Brittany N. Ranson
West Virginia University College of Law, 2L
Friday, August 8, 2008

The Filthy, Flourishing City Within a City

Prelude to the Rio Favela Tour (Vila Velha Experience)

Every morning in Vila Velha, my host mom woke me up with sweet Brazilian coffee and pom, a traditional ham and cheese breakfast sandwich on crusty bread. As she walked me to school each day, we tried to turn her broken English and my nearly nonexistent Portuguese (pronounced Port-tu-gaze, if you want to be legal (cool) with the locals) into a conversation. On one walk, she caught me gawking at a tiny alleyway that ran parallel to an equally tiny canal littered with heaps of garbage. To the left of the canal, I stared at filthy makeshift shops and shanties. Starved and dirty-looking men, sitting on stools made from boxes or on the ground, stared back at me both helplessly and apathetically. I was particularly affected by the scene of a lanky young boy using a crude fishing pole, made of stick and wire, to fish in the sullied canal; he had just pulled up a used boot.

Rocinha Favela 2008 – Rio De Janeiro, Brazil

Turning back to look at my host mom for some explanation, she waved her hand in front of her crinkled-up nose and said the one word I could immediately understand ; favela. Through our class discussions prior to the trip, I understood that word to mean a place of poverty and destitution in Brazilian society; a disregarded area that stood for an aesthetic blemish on otherwise beautiful cities. What I experienced in Vila Velha was exactly how I had pictured favela living, not only the visible state of it, but the reaction of my host mom and our blatant attempt to erase the image of poverty from our minds by trying to communicate about my previous night’s attempt at pagochi (a form of Samba). However, while there were some similarities, the favela in Rio left quite a different impression on me, and I have yet to fully process the differences.

Um Pouco Background Information on Rocinha

Rocinha (Portuguese for “small ranch”) is one of several favelas in Rio de Janeiro located along a steep hillside. It is the largest one, at a little over half a mile long and wide with an estimated 200,000 residents. Each store or residence in the favela is privately owned, or leased from private citizens, yet the favela technically sits on government property. Though favelas sit on government land, the government has succeeded in creating a very distinct and independent community that is detached from mainstream society through several measures. First, no one in the favela pays property tax, which is an extremely burdensome additional cost one would incur should he or she decide to leave favela living. Thus, while this benefit may help struggling residents and business owners, it may also act as an incentive to stay in the favela. Second, the favela is self-governed, meaning the policia are not given permission to enter and only do so, according to our guide, through the use of “special police” who go after well-known drug and gun runners. However, even then, the “special police” must know exactly which favela to search and be very limited in their intrusion. I got the impression that the favela residents happily exchange police protection from a government that wants little to do with them with the ability to self-govern and create their own system of laws based upon their understanding of justice, even if that means men carrying automatic weapons must be a part of everyday life. Self-governance has the attractive sense of freedom that one cannot duplicate outside the favela, and surely enhances the sense of community that the residents already share. Due to these measures, and others, the government’s hands-off approach may be encouraging people to remain in the favela.

The Favella Tour in Rio

I am still struggling to interpret what I saw during the Favella Tour in Rio de Janeiro. How does one process a self-governed city within a city that screams the contradictory messages of deprivation and filth, and yet independence, contentment and happiness? Perhaps the answer lies in reevaluating our American definition of happiness. I should begin by describing the favella we toured, named Rocinha.

One gets an immediate sense of poverty from the outset of the tour. While riding to the top of the hillside on motorcycles driven by death-defying Brazilians, our path traced the exterior boundary of the favela before entering the interior. What appears to be blackish-grey soot from the remnants of a fire discolors each of the houses and shops. However, the shops that line the ground floor of the exterior wall, and those that we saw inside as well, look no different than many of the small shops we found in downtown Manaus or in suburban Vila Velha. They’re not designer stores, to be sure, but they have advertisements, signs, electricity, and legitimate merchandise. These stores, and the residences above them, which feature garlands of colorful hanging laundry, serve as the favella boundary line—keeping the people in and the government out.

At the top of the hillside, one can see why the favela artists frequently draw abstract boxes with tiny dots to depict their sprawling community. The favela looks like a collection of differently colored, stacked boxes, probably a result of unsystematic growth with residents building on top of each other as needed. We began our trek down the hillside, walking through narrow passages on cobblestone floors and stairs, reminiscent of an Italian village I visited once.

Graffiti by favela artists add culture and color to their community

The frequent sound of a Brazilian novella (soap opera) playing in an apartment and favela funk (similar to American hip-hop) playing on stereos reverberated in my ears and the sight of potted plants, cheerful residents, lively shops and modern “luxuries” (such as TV satellites, play stations, and electricity) made me question everything I had heard about favelas. This is not to say that the favela would not shock the conscience of any American. Alongside most walkways were foul heaps of garbage discarded sans trash bag and open sewer drains running down the hill. Stray dogs, cats, and roosters dug through the heaps for a bite to eat. The smell in some areas of the favela was enough to make someone of a weaker stomach vomit.

Conditions on the Favela walkways

However, in spite of this, and certainly without this sanitational defect, the favela is a flourishing and bonded community. Unlike Vila Velha’s favela, I did not see men starving in the street and children fishing for boots. Instead, I saw men having coffee in stores or carrying heavy loads of merchandise for work. Women shopped in the favella stores, walked with children, or watched novellas together in their tiny apartments. The children, too, played carefree with their kites and fellow favela-mates. I wondered where was the destitution and starvation that I saw in the faces of the Vila Velha residents. Though we were told horror stories of apartments that at one time or another housed 40 to 50 kids, walking through the favela, this did not seem to be the norm.

Smiling children at the Pre-school look through the glass as we pass by.

Earlier, I specifically referred to American’s conscience because the trip to Brazil has me questioning American values and our insistence that they be thrust upon others. Yes, the favela is horrific in all respects because of the blanket of trash over many parts of the city and the open sewer drains that often spilled out onto our path. However, perhaps what horrifies Americans the most, is that these people live amongst the trash, in an otherwise prosperous self-governing community, with vibrant faces and culture, and that they genuinely appear happy.

I realize that many of fellow students on the trip will disagree about my perception of the favela. Yet, I believe that they are applying an American standard by equating possessions and luxury to happiness. Alternatively, the favela residents seemed to equate community, togetherness, and independence as their measure of prosperity. Indeed, there are aspects of their life which should be improved (i.e. sanitation and cleanliness), but who are we to say that their otherwise prosperous way of life is incorrect or wrong.

The sun sets over Rocinha Favela

The favela residents were proud of their culture and the community they built. For instance, during one stop, four local boys played for our group on makeshift drums and instruments. Later, at a pastry store in the favela, the owner pointed with pride to a newspaper article hanging on the wall that featured the boys’ musical talent. Additionally, the local artistry in the favela was breathtaking. Not only are many of the walls decorated with beautiful and meaningful graffiti, but some of the residents were immensely talented and created incredible, abstract oil paintings. In fact, I bought one, which I look forward to proudly displaying in my Morgantown apartment. These are all examples of positive things that we should be taking away from their way of life and our favela tour experience. Should there be a community effort to remove the “filth” and to improve the sanitation, there is no doubt in my mind that the favela’s revised description would be the flourishing city within a city, with its standard of happiness and sense of community a model for us all.

Brazil 2008 Photo Gallery