Flip, Flop, Forward

One step and you will see, the brilliance of a born again sun.

One measure and you will know, the flutter of life in branch and tepid sky.

Bustle fills the emptiness of winter past.

Water melts, deluge runs.

Spring breaths and fills us anew.

* * *

I have finally made a decision. I have decided to leave Vila Brandão. This as you may note comes on the heel of a decision to stay, immediately following a prior decision to leave, which directly trails a decision to stay put and stick it out. Clearly I am a divided person—a flip-flopper with uneven intentions, an indecisive anthropologist with one foot in the favela and another fleeing the other way.

In any battle of indecision, if one thinks long and hard enough, there comes a point of clarity. I reached that point last night. You see, Vila Brandão can best be described as a really hot woman [ahem…excuse the analogy]. She is beautiful, mystifying, with full lips and a purrrrtyyy smile. When one first meets her, descending the favela steps with a view of the sea, it is instant enchantment. The halo effect kicks in, dopamine rushes to the brain, and one swoons with pleasure and attraction.

But…

Like most really attractive women, Vila B is FULL of issues. You know the one, the girl everyone wants to be or to have, so hot that everything is handed to her, on a power trip, likes to toy with men, abused, misused, unhappy. Vila B is the kind of girl that people warn you to stay away from, so beautiful and lovely to own, but that will surely fuck up your life if you decide to get involved.

While incredibly enchanting, Vila B will take you down, pull you in a spit you out. Vila B is ignorance, a mystifyingly low level of education. Vila B is kids with weak family ties, dad’s who ignore their children, who sit around all day enjoying their sun and getting fucked up on cachaça, weed, or whatever else is around. Vila B is neighbors fighting neighbors, is people flashing their weaponry for the little space they have. Vila B is exploitation, is learning to take when not offered, of leading a life lax in discipline, o malandro, the life of the rogue.

This is not everyone of course, there are good people here too, but the problem is they do not run the show. The thieves and drug dealers do, and everyone suffers because of it.

When I decided to leave Vila Brandão is when I realized that I am not going to change things. Part of me wants to be the savior anthropologist, to pull strings and watch the big boys go down, to save the kids from this band of thieves. But the truth is, I cannot change the hot girl. The hot girl has to change herself. As soon as the big daddies disappear, another generation of rogues will fly forth. In the void of education, new daddies will come to power, ready to steal, intimidate, and mark their territory for themselves.

So, as much as it would make a great book, I am gone. I prefer to skip the crusade and simplify my life. My water bill arrived yesterday—1300 reis. My neighbors continue to put up gatos, to steal my electricity, to laugh at me when I tell them to step up, pay their bills, and be a man. I realize that if I invest my time and money in this house, this space that I love so much born from my sweat, things aren’t going to get any better. I can’t change the people and am a fool to try. If I have a beautiful house in a shit can, it will still smell like shit.

So there it is. It has been a hard one to make, but I’m gone.

I have found a tiny little apartment in Vila Matos my old neighborhood. I am going back to my old life there. Vila Matos is a loud bustling sort of place, that never stops moving. My new place is over a bar, it will be difficult to sleep, but at least I can rest assured that my stuff is safe, that I’m not being robbed, that I have friends who aren’t ready to exploit me. After all, she may not be the prettiest of ladies, but at least she has a good heart. That my friends makes all the difference.