Thursday, September 26, 2013

Po do sol

I accidentally deleted a similar post to this yesterday, so here is my second crack at it. Hopefully my getting copy and paste mixed up in Portuguese does not hinder my posting in the future. I certainly will not forget which is which now. Enjoy!:

A happenstance occurrence, Taísa's water leak at her house, presented us with two hours of free time before dinner on Tuesday. I had promised myself to see a sunset as soon as I could, but seeing as we have Portuguese class Monday through Friday while it occurs, we had not been as of yet. We began our descent towards the beach at 17:00 giving us about half an hour to spare before the sun completely disappeared over the edge of the Earth. As we descended a street parallel to a cliff overlooking the bay, a sight, the likes of which a picture could do no justice, took me by surprise. The sun bored down with an intensity that averted gazes. I could not even look at the reflection of the sun off of the sea without putting up a hand to block or squinting vigorously. The sun seemed to pierce our very plane of vision, spewing a dense celestial stew of amber rays and photon packets that ripped through subtle nuances of pink and purple. How dark the deep crystal blue of the ocean seemed in comparison. After receiving a sufficient amount of retinal damage, we continued on. The beach swarmed with people, at five o'clock on a Tuesday mind you. I jumped in as soon as we arrived. Swimming out a ways, I found a nice spot to float, soaking up all I could of the moment. The salinity of the water made me especially buoyant and prone to the whims of the sea. Though chilly, the warm collage of hues painted passionately across the sky more than compensated for the frigidity of the water. Spiced shrimp, salt, cigarettes, and fish tickled my nose. Various ball games, laughter, and  entreaties to buy this or that washed over me. I was a grain of salt suspended in a solution approaching supersaturation. People bobbed, and a father paddled his daughter out to get a better view. Almost in response to our collecting, it began. Everything merged at a single point in time and space, heaven and Earth collided. A lightning bolt of reflected energy weaved in and out of freighters and launches before hitting me square in the chest. The golden ember greeted the sea with a gentle touch, igniting a contagious amalgam of cheers, whistles, and claps. Our enormous life-giving speck of an energy provider grew a richer fuller vermilion as it sank, as if to compensate for its having to temporarily leave. And when only the sky remained, still stained the color of a traveler's whitewashed faded tie-dye, everyone seemed to snap out of their trance, resume normalcy. This happens every day here, and there is always a sunset somewhere, whether or not I watch, before I was here and after I go. How should I feel at any given time of day? Why not instead stare at the homeless men that line the walk down? How should I reconcile this sort of experience with having to diagnose and treat a number of open sores on a three year old's arms and legs, or hearing news that a particular woman you were clicking so well with is in particularly bad shape at the hospital, and just hours earlier at my work placement. I am not arguing to allocate more time or energy to thinking about one or the other, but rather questioning how to process the raw data, if filters or amplifiers of some sort would help? How different are these experiences? Should I see them so differently? An application on my phone allows me to change the background of different notes so as to better organize them. An unforeseen consequence of this was an altered mood of a poem I had been working on. A fellow bridge year student noted how aggressively advertised and saddening my portrayal of a tree appeared. I did not necessarily see it the same way. Though totally unrelated to the color of the background, our own past experiences and reflections had us approaching the same point from different angles. I search for the color, the proper lens or perspective, that will allow me to best react to and inform various efforts. I do not know if that involves a conglomerate or kaleidoscope of combinations. The question tends to be more pertinent than the answer. I could have just as easily named this post "indeterminable infection" or something. Was there some sort of awareness to potential readers who may have been deterred or would I just rather think about something so universally beautiful? What is not beautiful about the tree I describe? With every day that passes I become a little more a part of Madre Theresa; and boy do I already love those kids, women, nuns, and other staff so much. The beauty seems so on par with anything else I can imagine. Could I not have described the sun as insignificant? Here is the poem I mentioned.

A canção de Salvador:
Beats reverberate through me
Permeating every pore,
Every cavern of my being.
Inhaling rio acaraje and beleza vibes
Alongside salty sea blue dreams
Heavy infusions of dende and acai float.
As capoeira dancers, fighters, sweep
Somewhere, a coconut falls
The caxixi jumps and jingles
Children lack food, love
Vamos a jogar they chant
Violence is all some have
Baianos dance to pulsating samba
Aware of tomorrow, content with today
Gnarled, deprived, disproportionate trees
Contort to slim dim beams of
Speck filled insecurity filled security
Akin to unlit stain glass dullness.
Without illumination,
It's only a puzzle for toddlers
Oh sangue bom de Salvador

Monday, September 16, 2013

Samba

A certain tension exists between the values I have chosen to uphold and those that are imposed upon me. It reminds me of the tension I feel as I dance. On one hand, a traditional style, technique, and method set the foundation, while on the other, improvisation, impulse, and vision drive the movement. After a certain point, the vehicle, or rules if you will, bend or break under the pressure of competition. A new means of expression and action replaces the outdated form under new circumstances. Before long the dance becomes its own idea, essence, and meaning. It takes on a direction and stance. Dance creates art that lasts as long as a gaze, making it as ephemeral as a flash of lightning; the accumulation of my actions though ultimately defines the kind of dance I live. Of course these days pictures and videos are somewhat changing that, but the essence of that work being present only in the residue of ones muscle memory or visual and auditory stimuli make it an ideal way to live fully in the moment. That essentially embodies the rift in my moral compass. I am or at least was surrounded by people either encouraging or totally content with waiting. The issues affecting such a large number of people in the world seem to be put snuggly on the back burner. I completely recognize the importance of becoming educated. But to wait until I am twenty-two or three or older to get certified to do this or that and only then start a career, my initial participation probably falling far short and off the mark of what I thought necessary or possible, and most likely forgetting somewhere along the way what it was I want to do and value seems fake and indirect. Sitting around a fifty thousand dollar or so wooden Harkness table discussing the inequity inherent in various aspects of our societies seemed so backwards, as privileged I was to receive the education I did. I felt the need to be much more involved and productive than was deemed okay. As I was applying for this trip I remember having an argument with my mother about what would happen if I did not make the cut. I became rather upset, mostly out of fear, at the notion that she probably would not allow me to do a gap year by myself. I felt stuck, coddled, and ready for more. I could not imagine another four years in the same area doing the same kinds of things I had been doing without being utterly lost and unhappy. Maybe that is just indicative of certain preconceived notions about what my life would be like in the next four years. It could also be a big indicator that I should have seriously reconsidered the way I lived my life, not that I did not or anything though. At times such situations and opinions are difficult to address or resolve for a number of reasons. Things such as these have had a tendency to work out well in the end, so hopefully that has something to do with how I handle them. A samba class inspired today's blog post. Ricardo, our dance instructor (he puts you to shame bro), is as lively as he is passionate about the art. Samba plays an incredibly important role in our getting to know the people of Salvador. Samba has as many varieties as it has peoples and cultures that contributed to its creation and development. To be able to learn, share, and enjoy that with others leads to a completely fulfilling experience for me.

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

It begins.

I began work at Madre Theresa daycare and home for hindered women this Monday. I however was not the only newcomer this week. Tati of course began with me at this work site. Additionally an adorable baby boy who would not stop crying joined the others. So naturally they paired us up. Visceral urges to cry, scream, or shout our uneasiness at some thing or someone amidst unfamiliar environments often occur before anything else. I found myself at a loss to imagine the home, parents, and possibly siblings of this child the same way he struggled to cope with this loud new place without his mother. As the other children played on the other side of the fence, the baby and I strolled by the pictures and names of the others as I hummed songs I used to go to bed to. He was reluctant to calm down but could not resist glimpsing the faces of the other children. Fatigue from his crying fits started to chip away at his prejudices. His head bobbing and hand beginning to clench my shirt, he drifted off to sleep. I had been and still am in awe of and curious about the nuns who run the center. Day in and day out their loving, purposeful, and dogged consistency pervaded their demeanor. To choose to love the being you hold in your arms is one thing, quite tangible and rewarding. To give all you have to everyone and all with no expectations but your best effort in the name of the presence of an unprovable being is another. I will have to mull that over some more. Feeding, holding, cleaning, and playing certainly made it clear how pertinent such work is, as did my experiences with the older women this morning. I then wonder sometimes why there do not exist more people doing such work aside from any differences in belief.. More specifically, why I did not not do more work like it. I certainly should have. Hence my wish to do a gap year of this nature. My whole life I have thrived on the resources, time, and effort of others and to wait so long to do the same for others seemed to undermine the type of environment for others that catalyzed my growth. I had a one in a million mom who made more than I ever could have imagined out of what statistically was a recipe for a drop out student in and out of jail. The work I do here or did through my school or with my family reflected what I was taught to value most and accounts for my most fulfilling experiences. The stresses of grades, college, and SAT scores should fall far behind our yearning to make meaningful change possible in the real world. To think that I, or anyone else for that matter, might not have had experiences such as these scares me as much as it fosters a deep appreciation for them.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Yes, I'm going to church mom.

A wave of rainbow cloth bands that read, "Lembrança do Senhor de Bonfim da Bahia" completely submerged the surounding gates and any other surface available of the most well known and appreciated church in Bahia, Senhor do Bonfim. They fluttered much like the long green and tan grasses of the coast. The small swaths of cloth, innumerable and purposely placed, represent the hopes, dreams, and prayers of the citizens of Salvador. The same way these people gather to celebrate the independence of Brazil on Seite de Setembro, they congregate to peacably voice their opinions concerning current conditions in Brazil. While Olympic stadiums seemingly appear out of thin air in one or two years, public transportation, education, and health policies lack funding and or haste in their execution. Salvador specifically sits on top of an unused and inoperable subway system. Fred, a guest speaker at the home base, spoke to us just two days ago about huge endeavours recklessly undertaken by the government that resulted in large quantities of funds misappropriated and or undesired repercussions. From the hill where the church sits one can see a large portion of Salvador. The colina sagrada as they call it marks the end of a five kilometer trek beggining in Barra on Seite de Setembro. Shortly thereafter the march, as with many other celebrations and holidays, protestors will gather to ask for basic infrastructure and policy improvements. Brazil seems to be doing a splendid job of exercising their democratic rights and their government appears all the better for it with people like Joaquim Barbosa taking charge and fostering national progress.

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

A Praia

I have not posted in a day or two for the sake of taking part in various activities we planned or just wanting to relax. We have a good amount of meetings and when we do not we take time to explore. I think twice a week would be a good amount to post considering I am keeping a daily journal as well, but I will feel it out and see how that goes. Anyways, to catch up:
With about three hours of free time yesterday morning we decided to take a walk to the beach. We take walks throughout the city at least twice a day and though we get lost or cannot find a certain store or museum, locals are more than happy to help. Their sense of community presents itself in their greetings and questions as we butcher a phrase or tout our 'gringo' jackets (rain coats). The weather surprised us after an unusual two or three day bout of overcast skies and random showers (it is winter here I guess). Sunny at a comfortable twenty seven degrees Celsius though (odd getting used to world standards), our beach trip could not have been better. The water, coco, and quejo on a stick with molasses and oregano refreshed and nourished us as competing salesmen fought for our attention. Food, drink, chairs, umbrellas, and sun screen sold for about five reals each (roughly two reals/dollar), and that was enough for two sticks of quejo. People flocked to the beach, in part because the city closes down the street every Sunday morning for runners and bikers. Crowded shores afforded many opportunities to converse with Portuguese speakers and the clear blue water, though quite salty, cooled us off from the sun more than sufficiently. Another trip to the beach even earlier this morning offered another perspective. The street where yesterday many had relaxed and conversed now hosted lines of people waiting for the bus, walking to work, or hailing a taxi. The actual beach appeared almost dormant. Only a few swimmers, joggers, and yogis could afford to take advantage of such a fine morning. After inspecting a beach directly adjacent to where we had been yesterday, we spotted a homeless man asleep against the cement wall where the beach started. Speaking with a lot of the CCS staff we have learned of the many programs in place to help people trying to make it by and how many must ride the bus starting at five in the morning for what could be couple hour commute. Living in an upper middle class neighborhood here definitely alters our experience a little bit. The drive from the airport to the home-base though definitely highlighted a lot of the inequity present in the community. While the middle class tends to expand upwards in apartments and condos, the poor expand horizontally in favelas surrounding the city. Brazil displays one of the most polarized wealth distributions in the world today. Several guest speakers and CCS staff have spoken to us about the power and wealth dynamic of the country. Salvador, which at one point housed more than two million slaves, falls far from the normal demographics of Brazil as a whole. Brazil, primarily white demographically, sharply contrasts the majority Afro-Brazilian concentration of Salvador. Salvador received regular shipments of slaves for such a long time that a lot of African culture spread and was preserved quite well in the area. Despite Salvador’s rich deposits of oil, the money flows south to Sao Paulo and Rio de Jainero because large company headquarters tend to be located in the south where the stock market operates. The North/South dynamic creates tension because of socioeconomic differences as well as deep seeded cultural ones. The growth and development of Brazil interestingly parallels and contrasts the United States’ in many categories. Healthcare, education, politics, and civil rights issues all seem to be on the brink of great change. We will learn much more about these topics as we take classes and hear other guest speakers.