Teaching. Whoa. That was tough. Thirty to forty kids in a classroom with raging horomones and no desire to learn anything about history. The state and school district psychotically obsessed with testing and “standards” that left little room for fun. Plus there was the realization that I  even though I loved working with adolescents, feel totally comfortable in front of a room of people, and adore history I was a lame teacher.

Mentoring. Double whoa. Working one on one with 20 to 30 adolescents in the process of leadership development was intense and important work. At the same time it was suprisingly routine and without a broader vision of social change I felt stifled.

Now I am coordinator of Reviravolta. Not being fluent in Português, having never worked with homeless or recycling, and managing a staff with different cultural norms and professional philosophies is…challenging. Yet I would say the most challenging part is redefining pride, success, and accomplishment. Learning how to ask questions without embarrassment, make mistakes without shame, and be fundamentally confident in moments of great insecurity is the real challenge. Teaching and mentoring taught me so much. I think this job will change me so much.

Why? Well….maybe a quick recap of Monday will help in understanding.

Monday, January 23rd, was my first official day. I got to work earlyish, around 7:30, to review excel sheets and get settled in. I had hardly arrived and said good morning to everyone before 2 participants started fighting. Without hesitation I called them to the office, listened to each side and by asking each one what they needed to be at peace with the other and I “resolved” the situation. I was feeling good about that mediation but it was after 8am and the days official start so there was little time to gloat. From that point on there were people in and out of the office and the reality of us being tots broke hit me. I spent the rest of that day (and all days since) figuring out who can I pay, how can I say no (participants ask me for money all the time), how to learn the current system of accountability with 4 excel sheets and 2 accounting reports with 10 documents each (for the mayors office and “headquarters” – Gaspar Garcia). At 10am I called headquarters to get a R$500 loan to pay the water bill the next day, which we didn’t have sufficient funds for. In the midst of that an older gentlemen who has been missing for 2 days told me he got kicked out of his shelter for having 3 unexcused absences (not kidding) and had been living on the street. Met with “friendly G” (asst. coordinator) who is very beloved at work but seems a tad disgruntled about various things – my accent included. Anyway, she told me there was a rumor that one of the guys I talked to that morning (and felt falsely good about my intervention) may have brought a knife to work to stab the other guy! I called “headquarters” (again) to figure out how to proceed. I wasn’t nervous but it felt like a violation of everything we are trying to create (safe and welcoming environment). ugh! Meanwhile I kept all this from my social worker, “the hammer”, who has a very different professional philosophy and seems to have some doubts about my capabilities.  In the midst of that we got news that one of our ex participants was drugged out one the median (“praça”) a few blocks away. He holds a special place in the heart of my staff so I supported their decision to go see how he was doing. That took almost until noon. Upon my return I find out that “knife bringer” got kicked out his shelter and needed to try to find him a place to stay so he didn’t end up on the street. The punches just kept coming after lunch! Our truck didn’t pass inspection and the mechanic could only see the truck on Thurs – but I only have until the 31st to get the car to pass inspection (for 2011). Who knows how I will pay for any maintenance on the truck. Before I could figure out how to handle that I had to go to the bank to pay a parking ticket and make a deposit. The bank I went to only worked for paying the ticket so I accomplished 1 out of 2 tasks in the span of an HOUR. I went back to office and sent someone else to make the deposit. I got back just in time to see what happens when it rains….the whole building leaks! Including our newly reformed office for the arts workshops – it becomes a lake. Then someone from the military police called asking for recycling pick-up and quickly noticed my accent. He asked if I was Chilean (no) and when I arrived in Brasil (Dec 2010) and then said to me “you still talk like that?” (I am really tempted not to pick up their recycling!) I wrapped up the day by making several calls to try to get a space in a shelter for some of our participants staying on the street. I headed home at 5:30pm.

Everyday is different but pretty much follows the same rhythm. I hate answering the phone, I hate making mistakes, I hate not knowing how to do things, and I really really hate not being able to express myself.

I have a wonderful resource in my bosses (C & R) who are really guiding me through this transition. C gave me a pep talk yesterday – “Melissa, you have to be confident, not be ashamed of mistakes, and believe in yourself or others won’t!”. My parents are incredible and cheering me on every step of the way. And my honey bunny (pepe) is a vital source of the love and strength I need to balance feeling so incompetent all day long. Yesterday he said something to me that I want to post on my wall at work (but won’t). “When we realize that the cause, the people we work FOR (in my case – homeless), are more important then our individual ego we realize that we have to swallow our pride (engolir sapo) to do whatever it takes to get things done”. What I hate, what makes me uncomfortable, insecure, and pushes all my buttons…isn’t about me. My challenge is to move beyond “me” and put it all out there for each and everyone of the people in my program.

Bye bye pride (which was probably false and lame anyway). Hello open hearted embrace of mistakes and errors! (and a firm belief in faking it until I make it)

Reviravolta is a job and life skills training program for homeless. Potential participants hear about us in the shelters where they are staying and come for an initial interview. Based on their interest they are then enrolled in the first stage. STAGE 1 = participation in arts and craft workshops 2 days a week, 4 hours each day (8 hours per week). This is designed to help them demonstrate their commitment and ability to stay focused on small tasks for an extended period of time. They make necklaces, earrings, picture frames, etc out of donated paper and newspapers. After 3 weeks of consistent participation they are recommended for participation in Núcleo Escola de Grupo Seletiva – the recycling part of the program. STAGE 2 (a) = they get uniforms and start learning how to recycle! this is a dirty and hard job, lots of lifting, sorting, and packing. For 1 month they work 3 days full time with the “old timers” and the other two days continue participating in the arts workshops. This is to ease the transition to full time heavy work. On the Friday of the 4th week the whole group evaluates the quality of work of each individual. No one is “kicked out” per se. They can either join the recyclers full time or continue in the provisional stage for another month. STAGE 2 (b) = full time work as a recycler. The hope is that within 4 to 6 months they will have developed the experience and stability to pursue other more official, higher income generating, work. That said we do have 3 old old timers (over 5 years).

The description above gives a sense of how amazing the program is…and the potential it has to be the best in the world (I have LOTS of ideas and modest aspirations. teehee).

On January 7th I started going to Reviravolta full time (even though I was only getting paid part time) to shadow then coordinator “Smart C” (former Jesuit and electrical engineer). My fears about my language ability and financial illiteracy were immediately confirmed.

What I never imagined was that I would immediately feel connected to this population and this work.

What I never imagined is how much I would feel like I have a chance to make things right with and for my biological father. He was an alcoholic and (in my opinion) had an undiagnosed mental illness. He died alone and scared and feeling very abandoned. He didn’t end up on the street but he very easily could have. I couldn’t save him and I can’t save “my recyclers”. But….I can give my all to help lead a program that welcomes everyone with kindness, acceptance, and joy. I can use every management trick in the book to try and help “the hammer” (our social worker) see that sometimes just asking why and being present to their answer is more powerful then telling them what (they should do or think or feel). I can swallow my dislike of fundraising and beg every super market, boot store, and glove manufacturer for donations. I can open my heart and learn from the incredible pain and wisdom of everyone – disgruntled asst coordinator to the man who lived on the street for 20 years and struggles to adapt to such a different life.

The hope, fragility, tenderness, and fear in these grown adult men and women is inspiring, and gives me the courage to push through embarrassment (said the wrong word for wallet like 8 times yesterday), frustration (when Big D, new recycler, lied to me and slept on the street), sadness (watching people struggle against addiction and despair), confusion (when I have to figure what expense goes in which of our 4 excel spreadsheets and how we are going to pay for it), and insecurity (I took someone’s number yesterday…it turned out to be a bank. I can’t even write a phone number right?!? No wonder “friendly G” thinks I am an idiot).

In a funny way it is my mistakes, bungled português, failures with my dad, and confusion that actually make me a perfect fit. At least…that is what I am telling myself!!!

I was so sure I was going to stop blogging. I am busy. Like….really busy. My life has changed a lot. As in drastically. And lets be honest, it just didn’t seem like I had anything that uniquely interesting to say. Then I sent out an email to my parents and some of my favorite peeps about my first day of work and I realized how good it felt to write.

Background. The changes I mentioned above? I am no longer with Maryknoll Lay Missioners and you could hardly call me Catholic (me and the church didn’t quite see eye to eye). But I am still in Brasil and have the incredible luck to have the most incredibly demanding and fulfilling job that probably exists on this planet. The busy? I wake up at 5:30am to try to get to work by 7:30am. I like to get home around 6 or 6:30 and I go to bed at 9pm. Working out, workshops, hobbies, my garden – that is all a thing of the past. I eat, breath, sleep this work

Here is the run down:

Coordinator – ummm…that is me. I supervise 4 full time admin staff and 3 part-timers. There are about 50 in the recycling program that go through 3 stages and that is my responsibility too. I also am accountable for all finances, maintenance (when it rains the office becomes a lake), and donor cultivation. I can also fire and hire people.
Social Worker “The Hammer” – working on reconciling our different philosophies about life and work.
Assistant Coordinator “Friendly G” - says she is going to leave in the next 3 months.
Driver “Smoking Lou” - drives the truck that picks up recycling throughout the city.
Cook “Sweet Lady” - been with the program the longest (8 years).
Part-timers: Kinda want to fire 1 out of the 3. Maybe the power to fire people is going to my head!
Recyclers: this is where my heart is. Our recycling training program consists of homeless men and women, over 90% with some sort of addiction and or mental illness. Prone to falling off the wagon, lying, and manipulating they are some of the most sensitive, accepting, loving people I have ever met in my life. The most challenging and rewarding part of my job, of my life, is the relationships I am creating with this group of people. Not easy, painful at times, and my chance to provide the support and acceptance I didn’t give my biological father.
Finances “The Monster”: this part sucks and after 1 official day on the job I thought I was going to cause us to go in the red. awesome. We are constantly on the verge of going broke, definitely don’t have enough money, and have one incredibly difficult system to manage…and then send to the mayor’s office and Gaspar Garcia every month for accountability. I suck at finances in English – can you imagine in a 2nd language?
Português: in social situations Brasilians rave about foreigner’s language abilities and coo over accents. Not so much when you are replacing someone who was very beloved (ex coordinator was popular), or when people call angry about their recycling not being picked up, or when they want to insist that we start picking up their 10 glass jars (seriously. this happens). The only people that really seem to see my capacities – despite struggles with the language – are our participants in the recycling program.

About 80% of the time I think “what the crap am I doing here?!??”. The other 20% I think this is the most meaningful experience I have ever had in my life and my chance to dedicate my life and energy to men and women who remind me very much of my dad (who passed away in March 2010). What a blessing.

What is a blog for if not the relate the crazy, improbable, frustrating, funny, and miraculous?

Yesterday, Dec 11th, there was a last minute act and march in support of the Guarani Kaiowá planned by the law students of PUC-SP (a Catholic University). They planned it on Friday and I thought for sure it was going to be a total waste of time. Two days? Who tries to plan an event in two days? As ridiculous as I thought it was and as much as I didn’t want to go (friends are staying with us from out of town, I have a ton of work, I love spending time with Pepe, etc, etc) I went. Granted, an hour late – I am rediscovering my Brasilian roots and realizing how much I enjoy being tardy.

I arrived and it was much as I expected. Poor attendance, long discourses (Brasilians LOVE to talk and talk and talk), and a little disorganized. Over the next 3 hours my North American arrogance would be humbled and I would appreciate that power is not always in numbers.

FIVE THINGS THAT ROCKED ABOUT THE ACT IN SUPPORT OF GUARANI KAIOWÁ

#1. Comraderie

Opening Prayer

It was inspiring to watch a group of people that care more about what is happening in the world then anything else and dedicate 4 or 5 hours on a Sunday to just that. The way they greet, encourage, and love each other is worthwhile.

#2. Visibility

This image made an impact on Av. Paulista

It was the coolest march I have participated in, we were silent and walked in two single file lines. We weren’t many but people noticed!

#3. Small but Mighty

I was reminded that it doesn’t matter how many we are in number but how strong we are in spirit. No point in waiting for others to join the cause when the violence is happening now.

#4. We are not the same, we are not separate

In the last 8 years 176 indigenous in that community have committed suicide. My dad committed suicide in March of this year. Obviously not for the same reasons but maybe not for reasons all so different – despair, hopelessness, fear. I am not remotely trying to say I understand their suffering and pain. But their suffering is my suffering. I can’t explain it but I truly believe that.

#5. I will not be silent

That gringa on the left is yours truly

Guarani Kaiowá are being denied life, liberty, and happiness because of economic interests. Hell no!

When I was nine years old I would come home from school, change into my play clothes, eat saltines with butter (seriously) and watch a movie (vhs baby). I alternated between the Sound of Music and Dirty Dancing. It is a little embarrassing how very white this story makes me. Anyway, the point is that after that brief period in my life I could not stand to watch the same movie twice. In the past two weeks I have watched the same movie three times. THREE! Definitely giving “the hills are alive” a run for their money.

Why and what? The Dark Side of Green and because it is a really good documentary. It was a key part of last nights event.

The director (Cristiano Navarro) explained that it was a 3 person, international effort,  to understand why Guarani Kaiowá children were dying of malnutrition. The search for that answer led to exploring issues of slave labor, agrobusiness, the consequences of ethanol, and violent persecution because of land issues. The film has actually been denied at film festivals in Brasil because of the incredible reach of Petrobras and other economic interests.

Guarani Kaiowá cacique (learned yesterday this means political leader, not religious as I have mistakenly been translating) Farid and professor Oriel spoke again. Though I had heard both of them speak the night before I was once again moved by their words, in a different way. It is not just their courage and willingness to get back up. It is their dedication to what may seem like a hopeless invisible cause to many. It is the way they respond, night after night, to the call to action. And action is most definitely needed.

A few (disturbing) facts from the 2011 report released by CIMI (Indigenous Missionary Council) about violence against indigenous in Mato Grosso do Sul (MS). From the years of 2003 to 2010:

- 250 indigenous were assasinated

- They were 190 attempted murders

- 176 suicides, especially among youth

- Life expectancy of 45 years (compared to 75 years for all of Brasil)

Everyday there is more to learn about the fight for the land, life, and future of Guarani Kaiowá.

Guarani Kaiowá from MS, Dra Samia, and two judges from the Association of Judges for Democracy

Three members of Aty Guasu (a political movement of Guarani Kaiowá who live in Mato Grosso do Sul) are in São Paulo to do what they can to get the word out about the injustice of the current reality in MS. After speaking at the human rights award night on Monday they spoke in greater detail to a smaller crowd at the launch of the national committee. Surrounded by about 40 people they talked about what is it that they have to “get up” from: 250 killed since 2004; life expectancy of 45 – compared to 75 in Brasil; children dying of malnutrition; racism and discrimination; extreme poverty and denial of land and lifestyle. It is with great courage they “stand up” for their rights.

Something I have failed to mention previously and I feel is very important to note is that the same day Nísio Gomes’ body was taken 3 children went missing (two 12 year olds and a 5 year old). It is unlikely that they are still alive. When Lea Aquino, Guarani Kaiowá, said that in all likelihood they are dead her pain was overwhelming. “I hope that all people understand that we too are human and we want to live, educate and liberate our children”. So simple, so fundamental, so very much worth fighting for.

I wonder if a committee in São Paulo is really capable of doing anything. What actions will we actually take, what difference will we really make in economic center of Brasil and one of the most capitalistic cities in the world? I truly don’t know. But when Lea added that they want the world to know what is happening I thought, once again, we have to do our best. If a people being systematically killed because of their ethnicity can get up and stand up time and time again it is the very least we can do. I can do.

Maybe not just guns have power. Maybe words do to.

Well, like I said tonight in some whack português (really wrong grammar and prepositions) – the fight of the Guarani Kaiowá is not some politicians fight. It is my fight. And yours. And his. And whoever believes that people of a different color and culture aren’t less deserving of life and dignity.

All I can do is what I am doing. Attending events. Sending emails. Posting on facebook. And blogging here. Information is power and there is power in numbers so if I spread some information to more people that is doubly powerful…right? I hope so (even if it is just you three….you count. thanks for sticking with me!)

Prêmio Santo Dias

Last night was the Santo Dias human rights award ceremony. (Santo Dias is well worth learning about and as soon as this week is over I plan on doing just that!) One of the award recipients, Sister Michel, is from the US and has been in Brasil for over 40 years. After arriving she realized the legal injustices that many segments of the population faced and became a lawyer! She’s a total rock star among the oppressed and marginalized and does some amazing work. She was recognized for just that reason. Better yet, she had the grace to invite three Guarani Kaiowá from Mato Grosso do Sul to speak during her time. Short, sweet, and to the point it was yet another reminder that their fight is my fight.

I am not being targeted and shot and denied the right to existence on the side of a highway in one of the richest states in Brasil….but if I don’t make it my fight, if I stay silent, if I don’t do whatever I can – as little as that may be, then I am saying it is okay.

MLK Jr's quote about the silence of the good being most terrifying

It. is. not. okay.

Guarani Mbya aldeia (reservation) - Jaraguá

My work here in São Paulo is with Guarani Mbya, considered a different subgroup based on their dialect. Even though I live and work in a different state with a different group I, and my organization Gaspar Garcia, are strongly committed to participating in all actions in support of the human rights and dignity of indigenous in Mato Grosso do Sul.

My role this week is in spearheading our English language public awareness campaign. To that end I have sent emails with information and links about current events to 100 people I know and to over 30 organizations and student groups connected with Brazil, Indigenous or human rights. It is a small drop in the bucket but my hope is that the ripple effects will be larger then I can imagine.

Regardless of the outcome I am doing what I can in this moment….hence a return to blogging. This week I intend to use all platforms available to me to publicize various activities that are occurring. Given my sporadic posting…readership is sporadic, at best. If you are reading this (woohoo) please pass the word.

Today I am posting the email with translated letter that I sent. Thank you so much for “visiting” today and doing what you can for what is one of many fights for human rights around the world.

——————————————————————————————————————————————-

1. I love joining a group of people that really believe that action can change systems. My kinda of people.

2. I believe racism exists and is unjust.

3. The color of my skin means that I unwillingly, unwittingly, and unfortunately benefit from a racist system. I can either sit by and complacently do so…or I can join the fight.

4. The suffering of others causes me to suffer – we are connected.

5. The more I participate in movements the more I am inspired.

6. I know racist people, I have racist friends. They can’t or won’t march, so I hit the streets for them and me both.

7. The more non-racist, pro-justice friends I can make – the better!!!

7. It is fun. Good exercise. Socially and morally invigorating.

8. Every time I join a march I see something and learn something new.

Mãe Preta

9. Sometimes people are so busy surviving they don’t have the freedom to fight for their rights, for the justice they DESERVE. Those of us that can…do…in honor of them.

So in the meantime you just get garden pics.

I love my garden. I spend at least 30 minutes with my plants every morning. Ricardo, the guy that sold me all the stuff and regularly advises me on bugs, fungus, and fertilizer is the closest thing I have to a friend in Brasil (besides my awesome cuz Syl and Pepe). It is truly a joy.

I am happy to report that I have collected my first harvest (per Ricardo’s advice) and have been bug free for 3 days. WOOHOO!

But enough about me…here are the beauty’s:

My first harvest. Yum yum

Basil going strong, cilantro to start anew