Thank You Stern Magazine

Last year in September, Stern Magazine in Germany, assigned me to photograph the first day of school in Brazil. Soon after Carnival I arranged to photograph in the south of Sao Paulo, a very unknown part of the city for its abundant green areas yet very isolated and marginalized. I found a very poor family of four children with a single mother. The father due to alcoholism had abandoned the family.

The family lived in a wooden shack on private land. The landowner, had kindly allowed them to live there without rent. The children I photographed, pictured above with their mother are Daniel and Daniela, seven year-old twins on their way to their first day of primary school. The children must walk three kilometers to the bus stop and then drive another fifteen to an overcrowded public school.

The article was published in late August 2008 in Germany. The readers were moved by the tragedy of this family and voluntarily have begun a to set-up a fund to help them.

I just want to say, that this is what it's all about. This is why I take pictures. So I thank all the people who made this happen, Luis Viera at the social clinic who found the family, the two gentlemen who drove me around, the Instituto Socio Ambiental, Stern Magazine and of course it's readers.

Bomb Test

The wall in the background, divides the slum Jardim Elivana and separates the housing project, while protecting private land from being occupied. Three weeks ago, the body of a twenty-year old was found along this wall. Almost precisely where the two other children are walking along. Someone had tied a bomb around his waist and then blown him up. No one, really seems sure why they killed him in this manner, what they do know is that this boy was up to no good and got what was coming to him. Revenge? Justice? Murder? This is the life in the periphery. It used to be a lot worse I was told.

Out here it's best to keep the police out of it. Out here the laws are made at home.

The Silent Bride

I walked into a wedding on the eastern periphery of São Paulo in Guianazes. Odd? A white mute man and his black mute wife communicated in sign language amongst their guests.

Here in Brazil, people don't make a big deal about race. Interrelations are as common as the sun. It's much more about class. Who you are.

She was a funny girl.
Good Luck.

King of Sampa

Alemão is homeless, over sixty years old and from what I can tell quite possibly schizophrenic. He lives under a tree on a overpass in an upper class neighborhood.

On every ocassion that I have visited him he talks to me of multi million robbery, fraud, extorsion, murder and rape that ocurred twenty years ago. In this crime, an American was killed. As far as I can understand this American, named David, got involved with a woman who betrayed him because she was actually the lover of a man in the Comando Vermelho criminal organization. Somewhere along the story the man was killed, for his money and the woman's daughter was also raped in the process. Somewhere else along the line a transvestite appears, as usual?

Alemão also says, the criminals are waiting for him to die so that his mother will inherit the loot, located in his bank account which he cannot access because he lacks proper ID but is to his mother;s name. So the criminals are actually after his mother. How old would she be now?

He may be mentally ill, but it fascinates me every time I visit him to hear this story and try to make sense of the pieces he offers me in bits. His story actually never changes which makes me ever more curious. Yet, what really fascinates me his will and power to survive, feed his dog and apparently look quite happy.

On the first photograph above he was describing to me a king that had lost his clothes and tried to sell them to him as authentic.

Tenode Pora

Barely known to most of the nearly 20 million residents living in São Paulo, are the three Guarani Indian villages, two of them federal reserves, in the extreme south of the city. Located in the metropolitan area, the largest village known as Tenode Pora, meaning Beautiful Village in Guarani, is compromised of over 800 Indians.











This village, nearly ten years ago, was suffering from perdition mixed with a loss of identity and a victim of alcoholism. Today, with a new Caçique (Chief) Timoteo Wera Poty, the village and its inhabitants are recovering their ancestral dignity and reviving a living culture.

However, like 95% of the city, it also suffers from the effects of mass urbanization. Over the last fifteen years, the tiny 26 hectares granted to the Guarani are threatened by the urbanization slowly surrounding its natural realm. Anything from shantytowns to illegal settlements cause harm to the the reservation. Today ironically, urban planning has arrived from the inside, as a major habitat contstruction plan was practically imposed on the Indians to avoid a continuous subsidy of their natural way of life.

City Hall over the last four years erected a plan to build brick homes with concrete floor for the Guaranis. Nothing wrong with brick homes, but for people who are fighting a way of life and livelihood, concrete floors are cold and unnatural to the earth floors they prefer. The next three blog installments will speak of the importance of understanding the way of life these Indians have held for hundreds of years and why we still have a lot to learn from them in the XXI century.

Looking For A Battle

815 AM. Last stop in the Jardim Pantanal. Will not be back until October.

10 Million Daily Users

It's 6:15 AM. The trains have been coming in from the periphery since 430 AM. They are packed. The Subway trains to get here to leave the city at 530 AM was packed too. It's at least a 45 min train ride in or out from the station.

Castles

Eight o'clock in the morning. Northern of Sao Paulo, Brasilandia to be exact. Inside the Jardim Elisa Maria neighborhood, a soft fog rolls through the neighborhood. A river, a very polluted one, runs at the bottom of the valley/ A sort of hidden "favela" it is.

These houses reminded me of ancient ruins in the deserts of Morocco. Like homes coming out of the mountain. Caves almost. Will these houses remain 200 years from now? 500? Will someone dig them up or will the city actaully urbanize these areas properly someday? I doubt it.

Labor Day Countdown

May First, Labor Day. A date marked by struggle, but often nowadays a date marked by the innocence of humanity attempting to discover human rights. We have so few human rights that sometimes I believe we don´t have any at all.

It´s almost three in the afternoon and I´ve returned to the MTST (Movement for the Roofless Workers) camp Joao Candido. They have been out all morning marching downtown for their rights. The leaders compromised of students, militants, lawyers and vast army of popular supporters have united behind the movement to fight a pending eviction threat for Monday, May 7th. The mood in the camp was nothing but surprising. They are in their fighting mode and expecting to win a settlement that will at least drive them from where they are now to another land.

At the uppermost part of the camp, lies section 33. The last area of a total of 33. A group of children and their mother are playing soccer across one of the three they have established. Football may be a birthright in Brazil, but here each field is the only center of entertainment and a form of unison for the movement´s cause. Joao Rodriguez de Jesus, 55 years old, missing all his from teeth and originally from Bahia, is watching alongside three other elder sitting on a log. Leliel, only five years old and with the enthusiasm of gazelle. danced around Joao begging for attention. She also begged to be snapped by the camera. She kept calling out to him, ¨Tio, Tio¨(meaning uncle in Portuguese, but commonly used to refer to an elder friend). I asked to take their portrait and while doing so, tears rolled down Joao´s face. His eyes were small and his face showed the hardships of the land. At first I thought his eyes were ill and that the incessant tears were simply washing out his eyes from some malday. I asked him what was wrong with his eyes. Nothing he told me. They cry because of her. Joao explained to me that Leliel´s father was in jail and still to see a child so happy and full of life on this camp, struggling for a home, made him cry when she called out to him as ¨Tio¨. Joao has lost all hiss family..

The next morning the camp began gathering at its base, preparing for another march to Itapecerica´s city hall. One more of many efforts to come, to pressure the mayor into finding them a solution. Maria Bonita, in her mid 50´s, she would not confess her age, was leading section 12. Her hat was a true representative of the land, the people and their struggle. Yet it was her hard cold eyes and their determination that really demanded a portrait.

Exodus

The Prestes Maia 911 occupation by the MSTC, after a four year battle for a dignified home, has lost and the building is now being vacated.

Beyond the Roof of the City

It's about to rain and heavily. Some 3,000 families are camped out under improvised plastic tents since March 16, demanding proper housing. They are part of the the MTST (Movimento dos Trabalhadores Sem Teto). The movement has occupied a farm area of over 1,300 square meters, just outside the southern edge of the city of São Paulo, in Itapecerica da Serra. It's a political attempt to further the cause of the lack of proper habitat and part of on going race to reach Labor Day celebrations/protest.

It's sad to see these people here. Most of them really don't seem to know what they're doing. Many come from the northeast. Many have lost their jobs and can no longer pay rent. Others come from the adjoining urbanization and are supporting the movement. Many have abandoned the site too. It's most evident among the hundreds of abandoned single person tents.

The camp includes some small commerce, mostly bars. It's like the begining of another periphery. Yet the illusion is that this is a grand scale occupation when in fact the original 12,000 population has been leaving. The population now floats on a daily basis. However, it's important to note that these people are in dire need of a home and have been flowing from the inner middle of the city and past the periphery. In other words the city may have reached it's denominated urban limit, but the population grows and wants to lay down new concrete that will adjoin to it. The Meta city is growning alive and well.

I walked the camp from edge to edge with "Tres Reais", a sympathetic ex marine corp who abandoned the military, tired of seeing the abuse he had to give to his own people. In fact he himself has participated of various disoccupations. He is here now to fight against that and support the cause. And find a home.

Most of the people I met had the same, perhaps orchestrated answer? "We are here because we are homeless." Some I could admit looked the part. Others, like the young crew cooking barbecue inside a smokey tent, seemed to have come in for a laugh and to add to the list of families. They came from the neighboring urbanization. It doesn't matter really, as if these families are not enough, there are hundreds of them elsewhere in the city in worse conditions.

The rain finally came, in a downpour and with it the wind that lifted a few tents. I took shelter with a family who explained to me how they had lost their rent privileges due to a single delayed payment. Unemployment wasn't helping. The father of the family is mentally incapcitated. The daughter still breast feeding her first born was abandoned by her partner. Like so many other families I have met in the occupations, the female is leading the household.

When I left there was an assembly gathering. A relgious one and a political one to boost morale. The camp is scheduled for eviction on May 7. The MTST is trying to reach an agreement to move them out into an area under the control of the mayor of Itapecerica. Whatever happens, these people will add to the continuous flow and growth of this city.

Still There

They are still there. Praça Republics is full of children living on the street. This one, is 13 years old.

Death of the Everyday Man

When death comes, it makes no difference of class, color or creed. It simply takes and leaves behind a carcass to remember. To the poor man in dire circumstances never makes the news and hardly the obituary, unless his death is violent and affects the interests of those who read the or hear the news.

This weekend I've returned to the Jardim Pantanal and death once more circled the neighborhood.

Ivo da Silva was 42 years old and a cook at a fancy restaurant in downtown Sao Paulo. He was run over and fatally killed while riding his bicycle on vacation. The details are sketchy. Ivo was cycling on a busy avenue and was hit by a 19 year old motorist, without a driver's license conducting his ill mother, most urgently, to the hospital in his father's mini public transport bus. The motorist claims Ivo was zig zaging and smashed against the bus. The window shield was smashed and could claim some truth to it. However, the bicycle was intact? The motorist appeared in court with two lawyers. No witnesses were found for the victim's family.

The only truth left is that dead people don't speak.

Ivo, leaves behind three adolescent children and his wife. He was mourned in his home. His body in a cheap and too small a coffin, his feet popped out, was laid out inside his garage. The neighborhood passed to see.

This man arrived in the Jardim Pantanal like thousands of other, some 15 years ago searching for work and place to live. Originally from Pernambuco, he was among the first to begin the occupation, in what used to be an environmentally protected area. A hard working man he had fought several floods to keep his home safe. The Jardim Pantanal continues to be a problem when it rains. The streets still flood and the sewage drains improperly into the Rio Tiete.

The real tragedy is what the family will now have to do to survive. Life claims its debt like it does anywhere else. There are only two ironies. One, out here in the periphery traffic is scarce and so to die of a bicycle accident can only reflect the inherent urban violence. Two, Ivo was an evangelist and on top of him lay a cross with a crucified Jesus.

In death we are at the mercy of all, not just the lord (sic).

Water: Guarapiranga and Billings Reservoirs

The Environmental Police department of São Paulo, still military police, were kind enough to allow me a helicopter flyover the Guarapiranga and Billings reservoirs. These natural reservoirs in the extreme south of the city, provide 30% of the city's water supply. Many of my friends and long time residents of the city have never actually been to this part of the city. In part due to its poor access and criminal history (The Jardim Angela, was once declared by the UN as the homicide capital of the world, today gravely reduced thanks to community and state work.) However it is one of the lushest and definitely the greenest area of the city. Rivers and waterfalls stream down into the reservoirs for sailing, water skiing, swimming and for the wealthy who own exuberant mansions on the edge of the natural reserve.

The problem has been the uncontrolled urbanization in many parts of the reservoir. Illegal slum constructions have reached the edge of the water. Since most of these constructions have been built by the owner's accord there's never been an appropriate sewage disposal system installed. The state water company, SABESP, works in the area but takes little providence to control the sewage disposal, claiming.. "If the house isn't registered we don't know about it." In part they are right while in others they have been completely negligent to this growing population. In fact the ISA (Instituto Socio Ambiental) has accused SABESP of actually being the largest polluter of the reservoirs.

As per the urbanization, the police informed me of a ridiculous law that impedes them of taking action against illegal settlements. According to the Brazilian constitution, it is illegal to remove someone from their home. The complications arises because the definition of a home is what is not established. A four walled room with a hay roof yet perhaps with a bed and a washing machine can be considered a legitimate home. However the construction of four roomed house next to the one shack for a family of four there lives, can be demolished. Basically it if has a roof, even if illegal built on natural reservation, the police can't remove it without a judicial order, otherwise its habitat dispossession. All requiring more paper work, more bureaucracy and more social problems to the area. The urbanization along these water marshes produces a large number of quick and cheap construction work. The consequences of which create large illegal disposal sites in the area. The picture above is evidence of the problem. Construction companies in the area as well as the resident will dump their waste here creating hundreds of little white litter mountains on the edge of the reservoir. In fact each little mountain can represent the waste of up to three houses.

It took me over an hour to drive down there from the most southern subway station. The entire area is a series of small densely populated neighborhoods with small roads. It's virtually impossible to patrol these areas without more resources. Even when residents have been informed of their illegal settlement and that they will be evicted and their homes demolished, they take little notice and continue. The fact is that this is only one of the many responsibilities the Environmental Police have.

I'm due back on Thursday for some demolitions.

Santos Dumont Occupation a Farse

Last month I blogged that on Sunday March 25, four occupation movements had taken over the abandoned Santos Dumont hotel. Last night one of my sources, an ex-Prestes Maia occupant and ex-member of the MSTC told me it was an arranged occupation. The four socialist movements involved reached an agreement with the owner to squat the building as long as the cleaned it out of the junkies already squatting and took care of painting and cleaning out the infrastructure. This would explain why the police did not interrupt the occupation when they arrived at the time of the break in. It would further explain why the local newspapers were unable to contact the owner.

It's worth noting that I have received word from some of the residents in the Prestes Maia, that the MSTC is attempting to lure many of the residents into obtaining the R$1800 being offered by city hall and then attempting to charge them of overdue condominium fee. In essence the movement has obtained housing for them and now wants their money?

Assembly and Sorrow for Samara

I returned to the Prestes Maia that same night for an assembly meeting that would explain to the residents their options for obtaining housing, as described in the previous post. The assembly was led by Jaira, Jo Marina and Yanette an all women team of MSTC leaders. There were a lot less people as you can see.

Yanette made her points and then a series of questions and answers went around. During her presentation she also made note that through the grapevine she's heard of people talking behind her back. Samara, who I photographed last year, was included. In the beginning of February the coordinator on Samara's floor accused her of stealing a bikini, of all things to steal in city! The MSTC leaders searched her shack without warning and in front of her children. Nothing was found. The cocoordinator proceeded to threaten her and accuse her of having sold it already. After the search she returned with Jaira and Jo Marina and physically abused Samara, leaving her with a broken arm.

Days later, under Samara's threat to press charges, Yanette appeared in the building, apologizing and defending Samara. Yanette convinced her not to press charges, alleging it could endanger the negotiations going on at city hall. What I couldn't understand was why now Yanette, with microphone in hand, threatened to punch Samara's teeth out? By the way, the crowd at the assembly cheered on.

All in all it appears to be gossip and jealousy once again taking hold of these people. Samara is good friends with Veronica from the 12th floor. Yanette is dating Veronica's ex. Get the picture?

Samara out of fear for her life and her children, left the building, seek Mauricio her husband at work.

Sunday Mass for the Masses

The Igreja Universal and its Evangelists soldiers are back. I say they are soldiers because they stand at attention outside the Prestes Maia and at church. They also, have a one track mind, Jesus is everything you will ever need they repeat to me. Any time a woman would exit the building, the man at left would signal the woman at left to pursue and attempt to convince her to go to church. There's really nothing wrong with having faith. But as you will see I question the legitimacy of their goals.

I came along because I was hoping to have access to the church. I have been refused to photograph the Igreja Universal ceremonies several times. There's been a long battle with the media accusing them of fraud and manipulation. The truth is that only 10 min. after the beginning of the ceremony the crowd was already marching up the stage to make donations, just like I had seen in the periphery. Little white envelopes full of cash were being dropped into a large glass box. It looked more like Jesus was getting monetary votes of approval. The preacher repetitively revolved his sermon on becasue you give the lord now he will give back. Invest in the lord, he says.

On the bus there I sat next to Maria da Lapa and three of her twelve children. I had not seen Maria in a while. Maria has confessed to being a nymphomaniac. Reason why she is a mother of 12? The eldest married and living in the building too, with her own three children. Maria, lost her home four years ago due to her husband's alcoholism. She was a bit depressed now, even knowing she was going to get an apartment in Itaquera. She kept asking me if I knew of an NGO that could help her get her kids back to school so she could "get them off her back" for a while. Maria doesn't want to work but she did finally confess she's going a crazy with eight children in her single room shack in the Prestes Maia.

When we arrive at the church and before letting the residents off, the soldiers make it perfectly clear that they are here because God wants them to be. There are no coincidences, they say. God wanted you to be here today because it is God who has helped you find a place to live and has commanded that your situation be resolved. As the residents got off the bus, me included, the soldiers blessed us our heads with holy water.


The theatre operatics were at work. I must say the Evangelists make up for the boredom of Catholicism. Going to church here is very participatory. Anyhow I was in and shooting! Ha! I didn't last more than five minutes before the security and a lawyer member pulled me aside to know why I was shooting. It didn't matter that I explained how I was documenting the goals of the Prestes Maia residents and how faith had helped them survive. I needed the permission of the preacher, too busy on stage now and who would certainly tell me I needed permission from central headquarters. I had visited that building in Santo Amaro last year, asking for permission. It looked more like the vautl or general headquarters of multinational. I never got a reply.

The lawyer and second in command here told me to come back next week. They did invite me to stick around for the ceremony. Can't you shoot after the ceremony, outside? they said. Useless I told them, the moment was now. And so, I left. It wasn't long before Helena, who had invited me rushed out to ask me back in. She said, if you can't shoot stay and listen to the lord, he has brought you here for another reason. God wanted you to come church today not to shoot pictures, she insisted.

Good Luck on Friday 13

The Prestes Maia has been saved? Housing is going to be made available for all its residents? Politics are on the move. This coming Sunday was the deadline for the MSTC to resolve the Prestes Maia pullout or finally be evicted. I never believed they would be put on the street. The city already has a huge homeless population and putting another 500 people on the street overnight is no good for anyone.

On Thursday night City Hall, the Ministry of Habitat along with the CDHU showed up at the Prestes Maia and began conducting a census. From what I was told the basement was absolutely packed. Individual lines of men, women, pregnant women and elders were trying to prove how long they had been living in the building. They were there until 5 am. There was people who had never lived there too. The MSTC must have mobilized everyone they had. THe Prestes Maia has been sold the world over as the largest occupation in Latin America. Housing 468 families. If you do the math in Brazilian family equations, that amounts to 2300 residents. No way! I've been in that building for a year and at most there 600 people. The MSTC uses that number to obtain that amount of housing and solve most of their occupations problems. Last week a series of occupations were done downtown. Many of the residents of the Prestes Maia collaborated.

The officials had come to begin establishing a new housing offer to the residents with three options: 1. Move to the Itaquera housing projects 2. Receive USD$850 to pay for six months rent while the city renovates a series of buildings downtown for them or 3. Obtain a USD$12,000 financing project. The financing project is ridiculous cause no one here in this building can prove their salaries, they all have irregular or freelance jobs.

The following night, Friday the 13th, the mayor Gilberto Kassab (PFL) showed up to give the good news. The mayor in the Prestes Maia on a Friday night? The press had come along to boost the mayor's accomplishment, not the actual housing problem.

The basement was packed. I had been to many assembly meetings but had never seen so many people. On Sunday night the leaders of the MSTC would come back and explain to the residents how the plan was going to work. This time the room would be half full. This confirmed my suspicions the movement had brought people in from other occupations to the official census.

After the many hoorahs and love expressed to the mayor, who last week was being bithced at, members of the Evangelist Igreja Universal took the stage for a prayer. The Evangelists have begun working the building for the last month in an attempt to attract more faithfuls. On Sunday they would bring a bus to take them to church.

I won't believe they've got their believe until I see it myself. The last picture?

Crackland Is My New Home

On Sunday night, three independent socialist movements occupied the old Santos Dumont hotel in downtown Sao Paulo. The MSTRC (Movimento dos Sem0-Teto da Região Central de São Paulo), the MMRC (Movimento de Moradia da Região Centro) and the MSTC (Movimento Sem-Teto do Centro). The Folha de São Paulo, in their printed version, says nearly 450 families invaded the building while their online version says 400.

I went there Monday night, late. The general assembly had just started. There were barely 200 people there. Perhaps many were out working? It is often the case that the movements overblow the situation to attract media attention and it's more often the case the media don' t bother checking it out. The same situation has been going on in the Prestes Maia 911 for over four years now. Supposedly 468 families have been there since the begining. A tremendous lie fed by both the MSTC and the media. Two hundred and fifty families is more like it.

Anyhow, it was the usual mess. No lights, no water, garbage piles, a burnt out car, food distribution and the heavy speech laid on by the leaders. Fight for your rights to live in a dignified home! Man, the more I look at all this the more political it gets. The movements aren't fighting to get these people homes, they use them for their political means. During the first three years of the occupation in the Prestes Maia, over 80% of the movement living in the building was working for city hall.

This occupation lies smack in the middle of Cracolandia (Crackland) a drug and junkied infested neighborhood. Right across the building is the beautiful Luz train station, completely renovated to its old colonial glory. The city keep promising to renovate the downtown area, but the more buildings get occupied the harder it gets. The people take these buildings because they have somethig solid to hold onto in the downtown area. Something that in one way or another belongs to them, even if its temporary. They know their lives are temporary and could end any second.

Some one hundred crack heads tried to become part of the occupation. They were all refused entry. No drugs and no alcohol is the norm. I have to go back and check it all out again. It's a weird place. It reminds me of the Carandiru prison. It too has a central patio, surrounded by the former hotel rooms, now someone's apartment and home.

Three for three

I've barely slept and I slept on the concrete floor. Vagner, took me out to check out the local discoteque, Samba Rock was the order. We decided not to go in, next week would be Funky, a hotter thrust of hips. The crowd was huge and the line must have gone down at least a kilometer. You could buy your entrance for US$7.00 but that didn't guarantee you were going to get in. It's full of young males here, probably six for every girl and you can practically smell the testosterone in the air. The girls are all out in threes, at a minimal. Some can barely keep their clothes on. It's not even hot out but in Brazil like in most of the tropics, showing flesh is a natural thing. How come the boys are wearing hoods then?

I've spotted a young couple making out. He's completely stoned, his eyes glowing like glass. She's in another state and adoring every bit of his kisses. His hands never leave her. They're making out right in front of Luis, a friend of Vagner, selling corn on the cob. Since we're all enjoying the view, I asked him how come he's not going in. He told me, as he pointed to the corn, someone's got to bring the money home. Are you married? I asked. No, no, no! How about a girlfriend? Yeah, the most beautiful girl in the world, he replied. Since I was out trying to get some research on sexuality I naturally asked him if he had sex with her. Luis was 19. He said no. I said, how come? It's too complicated he told me. Finding a place to do it is really hard out here. My house is always full and her's is impossible. Apparently they've been dating for a year and have been planning it since. I asked him if he was a virgin and he told me very quickly, no and I've only done it once. So, how was it? Very fast. I then asked him if he was planning to use a condom with his girlfriend. He paused to reflect and then said, most likely not. Why? I asked. Man, if you saw her, you'd know. She's beautiful! Any baby coming out of her would be fantastic. I then had to ask, how are you going to raise the child if your finding it so hard to make a living selling corn, have no place of your own and your girl is only 18? Ahhh, that's what out mother's are for. Irresponsible or ignorant?

I woke the next morning at 7:30 am. Vagner had to go study for his college admissions. I went round the bend in search of breakfast. I bumped into Cimar, Ze Foguete, some friends and three girls they were trying to get out into the bushes for sex. They'd all been out all night and were highly enebriated and high on coke, probably weed too. They were partying, like everyone likes to do. Recreation out here is hard to find, sex is easy to get but with little privacy, much less any intimacy, booze is around 24/7 and cheap but cocaine or crack is the word. Brazil is the second largest consumer of cocaine in the world. The drug comes through Peru, Bolivia and Colombia before it heads out to the US and Europe. Yet the dealers here don't seem to make a lot of money off of it. Some other big fish is making the money. Here, unfortunately, the dealers sell it and destroy the lives of the neighborhood as amateurs.

The girls are out dancing, strutting their stuff and the boys are out to please. Marlene is in the car, just where the boys want her to be. She's camera shy, but in the end loves the attention. I don't know what to think of it all. I know them. They're wasted, they're young and they all want action. Is it any different than the boys and girls in the upper class neighborhoods? Visually here it just looks more decadent. Yet, they certainly look more alive than the usual crowd in the discos downtown.

Cimar and Ze wanted me to join them. They told me if I wanted some dirty sexy pictures then I should go along for the ride, there would be plenty of panties to shoot. The other friends have gone. It's one girl to each man. The car has only enough gas to go there but not to come back. We're less than a kilometer away. Ze insists I come along so they can do the other girls. I tell him I'm not really interested. He gets a little pissed and calls Marta over to convince me. She approaches me half off her wits, looks me straight in the eyes with a big smile and her hands on my chest. What's the matter, don't you like me? Man!.... Sorry girl, it's none of that, your fine! I lie. I've just got business to do now.

What a lame excuse.

The Preacher and his Wife

The evangelist church of the Assembleia de Deus (Assembly of God), like the Igreja Universal (Universal Church) is scattered through out the periphery slums of São Paulo, in small warehouse like units on almost every block. Some are well established, housing up to 300 people while other smaller satellites have only begun. Each block is a potential target area.

Right on the end of the "Duas Pistas", a long double sided avenue dividing the Jardim Pantanal from the Jardim Helena, lies the Assembly of God. It's also a reunion point Thursdays through Sundays for the the youth to gather, drink, flirt, dance and do drugs. I visited an Assembly of God church on Sunday, amidst the youth gathered outside. With me was Santa, sister of Donizete (the alcoholic I've been photographing) and daughter of Dona Fatima.

The decoration is minimal, but I couldn't help noticing how the altar was red with a white back drop and blue curtain on top. It looked more like a Republican gathering. I was going to photograph the preacher under his permission. Then a guest preacher showed up with his wife. He saw me with the camera and asked me if I took pictures? I said yes. Then he asked me if I was a photographer. Again I said yes. I was afraid he would ask me if I take pictures with the camera. He wanted as he said, "...just take five professional photos. It's for my new CD." Adalberto Junior and his wife, tour the eastern periphery of São Paulo promoting their CD's. His are speeches. Her's are songs for and of Jesus.

Adalberto was an odd character and his wife, to be honest, spooked me. His wife began singing to promote her new CD, US$6.50. Adalberto's speecher were US$5.00. People barely carry a dollar around here. In the meantime Pastor João was busy working the music board and playing guitar and bass for the day. Something like his day off.

Evangelism may not be my cup of tea and the preachers often scream too much and say little. It becomes like a brainwash often, repetitive nonesense. They're not all like that, but for the most part they are hard to follow. However, religion, and pentecoastal for most part in these areas provides food (rice and beans) and hope among the chaos. A great part of the people here suffer from durg abuse, alcoholism, domestic violence, loss and unemployment. The state is absent in all these social problems, but the evangelists are there every night of the week.

Adalbarto might not have made a lot of sense. And he tried childlishly to manipulate the little crowd into buying his CD. Amen!! he shouted, those who want my CD say amen!! No one. He then proceeded to bless pastor João and asked for another amen! Amen everyone shouted. He blessed then churh and asked for another amen!! Amen they all repeated. He then said say amen! if you want my CD or my wife's. The room was silent.

They're poor but they're not stupid Adalberto. I'm going to follow him on tour in exchange for his pictures. Could be quite a show.

Back to a Nowhere Home

Miriam used to live in the occupied Prestes Maia 911 in downtown Sao Paulo. Her youngest daughter, aged two, developed an allergy so severe to mold in the building it scaled her skin. The doctor told her she had to move out of wherever she was living. Miriam works as a social assitant for an NGO helping homeless people get off the street. This same NGO helped her buy a one room cinder block house on the periphery slum Jardim Pantanal. Was this a coincidence? I finally found a tie to the Prestes Maia occupation and to the expanding periphery settlements.

She bought the house for US$2,500. She has a paper entitling her to the house but the land on which it stands is owned by someone else, so it's ok until the owner claims the land. In other words someone built a cinder block house on illegal land and sold it. For Miriam to keep her job she has to get her children back into school. Downtown they all went to school. It's full of schools out in the Jardim Pantanal but there are three times as many children. After two months in the periphery she found school for her two eldest. She was thinking of taking the youngest with her downtown, drop her off at the kindergarden and then go to work. She starts work at 7 am. This means she would have to leave home at 430 am walk to the train for 30 min, take a 1 hour train, take the subway to the kindergarden and then go to work. Her social counselor prohibited her from leaving her home with her child at such early hours.

Miriam had been working for the NGO St. Lucia, where she had a contract offer for $US350 but upon entry they reduced it to less than $US250. Then they fired her and she received a new job offer before moving out to the periphery. She couldn't take it because of the prohibition by her social counselor. However Miriam is absolutely sure she can get a new job if she moves back to the downtown area. That will take months Her husband, who beats her frequently, stayed in the Prestes Maia because someone obviously had to put food on the table. So the family has a home now, has poor schooling for the children and the parents are seperated for better or worse.

Out here in the periphery her children have nothing to do but hang around the mean streets. Downtown they had a park one block away. Downtown there was infrastructure, restaurants, supermarkets, public transport, etc. Here there is nothing, her home doesn't even have a bathroom and she'e living in dangerous part of the slum. She now believes in the MSTC (Movimento Sem Teto do Centro), even if its corrupted. The MSTC is a socialist movement occupying abandoned buildings downtown, in an attempt to get people off the street or those who can't afford a rent. Miriam knows that no matter what she's not staying here. She's going back to the MSTC and to another occupied building. And she's going back to fight, because she's living proof as she says that when city hall evicts the over 250 families in the Prestes Maia and spreads them out in to the periphery the will have nothing, once again.

Quarter 79 Grave 500

Maria Jose Ferreira, also known as Zeze, is probably one of the fiercest and strongest woman I have met. She often acts like my mother too, calling me up to see if I've eaten properly. I met her on the sixth floor of the Prestes Maia 911 building in downtown Sao Paulo. The building has been occupied for over four years and Zeze along with her son Jose Heron Ferreira were among the original 468 families who took over the abandoned building. Heron managed to move out and find a decent place to live in October of 2006 but was murdered on December 22, two months later for suspected organ trafficking. His partner and daughter survive him.

Heron was a freelancer, selling pirated DVD's in the Bras neighborhood from 4 to 8 am. Bras is tumultuous market district full of stores and itinerant merchants. He worked the night shift because it was easier to dodge the authorities and the already protesting established store merchants. Hundreds of thousands of people from the periphery arrive into Bras every morning by bus, train and subway to supply the freelancers.














It had taken Heron months to land a space out there and when he did, it was larger than he needed. According to Zeze, he began sharing it with an older man, Jeremiah Melekias, who had nothing. Little by little this elderly man began demanding more space until he began claiming it was his and acutally tried to kick Heron out. Obviously frictions began to surface. Jeremiahs drank a lot and would often harass the women in the area. Heron didn't like his manner and finally confronted him on December 22. Two hours later, with his back to Jeremiah, Heron would turn around and be stabbed in the heart by Jeremiah. Blood flowed quickly and with the aid of his partner he was put into a cab and taken to the Tatuape public hospital. A military police officer chased after saved Jeremiah's life, as a crowd tried to lynch him. Zeze would not arrive at the hospital until 10 am, since Heron's partner had called in saying it wasn't critical. (Above: Zeze holds a picture of her son's murderer, Jeremiah, who was released within a couple hours of his arrest due to lack of evidence, even after two witnesses came forward.)

When Zeze arrived and demanded to see her son, she discovered he wasn't registered in the hospital. She panicked after finding Heron's partner who told her he was in intensive care. "Why? You said he was alright, what's going on, where is my son?!" She found him in the emergency ward, sitting up and holding the wall. When he saw her he tried to stand up and reach her, naturally she moved closer, but was abruptly stopped by a medic.

The doctor came to her and told her it was serious and that she should be prepared for the worst. A total of four doctors would try to convince her it was serious, but none explained to her what was going on. The doctors kept repeating
they could not operate until they knew what was going on. At 2:40 pm, almost 9 hours after his arrival, Heron was being taken on a stretcher into surgery. Zeze recalls the time because he passed right in front of her. At 5pm Zeze was told he was dead.

She could not believe it. Distressed she recalls exiting the hospital ward into the waiting room. Almost immediately four women approached her asking her to donate her son's organs. They consistently pressured her about how her son's vital organs could benefit and save lives. By law in Brazil, it is prohibited to donate organs from a violent death. Zeze told me she immediately knew something was wrong, she could smell it, but it was not until she had calmed down several days later that she began to put the dots together.

It took the hospital another four hours to hand over the body and when they did they refused to let her see it. In fact the only one to see the body in the casket was her other son and he only saw the head because the casket was already sealed.














Three months later Zeze legally exhumed the body. This would be the first time a judicial order in the state of Sao Paulo would be excecuted to investigate an allegation of organ trafficking. Zeze would carefully bring in her own forensic scientist from Brasilia, Eduardo Reis from the Federal Police. By law the delegate of the county must attend the exhumation and bring its own forensic scientist.

We arrived at the Vila Formosa I cemetery. The exhumation was programmed for 9 am. The cemetery had received no official announcement. The delegate and her forensic team arrived an hour later and was completely surprised to see that the mother's victim had brought her own forensic scientist. The delegate immediately announced that no pictures or video could be taken. Zeze of course had her own judicial orders allowing her to film and shoot. The NGO, Contra o Trafego de Orgaos, led by sister Enilda dos Santos, had helped her through months of bureaucracy to obtain these permissions.














I admit I know little of forensic science, but what I saw that morning was incredibly absurd. The official forensic scientist began un-burying the corpse before the morgue vehicle arrived. He pulled the body out of the ground with no care at all as you can see in the pictures where he's practically crushing the skull. The exhumation was an official criminal investigation and this official had barely put on a pair gloves and was using no medical instruments. He began manipulating the evidence before our very eyes with a very large cooking knife. He stabbed the eye sockets twisting and turning and then calling out to the delegate so she could see that the corneas had not been removed. I was flabbergasted, can you tell really see this on a three month old corpse? Incredibly enough the forensic from Brasilia, Reis, demanded they stop. He went off to collect his full body medical suit and offered one to the Sao Paulo forensic, which of course he refused. This wacko actually wanted to do the autopsy right beside the grave. He wanted to open the body with a pair of household scissors, remove the visceras and take them down to the lab. What??? I mean of all the crazy things I have seen this was unbelievable, someone was deliberately trying to destroy evidence.














Eventually under Reis' protest and the threat to report this abnormality, the delegate and her crew abandoned the scene leaving the corpse under a threatening thunderstorm. They excused themselves claiming they could not wait all day for the morgue to arrive. Shouldn't the morgue have been their with them? This of course was further proof that they were attempting to tamper with the corpse. Legally you can't leave a body out in the open, Tthe cemetery wanted to re bury the body which legally then would require another judicial order for exhumation. Burying the body would also damage it further.

Eventually we stood our ground, protected the body, buried it with plastic and flowers as we waited another two hours for the morgue to arrive. The body has been analyzed by both forensic scientists and we are now awaiting for their report. Reis was unable to provide any information until that report is released in case it contradicts what he saw. He did tell me to stick around, because there would be a big surprise.