I must admit I’ve been surprised at the level of opposition and worry this decision has provoked in my friends and family. On one hand I understand and acknowledge it. On the other, I think that I need to explain why I’m doing it, why I think it’s not as dangerous as it seems, and why, even if it is dangerous, it is something that I have to do.
First, a little bit on Rocinha.
Rocinha is one of the biggest and arguably most famous slums in the world. It is the setting of many well-known Brazilian films such as City of God and Tropa de Elite. Estimates of its population range very widely from 200,000 to 700,000, largely because the place is outside the jurisdiction of local government, making such records difficult to keep.
It is built on a steep, concave hillside, nestled between the two towering rock formations called, respectively, “Rock of the Two Brothers” and “Rock of Gávea.” It is also located conveniently in the midst of some of the wealthiest neighborhoods in all of Brazil; São Conrado, Leblon, Gávea, Ipanema, and Barra da Tijuca.
I say “conveniently” because Rocinha is also the headquarters of the Brazilian drug trade, which, understandably, is a robust one. Its prime location makes it a natural supplier for the wealthy neighborhoods which are always the biggest market for illicit substances.
This brisk trade gives the groups that control it not only immense amounts of money, but also power. These groups use the money to buy weapons that in any other situation would be used for war, and use the power to exert an influence on local and even state and national politics that ensures opposition to their activities will never be more than symbolic.
Why do I say all this? To show that I understand what I’m getting myself into. I understand that the situation is complicated, that allegiances are fluid and treacherous, that the logic of the place is perverted by the drugs and violence that both sustain and hold hostage the inhabitants of Rio’s favelas.
So why am I going?
First, because it’s not as dangerous as it seems. The vast majority of inhabitants of Rocinha are like you and me. They work hard, they love their families, they want to create a better future for their children, they fear violence and death. Rocinha has a huge working middle-class population which apparently finds the risks acceptable for their families, and I believe that it is these people that define the day-to-day life of the favela, even if it is punctuated from time to time by the shootouts and invasions for which it has become famous.
The media has sensationalized the myth of Rocinha to unbelievable heights. Movies portray a life-shattering combat zone that makes Iraq look like Disneyland. These seem to be the only Brazilian movies that find international success, so they keep on coming like clockwork. The news at all levels and in all mediums jumps at the chance to cover the latest police operation or drug bust or shootout or kidnapping or whatever. Newspapers sell, magazines fly off the shelves, and people across the country sit glued to their TVs, feeling better that at least their neighborhoods are not that bad.
I think it’s really important to understand, and this is true not only in Rocinha but anywhere, that “danger” is not constant. It is a function of a whole range of factors, from where you’re from to what language you speak to the color of your hair to how you walk to how you dress. Sure, if the average fannypack-brandishing tourist goes for a stroll through the Favela do Alemão at midnight, let’s just say bad things are bound to happen.
But that’s not me. I speak Portuguese fluently, well enough that people are regularly surprised that I’m a foreigner. I’ve lived in Brazil at various points throughout my life, and during the last six months I’ve lived, traveled, worked and studied on my own in the country. I’m going to be living with a normal family, working side by side with and teaching inhabitants of the neighborhood, with an organization that has deep roots in the community and is recognized and respected as a positive force for change.
And I think it goes without saying that I will not in any case be seen with any fannypacks, iphones, ipods, or digital cameras. I’m not as stupid as I look.
Second is the why.
The reasons are many, and it’s hard to focus on just one. Part of it is a desire to help people, the people that need it the most. Another reason is to experience the “real” Brazil, the side of this country that I have never seen except through the car window and on TV, and yet the side I feel is somehow a part of me, just as the two sides of the Grand Canyon are equally a part of the same chasm, each lending their own beauty and significance.
But it’s also more than that. I must admit I’m looking for adventure, which means danger. It’s not that I’m foolishly plunging headlong into every bump and hole in the road. I’m a masochist, not an idiot. But I just feel like I need a challenge, you know? I need to know what I’m made of, what I’m capable of. Modern life insists on removing everything that makes you really look in the mirror, everything that lays bare the you behind the you behind the you, everything raw and primal.
I guess maybe the reason behind the reasons is that the thing I fear the most, the thing that scares me far more than bullets and bombs ever could, is a complacent life. I see with terrifying clarity how easy it is to fall into the trap of normalcy, how easy it is to kneel at the altar of comfort and sacrifice your dreams for a little peace and quiet.
I hear Socrates’ ancient axiom, that “the unexamined life is not worth living,” as a battle cry, but also as an accusation. It haunts me. It rings in my ears as a reminder of how many times I have betrayed this belief, and how many times I will in the years to come.
The only solution, the only way I can be sure that I’m more or less on the right track, is to challenge myself, to stretch, and that I know Rocinha will do for sure.
You see? I’m as self-centered as ever.
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