Cha Preta I

This past weekend I went to a small city called Cha Preta. The name literally translates “black land” because many years ago there was a fire that caused many of the trees to look black. I stayed in a house that doubled as a church. The whole experience was very difficult. The house/church was poorly structured so when it rained (which was often because it is currently the winter/rainy season) water would leak into the rooms. This caused everything to be damp all of the time. Furthermore, it caused an infestation of mosquitoes. I know I accumulated over thirty mosquito bites during my five-day stay. Also, on Saturday morning the water ran out in the whole city so there was no running water, which made bathing and using the bathroom a challenge. Eating and drinking became a challenge as well because of the sudden lack of cleanliness due to the lack of water. My co-interns and I heavily discussed the idea of leaving the city due to the health and sanitation concerns but we decided to stay and I am glad we did. I kept thinking about the people who lived there. The people who were enduring living conditions worse than us. People who didn’t even have running water to lose. People who did not have the option to leave. These thoughts in mind gave me the strength to stay one more night. Being there made me consider a few things:

1. Why am I here?
When we met the different people in the city one of the first questions was always, “why are you here?” That is such a good question. It made me analyze and articulate my purpose and intentions for not only Cha Preta but also my visit to Brazil as a whole. It made me realize that I was there not to get an impression of what life is like in Brazil or to give an impression as to what Americans are like; I was there to make an impact. Moving from impression to impact was difficult because there is a temptation on both sides to focus on the spectacle aspect of the visit. When we arrived to the city is was if we were a traveling circus that had just come into town. The people, young children to old adults, followed us around and just stared at us. We invited the people into the church to talk to us and they refused. They preferred to stand outside and watch us as if were a live show. Initially, I was really irritated that they were watching me as if I were this unknown exotic creature, there for their amusement. I then realized how hypocritical I was being. I entered into their city, walked around their town, and entered their houses with no intention to actually stay and help with their various needs. My intention was to look and leave. But in the short amount of time there, I feel I was able to make an impact rather than an impression. The people finally began to respond to our attempts to talk to them. They eventually came inside the church to talk to us rather gaping from a safe distance. We also ventured out to be with them in the streets. I played soccer with the kids and I taught a couple of the older kids to play American football (who knew growing up a tomboy would become a ministerial tool?). When it was time to leave many of the children and adults said they were sad that we were leaving and made us promise to return.

2. What can I do?
When I saw the devastation of the city I became very discouraged by my desire to fix the problems. I walked the streets of the people and saw their problems. I broke a shoe trying to get down the dirt road of the poor communities. I saw, first hand, how badly they needed streets and sidewalks. They needed clean and running water. They needed a hospital. They needed a facility to cater to the high concentration of people with physical and mental disabilities. They needed teachers. They needed so much. And my first response was to calculate the need and to figure out how to provide the solutions. If I just had enough money, I could fix these problems. If I just had enough people, I could fix this city. But then I realized that even assuming that I could get enough money to rebuild this city [which is a VERY liberal assumption] what about the people in the next city? What about the people living in my city? What about the people all over the world? I realized that no matter what I do, it won’t be enough. So then I began to think, “Why do anything?” It was very discouraging but I think it was a lesson in humility and was very helpful. I am not God. I can’t heal the whole world. But I can do my part. I can’t ever do everything but may I never be content to do nothing.