THE CRUEL LIFE IN THE FAVELS

     The excerpt below is taken from the book Eviction Room by Carolina Maria de Jesus (pp. 35 and 36), a woman, black, slum dweller, a paper, glass and iron collector. Granddaughter of enslaved people face daily hunger and an inhuman system, which sees the poor as a case of the police.

     Favels proliferate, today with the misfortune of drugs, criminal factions and militias. We also see residents organizing and fighting the system as best they can, whether with confrontations, cultural acts such as Hip Hop and other forms of struggle.

    However, slavery is a cruel legacy for Brazilians, violence against the poor, blacks, women, homosexuals and transgenders is a holdover from the times when the police were created to capture and beat enslaved people. 

    It is a pity that Carolina Maria de Jesus died in 1977, as I would like to see her among the 20 million Brazilians who left the poverty line in the years 2003 to 2016. were historically less favored.

    I am also sure that it is possible on the front line to fight those who are fighting on the front line, to maintain Brazil as well as to return to slavery.

Cláudio Maffei

   “I am sad today. I'm nervous. I don't know whether to cry or I run without stopping until I fall unconscious. It was raining today. And I didn't go out to get money. I spent the day writing. Leftover pasta, I'll warm it up for the boys.

    I cooked the potatoes, they ate. There are some metals and some iron that I'm going to sell at Mr. Manuel. When João got home from school I told him to sell the irons. Received 13 cruzeiros. Bought a glass of mineral water, 2 cruzeiros. I got angry with him. Where have you seen yourself in a slum deweller with these finesse? (...) The boys eat a lot of bread. They like soft bread. But when they don't have it, they eat hard bread.

    Hard is the bread that we eat. Hard is the bed we sleep in. Hard is the life of the favelado.

    Oh! São Paulo queen who proudly flaunts your golden crown that are the skyscrapers. Who wears velvet and silk and puts on cotton socks that is the shanty towns.

    (...) The money was not enough to buy meat, I made pasta with carrots. There was no fat, it was horrible. Vera is the only one who complains and asks for more. And asks:

    — Mom, sell me to Mrs. Julita, because there's delicious food there.

    I know that there are Brazilians here in São Paulo who suffer more than I do. In June 1957 I got sick and went to the Social Service headquarters. Because I carry a lot of iron, I got kidney pain. In order not to see my children go hungry, I asked the so-called Social Service for help. It was there that I saw the tears slip from the eyes of the poor. How poignant it is to see the dramas that unfold there. The irony with which the poor are treated. The only thing they want to know are the names and addresses of the poor.I went to the Palace, the Palace sent me to the headquarters on Av. Brigadeiro Luis Antonio. Avenida Brigadeiro sent me to the Santa Casa Social Service.

    I spoke with Mrs. Maria Aparecida who listened to me and answered me so many things and said nothing. I decided to go to the Palacio and got in line. I spoke with Mr. Alcides. A man who is not Japanese, but is yellow like spoiled butter. I spoke with Mr. Alcides:

    — I came here to ask for help because I'm sick. You told me to go to Avenida Brigadeiro Luis Antonio, I went. Avenida Brigadeiro told me to go to Santa Casa. And I spent the only money I had on rides.

 

  — Arrest her!

    They didn't let me out. And a soldier for the bayonet in my chest. I looked the soldier in the eye and realized he was feeling sorry for me. I told him:

    — I'm poor, that's why I came here.

    Doctor Osvaldo de Barros, the fake São Paulo philanthropist who is dressed as São Vicente de Paula. And said:

    — Call a car of prisoner!