Beguiling Brazil

Brazil was a country that sought me out as a place to visit. Global Citizens Network, an organization that fosters cross cultural exchanges via project work, offered me a leader-in-training opportunity for their exploratory trip to the northeastern part of the country. An exception was made for me not speaking Portuguese or its distant cousin Spanish because of the low registration for the trip. Little did I know who much of a hindrance this would be for applying my leadership skills. Few people in the areas we visited spoke English, nor were signs in English at the airports or bus stations.

First I had to learn how to say Recife--Hay-see-fay, the name of the city from which we were to start our exploration. Recife is the third largest city in Brazil. It's right on the coast, just south of the flat top of the country. It rises up from the water, build similar to San Francisco, and gives your legs an equally good workout. Kate, our team leader, met me at the airport, and we returned the next day to meet Maria, our team member.

We wandered the streets, toured a building formerly housing Africans brought over to be slaves, ate tapioca from the street vendors for dinner, sat in on an instructional Maracatu concert and observed other bands practicing the upcoming Carnival. We learned Carnival is big in the larger cities, and virtually non-existent in the smaller towns.

We three traveled westward to Pesqueira to visit the indigenous Xukuru people, who fought for decades to retake their land from the Portuguese that had infiltrated the region, much like the Europeans did in the U.S. Success came in 1998. The Xukuru are now building their lives and communities under the direction of the “naturally chosen” 31- year old Cacique Marcos, son of a former Cacique who was killed during the process. They don’t have elections, they look to see who naturally emerges as a leader. Cacique Marcos works tirelessly and charismatically leading the Xukuru—greeting people at his home at all hours of the day, attending various township meetings, visiting the schools and medical centers, overseeing the allocation of land and water and how they are put to use, and working with the milk producers and distributors to ensure their milk will be used in the schools. We were impressed by their strategic planning process—seeing how the solutions to their problems are to be achieved only when their values are evident in the solutions. In touring the land with Cacique Marcos, we all felt the community center was the best possible project for a GCN team to work on. The details of lodging, food and transportation would have to be worked out. A team of eight to twelve would not fit as comfortably as we were in Cacique Marcos’ home. That’s too bad because they’ll miss the treat of being with Cacique Marcos’ two sons, Marcus Paulo and Yuri Mateus, and his in-laws, Elena and Paulo.

Next, we headed eastward to Amariji to meet with FUSAMA, a cooperative that works with organizations involved in organic farming. Here a few people spoke English so Kate was given a bit of a reprieve from translating. We stayed at a pousada, and partook of family style meals, including leftovers. We visited several different areas—family farms of crops in rows, and family plots of crops laid out in the shape of a labyrinth with a chicken coup in the middle. We saw luscious lettuces--romaine, bibb, red, arugula; long-stemmed broccoli, collard greens, cilantro, pimento, white yams, mint, watercress, green onions, eggplant, beams, squash, basil, cauliflower, beets, lemongrass, neem, garlic, watermelon, pineapple, limes, bananas and coconut. If I’d grown up on a farm, I might have known that chopped green onions act as a natural pesticide, that arruda emits a strong odor distasteful to bugs, and yellow flowers planted as walls deter bugs from eating crops. Some industrious farmers had dug deep trenches and were farming fish and shrimp. There was no evidence of huge pieces of farming equipment commonly seen on American farms. This was all being done by hand. Landless people, aka squatters, lived in shacks by the roadside awaiting for some land they could call their own.

Our last stop of the trip was to the more touristy area of Porto de Galinhas, an hour or so south of Recife. Here we met with a community of thirteen women who had formed BioArtes for which they produce beaded jewelry to support their families. They only had one major client (who had not placed an order yet for the year) and admitted their work was similar to those of other local organizations. They wanted to build a center on donated church property blocks away from the tourist area where they could work and sell their products. Our team didn’t think this was a viable opportunity them or as a GCN project.

We spent our last afternoon, evening and next morning enjoying the vast expanse of Porto de Galinhas’ white beach. Vendors sell all kinds of wares—carved coconut shells, swimsuit cover-ups, sunglasses, drinks, and more. Sailboat rides could be had on rustic looking boats sporting brand names on their sails. We wandered away from the crowds and sat down where I could enjoy my last açai I before heading off to the airport and home.