600-h/My+Suco+Shop.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2CMKuow-LJpzrne6hIcEbQnKxPQgF48niT-JlKhoJ0aOayPkhm3fnM146cPveZsiCCslNX49eXr_apnr2rcdaaVMApc4Ye-rpzEEXq6MwM5erWNt11w-lE79qFSdt27tzFzUiyMqc5qc/s320/My+Suco+Shop.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318668403845104386" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkoblrErToNq0D35ygGdGSva34QVXnZh87HHaecIS20xDgH1M6WlsOFcDhwlp6-_YaK3ZlePlI_8DRp6EUz58-wOD36icmGz9MHEd-E7ZXOEdJqKezIDIhgz-GpnwemFIQ-j7etsJMiwA/s1600-h/Helicopter.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkoblrErToNq0D35ygGdGSva34QVXnZh87HHaecIS20xDgH1M6WlsOFcDhwlp6-_YaK3ZlePlI_8DRp6EUz58-wOD36icmGz9MHEd-E7ZXOEdJqKezIDIhgz-GpnwemFIQ-j7etsJMiwA/s320/Helicopter.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318668402353130962" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:48px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">29 March, 2009</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:21px;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">The sheet was bright white but streaked with blood that was very bright and very red.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was about to turn left into another alley and I practically ran into them.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Six huge policemen were carrying the body, and the foot stuck out of the back end of the sheet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Everyone in the alley stopped what they were doing, and some began to cry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I stayed still and watched.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>At the end of the alley they stopped to take a break, and put the body down on the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They covered the body with the sheet, but this did not stop one young woman from lifting the sheet to see if she knew who it was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> (The photo above was taken in my neighborhood, the police are standing with the body, in front of the shop where I get juice)</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">A few days ago the Rocinha traffickers went to Copacabana to steal a cache of weapons that was being stored there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A firefight erupted in the streets between Rocinha traffickers and the police.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Normally the gunfire exchanges are limited to inside the favelas, and everyone knew that the police would come to Rocinha, to punish publicly.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Two awkward days of waiting ended at 6am with multiple helicopters flying over my apartment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The police invaded, and lifted out a large cache of drugs and weapons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There was an exchange of gunfire and the police stayed for the day to search for weapons and drugs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My area, Valão, is known for hosting weapons and drugs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had a class to teach this same morning, and I made sure to take my identification with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The streets were full of police, but things were tranquil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The traffickers, in standard guerilla warfare fashion, disappeared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We watched the police walk through alleys followed closely by pretty reporters wearing Kevlar jackets, and images of the neighborhood were all over the news.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I returned to my apartment later in the day, and my alley was strangely empty and silent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As I walked by a door made of thin iron bars, a three-year old girl said in Portuguese, “nobody is there.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>She was referring to the institute, where she frequently plays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I asked why and she said because of the police.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I walked to the institute and saw several heavily armed traffickers at the end of the alley, it seemed the time for an attack was imminent, but it never happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The next day things were back to normal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">Dear reader, this will be my last post on this site.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I feel I must put this away for some time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After being with my neighbors in the alley as the body was being dragged out, things have changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Even before that I was feeling a heavy load.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My writings have not added any value to our community.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Naivety and false bravado have melted into real friendships and real issues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>All I saw in my first three months here was violence, and I am seeing things differently now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There is a deeper story here, full of great people doing a million great things every day, and I am guilty of only reporting the story that sells.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s just too easy to write about the negatives, and I am no better than the field reporter in Iraq who exploits violence to get paid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I will close this blog by midweek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Chris Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13973482585782892794noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2433788618102528909.post-26060500616310400602009-03-17T14:38:00.000-07:002009-03-17T14:40:19.302-07:0017 March, 2009<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">A large hand grabbed my shoulder and turned me around.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I was trying to get into the van back to Ipanema.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was struck by the size of the military policeman that was quickly in my face.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The questions came fast: what the hell are you doing in Rocinha, do you have drugs in your bag?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I smiled, showing calm on the outside but was nervous on the inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He grabbed my bag and my arm, and our walk was forced as we went to his car.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The other PM(Polícia Militar) was there, he was shorter, and little fat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The tall one began to search my bag and other searched me, thoroughly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">Earlier in the day I was at the institute, Luciano gave me cash to purchase a professional camera from Amazon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This left me with 2,000 Reais to leave Rocinha, a ridiculous amount of money that no Brazilian would ever walk around with normally, unless that Brazilian was a trafficker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After my meeting with Luciano, I went to the community center to get my class advertisement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The bottom of my class advertisement had my bio, describing in a few sentences my Marine Corps background.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Rogerio, who had advised me initially that my real bio would be a good thing, had second thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After some discussion he relayed to me that he was unsure if the traffickers would be able to properly differentiate a military officer from the US, and a PM in Rio.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>PMs in Rio are the enemy; any chance of suspicion that I may have a connection with the PM, would quickly result in an unsavory death in the microwave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Microwaving is currently the en vogue manner of executing favela justice.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The guilty party is placed in a stack of tires, which are then set ablaze.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The guilty party melts inside the tires, as if in a microwave.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I must admit that I do think about this manner of death when I pass the trafficking points, asking the higher power every time, “please not today.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I laugh at the absurdity of my thought, as if tomorrow would be a much better time to be microwaved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Back to the community center, I retrieved my document and was thankful it had not been posted, then proceeded to leave Rocinha for the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">The larger PM reached in my bag and pulled out a perfect folded packet of 2,000 Reais, gangster style, a perfect rubberband holding the crisp fold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I smiled and began to explain how I purchased a camera for a friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Things were not looking good as he continued to search my bag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He found my folder of paperwork and began to read my class advertisement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had refrained from telling the PMs that I was a Marine, only that I was an American volunteer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">A cafezinho is the standard practice of PMs in Brazil.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The supposed offender is taken to another location by the PMs, then asked for a bribe, the cafezinho.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Fifty or one hundred Reais would normally cover it, but if you were framed for a more serious crime, much more would be needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>During my transaction with the PMs I was anticipating the request for the cafezinho, and was withholding my true background until I felt that the cafezinho may be coming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If the cafezinho came before I told them the truth, then they would be embarrassed, and as a cat backed into a corner, they would have no escape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If the situation was progressing toward a cafezinho, I knew I must tell them prior to the hint of it, so they would be able to get out, and the situation would be dissolved before it was too late.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">My class advertisement was in Portuguese and the larger PM read it thoroughly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He finished the bio portion, executed a perfect turn towards me, saluted, and yelled “Capitão!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Both PMs began to smile and laugh and the tension that was thick, immediately dissipated to hand shakes and smiles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">I walked away from the PMs relieved, but my relief was replaced with morbid thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Any traffickers in the area, upon seeing how my transaction ended, would quietly take a note of my pleasant and friendly manner with the PMs. An unfortunate twist of fate, and I do not acknowledge PMs ever, any suspicions are quickly brought to justice. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><i>You have comfort.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You don’t have luxury, and don’t tell me that money plays a part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The luxury I advocate has nothing to do with money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It cannot be bought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It is the reward of those who have no fear of discomfort. – Jean Cocteau<o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><i> <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">I moved into Rocinha last week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am finding that it is an exercise in life management.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I have a small room in an apartment with a bed, a nightstand, and a chest of drawers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The ceiling fan works hard to help me sleep at night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My window opens to the staircase that leads up to the third floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have no pillow or blanket, they are not needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I lay down and am thankful for the fan, and the sleep comes.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">I used to need perfect white noise to sleep; I don’t anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Favela life is constant noise, you become accustomed to yelling, fireworks confused as gunfire, gunfire confused as fireworks, and the vibrant hum of three hundred thousand people packed too closely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">I did not hear the gunfire my first night in Rocinha.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My fan makes a whirling noise and my room faces inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Four traffickers we’re waiting in the Audi of a couple that was dining in Lagoa.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Once the couple arrived at their car, the traffickers made them drive to the couples’ home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The driver tried to delay by driving around Ipanema, pretending his house was somewhere else, buying time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The traffickers picked up on his intent, and made him drive to the ocean cliffs closer to Rocinha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The traffickers left the couple there, hanging onto the concrete wall that fell down to the ocean below, screaming for help.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They were saved shortly after by the police.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The traffickers fled back to Rocinha and hid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The military police went to Rocinha and there was an exchange of gunfire, then the police called the head trafficker and told him that if they did not give up the suspects, they would be coming in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The head trafficker had the four beaten, put them in a van, and had them driven down the hill for the police.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The police then made a public spectacle of the criminals.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><i>You can’t just come riding in on the great white horse of moral principle; you have to solve the problem. – Sergio Vieira de Mello<o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><i> <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">I am coming to the conclusion that at some point, I will have to achieve the passive agreement of the head boca.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have a short list of friends to make, all of which can make my path smoother and safer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In a community that receives millions of Reais per month from trafficking operations, you cannot stretch your legs without getting passive agreement from head of Rocinha law.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>More to come on this later. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">Carnaval has come and gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The largest party on the planet was here, and the biggest parade the world knows occurred for five nights straight at the Sambódromo.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The Sambódromo is a gigantic concrete open-ended stadium that houses the fans watching each school’s parade.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I paraded with Rocinha’s Samba School as a clown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Each school’s parade is about ninety minutes long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The costumes, floats, and choreography is the greatest single spectacle on earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Volunteers work all year preparing for the event which is funded by legal companies and mafia-style organizations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We waited in the preparation area for five hours and began our processional at four in the morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The parade is a competition so it was important for us to maintain a perfect line as we marched through while dancing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I did not have time to memorize the song so I chewed gum to give the appearance that I was singing along properly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">Reader, I have been very busy with life in Rocinha, and I am finding that one either writes things or does things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I must be doing things now, and hope to have your patience with my poor and limited writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Chris Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13973482585782892794noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2433788618102528909.post-73386843341581503112009-02-08T14:30:00.000-08:002009-02-09T03:48:28.963-08:008 February, 2009<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8M0ywYMWnK1NabLxhR1U4E3hyphenhyphenR-3olfhdeWRzAbcIlHcbT1Smtm1JYPlnOwM7pMmdrW74C0gb622SdRO_my77Bj63Y6FtNWxoLNgwUnTNk9lizFmktXwwyWPSmVWczwwV6FRKMEW81PM/s1600-h/Onibus+burned.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300558300394853474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8M0ywYMWnK1NabLxhR1U4E3hyphenhyphenR-3olfhdeWRzAbcIlHcbT1Smtm1JYPlnOwM7pMmdrW74C0gb622SdRO_my77Bj63Y6FtNWxoLNgwUnTNk9lizFmktXwwyWPSmVWczwwV6FRKMEW81PM/s320/Onibus+burned.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-DIWmj0h_eCvtrSK-2QHGhzq2mYlZXO9FOhYNu6qumwacYWq3qB5QNuaRfGgbyT9fR4Td9k4RYbDZMq94rytnQg-j0NhaHXMj3GhG4Kg750CGVQ0mUO0IIS4z3xqbsH2NMSYyM5omtSE/s1600-h/Picture+1+for+Blog.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300558299232580514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 189px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-DIWmj0h_eCvtrSK-2QHGhzq2mYlZXO9FOhYNu6qumwacYWq3qB5QNuaRfGgbyT9fR4Td9k4RYbDZMq94rytnQg-j0NhaHXMj3GhG4Kg750CGVQ0mUO0IIS4z3xqbsH2NMSYyM5omtSE/s320/Picture+1+for+Blog.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><em><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The above pictures were taken after a recent conflict outside of a favela. Immediately after the fire was put out, favela residents were cutting and pulling the metal from the remains.</span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We’ve got to lean on the door harder, and if we keep leaning in a very, very connected way, then that door is going to open further – Lt Gen Sir Michael Rose, British SAS, UN Bosnian Operations<br /><br />I’m restless. I like challenges, changes. I look for trouble, it’s true. Because in trouble you find truth and reality – Sergio Vieira de Mello<br /></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">I walked through the market in downtown Rio, searching the maze of streets and alleyways for equipment. I needed thick rope for climbing, and more iron bars. A few missteps and redirections led me to the naval district. Entering a supply warehouse I met Fernando, a middle-aged man with glasses, the manager of this old depot that sold anchors, rope, and iron. Fernando was intrigued but couldn’t give me any parts. He spoke of a boat cemetery in Caju, and I left for it. I arrived at the bus stop, waiting for bus number 201 to Caju, imagining all the metal scraps I could scrounge once I got inside an old ship. A van drove by, the driver yelling for Caju, I signaled him to stop. The door opened by a lever the driver had specially welded, and I crawled past an old man to sit behind the driver. The van was a relic of the past, its insides gutted, every piece rusted and barely holding on, its passengers more used to driving in ancient hulks than the air-conditioned luxury buses that serviced the wealthy neighborhoods, the van’s destination, the favela Caju. I explained where I needed to go, the driver a little confused but eager to help, the passengers curious about the ventures of this stranger to their neighborhood. The drive took 20 minutes as the highway hugged the bay of Rio, the destination always in sight as it sprawled with massive ships, cranes, and warehouses. I was definitely outside of my comfort zone again, but it felt strangely good to be back.<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Caju appeared as a wasteland, one dusty street separating the favela from the immense marine industry. The Caju favela architecture was standard, but its location was not. Normally in Rio the favelas are in the hills, but here it was flat, like a Mexican desert town, abandoned and on its own. The view to the marine industry was blocked by a two-story wall, each company having their own gigantic door, swinging inward, allowing the trucks passage, and I was lucky to catch a glimpse inside. The image was surreal, in an instant I saw the massive skeleton of a once Titanic size ship, covered with workers like ants, tearing off the remaining bones, as another thousand workers scurried, carrying the iron bars to the trucks. There was something naturally evil about this place.<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">It was 3 o’clock in the afternoon, the air was thick and heavy, the type of air that caused time to slow down, and the sun, the sun and dirt made everything too bright. The driver was twenty-five years old and named Dennis. He lived in Caju, and he knew the dangers. If he left me here alone, it would have been bad. He liked my story so he decided to help me out. After dropping off the remaining passengers we searched for access to any abandoned ships. We reached the edge of town and saw three huge ships, large ships even from this distance, laying in the mudflats, unnaturally canting at slight angles as if preparing to fall at any moment, but having not moved in decades, resting. We drove towards them, leaving the main road for two dirt tire lanes overgrown by grass.<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">A two-story home came into view as we approached, the ships massive outlines getting larger in our view. The home looked vacated, the fence that ran along the road had a doorway that we entered, leading us into the yard that was dried mud with occasional grassy patches. The sun was hard and there was no wind, you could feel the weight of the silence as heat. Our attention turned to two ducks who waddled their way to a dirty puddle. We called out for someone, the noise feeling too loud, thunderous yet hopeless in this place that wreaked of lethargy. We stood, and we could hear our breathing, then we heard a window slide open from the second story, an old man leaned out. He looked as if we had woken him from a twenty-year sleep. He made his way downstairs and to the back door, then walked slowly down the backyard steps, every move with slow purpose, his face was lined with wrinkles and his beard long and unkempt, the spitting image of Tom Hanks’s character in Cast Away. He acted as if he had not seen a human in years. The conversation was slow, the pauses long, taking time to catch your breath from the unbearable heat. I pointed to the ships in the mud and told him my intentions. He said that I could not go there, a man owned them and was going to sell the metal for money. We thanked him and returned to the van.<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">I asked Dennis to help me find a bus back to the city. When we arrived the bus stop in Caju, I gave him the equivalent of $3 US dollars. I told him it was for the extra gas he used to help me out, but we both knew that was a lie, I paid him for being on the good side, I paid him for keeping me alive.</span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><br /></span></div><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I am sometimes almost terrified at the scope of the demands made upon me, at the perfection of self-abandonment required of me, yet outside of such absoluteness can be no salvation – George MacDonald</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Camp Barrett in Quantico has been the training ground for countless Marine Officers. The area is immense, steep hills and river valleys, impossibly dense foliage and open, grassy, clearings make it ideal for dealing tough lessons to lieutenants. Each season is harsh, but then it was summer, sweat-soaked camouflage blouses from brutal humidity quickly becoming the enemy at night, the relatively cooler night temperatures making the change dramatic. I was acting platoon commander for tomorrow’s attack. I prepared a recon brief and gathered my team, the senior captains watching, grading our every action. We left at 1600 to scout the enemy’s position, taking three other Marines and leaving the platoon behind to rest, giving them word that we would return no later than 2000.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">We walked silently, tracing hills and valleys, slowing and compressing our formation in the thick brush, accelerating and expanding in the open areas. The late afternoon heat was beginning to ease, the sun behind thin cirrus clouds, lowering under the steep hills. The enemy’s likely position was halfway down a thickly forested valley, but on a rise that tried to be a hill, with two water washes on each side. We arrived on the adjacent rise and three hundred meters from the anticipated enemy position. With visibility limited to 20 yards, we were in no position to gain any real intelligence. I took one other lieutenant with me to scout the enemy lines.<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">We had little time to conduct the final, most important portion of our recon. The travel took longer than expected and we needed to return as soon as possible. If we returned late, the platoon would send out a search party for us, causing much confusion the night before an attack, and we still needed to brief. I found an enemy gun position, confirming the enemy’s basic location but still lacking any substantial intelligence. I wanted to know what was on the other side of this rise. Was the terrain better? Did the enemy position extend over two rises? How many gun positions did they have? I returned to the recon team, and I had a decision to make. Accept a late return to the platoon and conduct a more in depth reconnaissance, or return now, rationalizing that I knew all I really needed to know, and ensuring a smooth operation. I took the recon team back. This was a mistake.<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">I briefed the squad leaders at sunrise. I led the platoon to the attack position, put them on line, and they attacked through ridiculously thick brush, each Marine barely able to see his nearest buddy, climbing over and crawling under fallen trees, and blindly shooting at the enemy’s gun positions. We took the position, but not without heavy losses.<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">A thorough debrief concluded with one sharp lesson.<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">The terrain on the other side of the rise was much less dense, and also less steep. An attack from the other side would have saved lives. The senior captain hammered me for not staying committed to my recon mission, for letting a small problem deter me from achieving the overall goal.<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">The problem above is more complex than it seems. There are several seemingly small issues at play here, and when presented together at the time of the required decision, they sum to a greater total.<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">I lacked the understanding that every tough decision will always cost something. The choice, with its intent on keeping everything status quo, resulted from the misguided notion to keep everything operating smoothly, vice going for the kill and accepting consequences.<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">The decision also goes back to The Hustler by Tevis, and defines the choice of a loser. By rationalizing the reason to return, I had a built-in excuse for failure. I had essentially lost the battle before it began. The underlying causes of such subconscious decisions are beyond the scope of this writing, but the reader will be sure to point out man’s hesitancy to completely expose himself, thus the failure point to closely to his own self. This self-protection is the ultimate vanity, and is the root of infinite problems on every scale.</span></span><br /></div></span></div></div>Chris Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13973482585782892794noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2433788618102528909.post-90491793174538346812009-01-25T07:08:00.000-08:002009-01-25T07:23:14.824-08:0025 January, 2009<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ssSqc_WiuV_mh-mav_wK_XwOmDuHRiKSBm7ltaec6IERD3glhXoDviczOlcvmcKpwcUdiQkXMW_HDmKQgv5WW0TVp-9qlg6-f39FsMiF7QSXi7mf4buw3U5zfQWE2_mhzfaBBfxtaxE/s1600-h/Rocinha+Image+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ssSqc_WiuV_mh-mav_wK_XwOmDuHRiKSBm7ltaec6IERD3glhXoDviczOlcvmcKpwcUdiQkXMW_HDmKQgv5WW0TVp-9qlg6-f39FsMiF7QSXi7mf4buw3U5zfQWE2_mhzfaBBfxtaxE/s320/Rocinha+Image+2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295249468491969746" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6iM3KCXlunJ9hojJQuZQgTE5eaQvX9NsOvTAADPe1yxB1TOyLtc8wY858ixjEOlQYdBi_iIgx39e7LRhbcBw2D8VkrXjsfzVK7EcmampWxJI96fvj2O6gi3VZkH_XAxpih-BiLrJRkpI/s1600-h/Rocinha+Image.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div></span></a> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;">“You may never like any thing I write – and then suddenly you might like something very much.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But you must believe that I am sincere in what I write.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;">Ernest to Grace Hall Hemingway, 1927<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">The afternoon sun was high and softly blanketed by thin clouds whispy and swirling.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The thick Rio heat was broken by the breeze, making the palm trees lean, their hard crisp leaves chattering.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The boy seemed as a man, unbelievably small but with aged eyes and even muscles, his skin brown but not yet leathery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The kite spindle he used was an old plastic water bottle, and he tied the line with an expert knot, his hands moving not as a child but as a spinster, daydreaming of something else. The kite was small, square, and homemade with thin paper and balsa wood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He let out enough line and threw the kite in the air, turning his neck back to watch it as he ran into the wind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He stopped and worked the kite, his hands skillfully jerking and freeing the line, the ocean wind lifting and pushing it higher.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;">True writing is actually more real than life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Separating yourself from the event, recreating it with words, you are actually closer to real than when you were sitting on the concrete wall, watching the boy with the kite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This is why I am more tired after writing, than being.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">I squinted in the bright light of the morning sun.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My students were lined up in a perfect line, facing the ocean, the warm-up and stretch series becoming routine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The beach was hugged by sharply rising mountains, steep rocky peaks emerging out of dense green forests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The site of Rocinha was in my view, its immense form cradled in the saddle of two mountain peaks, carved into the hillside as if the hand of God had scraped it himself, three hundred thousand people, squatting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">We were already sweating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Luciano was focused, concentrating on the stretch counts, repeating them louder than the others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We were shaking off the comfort of sleep, mentally preparing for another grueling session.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I collected everyone’s flip-flops and put them in my backpack, and we begin our run.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Moving through the thick sand, we ran for forty-five minutes, stopping every ninety seconds for strengthening exercises.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The shrill of the whistle brought attention to our group, so did the strange exercises.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The curious attention received actually strengthens the group’s morale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We love to talk about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">Luciano lives next door to the institute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He is around forty years-old and is a professional photographer, which leaves him time during his day to help me, or just sit around and talk, a favorite Brazilian pastime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The reader will remember that Luciano is “the Italian,” the beloved character that enjoys busting everyone’s balls, especially the institute directors and the volunteers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Luciano is single, has no children, and is deeply religious, his lifestyle as a teetotaler stands in stark contrast to his immediate surroundings. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">I arrive Rocinha at 7:45 for our morning workouts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We start to assemble at 8:00 so I always take a few moments to sit on the steps and read Veja, the Brazilian equivalent of Time Magazine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This is a peaceful time and I do enjoy watching the Rocinha residents start their day.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The institute is located in a very narrow alleyway between impromptu buildings three stories high, causing a claustrophobic feel that leaves the alleyway always dark and usually wet.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The thin view of the sky is broken by an infinite array of adhoc, spliced powerlines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Louie is the cat that lives across the alley in the home where I spent Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He wakes up when I arrive and sits with me until everyone shows up.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He is white with large spots of mottled grey and black.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>At precisely 8:00 am Luciano shows up with the key to the institute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We spend a brief few minutes discussing what we did the prior evening, and then we get going. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">We are almost back to the starting point of our beach run, the past forty minutes have been a blur of heat, pain, sweat, and sand.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The sands’ continuous attempt to cover our skin is failing due to the sheer volume of sweat we are producing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Luciano’s form during the exercises is good but not perfect, this does not stop him from motivating the others.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He is in serious pain, and cannot hide this fact from his face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This is why he keeps coming back, and this is why he is a believer, something deep inside of him needs this, and I don’t know yet what it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I do know that he feels as if he was born into the wrong life, that he was meant for something different.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">I blow the final whistle for the end of the workout, we exercise discipline and do our stretch routine first, in silence, giving them time to calm their intense desire to jump into the perfectly crisp ocean water, forcing them to reflect on their recent experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The stretch routine, at first clumsy and awkward, is now perfected, a unified group seamlessly gliding through the series in perfect silence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">Luciano leads the group into the water, not tiptoeing, but sprinting, diving headfirst.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I watch them with joy, and with pride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’m dying to get in the water but I follow my impulse and begin to organize our things, delaying gratification… Something new inside told me that this was stupid, so I stifled my complex and ran in the ocean…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The water was cold, but just right, our heads bobbing up down with the large waves that broke closer to the shore.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Luciano told me this was his first time in the water in years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I looked back to the mountains, and to Rocinha, and I felt good.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">My last Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu session was two weeks ago.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I had my first opportunity to fight another white belt, and this was satisfying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Each fight is 8 minutes long, so I prepare for each fight with a quick reflection, telling myself to be smart, stay calm, and only use strength for when I really need it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>With the white belt, we trade positions for four minutes, and I could tell he was getting tired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had been saving my energy, not going for any kill positions, but playing it for the long run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was in the rear guard, to the unfamiliar this might seem to be a defensive position, as you are on your back, but it is actually quite offensive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My opponent was standing up and I had my legs wrapped around is his waist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He was leaning over, which was a mistake as he was bleeding energy rapidly.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The key to setting up for an arm-bar is not to give it away, as every participant is familiar with these moves, success is only achieved during a brief moment where your opponent lacks attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had one of his arms locked to my chest, and with my opposite leg I released my wrap and shot my leg straight up and past his head, rolling and twisting in the opposite direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This maneuver caused us to tumble once over on the ground and I ended up on top, with my opponent’s arm between my legs, sitting on his shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>All that was left was to simply roll back until his elbow, with any more pressure, would have broken, causing intense pain and him to tap-out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I crawled back to the center, ready to start again, but he was done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Later that day I noticed pain in my lower ribs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A few days later, while bench-pressing at the gym, I actually felt and heard the crack of the lower rib finally giving way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">I now have space for my physical training equipment in Rocinha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s only a closet, but it is inside a community meeting room, large enough for me to run a class of 10-15 students.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I can now complete my bench press and squat rack, and then begin construction on other items.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It will be important to seize this small but powerful leverage point. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;">The sculptor knows that a chip doesn’t have to fall every time the chisel is struck, because he understands that every time he strikes the chisel, he weakens the stone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If he’s patient long enough, the piece he wants to chip will depart from the main rock – James Maxwell<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">My vision for the physical training class:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Hosting 10-15 students inside the community center, running them through high-intensity 30 minute workouts that use equipment I construct from primitive materials that can be found anywhere, especially junk yards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Some days I make progress towards this goal, some days I don’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am finding that holding onto to this vision takes immense patience, perseverance, and faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Simple things become immensely difficult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I continually push to get momentum and then push to keep it going, while all the intricate elements of favela life and Brazilian sense of time seem to push back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">We carried the heavy iron bar back to the institute, sweating profusely and dejected after a failed attempt to transfer it to the community center, and I thought about visions and processes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As a western thinker, I have been trained to get what I want now, and that the process is just a means to a greater end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This is not true, every action and every emotion involved in creating something is the true value: the sense of misery when I carried the medicine balls back from the beach, the dangerous motorcycle ride to the back side of the mountain only to find that the guy we needed only works on Thursdays, and the countless fruitless travels around Rocinha, searching, measuring, and negotiating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Still today I have little to show for my efforts, but I won’t stop.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Still carrying the iron bar, we made our final turn back to the institute, relieved that this ill-fated trip was almost over, and I smiled, resolving to accept the meaningful struggle as value.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Chris Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13973482585782892794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2433788618102528909.post-9588730998098016252009-01-10T07:35:00.000-08:002009-01-10T08:36:15.357-08:0010 January, 2009<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijsLh2lmiRaOSOYbsyp8l1anVqGpNPNE-F15lZ0XMn6MsOG5IoC8VVvF0KFFntU-uPQB-esrB98DfcTZedZdzZBw00z2uXOofqsSyu_xwfwoQehhJixTT8I0h0PpFfB8FHzhVxCBF5rfA/s1600-h/Salgueiro+Photo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijsLh2lmiRaOSOYbsyp8l1anVqGpNPNE-F15lZ0XMn6MsOG5IoC8VVvF0KFFntU-uPQB-esrB98DfcTZedZdzZBw00z2uXOofqsSyu_xwfwoQehhJixTT8I0h0PpFfB8FHzhVxCBF5rfA/s320/Salgueiro+Photo.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289689976091674130" /></a><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">Salgueiro Samba School is a mass of concrete, rising up from the street neighborhood, constructed to be useful with the purposeful pride of Socialism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Tonight’s Carnaval rehearsal is a party, the massive hall full, a claustrophobic’s nightmare with a thousand intimate sweaty bodies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The hall was painted with Salgueiro’s colors red and white, checkered in mesmerizing fashion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The band’s balcony hung precipitously on one side of the hall and we stood for four hours, listening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">A white belt’s rise is scarred with painful mistakes. My last training session I found myself in a series of four crushing arm-bars by superior fighters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am constantly impressed with new ways the body experiences pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My technique is improving, and this past week I have made it more difficult for my opposition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have yet to accept rest over the chance to fight again, forcing me to improve technique.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">I walked out of my apartment building on New Year’s Eve and was struck by the flood of a thousand people walking in the same direction.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was one hour until midnight and the streets were flooded with people wearing white.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I joined them in parade and met Luciano and the others at the Copacabana beach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The fireworks started exactly at midnight, and two million people cheered, cried, and hoped for the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:14.0pt;">An odyssey of physical and mental anguish broken by moments of clarity of purpose and blissful understanding <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;">(my description of Boulder Outdoor Survival School)<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">We gathered in a circle in Utah’s high mountain desert.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Across the grassy valley stood a black sheep, looking at us, seemingly knowing what was to come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The lead instructor had us draw straws to determine who would kill the animal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My straw was the shortest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Laurel, our lead instructor, asked if my knife was sharp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I said yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We walked across the valley and gathered around the sheep.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Next to the sheep a hole was dug and a coffee can was placed inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We laid the sheep down so its neck was above the can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>With my left hand I found the carotid artery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I unsheathed my knife and placed the tip at the artery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I quickly placed my left hand on the butt of the knife and forcefully plunged the knife straight down, then towards me to complete the severing of the artery.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The group held the sheep down.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I sat on my knees and watched as the blood drained into the bucket, and the sheep’s life faded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The next two days we processed the animal in the tradition of the Native Americans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The act of killing the sheep was shockingly emotional for me, and I sought to understand why it was not during the war, with real human lives.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:14.0pt;">Be wary of security as a goal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It may often look like life’s best prize,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>usually it is not. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;">William Zinnser<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:14.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:14.0pt;">The discipline is not to jump to fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If you jump to a form to quickly it won’t have the understood meaning you want for it<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;">(Maya Lin – Chinese American designer of Vietnam Veterans Memorial)<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">It has been seven weeks in Rio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The existential anxiety I previously mentioned has calmed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>However, I do still experience the desire to be busy for busy’s sake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I continually attempt to mentally crush the outdated yet still practiced deferred life plan. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">Back at Salgueiro the drums and beer have my mind in a daze, and I think about Rio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The daily flow of life is like any other city, we slowly catch our vans and buses to somewhere else, I arrive Rocinha in the morning and wonder why the streets are always wet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We talk of places far away, war in Iraq and the Gaza Strip, we shake our heads and ask why.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Intensely complicated politics, intricate diplomacy, and long term strategy are not discussed, only the number killed, and only vague, incomplete attempts to understand are made.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But here a thin cloud of fear shrouds the dream of Rio, the stark contrast of rich and poor overlaps, socioeconomic conditions giving birth to violence, the constant reminder that we too are at war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But we gather at street parties, beaches, and churches to celebrate life, perhaps more intensely here, the margin between life and death is thinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Chris Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13973482585782892794noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2433788618102528909.post-18619407337989044212009-01-02T05:20:00.000-08:002009-01-02T05:23:33.625-08:002 January, 2009<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">The white van dropped me off on the other side of Rocinha.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I would have to find the correct route into the institute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was seven am on Christmas Eve, it should have been calm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There was a young woman on the back of a mototaxi, telling the driver to go while her right arm was held firmly by a young trafficker, balancing a glass of beer in his right hand and an AR-15 rifle slung on his right shoulder, his mouth rapidly cursing the young woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I turned left past the market and through an alleyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A bar inside the alleyway was overflowing with people, speaking much too loudly over the music and clearly not aware it was seven in the morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Not daring to look inside as I walked by, a drunken woman reached out from inside the bar and grabbed my right arm, she yelled “Gringo,” proudly announcing her catch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I shrugged her grip and kept walking, never once actually looking inside the bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">Luciano had called the day before, asking for a physical training class first thing on Christmas Eve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The class is beginning to gain some traction with my four dedicated students.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>At eight o’clock we ran down to the beach, I with two medicine balls in my backpack, and carrying a kettlebell in one hand, and Luciano with the other kettlebell.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The Rocinha residents do not know what to make of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We arrive at the beach and begin our usual procedures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After stretching I have them rotate through stations of pull-ups, kettlebell swings, overhead carries, and stairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As one of the students requires frequent breaks, I become aware of the very real possibility of a heart attack, and mentally plan my course of action if it occurs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>These students have never worked out like this in their life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">I return to Rocinha for Christmas Eve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was very pleased to spend Christmas with my students who have become friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Fireworks are used to celebrate many occasions in Brazil, Christmas Eve not excluded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This night the residents in Rocinha were partying, and random fireworks were continuous.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The trafficking stand was in full swing, which added to my apprehension, as it was difficult to tell the difference between gunshots and fireworks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As I walked by the stand, a shirtless man threw a flaming object across the thoroughfare, landing on the concrete across the aqueduct, the traffickers watching, waiting for it to explode.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A young woman, seasoned, put her fingers in her ears for protection.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I imitated her and I was inside my head yelling “Don’t React, Don’t Jump,” again, and again, til I was clear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A nervous reaction in this situation would bring unfortunate attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">Christmas Eve in Rocinha was very nice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The home I was invited to was beautiful, tightly structured and three stories high, neatly abutted by neighbors sharing walls and a front alleyway three feet wide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was a true delight, we watched Polar Express in Portuguese and at midnight we hugged, kissed, and then ate a big meal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The food was amazing, and I devoured two platefuls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>One day I’ll be a good enough writer to describe the food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I snuck into the kitchen and began doing some dishes, a therapy I never miss.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I think grandma was actually mad when she caught me because she snapped at me with her towel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I cowered back to the living room and she brought me a soda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">As the other fighters entered the padded room, I knew I had made a mistake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They were big, wearing kimonos thin from decades of use, and their belts were brown and black.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I sat in the corner, my kimono was white, too bright, too clean, and hard with its newness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu focuses on ground fighting, achieving a win through pain compliance techniques like chokeholds and joint locks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It is derived from Japanese Judo and made famous by the Gracies and the now popular ultimate fighting championships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was my second class and I solemnly arrived, entering as if to my own funeral. The previous class had been ego crushing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After each fight I limped on all fours back to the wall, my heart beating out of my chest and on the brink of throwing up. Already I’ve found myself into two chokeholds where my opponent could have killed me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>At these precise moments the brain introduces you to a perfect sample of your own death, an indescribable feeling where the body is still fighting, but the slow drain of blood from the brain is putting the body and its panic, to sleep. I resolved to return, to relax while fighting, and survive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">Ricardo de la Riva is our Professor, a legend famous worldwide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If you happened upon him on the street he would strike you as an academic, standing five foot eight inches with wire-rimmed glasses, graying hair, and a quick smile.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>One mention of his name anywhere in the martial arts world brings animated discussion. We go back to the wall after each fight, to recover.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A body I thought was in good physical condition is nowhere near the desired state for fighting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The Professor scans the room, asking each fighter if they are ready for another. Most fighters take at least one rest between sessions, I will not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I need to learn to fight in the most fatigued condition, forcing me to relax my breath, and calm my mind while the body is in full tilt fight mode.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">The book “The Hustler,” by Walter Tevis, accurately and acutely portrays mans fear of his own success.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had him, he was only a purple belt but he should have been beating me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was clearly stronger than him but I was new, and had very limited knowledge of technique.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Several times during the fight my killer instinct recessed by only the tiniest of fractions, but just enough to let him escape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It actually happened, I was afraid of beating him on my second class, and the smallest of forgivings are quickly punished on the mat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A brand new white belt beating a seasoned purple belt would have raised the academy’s expectations of me, and I subconsciously resisted, preferring life at the bottom, with less pressure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This was unacceptable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As in Tevis’ novel, I was Fast Eddie Felsen, a young pool hustler who had Minnesota Fats in his sights during a 36 hour pool match, but drank too much as his excuse not to confront his true character, the difference between winners and losers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Chris Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13973482585782892794noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2433788618102528909.post-57485280606898948582008-12-23T04:49:00.000-08:002008-12-23T04:59:22.539-08:00Tuesday, December 23rd<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEHrIC7zm0Lyrf02fkyEV0tODdBDaEmL1JmDXccdQ7gDv6JrgdVxRdj-5YHhb-0gkJxS-fSTsRWr6cOGzQR8ODLeNmncxQWvnc20gD_bnIfRmzbVQnyWI15vyxTuupNLZYxEVoAt_8syE/s1600-h/IMG_2155.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEHrIC7zm0Lyrf02fkyEV0tODdBDaEmL1JmDXccdQ7gDv6JrgdVxRdj-5YHhb-0gkJxS-fSTsRWr6cOGzQR8ODLeNmncxQWvnc20gD_bnIfRmzbVQnyWI15vyxTuupNLZYxEVoAt_8syE/s320/IMG_2155.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282968097977015170" /></a><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">The kite was small and designed with the words “Tropa de Elite”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I walked from the juice stand, across the street, and into the alleyway that led to the institute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The child carrying the kite was seven years old, and running playfully in front of me.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>His rubber sandals were too big, slowing him down and keeping me right behind him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He led me all the way to the institute door, the kite’s words dancing in my view, and their significance pressing into my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">Amir, the Iranian born Swedish boxer told me the story.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“I was in the van coming home to Rocinha at 5am yesterday morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The police barricaded the road, and all the van passengers were made to lay face down on the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The inspection took thirty minutes and they searched everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We were cleared to continue and I got a motortaxi from the bottom of Rocinha to take me to the top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>[Amir lives in Cachopa, an area located close to the traffickers]<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>At Cachopa, the motortaxi driver did not stop to let me off; he slowed down enough for me to jump off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He heard the military police helicopter above, and saw the weapons pointed down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Something like two hundred traffickers, all with guns pointed to the sky aimed at the helicopter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A young trafficker recognized me, ran over to me and to tell me to get out of here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I began running to my home and then all hell broke loose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I heard bullets literally ‘whizzing’ by and ricocheting in all directions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was like the movies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I made it inside and took cover.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">I came to Rocinha this same morning to begin preparations for my physical training class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There was a big storm around midnight the night before and the streets were muddy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Roosters were crowing from small metal cages, reminding me that Rocinha actually used to be a farm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The garbage-filled aqueduct that carries dirty water out of Rocinha was roaring.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I met two lifeless bodies of decent sized rats, victims of last night’s storm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I looked to my left and a young boy was riding a plastic tricycle.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was just like the one I had when I was little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He stopped and stood up, taking a look at his next path of travel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He did not have any pants or underwear on; I thought this was quite unusual as the cold plastic must have been uncomfortable on the behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Just past this child was a heaping mound of garbage, wet from the rain and smelling terribly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Later in the day I would watch a bulldozer move the heap around, and lift it into a truck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This morning I went about my business in my usual manner, and did not hear anything about the previous nights clash between the police and the local gang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The following day I read about it on page 12.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">“Tropa de Elite” is a new semi-fictional book written by a sociologist and two former members of the BOPE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The translated title is Elite Squad and the BOPE is the special operations of the military police in Rio de Janeiro.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The BOPE are trained well, are strictly offensive, and shoot first and ask questions later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They use the best of the world’s military equipment and train as hard as the SEALs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Once in a while I will catch a glimpse of them, usually in a black vehicle, with their famous logo of a skull with knives through it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The hoods truly fear the BOPE, much more than the civilian police who are on the grease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The movie “Tropa de Elite” is very famous in Brazil, in and out of the favelas.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Its account of the perverse underground dealings with all major players in Rio accurately portrays the tangled web of greed and political subterfuge.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">I take the white vans around Rio, made popular because they are the cheapest form of transportation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Looking like a modern, squared-off version of a VW van, they are designed to carry 16 passengers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have been on several rides wherein we easily had 21.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>No air conditioning, vinyl seating, and Rio’s summer heat seem to accelerate the level of intimacy between the passengers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When you suffer together, you feel closer, and by the time we reach Rocinha, the entire van has experienced severely humid conditions with limited air flow, constant contact by fellow passengers in all directions, almost constant near misses, shoddy brakes, and a continual dance of loading and offloading of passengers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am happy that I no longer receive unusual looks from passengers, confused by the presence of blond hair and blue eyes on a van bound for Rocinha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I realize now that it wasn’t my strange looks that brought attention; I was subcommunicating fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">The vans that crisscross Rio each have a fee collector that works the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The fee collector today was a young boy, barely strong enough to work the door.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He wore a red T-shirt and his bright white Adidas hat was on backwards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He was mulatto and his long hair curled out the back of his hat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>His way was not the way of your typical pre-teen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He carried the cash, folded in half, as if he had been doing this for decades.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He was demanding with the passage fee, though as I watched I felt he took a little longer counting correct change.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He must have fought his way into this job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He ran this van as if he had something to prove.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>His eyes were stern and cold, and you knew for him that childhood never really happened. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">Luciano startled me as I was checking my email at the institute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We had just finished the kids Christmas party upstairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We had decorated and set up food and drinks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had gone shopping a few weeks before for some of the gifts but someone else had wrapped them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>All the gifts were laid underneath a paper Christmas tree taped to the wall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>For several hours everyone talked and ate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The music was turned up and the girls began dance routines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Another American volunteer seeing my discomfort, tried to console me,“yeah, I remember the first time I saw ten year olds dancing like strippers to the delight of their parents.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This was the culture, the truth was the girls did not connect the dancing to the act, they were just having fun by imitating, I hoped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There was a three year-old girl in a pink dress standing with us; she shared our desire to finish the dancing and get on with the presents, and this fact she did not hide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Post-party I turned around from the computer to see Luciano.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had been fully engaged with one of those stupid forward emails, something about a teacher and her student, but it was too late when Luciano surprised me, I had to feint sickness for watery eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>At that precise moment the three year old with the pink dress walked by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>She stopped, held out her new present with a smile and beaming pride, and then walked out quietly into the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I recognized the gift as one I picked out a few weeks earlier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A plastic turtle that you could disassemble and build again like a puzzle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">My first physical training classes have begun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am adapting to a new set of clientele, much different from Marines and Vanderbilt NROTC all-stars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>However, I will keep the intensity level high.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They come to the class because I am a Marine, they have heard, and I will give them the intensity that they may not want but will keep them coming back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The reader should picture circuit training with medicine balls, kettlebells, pull-ups, blasting music, and yes, a whistle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The stretch routine is complicated for them, so we do it the exact same way every time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The first two times were rough, but on the third time I hid my pleasure when one of the students corrected the other, who was not in the correct position. This is exactly what I wanted, a shared culture of correctness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Already they are beginning to instinctively move to the next stretch position without command.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>One day they will be able to lead each other when I am gone. The series I present for each workout is different, but always challenging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We end with hands in the middle for our usual post-workout cheer, “</span><span lang="PT" style="mso-ansi-language:PT;font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">força e honra</span><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">”, in Portuguese, strength and honor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:14.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:14.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:14.0pt;">Set aside a certain number of days, during which you shall be content with the scantiest and cheapest fare, with course and rough dress, saying to yourself the while: “Is this the condition that I feared?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>- Seneca<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:14.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">The first two days in the desert of Southern Utah were an exercise in mental management.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>New Age spiritualists would call it a cleansing of the soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I prefer the less abstract.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The lead instructor from the desert survival school had given us a briefing prior to stepping off, “stop thinking about what’s next, your instructors will never answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And always, always, contrast down.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We had one Nalgene bottle of water and a knife as our only pieces of useful gear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>To say we “walked” through the desert would be incorrect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We trudged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The next water source and meal were constantly re-entering the mind.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Learning to manage the mind is like trying to tame a mustang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A source of water was found in a canyon and we learned that drinking water teeming with mosquito larvae was safe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We were only a few days into the course and the mental scrubbing was beginning to create an awareness of the present moment and revealing the narrow margin by which you are sustained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We had reached the high desert mountains by the fourth day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was sitting on a rock next to a large mountain lake and I wrote down my question, ‘why is it that when you have little, you are grateful, and when you live in abundance you are annoyed?’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Chris Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13973482585782892794noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2433788618102528909.post-70466502770181896032008-12-14T08:49:00.000-08:002008-12-23T05:00:10.327-08:00Sunday, December 14th<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKU5UBbPyiRYBOx6EOWsc3obRk0Ss7ch1Ndtt25XLsrUO_HKxUi-VwPwINvQTKh2k80c5wsGUo3W3rEnHRi8gItR19nLRqu2OhgJ2X-x_InhrkyzwW6uRZMN5ZAgY59Y3yVqvIbj61Xtw/s1600-h/Chris+with+Rocinha+Background.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKU5UBbPyiRYBOx6EOWsc3obRk0Ss7ch1Ndtt25XLsrUO_HKxUi-VwPwINvQTKh2k80c5wsGUo3W3rEnHRi8gItR19nLRqu2OhgJ2X-x_InhrkyzwW6uRZMN5ZAgY59Y3yVqvIbj61Xtw/s320/Chris+with+Rocinha+Background.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279689934538683730" /></a><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">Portela is Rio’s most legendary Samba School.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>To arrive at Saturday night’s concert, we took a bus, subway, and a taxi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The street outside the practice hall was full of partiers drinking, eating, and singing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The practice hall was a mass of concrete surrounded by spaces for vendors to sell beer and food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The security guards performed their usual inspection, requiring males to lift up their shirt to ensure we weren’t carrying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Each Samba School is associated with a favela, and there was always potential for violence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Empty beer cans plastic cups filled every table and spilled over to the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Only the elderly were sitting down, but everyone was singing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Portela’s band was older and richly traditional.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Lead singers would trade off songs in front of fifteen men playing drums, tambourines, and rattles. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">The roots of Samba reach back centuries and across to Africa.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The Portuguese colonists forced Catholicism upon the slaves, and they in return merged the Catholic Saints with their African deities, creating </span><span lang="PT-BR" style="mso-ansi-language:PT-BR;font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">Candomblé.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Candomblé</span><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> has thrived for four centuries and is practiced by many Brazilians today, whom do not see religion as mutually exclusive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The slave immigrants that practiced Candomble also danced the Samba in the streets of Northern Brazil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In the 1920s several communities in Rio de Janeiro organized parades, developing a storyline and creating music, costumes, sculptures, and choreography.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Today there are over 70 Samba Schools in Rio and the preparation for Carnaval is a yearlong endeavor. Volunteers from the favelas who create and dance in their parade are financed by mafia-style bosses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The money for the Carnaval preparations<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>and the structure for asset flow come from the Animal Game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">The head of the Rio de Janeiro Zoo created the Animal Game in the 19<sup>th</sup> century to increase attendance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The Animal Game is a lottery, anyone can play, and bet any amount of money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Twenty-five animals are each assigned four consecutive numbers and the bettors can make an assortment of bets on the resultant drawing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Odds for a straight animal are 20 to 1.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">Sidenote: Brazilians are very superstitious, and place their bets upon a variety of happenings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;">The elephant is associated with death in Brazil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If there is a fatal car accident involving a car with one of the elephant’s numbers (45-48) on its license plates, the betting is unusually heavy.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>(Time, 25 March 1966)<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">The Animal Game is highly organized and extremely complex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It is also illegal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Police and politicians assigned to crackdown on the game become known as “jockeys” because of the good rides they can get from the payoffs. (Time, 25 March, 1966)<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Today the Animal Game provides the structure that facilitates countless illegal activities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This is perhaps its most insidious result.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Gangsters in the favela who run a more dangerous and dirty form of activity, model their structure off of the Bicheiro.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The Bicheiro is a head mobster, and a local God who finances his Samba School.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This is just one example of the intricate, fragile, and legally ambiguous institution that is Brazil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">I turn left into Rocinha and walk by Joao’s welding shop.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I give him a Brazilian thumbs up and he discreetly returns his own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I think that Joao does not want to be associated with me, which makes me… curious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I continue my walk and see a twenty year-old kid being dragged out by two other young men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>His arms are draped across the shoulders of his escorts, and he has blood running down from his forehead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He is crying and muttering something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There is an unusual energy today in Rocinha and I don’t like it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I walk busily past the trafficking stand and a teenager has an AR-15 semi-automatic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He is skinny, about 5’10” tall, very black, and wearing only shorts and flip-flops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He is fascinated by throwing his spinning weapon in the air and catching it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I veer to the right, and out of the way of his less than satisfactory rifle manual skills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I pick up Rogerio at the institute and we walk towards the hall to boxing class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In the alley we see an old man with a perfectly round belly, laughing as he smokes a joint.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Rogerio turns back towards me, and tells me how weird it is to see an old man smoking a joint, normally our image of pot-smokers is much younger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I agreed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">We had two young kids in the boxing class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I take the lead for the warm-up and stretches, then Rogerio takes the boxing instruction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Both of these boys are hopeful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>One is truly exceptional, he is about 11 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When he greets me he shakes my hand confidently and looks me in the eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>During the exercises he follows along perfectly, and instructs the other to do the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He has discipline and focus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>During the class a drunken man enters and begins to practice with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I can smell him from ten feet away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He yells loudly to the children to “do what the professor is saying”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Rogerio tells him that the adult class is later, and keeps his cool.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The children don’t pay much attention, it seems that this scene is normal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was agitated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>How does any child have hope with daily images of hoods with high caliber weapons, the near constant whiff of marijuana, and drunken men in the afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">The next day I make my medicine balls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The walk to the beach from Rocinha takes about 20 minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have four old, used basketballs to pack with sand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I underestimate the weight of all four balls loaded with sand and my walk back was an exercise in patience and perseverance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The last portion of my walk takes me past the trafficking stand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was not excited to be doing anything unusual in front of the traffickers, like carrying an old bucket filled with three medicine balls, and holding the fourth on my opposite shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I planned my rest breaks so I would not have to stop and rest near the stand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As I walked past the stand, the hoods were up to their usual antics, smoking pot, measuring bags of cocaine, fiddling with their weapons, and joking about something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>At this point, nearing completion of awkwardly carrying 80 pounds for over an hour, my patience was thin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was clear to any onlooker that it took much effort to carry this load, and the 95-degree heat soaked my shirt in sweat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Yet not one attempt to offer assistance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This was the first time I felt anger since I’ve been here. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">I delivered the medicine balls to the institute, and needing a juice desperately I left to get something to drink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It had just begun to rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I heard the birds in the alley for the first time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I looked up, and through the narrow crease between randomly built homes, was silhouetted several bird cages against the cloudy, but bright background.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The raindrops came down in a highly irregular pattern.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Water finding its way to the alley had to make its descent around misshapen building structure, birdcages, and a jungle of electrical cables.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A human trying to avoid getting wet would find no consistent pattern of water flow to avoid, unlike the perfect and symmetrical spilloffs found in highly developed countries, dripping from skyscrapers and overhangs made with perfect, laser-like precision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">Four armed hoods guarded the exterior of the juice stand and adjacent restaurant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I made my way around them and ordered a banana cake and strawberry smoothie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The cake was yellow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The top of the cake was fried and had a thin, sugarcoated slice of banana.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The shop owner used his juice machine to make the smoothie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I asked him to add milk and only a little sugar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The rain today kept the flies away from the shop, making my dining experience more pleasurable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As I ate, standing at the shop, I turned and watched the hustle of the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The four hoods had an assortment of semi-automatic rifles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Each had a vest with many pockets for radios or ammunition.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They were spread in a fan-like formation with weapons at the alert carry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My friend, an Iranian-born Swedish boxing champion named Amir, showed up for a juice cocktail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I asked what was going on with the hoods today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The “boca”, or head trafficker of Rocinha was dining at the adjacent restaurant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The boca does not carry weapons, and is always escorted by several fully armed guards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We watched, enjoying our lunch, as a crazy old man began to yell and seemingly taunt the hoods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Something was going to happen so we left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">I have now been in Rio for three weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Already it has been an interesting study, both culturally and introspectively.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I did not come to Brazil to find out who I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But as I have shed some old skin to create a life here, I am finding out, albeit shockingly, why I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The discovery of why you are, and your needs, is highly melodramatic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I find that existentially speaking, the core self is an imperfect form.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But this is irrelevant, the clarity achieved from the perfect view upon the self is divine, ushering in calm and acceptance that permits peace in right action and right conduct.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Chris Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13973482585782892794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2433788618102528909.post-45400453193248021212008-12-07T06:50:00.000-08:002009-01-02T05:19:48.925-08:00Saturday, 6 December<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXm0uz_TuPtXKW3kunC9BTAeKiB7z274aD2E-I2EhxVwpnlHkoIiYFfsHNvy5iixVb14YVrMP3sZv8MhU3zeBi1wj6nKiDeCfU3PEQC3t_kXE3asOP3Lj6ARkX_uDUusHTKuL6yiB9QbI/s1600-h/Chris+and+the+Italian.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXm0uz_TuPtXKW3kunC9BTAeKiB7z274aD2E-I2EhxVwpnlHkoIiYFfsHNvy5iixVb14YVrMP3sZv8MhU3zeBi1wj6nKiDeCfU3PEQC3t_kXE3asOP3Lj6ARkX_uDUusHTKuL6yiB9QbI/s320/Chris+and+the+Italian.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277123510435464866" /></a><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">The snack shop owner busily packed up my pastry and juice.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was a busy and lucrative time of day for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The mid-day sun was bringing heat to the streets of Rocinha, and drying off the roads that are dirt and concrete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As I readied to grab my lunch, I looked to my left and straight into the barrel of an M4 carbine rifle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">Rocinha is a thriving community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>At any time of day or night, you can eat, shop, drink, surf the internet, or play pool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Two banks are here, tapping into the buying power of Rocinha’s one hundred thousand residents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Foreign volunteers often initially complain about the noise, and then find that after a month it becomes soothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There are a few main thoroughfares that wind without reason up the hill. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">“The Italian” is a friend of the institute.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He is pictured above.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>His real name is Luciano.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He lives in Rocinha next door to the institute and is a professional photographer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>During the day he enjoys hanging out and joking around with the directors and volunteers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He enjoys any type of conversation, as long as it ends up busting someone’s balls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I like him and trust him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The Italian and I go out on daily excursions to find equipment for the gym.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He does not speak any English but we converse well together in Portuguese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I tell him what I need, and he walks with me around Rocinha, searching for stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He does a good job of bartering with the shop owners for a lower price.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">I found my welder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>His name is Joao and he is around sixty years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He is quiet and goes about his work in a funereal manner.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I measured the iron bar and marked exactly where I wanted the wheels to be welded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He asked us to back up and face away from the welding torch.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We were in a small room, basement-like, halfway below the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Occasionally the sparks from the torch would singe the back of our legs.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>OSHA would not be able to keep up with the safety violations that occur continually in Rocinha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">The worker at the wood shop handed me a 2x3 piece of wood that I examined.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>To measure the wood properly, I placed my pen and paper on the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As the Italian and I were discussing proper lengths and marking the wood, several street children happened upon my pen and paper.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I watched them as they examined with intense curiosity, my pen, which was cheap by American standards, but had the appearance of high quality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They also found the equivalent of 30 dollars I had, inside the folded piece of paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Upon finding this, they counted it and began dancing around with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The worker broke my gaze with a question, I answered it and I figured that the best thing to do about the children was nothing at all.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>After completion of my task the children were gone, and I figured, so was my cash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was disappointed in myself to find that every dollar that I had was neatly placed back inside my paper, just as I left it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">Isabella was sick again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This time I had 20 minutes of preparation time for English class.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I drew up a schedule for our class on the whiteboard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This time, I would not suffer from lack of things to teach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The children like to play Simon Says.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I promised them that we would play at the end of class, hoping this token would keep them in their seats longer.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>At the end of class the girls gathered around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I began to play Simon Says, however, I quickly realized that I had forgotten how to play.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I kept saying Simon Says before each object, and this went on for about 3 minutes before the girls realized I did not know the rules.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>During their explanation, I remember the exact moment when it all came back to me.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They also saw exactly when I figured it out, and quickly broke into the full chorus of “Hallelujah.”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I was told later that their singing was heard throughout the neighborhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">I walked out of Rocinha in the late afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Along one of the concrete walls lining the street, a tall, black 15-year old was looking down the street as he pressed his left shoulder against the wall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He seemed to be looking for something but I couldn’t tell what it was.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The sling for his rifle was on his right shoulder and his right hand was on the grip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I couldn’t make out the type of weapon, but it was long, black, and very modern.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Everyone on the street was still walking, going about their business as if nothing was happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I took comfort in knowing that if the hoods wanted me dead, I’d already be gone…<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">Saturday was the day of the big fight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Rogerio would be competing for the first time.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The community center in Cantagalo would host the afternoon of boxing matches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Cantagalo is another favela located very close to two wealthy neighborhoods, Copacabana and Ipanema.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It is much smaller than Rocinha, and more dangerous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We met at the bottom of the hill and walked up as a group.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We were safe with several Brazilians escorting us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The community center was a mass of concrete and had a view of the entire south zone of Rio de Janeiro.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The boxing room was hot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>On the walls were hundreds of photos of famous fighters that have visited here.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In boxing lore, this place was true tradition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After Rogerio’s fight several of us needed to leave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We left the building and began the long walk downhill through Cantagalo and to Copacabana.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As we left the center I looked back and realized that we were 5 deep with Americans and Europeans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My pulse started to race as I saw several children dragging our formation, asking for money and calling us gringos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This would not be the way to walk through Cantagalo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The children would be flagging all the hoods that we were targets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We quickened our pace and walked in silence and with purpose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A turn came up and we did not know which direction to take.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>When in doubt in a favela, always go downhill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This ended up being the wrong decision, and we walked for what seemed like an eternity through a bad portion of the favela.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>During the walk I promised myself that I would not be without a Brazilian escort in another favela.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In Rocinha, we are protected by the common knowledge of the institute, anywhere else, we weren’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">Marianne was a student from the University of North Carolina.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We took the bus from Ipanema to Rocinha last Saturday night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Our goal was to make sushi for the two directors of the institute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This would be my first time inside a Rocinha home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was ten pm and Rocinha was very much alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We walked in with Rogerio and went to a market to get some ice cream for the dessert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Rogerio told us how to get to Danielle’s home via a series of back alleyways.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He needed a shower and said he would meet us there in a little while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was more than a little nervous proceeding as two gringos through Rocinha’s alleyways at night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Bars, food shops, supply stores, and homes were spread randomly along our route.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A three-year-old girl pulled down her pants to pee in the alley, as her grandmother held her hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We turned the corner to a larger thoroughfare, and there was group of people outside of a street bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>One middle-aged man was twirling around as he drunkenly danced and sang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>His head was tilted up to the sky and his eyes were closed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He was overweight and his round belly barely allowed his bulletproof vest to fit.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The sling around his shoulder made is M-16 bounce randomly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I swear I saw three grenades attached to his vest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">It was a true pleasure to be welcomed into Danielle’s home.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Danielle is one of the volunteer coordinators at the institute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He is very friendly and has a great laugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As we prepared the sushi, two cats were hovering around and made continuous attempts to capture our food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Fighting them off was a constant struggle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>One of the cats displayed his distaste for me by defecating two inches from my foot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After dinner we enjoyed some Brazilian television.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We also experienced much pleasure watching a cat hunt for cockroaches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">Marianne wanted to stay the night and sleep on the couch.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I wanted to return home so at two am I left Danielle’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was raining as I left and proceeded for the walk out of Rocinha to catch a van.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Thank God for small blessings.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Rain would mean less people on the streets, making my exit safer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Nearing the exit of the favela I heard the heavy beat of Samba drums.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The Rocinha Samba School was practicing in their warehouse at the bottom of the hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The sound was mesmerizing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A van slowed down upon seeing me and the fee collector yelled “Copa”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This was my van.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I instinctively opened the door and quickly sat down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was the only person in the van.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The driver and assistant were both up front, and clearly stoned out of their mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The drive from Rocinha to Ipanema winds along the coast, high above the water with a steep rocky ledge leading down to the ocean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The road is narrow, curvy, with constant near misses expertly performed by its drivers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The road was slick tonight, and my two men were having a great time in the front, laughing about what… I have no idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Halfway home we stopped at Vidigal, another favela en route.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We picked up four prostitutes on their way to begin the night shift in Copacabana. I exited the van in Ipanema and paid the fee collector, it was pouring rain and I was the only human in sight.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I thanked God to be alive, and walking safely in the rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">The Catholic Church in Leblon was full on Sunday morning.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I enjoyed the ritual of mass, as I have before in many foreign countries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There is something very comforting about this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The pews of this church were split into four columns, leaving five open pathways with which to proceed forward or backward during communion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The two priests that were conferring the blessed host posted themselves in front, at the end of the two pathways, one column away from the walls of the church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The middle pathway was not used.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As communion began I noticed that after each person received the host, they would make their way back to their seat using the same pathway from which they came, thus straining the free flow of traffic and creating chokepoints.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I set about proudly to demonstrate the most efficient way to conduct communion traffic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After receiving the host, I proceeded to the outside pathway and made my way easily and expeditiously back to my seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I hope that the church may learn something from this proper demonstration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">The Italian and I set about quickly on Tuesday morning.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We scavenged through the back alleyways of Rocinha to find strong buckets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They had to be big enough to hold 5 large pieces of wood bolted together, then encased in concrete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This would be my first attempt at building a bench and squat press.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>(Thank you to Gunnery Sergeant Castro for the expert advice!) As we walked, one alleyway opened up into a square area no bigger than a family room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The sun was angling in, and down on two boys sitting on a concrete abutment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Wearing dirty swim shorts and barefoot, one of the boys was handing a burning joint to the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The sun caught the smoke just right, and it was a perfect image.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The boy receiving the joint had an M-16 casually lying on his right leg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">The search for equipment continued, and Rogerio suggested we take motorcycle taxis over the hill, to a place where they were doing construction on the other side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I don’t like motorcycles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Young men, teenagers, drive motorcycle taxis through Rocinha. I watched Rogerio getting on the back of his, and repeated exactly what he did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I held onto a rusted iron bar welded on to the rear portion of the bike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I found that this grip, no matter how tightly I held it, would not ever prevent me from flying off of the bike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We began our journey and I noted how calmly Rogerio was on his bike, with almost no concern for his grip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The road through Rocinha winds up a hill like Lombard Street in San Francisco.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Only this road was very busy with motorcycles, taxis, and gigantic buses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We had to lean in heavily at each turn, blindly hoping there wasn’t another car or bus coming down on the other side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The road was so steep that a bus’s back end was caught on the ground, and it could not negotiate its way down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My driver quickly skirted behind this bus, and we proceeded through the subsequent traffic jam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I said three Hail Mary’s on the way up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Tiny miracles were happening continuously as we were millimeters from head-on traffic at 40 miles per hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I actually closed my eyes during several near misses.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>At the top of Rocinha I saw a perfect view of Christ the Redeemer Statue, the most popular tourist attraction in Rio and one of the seven man-made wonders of the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Framed in this view was a military helicopter hovering perfectly above us, and a telephone poll carrying the burden of a thousand power cables, all rigged by Rocinha residents tapping into power from the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The stealing of power through adhoc addition of random power cables to existing lines was commonplace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The sight of a thousand mazelike cables going out in every direction was truly fascinating.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Heading down the backside of Rocinha we entered a wealthy neighborhood identified with large stone walls encased in thick ivy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Before every turn at the bottom, another driver, heading in the opposite direction would give us a signal that the coast was clear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This was done with a thumbs-up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The Rocinha motorcycle taxis were not legally licensed drivers.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I noticed that we paid a little more than I expected for this ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This was a risk premium, for driving us outside of their territory, into the legal world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;">The boy with the M4 carbine rifle was in his teens.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>His sling was loose, and the rifle lay lazily against his hip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He did not seem to care that the weapon was pointing directly at my head, only inches away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Proper weapons handling procedures include the most common rule: Never point your weapon at anything you don’t intend to shoot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I thought briefly about giving the boy a period of instruction on the importance of these safety rules, but thought otherwise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment--> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:48px;"><br /></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Chris Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13973482585782892794noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2433788618102528909.post-3140111044722409742008-12-02T14:30:00.000-08:002008-12-02T14:31:05.506-08:00First Week in Rocinha<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">The word Rocinha posted on the dashboard of the crowded van made my heart rise up into my throat. The van screeched to a halt in response to my thumb. The boy who worked the door was also the fee collector. He let me in and I sat close to the driver, limiting the amount of passengers that heard my accent, as I told him in Portuguese to drop me off at the entrance to Rocinha. While sitting in the van I pretended to be calm, I also pretended not to acknowledge that I could feel my heart beating loudly and rapidly. I thought about the night before, meeting two Brazilian flight attendants at the nightclub, and how they made me promise not to go to Rocinha. One of them, buried her face in her hands as I told her, and then hugged me. I was nervous, actually.. scared, for the very first time in my life. Night combat missions in Iraq did not touch this. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">I arrived five days ago. As in standard American fashion I set about quickly to check off items on my task list. Arrive hostel, check-in, contact institute, unpack, work on setting up my phone, get internet access, create a sense of normalcy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I remember feeling that I wanted for things get going already.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Now, after 5 days my brain has begun its adjustment to a new sense of time, one much less precise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">Existential Anxiety – I recently read Viktor Frankl’s book, “Man’s Search for Meaning.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I found it to be perhaps my most preferred model on existence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In this book, the author, a psychiatrist who spent time in Auschwitz as a prisoner, describes man’s constant battle to resolve the meaning of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I must admit that I have been mentally battling a serious bout of existential anxiety, summed up in layman’s as “what the f… am I doing here… why did I leave such a perfect life…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>what’s wrong with me that would make me do this…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The anxiety would come in waves, at their peak I confess I am close to packing my bags and catching a taxi direct to the airport.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">I met the volunteer coordinator, a Brazilian named Rogerio under the bridge outside of Rocinha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was raining and the place smelled of fresh urine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I recognized Rogerio, a 30ish guy with a light beard, as the guy walking directly toward me with a large grin on his face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He shook my hand, and we rapidly began our walk into Rocinha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I wore my sunglasses, as not to admit my eyes were blue, and constantly scanning.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My first time in I did not see the cocaine stand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In aviation language this is called sensory overload.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had too much information coming in from all my senses, that I would miss things such as a group of 6 young hoods next to a table full of cocaine packets, busy talking rapidly on their military grade radios.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The hoods can deal in the open because this is Rocinha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The police do not come here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">The second time I came to Rocinha was my first day of official work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was escorted for the last time, next time I would be on my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Better believe I memorized markings that corresponded to my turns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>To stop and look confused would not be acceptable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">Isabella, one of the English teachers, was sick on Tuesday.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Rogerio asked me to take the class for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My brain very rapidly wondered where my lesson plan was, have I practiced it, and where are the class materials.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There would be none of these.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>At 3 minutes til class I ran out of my boxing lesson, two blocks away from the institute, but within the favela.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had just enjoyed two hours of boxing training with some children, and a few adults.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">The training room was a concrete block building, spartan-like, and about 50 ft by 40 ft.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was surprised when upon entering the training room Rogerio asked me to warm-up the children up and do some exercises.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My brain very rapidly looked for my warm-up card and my exercise card.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There would be none of these.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I did not pass on this opportunity and relied on past experience to stretch and exercise the children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Alternating the stretch counts between English and Portuguese kept the children on their toes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A blue-eyed, blond stranger leading their class kept them amused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A few of the children wore little more than a tattered shirt, and dirty, frequently worn shorts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Only two of them actually had shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>With proper authority I was mostly able to keep them in line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Encouraging them to repeat loudly after my calls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">Breathing heavily and sweating profusely I walked quickly to English class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As I entered the institute I gathered up the students, seven girls, and we headed upstairs.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I took 2 minutes to wash my hands and face before I met them in the third floor classroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I walked up to the head of the class and looked for a dry erase marker to use for the board.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was very fortunate to find one, that barely worked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I wrote my name on the board and quickly went into a session on introducing yourself in English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The seven girls, ages nine to twelve, were not shy about talking to me in Portuguese and even less shy about yelling, hitting each other playfully, and moving about freely during my, albeit weak instruction.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I spent most of the hour trying to get them to focus on one thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>More than once I experienced a wave of panic of “I have nothing else to do or say!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>What else can I do?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The hour felt like an eternity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When I dismissed them, I told myself that no matter what happens, I will never let them see me lose my calm.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia">I spent the day Wednesday inside Rocinha at the institute.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I prepared a list of items I would need to begin building a homemade gym.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Iron bars, PVC piping, 2x4s, old tires with rims, buckets, concrete, duct tape, and rope were all on my list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Rogerio and I took a walk around Rocinha, talking to shop owners about prices for some of these items.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We were lucky to find some PVC piping and a set of old tires and rims in a junkyard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Sometimes during this task my brain would speak out of turn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>“What are you doing in one of the world’s most dangerous places, in a junkyard, scavenging for iron, pipe, and tires.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As I was carrying two tires and one rim through Rocinha, I glanced downward and to my right to see an old man, probably seventy years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He had on a tattered, thin, blue shirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>His beard was long, down to his chest, and was silver and white.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He was busy scraping cocaine off of an aluminum square tile about the size of a paper napkin, onto a cotton and green bandana lying neatly on the pavement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We arrived back to the institute, filthy and sweaty, with some initial equipment.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My next task, find a guy in Rocinha who can weld…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Chris Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13973482585782892794noreply@blogger.com2