In colourful, historic, vibrant Salvador, Bahia you expect to be enchanted by Pelourinho where Michael Jackson famously filmed ‘They Don’t Care About Us’, or pray at the powerful alter of Sr. Bomfim. My heart was captured by this magical State that pulsates to the beat of drums, is shrouded in the mystery of the Afro-Christian religion Candomblé and brims with history from the slave trading era, but I found my rainbow off the well trodden tourist track.
To arrive at our destination we must walk through over a kilometre of dirt tracks from the last bus stop. In a predominantly afrodescendente (African Brazilian) area and at 6 ft 1 I shine out like a beacon, calling people to their doorways and windows to see this fair skinned giant passing by. A while later the news spreads and visitors arrive to meet me while other groups just walk past the windows to stare in and giggle. Their happy, welcoming energy is contagious.
Finally we’ve arrived. It’s a humble home, with dark cave like concrete rooms. The paint is water stained and as there was a a storm last night the cause is evident, buckets collect drips here, there and everywhere. There is no glass in the windows, looking out the view is of overgrown grass and endless shanty housing. It may sound bleak, but the energy, determination and positivity of the residents exudes a real community spirit. Working together improvements are made, where there was once a slippery mud goat track to get to the front door, there are now concrete steps and a gate. I arrived one day to find the neighbourhood men, mid construction. My heart soars for my friend each time I arrive and see that she has proudly applied a shiny coat of paint or installed, in MacGyver like fashion, an electric shower. When we met she didn’t have a house, but was sleeping on her sister’s sofa. During my visits we drew straws for the sofa or floor, and floor it was, no mattress just concrete and a sheet.
I survived, the stiffness of the next day paled in comparison to the camaraderie we had shared. In this place, a favela (slum), I have experienced true generosity and friendship, the kind that crosses all boundaries of language, race and class, it is the first place I run to in any time of trouble. There is much danger from thieves and we were once trapped in the crossfire from gun wielding youths, on the wrong side of the law. But the good energies of the decent people never die. Caught in a blackout at midnight one day, we were cautiously stumbling down the dirt roads, fearing an attack by robbers, but the opposite happened; torchlight suddenly lit our way. Other residents had come to their windows with torches to help guide us home. As a foreigner I feel the heat so a fan is always produced, to get it going two bare wires are inserted with a frightening puff of smoke, sparks flying, into a socket.
In this place people literally risk life and limb for your comfort! I never go hungry, despite protests that it’s not necessary, a huge plate of vegetarian beans and salad is always prepared from scratch just for me; a rare non meat eater in this country of carnivores. When I arrive under the weather with a cold, a healthy juice of vegetables and citrus is whipped up. It’s the closest thing to the warm embrace that is visiting your mother’s home, only my mother is on the other side of the world, living in a residence that would seem palatial in comparison! This wonderful spirit is something I have only experienced to such a degree in an area where people have nothing; they give ever so much more! We usually dance and sing to our favourite tunes and the festive atmosphere is exuded across the neighbourhood, but there is always an ear ready to listen to life’s trials and tribulations, then give some advice or a hug. I’m constantly warned by those from higher socio-economic areas; never to go to that dangerous favela, especially alone; but I defy their advice and take my chances because look what I have gained in my life by opening the door to the path less trodden. If you choose to focus on the dark cloud that hovers over the lives of those that live there, then that is all you will see, but this bleak environment is transformed by the spirit of love, friendship, kindness, generosity and hope. It is where I feel at home and am eternally grateful for my favela family! Dive into the city’s dark clouds and find your rainbow, follow it’s path and if you are as lucky as me, you will discover the elusive pot of gold right there waiting for you.
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Great to hear of your experiences Maree, and of the warmth and generosity of the people you’ve met!
Fantastic writing, Maree! I could hear the giggles and feel the cold floor as you described them, even though I’ve never been to Bahia. I must come visit someday. You’re right: if we continue to focus on the dark clouds, that’s all we see. We miss out on the bright lights beyond.
Thanks for a great read, almost like being there without leaving the safety of my home. It is often the way when those with the least give the most.
Great read. Definitely going to travel there and find my own piece of paradise. Xxx
Maree, what a wonderful account of your time with these gorgeous people. Not only do you have a sense of humanity not often found but these people who give with such generosity and kindness are an example to us all. Thank you for sharing your strory and awesome that you have been published here
Your story is so inspiring and full of courage. What a great read, I felt the love between you, the people and Brazil.
Wow Maree, a fascinating and inspiring insight into what happens when you go beyond the tourist brochure and really get to know the country and its people. This kind of story brings us all closer together in our shared humanity, regardless of race, culture or circumstance. Thank you <3
A fascinating, different kind of travel story. Inspiring writing and thinking. You definitely choose your own paths, courageously. Thank you, this was a pleasure to read!