Rio de Janeiro: city of contrasts, city of colour, city of sun, sand and surf. From third world to rich and famous within a city block. Corcovado and Sugarloaf stand tall above long white beaches. Rundown beachfront high-rises are clustered in the flatlands, balconies facing the sea, and behind them are the Favelas, ochre and orange shanty towns, creeping high into the hills.
We stayed at Margarita's Pousada in leafy Ipanema. Margarita is a matron. She cooks us breakfast and bemoans the local state of affairs in Portuguese. We have no idea what she says. We think she comes to like us though, despite our struggles to communicate. She cooks us soup one evening. She leaves it on the stove for us to heat up when we get back from a night out.
We took a tour into two Favelas now occupied by police, basic public services slowly getting introduced. But an address and power on grid means bills which many cannot afford to pay. I was amazed at the community spirit within the maze of shanties piled atop of each other. One resident, Olga, had a fridge delivered and it was left in the alleyway with her name hand-scrawled on the box. Community storeman and publican Alfonso serves people beers and caipirinhas and holds residents' keys and mail at the same time. While the adults drink and watch the news on a small CRT behind Alfonso's storefront, the kids kick footballs in the mud amongst chickens and dozing dogs.
I was in Rio two weeks before the world cup 2014. There was angst about the cost of the event among many of the locals. How is the government funding the rebuilding of stadiums and other tournament infrastructure when basic public services are so neglected? A question of priorities.
Rio is bursting with forgotten people. The Favela child with no mother and a drug addict father. The homeless man sleeping on cardboard under an inner-city bridge. The innumerable hawkers selling everything from bracelets to biscuits, lugging bags of goods up and down the beach hassling, always hassling. Where do they come from and where do they go? And what becomes of them in a society so focused on the mega rich two percent. The other 98 percent serve the tourists and the wealthy, like modern day slaves.
Thieving waiters swiped our credit cards twice - gringo tax - that's the closest we got to crime. They say this is a dangerous place but I never felt unsafe. The people of Rio are just trying to live - they have the setting and the climate - now they just need the services and infrastructure for a better life. Equality is a dream and always will be but the poorest need help - basic services, housing and education - that is a human right not a dream. In soccer we have an expensive distraction. Once the medals are handed out we must not forget the people - the beautiful people of Rio.
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| Copacabana from the top of Sugarloaf - pull out your cameras! |
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| The Lagoa and Ipanema from the top of Corcovado |
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| Spaghetti power-lines in Rocinha - leeching off the grid! |
Rio is bursting with forgotten people. The Favela child with no mother and a drug addict father. The homeless man sleeping on cardboard under an inner-city bridge. The innumerable hawkers selling everything from bracelets to biscuits, lugging bags of goods up and down the beach hassling, always hassling. Where do they come from and where do they go? And what becomes of them in a society so focused on the mega rich two percent. The other 98 percent serve the tourists and the wealthy, like modern day slaves.
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| Main St in Rocinha |
Thanks for sharing, Tony. Just a thought - would the poor know what to do with, or embrace basic services, housing and education? Or would they continue to live how their parents, grandparents, and great grandparents lived?
ReplyDeleteInteresting question. Not sure, but I think you need to give people opportunity if you want to see them flourish. And I didn't see much opportunity for the Favela kids. Basic health services and education and would be a start.
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