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

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).
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