Before my journey this spring break, I would have summarized my view of the slums of Rio de Janeiro this way: Food shortages, tiny homes shared by large families (due to a lack of contraceptives), corruption, and danger.
My knowledge of the slums was derived from Brazilian films and occasional news stories — and to me these ghetto areas spoke nothing of hope. That is, until I experienced them firsthand, thanks to the UW-Hillel Foundation’s Alternative Spring Break trip to Rio de Janeiro this past spring.
Our hotel sat on Ipanema Beach, which looked like a cross between a developed European city and the beach set of “LOST” with a Caribbean island feel.
As we enjoyed the 95-degree weather, cheap food, and henna on the beach, we were struck by the beautiful mountain landscapes that surround the city.
Right away, however, the vast economic disparity between rich and poor became extremely obvious. We soon learned that 90 percent of the country’s wealth sat in only 10 percent of the population’s hands — a startling statistic.
These poverty-stricken slums are natively called “favelas,” and in the greater area of Rio de Janeiro — the tourist capital of Brazil — there are roughly 21 of these communities.
Twenty communities are run by drug traffickers. And then there is one favela called Bangu, the single neighborhood that has not yet been struck by the terrors of living in a drug lord-controlled community. It is in Bangu where we were assigned to do our service work.
Bangu is beyond description. While it may be free of drugs, it shares most of the same problems as the rest of the favelas. The people of Bangu struggle with all of the troubles associated with poverty, including cruel societal discrimination (such as the people being referred to as derogatory “favelados”).
We went into the village for a mini-tour on our first workday in Rio to speak to some of the community members, and see firsthand the everyday struggles they face.
On that first day we met a woman who had 17 children — four had passed away over the years — and her entire family slept together in a room about the size of my 11 x 11 dorm bedroom.
Another woman had a daughter and granddaughter both sick with AIDS. These children could have lived healthier, longer lives if only they had access to healthcare and were able to get diagnosed sooner.
Walking through the alleys of homes made literally out of recycled trash, one thing stood out: the soccer field.
A few years ago, the Brazilian government made an effort to help this community by installing a beautiful, caged-in soccer field. The passion for soccer in Brazil is inexplicable, and this simple fact can explain it best: many of the children do not have shoes, and own a couple of shirts and shorts, but so many of them have proudly purchased soccer uniforms and cleats to pursue their passion of “football.”
Next to the soccer field was an old, church-run community center that was falling apart. And there was our project — to re-build this center so that young people can gather and grow, and hopefully provide them with enough alternative activities so that they will not get involved with drugs.
So we began to scrape, paint, and re-design this structure.
Each day, the children of the community would come to play with us while we worked. They loved the idea that Americans — with open minds and open hearts — had come into their community to help them.
While we all relied heavily on the translators, we soon discovered that many of us enjoyed the same music! It was amazing with all of our differences, how we shared so much through music. This was something I didn’t expect, and something I will never forget.
The person from Bangu who struck me the most was a 17-year-old named Jon. While he had been a dedicated student in their equivalent of public schooling, his education was equivalent to a third-grade level in the United States.
He already had a daughter, as well as many nieces and nephews. He came to the worksite every single day to help us with the labor, and to interact and learn with us.
Our group soon learned that Jon had never been to a museum, something that he really wanted to do. So, at the end of our third day of work, we invited Jon to come along with us on our trip to Rio’s Museum of Modern Art.
In our travels to this museum, we could feel the stares and we could sense the tension between the professionals (those part of the wealthy 10 percent) commuting home from a day of work, and Jon, our friend with midnight-black skin.
This was a profound experience for my peers and I, and we felt so much compassion for Jon and the members of his community as we began to truly understand the harsh realities they face on a daily basis.
One of the hardest parts of the trip was working in Bangu by day, and touring by night. It was hard to see how far just $5 could go in the favela, and then spend $30 on dinner that night. It was hard to go from site to site, touring the wonders of Rio, while we knew our friends only miles away had never seen half of the places we were visiting.
Brazil, with its great culture and phenomenal sites, was one of my favorite travel experiences by far. And Bangu will forever be in my heart.
Roz Koff is a sophomore at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.
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