Buscando a Terra Prometida

blocs

2012-02-12T04:19:00.003-02:00

First, to get some terms clarified right away, "black bloc" describes most specifically a tactic, not necessarily a group of people. In an article like this one, where he talks about "Black Bloc anarchists" being the cancer on the occupy movement, the person is referring to a shifting group of people who have participated in actions using this tactic there and/or elsewhere. Many of these people might be anarchists, several others might not, there are sure to be a couple of undercover cops there in large groups, and ultimately, we might agree that it is not a particularly successful tactic at organizing a mass movement. The problem is that there is an un-specifiable contradiction in the occupy movement being at the same time leaderless and horizontal, and shunning then a commitment to diversity of tactics as one would for free speech. So, there stands the fact that as long as occupies around the place continue to refuse organizing, an organization for political organizing, there will be "black blocs" and all kinds of other things, anarchist or not. Organizing does not restrict itself to the formation of political organizations, by any means, in fact it applies most directly to organizing one's own social activities, housing and nutrition for every family, productive role in your community (something similar but better to what most people think of as "employment"), so forth and so on. Different and better ways to use all the great things we have learned and accomplished so far, and this time in a direction of our choosing for the common benefit of all. This could be anarchy, but I digress. The point is that there are many very serious anarchists in Oakland and elsewhere who get a very bad rep from badly construed generalizations of diatribes like this one against "Black Bloc anarchists". Indeed, the occupy movement has suffered much from getting used as background for vanguardist and spontaneist attempts at struggle using such tactics sure to instigate a riot by the police. But so have many occupies suffered much from harassing, driving away, and even turning in to the police many serious anarchists, being accused exactly along the lines of this article against the cancerous "Black Bloc anarchists", when in fact most of the people they marginalized were far more experienced and dedicated to organizing than the white-breat spring-chickens that just budded with the occupy movement. They were running soup kitchens for years for the homeless community, they were running CopWatch and medics for years before any of these people knew that police brutality could happen to them, and they were the only ones organized to provide legal and jail support (e.g. in Denver) when the occupy camp was raided the first couple of times. But the ones who shunned "cancerous" anarchists of all stripes because they opposed only taking actions with permits, opposed a cordon of peace-police around every march that would impinge even on people's freedom of speech and shout them down from using "violent" language, and so on... So, let's get serious now. A blogger is not going to contribute one iota towards the cure for this "cancer" bitching about it the way he does. The use of "black bloc" tactics is a resort of generally well-meaning young people who are given neither support by the majority of people who generally agree with the occupy movement but refuse to escalate their taunting into a popular uprising (as in Tunisia and Egypt, for example), nor are they given the training and courage or necessity to use more effective tactics that are less about building a movement than inflicting direct damage on the opponent. In places where movements take shape alongside more well established organizing around certain issues or places, for example the anti-nuclear movement in Germany, you might find "black blocs" being deployed for years of confrontation with the transportation of nuclear material to supply plants that still cause significant economic costs and political embarrassment for the political-economic elite, and similar tactics used in a variety of other struggles, sometimes tapping successfully into the broader movement that ultimately forces a political compromise of policy reform at the state, or if the hole is even lower (as we say in Brazil), then certainly the people resorting to this kind of action would need a serious organization, training, or dire need to cultivate their spontaneism and vanguardism into something truly revolutionary. So.... it is time to get organized! :)

2012

2012-01-01T21:54:00.002-02:00

The beginning is near...moving to Arizona Bay

2011-12-31T15:13:00.005-02:00

.

Tool:Aenema

Some say the end is near.
Some say we'll see armageddon soon.
I certainly hope we will.
I sure could use a vacation from this

Bullshit three ring circus sideshow of
Freaks

Here in this hopeless fucking hole we call LA
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.
Any fucking time. Any fucking day.
Learn to swim, I'll see you down in Arizona bay.

Fret for your figure and
Fret for your latte and
Fret for your hairpiece and
Fret for your lawsuit and
Fret for your prozac and
Fret for your pilot and
Fret for your contract and
Fret for your car.

It's a
Bullshit three ring circus sideshow of
Freaks

Here in this hopeless fucking hole we call LA
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.
Any fucking time. Any fucking day.
Learn to swim, I'll see you down in Arizona bay.

Some say a comet will fall from the sky.
Followed by meteor showers and tidal waves.
Followed by faultlines that cannot sit still.
Followed by millions of dumbfounded dipshits.

Some say the end is near.
Some say we'll see armageddon soon.
I certainly hope we will cuz
I sure could use a vacation from this

Silly shit, stupid shit...

One great big festering neon distraction,
I've a suggestion to keep you all occupied.

Learn to swim.

Mom's gonna fix it all soon.
Mom's comin' round to put it back the way it ought to be.

Learn to swim.

Fuck L Ron Hubbard and
Fuck all his clones.
Fuck all those gun-toting
Hip gangster wannabes.

Learn to swim.

Fuck retro anything.
Fuck your tattoos.
Fuck all you junkies and
Fuck your short memory.

Learn to swim.

Fuck smiley glad-hands
With hidden agendas.
Fuck these dysfunctional,
Insecure actresses.

Learn to swim.

Cuz I'm praying for rain
And I'm praying for tidal waves
I wanna see the ground give way.
I wanna watch it all go down.
Mom please flush it all away.
I wanna watch it go right in and down.
I wanna watch it go right in.
Watch you flush it all away.

Time to bring it down again.
Don't just call me pessimist.
Try and read between the lines.

I can't imagine why you wouldn't
Welcome any change, my friend.

I wanna see it all come down.
suck it down.
flush it down.

good bye

2010-07-09T18:16:00.004-03:00

... I went over a month without writing anything! From the last entry, about laziness, much has taken place. I translated a good portion of a book that will serve as the legal basis for the thesis I will present in my upcoming dissertation, I visited the university and a social movement of the Church in the city of Goiânia, where I got information and made contacts with the purpose of discerning a few possible sites for my field work in the next few years, and got excited and disillusioned with our Seleção in the world cup, went on a last trip to Bahia, and said good bye to my beloved friends and family in Brasil for now.

So, not much laziness at all, in fact, and much more that I busied myself with my own life and those around me, who I knew would be long distant, starting now, as I have returned to the US...

I won't be keeping this blog. There is much I am to write - and I will keep our own personal touch, friends, our own ways.

Preguiça; Laziness

2010-05-28T11:31:00.002-03:00

Voltei para Brasília, e dês de então, tenho sofrido as mais lânguidas férias preguiçosas que me entrego há tempos..., dês de que estive em Cabo Frio perto do ano novo. Durmo quase sempre até depois das 9, as vezes 10, as vezes 11... Não lavo nem passo nem cozinho nem limpo nada além de meu próprio corpo. Nem mesmo as atividades que havia me entregue - a tradução de um livro, a busca de mais contatos para pesquisa - seguem ao passo ~esperado~. Mas, contudo, ainda não me sinto mal o suficiente por isso para realmente atravancar uma mudança de marcha. Afinal, devo curtir ainda essas férias - como férias - enquanto ainda posso. Logo, o passo de tudo mudará drasticamente.

I returned to Brasília and, since, I've been suffering the most languid lazy vacations that I give myself in some time..., since I was in Cabo Frio close to new year. I sleep almost always past 9, sometimes 10, sometimes 11... I don't wash don't iron don't cook nor clean anything beyond my own body. Not even the activities I had given myself - the translation of a book, the search for more research contacts - continue at the ~expected~ pace. Yet, however, I still don't feel bad enough about it to break myself into a change of gears. After all, I should still enjoy these vacations - as vacations - while I still can. Soon, the pace of it all will change drastically.

Agora, o que me incomoda mesmo, é estar tirando essas férias num ambiente que me estimula à desestimulaçao de atividades rotineiras. Poderia estar tirando tantas "férias" quanto tiro agora, e ainda assim cozinhar para mim mesmo, lavar minhas próprias roupas, etc. Não o faço, por que estou na casa de meus pais, e há uma pessoa empregada e encarregada dessas tarefas. E eu - e é aqui que entra o discomforto - não tenho a força de espírito para contrariar meus pais, meu histórico, e meus próprios hábitos que se despertam novamente (as 11 da manhã) comigo nesta casa na qual cresci.

Now, what actually bothers me, is to take these vacations in an environment that encourages me to disencouragement from daily activities. I could be taking as much "vacations" as I do now, and still cook for myself, wash my own clothes, etc. I don't do so because I am at my parents' house, and there is a person employed and responsible for these tasks. And I - and here is where my discomfort comes in - don't have the strength of spirit to go against my parents, my history, and my own habits that awake again (at 11 in the morning) with me in this house where I grew up.

Então vou tentar compensar, trabalhando na horta essa tarde... algo que não tive tempo, espaço, oportunidade, quando vivia sozinho em uma quitinete aonde "só se comia quem trabalhava" (inclusive meu gato, que trazia para casa os frutos de seu trabalho de caça: passarinhos, esquilos e camundongos. Claro, ele não comia estes seus troféus, que eu, após reconhecer e agradecer a ele por sua contribuição para nossa casa, jogava fora - e alimentava ele ração).

So I will try to compensate working in the garden this afternoon... something that I did not have the time, space, and opportunity while I lived alone in a studio where "only the ones who worked would eat" (including my cat, who would bring home the fruits of his hunting labor: birds, squirrels and mice. Of course, he did not eat these trophies of his, that I, after recognizing and thanking him for his contribution to our household, would throw away - and fed him pet feed).

Muzzle

2010-05-19T14:26:00.002-03:00

(Smashing Pumpkins)

I fear that I'm ordinary, just like everyone
to lie here and die among the sorrows
adrift among the days
for everything I ever said
and everything I've ever done is gone and dead

...as all things must surely have to end!
...and great loves will one day have to part!

I know that I am meant for this world

my life has been extraordinary
blessed and cursed and won!

time heals but I'm forever broken
by and by the way...
have you ever heard the words
I'm singing in these songs?
it's for the girl I've loved all along
can a taste of love be so wrong...!?

as all things must surely have to end...
and great loves will one day have to part...
I know that I am meant for this world

and in my mind as I was floating
far above the clouds
some children laughed, I'd fall for certain
for thinking that I'd last
.. forever ..

but I knew -exactly- where -I was-
and I knew the meaning of it all
and I knew the distance to the sun
and I knew the *echo* that is love
and I knew the secrets in your spires
and I knew the emptiness of youth
and I knew the solitude of heart
and I knew the murmurs of the soul..........

and the world is drawn into your hands!
and the world is etched upon your heart!
and the world so hard to understand
is the world your can't live without!

and I knew the silence of the world.

De novo, lendo, escrevendo...

2010-05-16T23:51:00.002-03:00

Cá estou novamente. Lendo (cada histórias!). Escrevendo. Na verdade, com o coração partido. Agridoce. Mas o trabalho continua se encaixando, peça por peça, gestalt-eando uma figura linda de futuro, pouco a pouco. Alguém me disse, em dias de viagem, que ~devagar vai longe~. Em dias assim, tento manter minhas vistas nesse horizonte.

It all goes as it should, whether we know it or not...

2010-05-16T20:02:00.002-03:00

It has been some time since I've written anything in english, so here goes a little 'catch up'. When I arrived from the States, briefly visited with friends and family in Brasilia and left again - and I have yet to return. I went to the Florestan Fernandes National School of the Landless Movement again, this time to work as interpreter for a meeting of communicators of all regions of Via Campesina. That is something that could use an entire entry on its own, which I might do sometime these next few days... In short, it went very well. It is not a 'merely logistical' or 'technical' issue - communication - but one of the key fronts of the class struggle.

After about a week there, I went to Curitiba to be with Xiao Ta. She showed me around the city, we enjoyed the wonderful Oscar Niemeyer Museum and other places, and - ahh - rested for some time after so much traveling. Yet, after about one week we hit the road again. We went into the countryside, to COPAVI, one of the most consolidated socialist experiments in Brazil. The twenty two families have controlled that territory since 1993, holding a concession from the State (their position is that land should remain public property) and producing a vegetable garden and fruit orchard for their own use, as well as milk cattle for themselves and for the local markets (including the production of yogurt and cheese) and a substantial production of organic sugar cane for brown sugar, cachaça, and other products like rapadura. It is interesting to witness such a different production of the same crop that chokes and desertifies the entire region in monocultures and slave-like labor.

So much more could and should be said about COPAVI, but again, that should wait another occasion. From there, across the river to Presidente Prudente, where I went to meet with Bernardo Mançano and others around him. This remarkable Marxist geographer was the person who brought me into the fold of the movements in Brazil, and remains actively engaged with me in my continuing and future endeavors. We traded guanxi - he presented me with contacts in Goiania and elsewhere, in academia and the Movement, and he presented me with the challenge of orchestrating stronger ties between UNESP (São Paulo State University) and my own soon-to-be Berkeley. His students were great people, and one of them in particular introduced me to another friend in the Ministério Público (an independent branch of our Judicial system akin to Ombudsmen). That contact is especially exciting, for they are currently starting up a working group to harmonize the various conflicting means of evaluating environmental costs of properties to be expropriated for compensation purposes. And the state and federal offices are working with academics on the area - the door through which I intend to put my foot into the State.

From Prudente, back to São Paulo, for meetings with the international relations folk of the Movement. Since I will be going back to Berkeley for school, I will work with the committee of Friends of the MST - in addition to shifting from the translators/interpreters network of Via Campesina Sudamerica to North America. This, then, represents a third (or fourth) front on which I will continue my share of the struggle. This seems, at the moment, the most complicated and delicate situation - and I cannot write more about it now. In fact, I remain in São Paulo now in order to finish setting up this process.

And on a more personal note, my mother's younger sister had come to São Paulo for a health exam and ended up staying for surgery - which went well and she is now recovering in a hotel; a hotel at which I will be staying this week to accompany and help out my aunt and grandmother. This was unexpected - it was unexpected by them that I would be here - who knows - it all goes as it should, whether we knot it or not...

Mulher Árvore

2010-05-01T14:34:00.002-03:00

A pele é casca
Sulca profunda
Olhos ainda mais profundos
Que já viram tanto
Nascer e morrer
A terra nas unhas
Raízes
A mulher árvore
Secular
Sem elas
Eu poderia até acreditar que tudo sempre foi assim
E por isso não poderíamos nem respirar
Sem elas

...fico até com falta de ar!

2010-04-28T18:50:00.002-03:00

Falta tempo! Para quem esteve há tão pouco tempo com tanto tempo, para quem teve tempo de ir e vir para lugares mais lejos que imaginava, para quem teve tempo de dar tempo como se fosse Cosme no dia dos doçes... agora falta tempo até de sentir o descanso de quem está desempregado e deseducado. Bueno, não tenho mais tempo para escrever aqui! Tempo para comer tem que se fazer, né... Queria eu tirar tempo para te cozinhar algo delicioso... tempo para sobremesa... tempo para nós.

Que se passa???

2010-04-25T23:33:00.003-03:00

O EXÉRCITO está por toda parte em Brasília!

Helicópteros pousando na Asa Sul com soldados armados, tanques e jipes com metralhadoras na L4 e Ponte JK. Que porra é essa!?

É muito fudido se for "treinamento" militar em área civil. Imagine: vamos treinar como seria ocupar não só "uma cidade", mas *essa* cidade, nossa capital! Pra que? Outra "revolução democrática" não teria um pingo de legitimidade.

[Tinha] três especulações além:

1, o estado de sítio decretado hoje no Paraguay instigou nosso exército a fazer uma operação para capturar os 3 membros do EPP refugiados no Brasil. Isso poderia explicar os vôos dos helicópteros que pareciam buscar algo ou alguém, e também poderia explicar o patrulhamento de certos pontos estratégicos de movimento de dentro para fora da cidade. Mas por que fazer uma operação assim com tanto "escandalo"?! Não bastaria a Policia Federal fazer um bacú mais tradicional?! (E eu nem sei aonde que estes três estão no Brasil...)

[---parece que não tem nada a ver com isso.]

2, foi decretada a intervenção federal no governo do DF, e o exército se posicionou "só por garantia". Mas isso não ocorreria com muito mais blá blá blá do judiciário antes? Por quê fazer isso agora que a enrolação já parece quieta com o PMDB? Mas teria cabimento, exército por causa de uma ladainha babaca de corrupção e um procedimento burocrático?

[---não, nada.]

3, este é um treinamento para segurança de Chávez que virá para Brasília esta sexta-feira, e estamos atualmente com um governo distrital "instável", portanto a necessidade da atuação do exército. Agora, sério, "necessidade"? Talvez essa especulação seja a mais á toa mesmo...

[---pois é, mais ou menos. Não é devido ao Chávez em si, mas parece que há um bom tanto de 'autoridades' pela cidade esses dias, alguns chefes de estado até talvez antes de Chávez... mas então, continua sendo uma reação exagerada, em minha opinião.]

Eu sei (Legião Urbana)

2010-04-25T01:18:00.002-03:00

Sexo verbal
Não faz meu estilo
Palavras são erros
E os erros são seus

Não quero lembrar
Que eu erro também.

Um dia pretendo
Tentar descobrir
Porque é mais forte
Quem sabe mentir

Não quero lembrar
Que eu minto também...

Eu sei! Eu sei!...

Feche a porta do seu quarto
Porque se toca o telefone
Pode ser alguém
Com quem você quer falar
Por horas e horas e horas...

A noite acabou
Talvez tenhamos
Que fugir sem você

Mas não, não vá agora! Quero honras e promessas! Lembranças e histórias...!!!

Somos pássaro novo
Longe do ninho

Eu sei... Eu sei...

"...e toda sua máfia!"

2010-04-22T16:27:00.002-03:00

Escrevo agora de minha cidade de meio século, novamente sobre a putaria generalizada que ainda ridicula nossa sociedade -

- mas escrevo agora para pedir desculpas as pessoas que seguem fazendo o que podem, e que eu ridicularizei antes inapropriadamente.

De ódio e angústia e frustração espalhei a merda largamente, egoisticamente largando tudo para trás enquanto ainda me digo Brasiliense.

Veja, ontem de madrugada, no meio das festarias dos 50 anos, ocuparam a construção da nova sede de nossa Assembléia Legislativa demandando, além de outros pontos, a anulação da eleição indireta de um PMDBista Arrudista para nosso Governo, com a maioria dos votos em favor vindo daquela gente que está dentro do mesmo balaio de gato. A cidade agora se encontra ainda mais pixada com pedidos de 'intervenção', e ouço uma coisa que, com aquele humor de antes, eu condenaria sem nem dar segunda consideração: "vamos fazer campanha pro Agnelo!"

Campanha eleitoral assim eu não faço nem apoio. Mas compreendo agora, com várias semanas de paciência e calma devidamente consagradas, que de ódio e angústia e frustração em si não se produz muito de valor, especialmente perante aquelas pessoas que ainda sim buscam as saidas 'razoáveis' para a situação, como um Agnelo ou outro.

Que siga a ocupação!

O valor de construção de militância se sobrepõe as circunstâncias condenadas impacientemente por idealistas distanciados...

Good bye, for now

2010-04-19T00:20:00.002-03:00

Friends in the US - good bye for now. There were some people I really enjoy being with, some people I really respect and admire, some people I even miss sometimes, that I did not get to visit with at all, or only spent very little time...

I was in the US now for some six weeks - and still that was not a lot of time. Consider that I went to four corners and a couple of dabs, south west north and east, and that I focused on establishing myself for the fall: that is to say, I did not make as much time as I needed to visit friends, all and well. And yet all is well. Life is long and the world is small!

To some, I will be much closer soon, others I may not visit for a very long time... But so goes life, and if I wander now you will wander then, and if you hosted me now I hope to host you then, and if you missed me now I hope we don't miss each other again then! Imagine that - with a phone, less places and more time! Don't forget it can be done, and not taking place is not not-wanting it to take place. After all, life happens.

And life is happening to me so beautifully... Even in the painful moments - and there were painful moments! - I know we are all the better because of it. There is a certain amount of anxious anticipation, a way in which the hopes and expectations wave over each other, some going and new ones taking over. Let us not allow this beauty to fade out!!! If I loved you then, I still love you now. How could I not?

And how could we know? How could we know that this wave would have taken us over? And could we have known that it would inevitably roll back the way it did? But none of it is new, and none of it surprises me... none of it sways me off my path. I do not know what will happen along the way, but I am certain of where I am going.

Go there with me, friends. Take your paths, we will share many a mile more and will once again rest on each others shoulders when the energy goes out. And I need you to encourage me and pull me back when the path is not trod as it ought. Snap me if you must, if you know and notice, when I don't. I will return with fresh vigor, with new ideas, with better health and with the disposition to do what is to be done.

Justica para Oscar Grant, e outros contos policiais

2010-04-12T01:36:00.003-03:00

Oscar Grant trabalhava como acougueiro em um supermercado no Leste da Baia de Sao Francisco, apos a festa de ano novo de 2009, tomando o trem de volta para casa em Oakland, na estacao do barrio mexicano de Fruitvalle, quando Oscar foi pego pela empresa policial da empresa Bay Area Regional Transportation (BART), a empresa de transportes regional da area da baia, que contrata esta empresa mercenaria para operar como forca policial em (e entre) todas as estacoes dos trens da BART em todos os municipios conectados.

O mercenario da policia BART Johannes Mehserle algemou Oscar, que ja se encontrava deitado de peito no chao da estacao, devido a acao de outros dois mercenarios, um dos quais, Anthony Pirone, que ajoelhou no pescoco de Oscar e o insultou racialmente (dizendo "bitch ass nigger"), e apos algemar Oscar, Johannes Mehserle se levantou, sacou sua pistola, e deu um tiro nas costas de Oscar - que morreu aquela madrugada.

Quase duas semanas depois, Mehserle e preso sob acusacao de executar Oscar. Ainda sem resultado, o julgemento que foi iniciado em outra parte do estado e deixado em pausa, sera somente continuado agora em junho deste ano. Enquanto isso, a forca policial fez uma ''vaquinha'' para pagar pela liberdade temporaria de Mehserle, $3 milhoes usd. Ele ja se mudou tres vezes, sob varias ameacas de morte.

A familia de Oscar ja recebeu uma duzia de milhoes de dolares em compensacao - mas os protestos violentos e pacificos que ocorrem des de entao, em conjunto com varios outros protestos contra brutalidade policial na baia de Sao Francisco, assim como em outras grandes areas urbanas na costa do Pacifico (Portland, Seattle) e outras partes do pais (Detroit, etc). Enquanto estiva la esta semana, houve uma mobilizacao em Sao Francisco demandando o afastamento de Anthony Pirone (quem insultou Oscar e participou de sua execucao), pois ele ainda se encontra livre, em licenca paga pela emprasa policial BART. Demandaram tambem o fechamento da emprasa mercenaria policial da BART comoum todo - empresas particulares nao devem conduzir forcas armadas.

O nivel e frequencia de brutalidade policial nos EEUU e' notavel, especialmente contra a classe trabalhadora, negra e hispana e imigrante. O nivel de resistencia tambem consolida um dos mais fortes elos das trabalhadoras na luta de classes. Muitas dessas pessoas sao anarquistas, e tomam um gosto particular pela confrontacao diretamente contra a policia, e sobre a existencia da policia. A ofensiva, no entanto, ainda assim e' anemica comparada aos movimentos de classe e nacao negras que existiam algumas decadas atras. Agora, a 'ofensiava' nao e' muito mais que uma mobilizacao para atrapalhar o transito, nem sequer ocupara para negociar demandas, e quando antes e maior, pouco mais organizada que uma 'riot', um quebra quebra e porradaria desvairada. E o pior e' que so quem vai preso, e quem morre, no final sao trabalhadoras e trabalhadores que ficam como que pegos inocentes no meio de uma troca de tiros...

Conversei bastante com um amigo nessa viagem...

Discuti bastante esta mobilizacao na qual ele tomou parte, e relacionei muito tambem com a 'levanta' (mobilizacao de gangue, na verdade) em Sao Paulo em maio de 2005 (se nao me engano na data);

;

falta cabeca,

,se paro para pensar..

..enquanto isso, tristemente, cabecas continuam

rolam.

"Na estrada" nao esta com nada...

2010-04-11T18:28:00.002-03:00

Fui e voltei a East Bay, coloquei metade de minhas coisas (livros, algumas roupas e coisas de cosinha) em um predio de deposito, abri uma caixa postal, uma conta na cooperativa de credito de Berkeley, e troquei minha carteira de motorista do Colorado para a California. Visitei algumas antigas amizades dos anos de faculdade, e conheci melhor os bairros entre Oakland e Berkeley, aonde vou morar por uns tempos a partir de agosto. Foi uma boa viagem (ou seria com j?).

Viajei com meu amigo Ryan, que esta tambem muito animado querendo se mudar para Oakland.Quem sabe. Mas enquanto estavamos na estrada, fui ler "On the road" por Jack Karouac, de que tantos haviam me falado e mais recentemente - em meus tempos de viagem, isso e - tenho ouvido falar ainda mais. Nao terminei o livro, nem sei se quero terminar. Achei chato, que em ingles se diz mais especificamente 'boring' (por que 'chato' tambem vem de 'chatear', que seria mais como 'annoy' que 'bore').

Sim, existe algo animado, excitante, impulsivo sobre viajar de pontas a pontas sem lugar nenhum a chegar, o caminho como destino. Mas no livro, os personagens e especialmente o protagonista levam uma atitude na qual se chateam rapidamente de todos lugares e companias, seguem as cegas e so se divertem com o tentar-chegar-em-algum-outro-lugar-que-parece-bom-agora-mas-certamente-sera-uma-bosta-quando-la-eu-estiver... Seria, se terminasse assim como segue, e seguiu em autoria e vida o tal Jack, uma melodia odiosa ao tedio de uma geracao perdida - BEAT em ingles quer dizer tanto 'ritimo', levando a mente a melodia poetica de uma geracao 'chic' em cafes e desapegada ao mundinho mediocre da maioria, quanto quer dizer 'DERROTADA', como a geracao derrotada, mesmo apos a dita vitoria da segunda guerra mundial, nos anos dourados do estilo de vida Estadunidense antes do caos dos anos 60 e 70. Seguem nessa geracao uma juventude perdida -por escolha-, com a educacao paga pelo Estado devido ao seu servico militar na guerra, com pensao de veterano de guerra, e curtindo meramente a vagabundagen com gente proletaria mesmo que ja sofria essa vida (nao escolhia) des da Depressao duas decadas antes, e ainda segue errante por um mundo cruel. E la, no meio disso tudo, embriagado, com um sorriso mediocre de sarcasmo de quem ainda iria escrever um livro em grande parte sobre 'meditar nas montanhas' poeticamente - esta o protagonista de um tal de Jack.

Largando esse livro voltei para o Colorado, nao medito (mesmo que tome tempo para mim mesmo como necessito) mas tomo ultimos preparos para seguir viagem - sei o que fazer essa semana ainda, sou poucas coisas e tenho um sentimento de ferias ainda, vendo pessoas que amo em um lugar lindo, para o qual nao volto mais em previsao. De la, sei exatamente para onde vou, e sei que vou passar por muitos mais lugares que nem sequer posso imaginar - mas sei aonde vou parar. Controlo a 'mira' de minha vida, e isso sim e' bom saber, e' bom sentir, e' suficiente para retirar a chateacao/boredom da vida que vivo enquanto sigo estes meus objetivos, seja enquanto estive aonde logo estarei de vez, seja agora enquanto estou aonde nao mais estarei, seja em seguida de volta em nossa terrinha aonde sempre retornarei enquanto ainda sigo viagem.

Saquei dois livros no correio hoje, algo bom de ler, entrando novamente em ritimo de pos, lendo para me divertir coisas de gente com quem tenho aula :P um 'classico' do Alain de Janvry sobre agricultura e campesinato Latino Americano, e um livro de Richard Walker sobre o agronegocio na California. Logo, a estrada estara por tras de vez.

Pois e...

2010-04-04T20:32:00.002-03:00

Percebo que nao estive escrevendo, por que estive ate mesmo me encontrando com parte das pessoas para quem normalmente escrevo assim, aqui. Mas ainda assim, tenho agora tempo e calma em mente para escrever para ustedes tambem.

Viajar pelos eeuu e' uma experiencia bem interesante apos ter voltado por alguns meses a nossa terrinha. A primeira coisa que notei, ao sair do aviao em Miami, foi a predominante presenca da policia. Policia e automovel. Policia de automovel. Vei - a policia que existe sempre e em todo lugar por estas bandas, assim como as cameras nos bancos, predios, areas urbanas (para nao falar da internet e telefone) entra na cabeca das pessoas como por osmose atmosferica, e fica la alojada - policiando.

As primeiras duas semanas foram como ferias, visitando antigas mas sempre presente amizades, inclusive uma ex parceira quem nao tinha encontrado a mais de ano. Para que escrever aqui desses dias, dessas amizades? Sao em sua grande parte gente boa, gente bonita, gente contente e feliz, buscando la suas vidas. Algumas dessas amizades eu tento manter especialmente por que admiro seus projetos de vida e compartilho parte de nossos ainda - amigas e amigos assim, nunca perderei, atravez de anos e mares. Minha chaga santa e' viver assim, com partes de mim com pessoas espalhadas pelo mundo afora, de onde passei ate aonde so em sonho chegarei.

De la, fui e voltei por um fim de semana para Berkeley - aonde decidi ir estudar. Ja havia visitado a escola, cidade e regiao antes, entao decidi passar menos tempo la por agora. Fui, ao inves, mais tempo em seguida ao Texas e Michigan (passando pelo Colorado, aonde agora estou). Nesses dois outros cantos desta grande planicie central deste continente, exitem duas grandes universidades publicas: Texas A&M University e Michigan State University. A segunda, em particular, abriga um grande grupo de pesquisadoras e pesquisadores Brasileiros e que trabalham no Brasil (para este contexto norte-americano), e estive especialmente impressionado com a qualidade do programa de geografia la. No Texas, os dois professores especialistas no Brasil do departamento de geografia sao gente boa e providenciariam um bom trabalho se eu estivesse la, mas o resto da universidade e local nao providencia tantos recursos como Michigan State ou Berkeley. Texas, por sinal, justifica alguns preconceitos contra gringos (do estilo 'southern', 'sulistas') - o contraste entre Detroit ou Sao Francisco e qualquer parte de Texas fora de Austin e' particularmente chocante.

Detroit em particular foi um lugar que estou grato por ter visitado - uma cidade dita 'moribunda' pela falencia e abandono da industria automobilistica, afetada fortemente por anos de 'white flight', a 'fuga dos brancos' que largaram a cidade e criaram os suburbios ('suburbs' com a conotacao positiva de lugares tranquilos e bom de morar - fora da cidade) e agravada continuamente ate a decorrente crise imobiliaria nacinal - mas aonde encontrei muita gente boa com empenho e iniciativa de recriar a cidade melhor para quem la mora. Centros comunitarios, de saude alternativa, de alimentacao sadia, de cultura e consciencia livre, recebem uma gente sorridente, sempre com a mao em algum tipo de massa.

A comunidade com quem fiquei chama-se Fireweed, uma graminia nativa da peninsula de Michigan que forma predominantemente a flora local apos fogo, e conduzindo ao florecimento de todo o ecosistema em seguida. Essas mulheres, homens e criancas vivem nas 'piores' partes da cidade, aonde uma rua com 80 casas pode ter tao pocuas quanto 6 casas habitadas, retirando o entulho das casas e lotes, cultivando jardins comunitarios, e reconstruindo sustentavelmente casa por casa nas quais mais pessoas da comunidade possam viver. Um esforco admiravel.

Mas sao poucas essas pessoas, la, ca, em todos os lugares. Sao muitas que resistem, mas muitas que resistem sozinhas, e nao sabem quem nos machuca e contra quem devemos lutar. Aqui, lembra do policial na cabeca, veja a televisao, compre algo ou outro, tente se divertir enquanto trabalha, trabalha, paga conta, conta, conta...

Greener grasses

2010-03-27T13:28:00.002-03:00

The previous entry lists the insanity of my travels this past year. Exciting, sure, and definitely something I was looking forward to during those long, hard, lonely months of thesis writing, when I had my own little place in one of the most beautiful and good-livin towns in this continent. Back then, I was so ready to go - so ready to be out and about adventuring and not feeling locked in a miopic literature and a tiny studio, inside a bubble of a town. Now, well, I see - without any surprise - that in several moments of these wanderings I found myself longing for that studio, for that bubble, for that familiarity of home-ness. Not that I would gladly move back there, for what I had there is no longer, and what is there now is, it seems to me, a hazy brush that will smear itself away in the near future. And that is ok. In fact, that is more than ok, that is necessary, that is life rolling along.

I see the lush, green, plains of a future for me in the horizon. There is still a great traverse along the way, many months of preparation for what is to come. Months during which I must focus on a rest that I know I will not have in that quiet place further on, a rest that I will long for then, from the freedom I have now, even if this freedom feels, at times, like the freedom of a man falling the longest shaft into the bowels of the earth. I know it will be over in the blink of an eye, like the dreams of falling that end as soon as the eyes open up, and the same will happen to this liberty and liber-litigiousness of youth that I swim through now.

The fact the future is always on my mind is not necessarily a bad thing, a grass-is-greener story where I am not content where I am at. In fact, it is, for me, the recognition that "where I am at" is a movement, not a place, a movement towards something, somewhere, someone? It need not be a move-to-arrive, but it must be a movement, it need not be a move-to-find but a finding that continues unfolding, not a move-to-someone but - and here is what I want - a movement with someone, a dance, a stroll hand in hand towards this continuity of life.

And you know what is good about green grasses?

To roll down its hills

To picnic on its warmth

To fly frisbees over it

To play barefoot on its softness

To feel overwhelmed with awe at all the colors and shapes and life that are the green grasses

So, there is nothing wrong with searching on for greener grasses

That does not mean I am not already barefoot, rolling and picnic-ing!

;)

Milhas e milhas...

2010-03-27T13:14:00.002-03:00

Se estivesse arrecadando milhas com a mesma companhia aerea, eu ja poderia visitar a China ainda esse ano! Veja a loucura de meu itinerario, des de quando fechei meu apartamento no Colorado:

Nova Iorque, Washington, Orlando, Sarasota, Brasilia, Entorno, Rio Grande do Sul, Brasilia, Entorno, Qosqo, vale do Urubamba, Puno, Titicaca, La Paz, Cochabamba, La Paz, Oruro, Uyuni, Potosi, Sucre, Santa Cruz, Brasilia, Cabo Frio, Sao Paulo, Cabo Frio, Brasilia, Miami, Orlando, Berkeley, Sarasota, Orlando, College Station (TX), Boulder, East Lansing....

...e amanha vou para Detroit, depois volto para Boulder, depois tentarei levar de carro algumas de minhas coisas para o lugar aonde escolherei para minha pos graduacao: California, Michigan ou Texas. Depois, curta passagen por Nova Iorque e retorno para Brasilia... mas em uma semana sigo para Sao Paulo, depois vou para Presidente Prudente, e talvez visitarei tambem o Parana...

Coisa louca, aproveito como posso essa liberdade de tempo idade familia emprego e tudo mais para ficar exausto de tanto viajar - !

De passagen, on my way

2010-03-22T02:54:00.002-03:00

While I am travelling, I cannot always find time and a computer with which to write much now. Enquanto estou viajando, nem sempre encontro o tempo e computador com o qual escrever muito por agora. Thats why things will have to come up as in retrospect alongside the next few months. Por isso as coisas terao de se passar como se fossem retrospectivas ao longo dos proximos poucos meses. See, it would even be nice to just rewrite some of the stuff from one language to anotehr, since I know not all0yall understand portuguese. Veja, seria ate legal reescrever as coisas de uma lingua para a outra, afinal sei que nem todas oceis intendem bem ingles. But anyway,things have been great, I am so happy to see old friends and go to new places, much love.. Mas entao, as coisas aqui tem sido otimas, estou tao feliz em rever antigas amizades e ver novos lugares, com muito amor..

Deixar, seguir

2010-03-16T12:43:00.002-03:00

It is time to leave Florida - I know not when I will come back. Longer and longer each time, perhaps, but I do not feel that I will ever lose the touch with this sandy sand bar or the people that have shared love on it with me. Wherever we are.

I will continue moving,

Soon it will be time to start anew and to reinvent the days and to set new sights on new grounds and new projects with new sounds - !

Peach Plum Pear

2010-03-13T01:07:00.001-03:00

We speak in the store
I'm a sensitive bore
you seem markedly more
and I'm oozing suprise.

But it's late in the day
and you're well on your way
what was golden went gray
and I'm suddenly shy.

And the gathering floozies
afford to be choosy
and all sneezing darkly
in the dimming divide.

I have read the right books
to interpret your looks
you were knocking me down
with the palm of your eye.

Go Na na na na na na na na na na
na na na na na na na na na na
na na na na na na na na

This was unlike the story
it was written to be
I was riding its back
when it used to ride me.

And we were galloping manic
to the mouth of the source
we were swallowing panic
in the face of its force.

And I am blue, I am blue, and unwell,
made me bolt like a horse.

ooh, Na na na na na na na na na na
na na na na na na na na na na
na na na na na na na na

Now it's done.
Watch it go.
You've changed some.
Water run from the snow.

Am I so dear?
Do I run rare?
And you've changed some:
peach, plum, pear.

A Horse With No Name

2010-03-05T12:35:00.001-03:00

On the first part of the journey,
I was looking at all the life.
There were plants and birds, and rocks and things,
There was sand and hills and rings.
The first thing I met, was a fly with a buzz,
And the sky, with no clouds.
The heat was hot, and the ground was dry,
But the air was full of sound.

I've been through the desert on a horse with no name,
It felt good to be out of the rain.
In the desert you can remember your name,
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain.
Laa, laa, la la la la, la la la, la, la.
Laa, laa, la la la la, la la la, la, la!

After two days, in the desert sun,
My skin began to turn red.
After three days, in the desert fun,
I was looking at a river bed.
And the story it told, of a river that flowed,
Made me sad to think it was dead.

You see I've been through the desert on a horse with no name,
It felt good to be out of the rain.
In the desert you can remember your name,
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain.
Laa laa, la, la la la la, la la la, la, la.
Laa laa, la, la la la la, la la la, la, la!

After nine days, I let the horse run free,
'Cause the desert had turned to sea.
There were plants and birds, and rocks and things,
There was sand and hills and rings.
The ocean is a desert, with its life underground,
And a perfect disguise above.
Under the cities lies, a heart made of ground,
But the humans will give no love.

You see I've been through the desert on a horse with no name,
It felt good to be out of the rain.
In the desert you can remember your name,
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain.

Laa laa, la, la la la la, la la la, la, la.
Laa laa, la, la la la la, la la la, la, la!
La la, laa, la la la la, la la la, la, la.
La la, laa, la la la la, la la la, la, la!
La, laa, la la la la, la la la, la, la.
La laa, la, la la la la, la la la, la, la!
La, la, la la la la, la la la, la, la!
La la, la, la la la la, la la la, la, la!

Outro Governador abaixo, mas, ainda, o Governo continua...

2010-02-24T14:43:00.002-03:00

No mesmo dia que o DEM ameaça expulsar Paulo Octávio em 24 horas, e apesar de continuar sem sequer ameaça de prisão, P.O. pede desfiliação e em seqüência renuncia o cargo de Vice-Governador do GDF. Assume, portanto, o até então presidente da Câmara Legislativa Wilson Lima (PR), Arrudista descarado, que já havia recebido este cargo após a renúncia de Leonardo “Das Meias” Prudente (ex-DEM). Prudente renunciou do cargo de presidente da Câmara, note, mas não do cargo de Deputado Distrital. Ele, assim como todos os outros acusados, continua alegando sua inocência e segurando “nas abas de saias”, com havia dito antes, para se manter em seu cargo. A diferença agora é que as “saias” não são mais as de Paulo Octávio, mas de Wilson Lima, que, apesar de também ser acusado no mesmo esquema de corrupção que Paulo Octávio, ao contrário daquele, sorri com “o apoio do secretariado e... até da Câmara Legislativa”, conforme diz o Secretário de Transportes Alberto Fraga. Este continua: “Não vejo anormalidade no governo. Temos que nos unir contra esse golpe da intervenção.”

O governo zumbi que foi impossível para Paulo Octávio, portanto, continua sendo o sonho da politicagem Brasiliense, para quem a intervenção Federal soa cada vez mais como pesadelo. Wilson Lima já adotou a expressão que eu utilizei no dia que Arruda foi preso – ele disse a Folha “que está disposto a fazer ‘um sacrifício pessoal’ para garantir a governabilidade da capital federal e evitar uma intervenção da União.” Tudo indica que este “sacrifício” seria deixar de lado sua campanha por reeleição para continuar no cargo de Governador Interino até Janeiro, ou, putz, até um possível habeas corpus para Arruda antes de seu impeachment. Um impeachment que parece andar mais rápido agora que antes da renúncia de Paulo Octávio, pois, afinal, o governo zumbi agrega os interesses da politicagem Brasiliense toda, dês dos Deputados ex-DEM até os do PT-DF. O presidente em exercício da Câmara Legislativa após a ascensão de Wilson Lima ao Palácio do Buriti, Cabo Patrício (PT), indica com toda certeza seu objetivo: “A Câmara começa a tomar atitudes em função da pressão do Judiciário. Essa pressão fará os pedidos de impeachment andarem rápido. Os deputados precisam transformar em ação o discurso contra a intervenção.” Ou seja, vamos logo acabar com a possibilidade do retorno de Arruda para que não haja mais tanta motivação para intervenção Federal – que também causaria a dissolução da Câmara Legislativa – para que essa putaria que ainda está em Brasília siga governando. Afinal, o governo zumbi é como disse antes, “oposição” e “base aliada” se unem para evitar não perderem seus mandatos e desarticular seus planos de reeleição devido a intervenção Federal. De acordo com Cabo Patrício, “O PT é oposição mas não vai fazer cavalo de batalha com o governo,” pois, ora, Patrício mesmo é acusado de beneficiar a empresa do governista “Das Meias” Prudente!

Enquanto durar o governo zumbi de Wilson Lima, sua putrefação deve também afetar os órgãos e movimentos sociais que tem até então se posicionado como atores da desmancha do governo Demista. Afinal, o PT não entrará com um pedido de impeachment de mais um Governador – Wilson Lima nesse caso – que apesar de estar envolvido no mesmo esquema de corrupção dos dois anteriores a assombrarem o Palácio do Buriti, deixa um Petista na presidência da Câmara e as alternativas de intervenção Federal ou eleições extraordinárias indiretas por uma Câmara da qual são minoria. Nesta situação, é duvidoso se a OAB, a CUT, o PSB e o PCdoB, os outros impeachment-istas, teriam motivação para seguir naquela estratégia. Agora sem todas estas siglas, o que restaria para fazer oposição ao governo zumbi? Claro! O Movimento “popular” Fora Arruda, que se estendeu bagunçadamente para “Movimento Fora Arruda e P.O.”, e agora poderia vir a se chamar “Movimento Fora Arruda, P.O. e Wilson Lima.” Por que digo isso com tanto sarcasmo? Por que este movimento “popular” (que eu antes ignorei dizendo que “não havia um movimento popular” na derrubada de Arruda e pela construção de um novo modo de se governar) não é um agente de mudanças no DF, mas um mero seguidor de acontecimentos com protestos, conforme sua própria auto-caracterização por seus nomes – uma mera negação de Arruda, depois de Paulo Octávio, e agora nem está claro se terão coesão suficiente para fazer oposição à Wilson Lima. Veja quem integra este movimento – militantes do PSTU, PSOL e outras minorias que querem fazer uma oposição “esquerdista” ao Governo, mas nem adotam formas de ação inovadoras que pudessem afetar a governabilidade, nem recebem apoio popular no sentido de serem capazes de mobilizar as centenas de milhares de pessoas do Distrito Federal.

Com todo o nojo de dizer isso, seria até possível que um habeas corpus para Arruda pudesse vir em boa hora! Isso atiçaria um pouco mais a população, que poderia vir a realmente tornar popular o Movimento Fora Arruda. E a politicagem joga de mãos abertas! "A ordem é garantir a normalidade e, em conseqüência, a governabilidade e a não paralisia de qualquer órgão, de qualquer obras", disse o Secretário Fraga. Onde estão os elos fracos então? Onde estão os focos estratégicos para mobilização de massa e ações de oposição ao governo? Óbvio! Nas obras iniciadas por Arruda-P.O. que tem data marcada para a inauguração de Brasília e dedos sujos em todos seus orçamentos! Nos órgãos governamentais que compõe o governo fora da Câmara e do Palácio do Buriti e aonde sempre faltam verbas, desviadas para a própria Câmara e Buriti! Então se o PT e a CUT não são mais espaços aonde as trabalhadoras possam se organizar para fazer as greves nas obras e nos órgãos que deveriam estar se preparando para entrar em greve, e se o PSTU e o PSOL não tem a formação política para levar adiante ocupações destas obras e órgãos como deveriam fazer conforme sua mentalidade vanguardista, cabe a nós ter esperança que “o povo” em uma massificação do Movimento Fora Arruda pudesse tomar uma atitude de classe séria contra o governo.

Mas ainda existe muito medo e ignorância. Temos medo que isso “só agravaria a intervenção” e somos ignorantes das múltiplas possibilidades de democracia que poderíamos utilizar para mudar como organizar e governar a nós mesmos. Repito: atente a isto, pois esta é uma crucial falha nossa.

Dois da boca de trás do fogão...

2010-02-18T23:58:00.003-03:00

Há dois assuntos sobre os quais amizades minhas tem me perguntado bastante mas eu não tenho escrito nada: minha visita a Escola Nacional Florestan Fernandes (ENFF) para uma plenária da Via Campesina, e um simpósio sobre as relações Brasil-China entre membros de seus respectivos partidos governistas.

Para mim, é interessante pensar nos grandes contrastes entre estes dois eventos, e talvez por isso tenha sido melhor para mim esperar até agora, que os dois já são passados e pensados, para escrever sobre ambos. Sei também que tenho pensado sobre que língua usar para escrever sobre assuntos como esses, que são perguntados a mim em Português mas eram os assuntos de maior interesse de minhas amizades Anglófonas. Solução: tentarei re-escrever sobre isso posteriormente em Inglês. Talvez por isso, tentarei dizer menos sobre os assuntos nas duas versões.

Primeiro, a ENFF, para quem não conhece, é uma instituição de educação superior e formação política construída pelo MST em Guararema-SP, que acaba de celebrar seus 5 anos de inauguração no início deste mês. O local é rural, mas rente ao perímetro urbano da Grande São Paulo, e o espaço é grande, inclui uma pequena área residencial para os que lá vivem e trabalham, uma área espaçosa para cozinhar, comer e se divertir em grandes grupos, uma área com boa estrutura para classes e encontros, seja em salas menores ou em plenária maior, além de uma pequena biblioteca e uma sala de computadores, bastante espaço com dormitórios para alunas em tempo-escola ou participantes de encontros, e por fim, muito mais espaço para criação de animais (vacas, coelhos), horta e pomar, e até um campo de futebol. Chamo atenção que nessa descrição se encontra um ambiente comunitário muito mais completo do que dispõem a grande maioria de instituições de educação de nosso país. Talvez isso seja devido ao "meio urbano" ou a falta de recursos, mas o fator predominante, em minha opinião, é a estrutura política que diferencia.

A ENFF foi construída como uma instituição de classe, por sua classe (ainda que com o apoio de pessoas vindas de todas as classes, como a contribuição de Sebastião Salgado da renda de seu trabalho sobre o MST, e também de Chico Buarque). Logo, a ENFF foi planejada para se conformar as demandas de educação apropriadas para esta classe - como o espaço residencial e dormitórios para os participantes em "ambas as pontas" da educação lá proferida. Para quem não leu minha descrição sobre o Instituto Educar, que visitei ano passado no Sul, vale ler para tomar uma noção de conceitos como tempo-comunidade/tempo-escola, que também compõe a estrutura da ENFF. Outra característica comum é a organização dos participantes (não só nos cursos regulares, mas também em encontros como o da Via no qual participei) em "núcleos de base" ou "brigadas" para compartir muito do trabalho do dia-a-dia. No entanto, na ENFF, a "brigada da casa" cuida de toda a produção por conta própria durante encontros.

A ENFF representa a capacidade das classes trabalhadoras de construírem sua própria sociedade. Vão construindo assim, aos miúdos, tijolo por tijolo e escola por escola, isso enquanto a disputa é aberta, mas a luta é abafada. De certo modo, representa a tática de acumulo de forças, mas diferencia criticamente da estratégia do PT de chamar ganhos eleitorais e burocratização de "acumulo de forças" ao invés do que realmente é, acumulo de cargos. As forças acumuladas na ENFF não são só concretizadas na educação e formação que muitos obtêm, ainda que esta seja sua mais clara expressão, mas também em todas as outras articulações e eventos que ocorrem naquele espaço (como a plenária da Via que presenciei). "Ter nosso próprio lugar, com toda infra-estrutura necessária, conforto, e orgulho que nós mesmas construímos" é, profundamente, a maior força que pode ser "acumulada" na ENFF por todas as pessoas que dela participam. Em termos materiais, os movimentos camponeses no Brasil, e o MST em particular, não necessitam da caridade e nem dependem da solidariedade, possivelmente instável, de nenhuma instituição (acadêmica, religiosa, sindical ou partidária) para as atividades de educação, formação, e auto-gestão que requerem tal espaço. E isso permite uma conquista ideológica de que realmente é possível que os camponeses, em solidariedade com as forças progressistas das outras classes, possam construir nossa própria sociedade.

Em relação ao encontro da Via em si, direi muito menos. Para discutir o conteúdo da plenária, as leitoras teriam de ser bastante familiares com a situação já por conta própria, e não caberia a mim ser o porta-voz de notícias melhor recebidas por outras vias. Mas para as que não são tão familiares, direi o que se passou a nível apropriado. Foi um encontro, o segundo, de nível nacional dos movimentos sociais e organizações que compõe a Via Campesina Brasil, para avaliar seu desempenho dês da primeira plenária, mais ou menos dois anos atrás, e se preparar conjuntamente para os próximos mais ou menos dois anos. A Via é composta das seguintes organizações no Brasil: MST, Movimento dos Atingidos por Barragens (MAB), Movimento das Mulheres Camponesas (MMC), Movimento dos Pequenos Agricultores (MPA), Comissão Pastoral da Terra (CPT), Pastoral da Juventude Rural (PJR), Federação dos Estudantes de Agronomia do Brasil (FEAB), Associação Brasileira dos Estudantes de Engenharia Florestal (ABEEF), e o Conselho Indigenista Missionário (CIMI).

É relevante notar que nem todas as integrantes são explicitamente camponesas, como a CPT, a FEAB e a ABEEF, além do caso específico do CIMI (que nem uma organização explicitamente indígena é, mas de missionários). Isto por que a luta pela expansão e fortalecimento do território camponês é a linha de frente de uma luta mais ampla por soberania alimentar e poder popular. De todo o conteúdo da plenária, realçarei somente este: a necessidade feita explicita de expandir o leque de alianças para as classes trabalhadoras tanto na cidade como no campo. Quinze tratoristas, foi dito, poderiam paralisar a produção de centenas ou milhares de hectares, algo que levaria a mobilização de centenas de camponeses em ocupação para obter semelhante resultado. Ainda mais, diante de uma suposta ocupação, as trabalhadoras assalariadas são possivelmente alienadas da luta, e poderiam até ver no proprietário ou agronegócio um aliado de quem obtêm seu emprego e sua renda – a busca por aliança com trabalhadoras rurais assalariadas, então, poderia constituir um salto qualitativo na expansão da luta pelo território camponês. O objetivo seria materializar esta aliança para redesenhar o sistema de produção agrícola como um todo, inclusive as indústrias agrícolas.

Deixando de lado maiores detalhes sobre a ENFF ou a Via, sigo com uma descrição dos eventos em Brasília entre os partidos governistas do Brasil e da China. Este evento foi o terceiro simpósio entre os partidos, o primeiro ocorreu em 2007, e este foi dito o de maior participação, em sua grande maioria de membros do PT e de organizações aliadas e interessadas (como representantes do PSB e do PCdoB, de órgãos governamentais como ministérios e agências estatais, de sindicatos e de movimentos sociais). O programa incluiu três temas, sobre cada qual um palestrante Brasileiro e um Chinês discursaram e responderam algumas perguntas: a visão do Brasil e da China sobre a África, a visão dos mesmos sobre suas relações mútuas, e a visão dos mesmos sobre uma “nova ordem internacional”.

As palestras Chinesas foram tiradas diretamente dos textos entregues, que também seguiam diretamente a linha partidária promovida por membros mais acima na hierarquia, tanto em eventos domésticos quanto em visitas anteriores ao Brasil. As respostas que davam as perguntas também eram baseadas em maiores detalhes, especialmente estatísticos, sobre os mesmos temas já abordados em seus textos. Ou seja, não houve oportunidade nenhuma para se aprender nada de novo que não pudesse ser estudado por conta própria através de textos. Isto considerando somente o conteúdo das apresentações.

Em contraste, as palestras Brasileiras foram quase conversas soltas que seguiam mais ou menos a seqüência dos argumentos dos textos nas quais eram baseadas. As respostas, por serem ainda mais informais que os textos e palestras, continham não só um conteúdo mais explícito em termos de nomes de pessoas e descrições de eventos somente aludidos nos textos, mas também revelavam muito mais claramente a posição ideológica dos palestrantes e do partido e governo que representam. Não é que o conteúdo dessas palestras era informativo, pois o mesmo poderia ser aprendido, e com mais detalhes, em um estudo de textos, mas que esta diferença entre conteúdo-texto e conteúdo-debate faz mais explícito o que foi interessante e importante aprender durante o evento: as relações humanas por trás desta política.

Ora, se ninguém deveria atender estes seminários para ser informado, e o evento obviamente não definia linhas de política mas meramente as defendia, justificava, e propagandeava, só poderiam participar pessoas com três objetivos: primeiro, se alguém lá achava que estava sendo informado e sentindo-se beneficiado por esse conteúdo, era um bobo alegre que não se passa de alvo para as pessoas com o segundo objetivo, de propagandear a linha política pré-estabelecida em âmbitos muito menos discursivos e participativos. Isto é, o PT se encontra como governo com membros do governo Chinês e decide todo o fino e o grosso de suas políticas entre si (e notem também, com a África), e depois convida membros faladores entre sua base, seus aliados e movimentos sociais para justificar e propagandear suas decisões. Este era o objetivo formal do evento. O informal, o terceiro objetivo pelo qual alguém poderia estar por lá, era simplesmente de fazer seus próprios contatos, o que os Chineses chamam de guanxi e os estadunidenses de networking.

Aí que entra muita politicagem, e aí que entram muitas boas oportunidades também. Eu, por exemplo, conheci um filho do Wladimir Pomar que se formou como geógrafo e já trabalhou na área que estarei pesquisando – e este contato certamente me ajudará na obtenção de dados e mais guanxi para avançar minha pesquisa. A guanxi que outras pessoas fizeram por lá ficará para sempre “perdida” nas centenas de histórias daqueles momentos, e eu só lidarei com isso no contexto maior do evento como um todo. Veja, a função propagandista da delegação Chinesa era obviamente complementada com uma função de arrecadar informações sobre a “opinião pública” Brasileira sobre seu projeto. A guanxi feita entre a delegação Chinesa e algumas pessoas lá que poderiam articular o apoio a política delas em paralelo a sua própria (isto é, a do PT) são extremamente importantes na consolidação de um projeto global de industrialização guiado pela retórica de nacional-desenvolvimentismo.

O PT nunca esteve tão contente nos últimos vinte anos em falar de socialismo, quando o socialismo a ser admirado é o modelo Chinês, e os Chineses nunca estiveram tão preocupados em diferenciar sua relação com a África e America Latina dos Europeus e Estadunidenses – o que antes era chamado neo-colonialismo agora é chamado parceria para desenvolvimento. Seria como se a relação atual fosse “nova” somente por que se esquece que os Europeus e Estadunidenses também se justificavam (e seguem se justificando) que sua colonização era em nome “da civilização.”

Então, nós e a África, que antes “não éramos civilizados” e por isso “precisávamos” da colonização Européia, agora “não somos desenvolvidos” e por isso precisamos do apoio Chinês. Precisamos seguir fielmente o modelo de industrialização com mão-de-obra barata para exportação, precisamos atrair ainda mais investimentos estrangeiros, e precisamos apoiar um império econômico Chinês simplesmente por este não ser Estadunidense ou Europeu.

E ignoremos o fato de que a China já havia completado uma reforma agrária revolucionária, que seus trabalhadores então podem voltar para suas terras nos períodos de crise de superprodução, que seu mercado interno é subsidiado diretamente por um estado que elimina impostos dos camponeses reconhecendo sua dívida para com a classe que continua sendo posta em desvantagem com a política de industrialização... Por que se ignoramos isso tudo podemos até fingir que o nacional-desenvolvimentismo Petista conseguirá o sucesso do crescimento econômico, da industrialização globalmente competitiva, do estado de bem-estar social regularmente financiado.... isto é, podemos até acreditar que o PT conseguirá o que nenhum partido capitalista conseguiu: construir um país capitalista de liderança no mundo! E o PT conseguirá isso, lembre-se do esquecimento, sem ter que fazer a revolução socialista e a reforma agrária que a China havia feito!

Mas então, dentro deste clima áspero de justificativas para mais-do-mesmo, eu posso dizer que eu aprendi muito sobre como me comportar e lidar com esse tipo de gente. Pensei e discuti o tema bastante com uma pessoa que está acostumada a lidar com essas relações complicadas, com gente do tipo desses Partidos. Para mim, é uma mudança extremamente importante, de ativista estadunidense que se orgulha de falar-a-verdade-ao-poder, para alguém que para pra pensar sobre a situação e fica quieto, e quando fala, fala não para dizer uma verdade que será ignorada ou rejeitada, mas fala como Chinês – indiretamente, rodando em volta dos pontos de conflito, e buscando a posição estratégica para ficar por cima do inimigo antes que ele perceba o que está se passando.

Carnaval a candanga

2010-02-16T09:42:00.001-03:00

Pra lá de Formosa, saindo à direita ao lado de uma padaria na comunidade de Bezerra, entra-se numas estradas de chão que passam pelo meio de algumas fazendas e fazendinhas e chegam (pegando o caminho certo) em uma nascente chamada Poço Azul. O cerrado ainda vive verde forte nas encostas das chapadinhas ao norte, e muita água desce de uns morrinhos ao sul, enchendo o que agora é pasto de buritis solteiros, e em algum lugar ali no meio, ao lado de um paredão de pedra e escondido embaixo de grossas árvores fechadas entre si por mato e cipó, brota do chão uma água fresquinha e – normalmente – completamente transparente.

Mas era carnaval, e até chegarmos lá uma grande família com toda sua molecada já estava saindo da nascente, deixando pra traz a água removida com areia das bordas nevoando a nascente todinha… Há uma grande árvore caída que atravessa o poço da nascente, uma ponte natural que facilita entrar no poço sem remexer a areia nas bordas, de lá podendo mergulhar diretamente no miolo azul sem macular sua transparência. Nadamos e ficamos como tartarugas no tronco, batendo papo e esperando a nascente clarear.

E assim fizemos até, algumas poucas horas depois, outro grupinho como aquele chegar. Decidimos seguir então, de volta para a estrada e mais além de Bezerra, até umas pamonharias, aonde complementamos nossos lanches de biscoitos e frutas com, claro, pamonhas e cerveja. Lá recebemos informações de como chegar a um sítio arqueológico na região, chamada Bisnal, e conhecido por lá como a “pedra escrivida”, e depois seguir para uma cachoeira ali perto. O conhecimento da região é incrível para quem está acostumado a passar por inumeráveis “regiões” sem nunca imaginar toda essa história e essa beleza natural por todos os lados. Atrás das pamonharias e de uma fazendinha (passe três mata-burros, vire a esquerda, se a cancela ao lado do riacho estiver aberta é só seguir, passe mais três cancelas e) lá está uma grande chapa de rocha preta, inclinada ao pé de uma encosta, com desenhos entalhados que só poderiam ser obra da mão humana. Círculos e linhas em padrões que lembram mapas de bacias hidrográficas ou constelações e marcas que parecem para relógios de sol se espalham por dezenas de metros sobre toda a rocha. O sol forte enche de calor a rocha negra aos pés e os olhos de luz no descampado desta encosta de cerradão. Ficamos nos perguntando que civilização fez isso, como, quando e por que.

Levamos nossos pensamentos para ficar de molho na cachoeira, dentro de uma fazendinha que até construiu um banheirinho lá ao lado do topo da queda, aonde poderíamos ir de até carro e seria fácil levar a tranqueira toda para fazer churrasco. Mas já era o meio da tarde e não sentíamos fôlego de comer nada que não fosse fruta e água fresca da mão pra boca, muito menos de escalar a cachoeira até seu poço, muitas dezenas de metros abaixo. Um abraço de água aos ombros na primeira quedinha, um poço embaixo duma outra quedinha que borbulha e contorce a água para dentro de si igual a uma banheira de massagem, e se estirar nas pedras entre as águas que vão se esticando e tomando velocidade em direção aos saltos um pouco mais além… tudo isso dentro da sombra fresca que circunda o riacho e desacostuma os olhos com o sol forte que ainda batia no morro ao leste, subindo quase como uma montanha por detrás do vale no qual a cachoeira se atirava.

Ficamos até o sol ficar abaixo da vontade de voltar, chegamos de volta nas cidades já escurecendo, comemos umas pizzas, tomamos banho, e assim fechamos uma boa segunda feira de carnaval.

Paulo Octávio continua...

2010-02-13T22:23:00.000-03:00

Na primeira versão to texto que escrevi sobre a prisão de Arruda, eu não mencionava a possibilidade de intervensão pelo Governo Federal. O “debate” considerado era somente entre manter Paulo Octávio como Governador até janeiro do ano seguinte, ou, prendendo também Paulo Octávio e todos os deputados distritais envolvidos (e deixando assim tanto o executivo quanto o legislativo incapacitados de assumir o cargo), deixar que o judiciário convocasse eleições extraordinárias – isso na véspera das eleições gerais.

Imediatamente após publicar aquela versão, minha atenção foi chamada por uma companheira que o STF poderia requerir intervenção pelo Governo Federal, com tom de que “Lula indicará um suplente” e isso será algo a celebrar. O STF até que se manifestou no dia seguinte para negar o habeas corpus de Arruda, mas está enrolando uma decisão sobre intervenção. Esta enrolação, agora se nota, vai durar até, no mínimo, o fim do carnaval.

Enquanto isso, Lula já pronuncia que uma intervenção seria feita com desânimo e sentimento de obrigação. Isso ainda sendo a “solução” de menos problemas colaterais para todos os que não tiram os olhos das eleições no fim do ano – e não cogitam uma eleição extraordinária de nenhuma maneira.

E enquanto isso, Paulo Octávio começa a usar a posição surrupiada de Governador para tentar amontoar embaixo de seus pés merda o suficiente para que ele continue sem afundar – pediu que todos os secretários colocassem seus cargos a sua disposição e iniciou uma ronda de todos os partidos com presença no Distrito Federal para tentar costurar uma base de apoio para um governo Frankenstein, uma perna pro PMDB e outra pro PPS, a mão esquerda pro PDT e a direita pro PSDB... seria um verdadeiro governo-zumbi, uma coisa morta e putrefata que, sabe-se lá por que magia negra, continua animando e assombrando o Palácio do Buriti.

Seria só mesmo “engraçado” que tal conjuração não poderia ser invocada com sucesso, mas o ridículo é que essa impossibilidade não se deve a contínua oposição do PT-DF, que levou para as cortes hoje, junto a CUT o PSB e a OAB, um pedido de impeachment de Paulo Octávio, muito menos a um “movimento popular” contra Paulo Octávio que não existe. A impossibilidade do governo-zumbi vem mesmo é, tãnãnãnããã! do bendito DEM! Rachados entre os “amigos do Arruda” e os “oportunistas” que só pensam em silenciar a expressão “Mensalão do DEM” que repercurte por toda a mídia duzentas e quarenta vezes por dia, o que resta desse partido demandou hoje que todos seus membros no Distrito Federal abandonem seus cargos até quarta-feira (17), não importando quem esteja (ou não esteja) no cargo de Governador.

Apesar de que Arruda já havia “saido de fininho” do DEM como mencionado antes, Paulo Octávio se mantinha, até ontem, como o presidente do DEM no Distrito Federal – cargo que ele largou hoje na tentativa de apasiguar os Demistas mais preocupados com a mídia que com “velhas amizades.” Mas ora, o recado para Paulo Octávio foi claro: se você quiser tentar se manter no cargo, terá de fazer isso por conta própria, pois nós não queremos nada mais com você!

E enquanto o PT-DF (junto com a CUT, o PSB e a OAB) entram com um redundante pedido de impeachment – um pedido, veja, que teria de ser recebido por uma Câmara Distrital entupida de Arrudistas que estariam ou presos também, ou tentando (até mesmo sem partido) se manter nos seus cargos apoiando Paulo Octávio e se segurando nas abas da saia dele – o DEM que agora quer se ver livre de Paulo Octávio e virar esta página da história se tornou o grupo mais vocal a favor da intervenção Federal!

Agora basta esperar os juízes terminarem de dançar seu samba e tomar suas cervejas de carnaval para que vejamos se um Paulo Octávio sem partido será o chefe de um gabinete de todos os partidos que se conformem com uma pastinha ou outra de um governo decrépito, na desculpa de que “temos que nos preparar para celebrar o aniversário de 50 anos de Brasília”; ou se alguem de fora será lançado pela mão de Lula, a pedido do DEM, em cima de um palanque para bendizer as mazelas da Cidade da Politicagem com clima de festa!

Como será lindo celebrar o meio século desta cidade – um espanto! – com seus até então Governador e Vice, além de uma cambada de deputados, assessores e outros do mesmo trêm da alegria, todos presos! Mas o grotesco será o Dilmismo no qual isso tudo estará vestido...

A derrubada de um Governador, mas não de um Governo

2010-02-11T20:48:00.004-03:00

Brasília, 11 de Fevereiro

Com a prisão preventiva do até então Governador do Distrito Federal Arruda, o Vice-Governador Paulo Otávio assume o cargo. Temporariamente, isto é, até a ação do Governo Federal amanhã para a indicação de um suplente ao cargo – aguardaremos atenciosamente estes desenvolvimentos, mas enquanto isso se pode dizer:

Arruda foi preso por tentativa de suborno de um jornalista – e o suborno era para que o jornalista publicasse uma série de artigos que atentassem contra a legitimidade dos vídeos nos quais Arruda e vários outros políticos e assessores são vistos aceitando dinheiro de suborno de várias empresas que buscavam favor com o Governo Distrital.

Isto é, a sentença pela qual Arruda está sendo condenado também deveria confirmar semelhante sentença a todos os outros envolvidos no esquema de corrupção – não só os outros cinco que estão sendo presos (ou já estava preso, no caso de um deles) por tentativa de suborno do tal jornalista. Mas então, o segundo a ser preso deveria ser o Vice-Governador Paulo Otávio, que, afinal, recebia 30% do dinheiro do esquema de corrupção, 10% só a menos que a parcela do próprio Governador Arruda (40%) e igual ao todo o restante (30%) do dinheiro distribuído pelas dúzias de outros políticos e assessores.

Mas Paulo Otávio ainda não está preso – por quê?

Há certamente muitos interesses em “abafar” recentes (divulgações de decorrentes) eventos no Governo Distrital, assim como houve interesse do DEM de desvincular de Arruda – mas de certo modo que o partido não buscasse retomar o cargo, em “punição” de Arruda, como poderia se esperar de um partido que realmente sentiu-se obrigado a romper laços não só com Arruda e sua laia política e empresarial mas também com esta prática de politicagem. Ora, Arruda “saiu de fininho” do DEM por que não interessaria a ele ser expulso, homem com fachada sórdida que já se encontra, e o DEM aceitou essa “resolução” contente e silenciosamente por que não interessaria a eles realmente mudar o *Governo* do Distrito Federal que continua – e eles querem que continue – a sua disposição.

A prisão de Arruda, portanto, poderia ser o sacrifício do órgão gangrenado para a salvação do resto do “corpo” Governamental (que é, diga-se, o “corpo” empresarial, representado no corpo de Paulo Otávio). Isto não ocorre necessariamente por que Paulo Otávio “tem costas mais quentes” com a classe empresarial ou burocrática-Federal que os sustenta, pois ele está sendo entregue meramente o “corpo defunto” do Governo DEMista do Distrito Federal temporariamente, isto é, até a ação do Governo Federal amanhã para a indicação de um suplente ao cargo. O golpe executado através de arapongas e jornalistas que “jogam nos dois lados” não favorece abertamente nenhum outro grupo, senão uma oposição partidária-eleitoral ao Governo do Distrito Federal, como um retorno de Roriz e sua laia na próxima disputa eleitoral, e o reforço a base governista do Governo Federal. A questão da extensão ou possíveis contrastes entre membros das classes empresariais e burocráticas (em ambos níveis Distrital e Federal) nas respectivas “laias” de Arruda, Roriz, DEM ou PT é um assunto interessante mas pouco pertinente para maioria que não toma parte na “política” a esse nível – isto é, na politicagem eleitoral que assola nosso país.

O assunto pertinente para maioria das pessoas do Distrito Federal, assim como do resto do país, é a sobreposição dos interesses empresariais e burocráticos nesta “transição” orquestrada com a derrubada do Governo de Arruda.

Os interesses burocráticos em uma “transição” sutil e gradual visam uma troca de cargos políticos através das eleições regulares do fim deste ano, para iniciar um novo Governo da própria oposição partidária pelos próximos quatro anos (com a possibilidade de uma reeleição em 2014). Não haveria interesse em nenhum burocrata de carreira, por outro lado, em assumir o cargo de Governador até somente janeiro de 2011 através das eleições extraordinárias que *deveriam* ser convocadas em 30 dias pelo Presidente do Judiciário no Distrito Federal. Este assumiria o cargo de Governador após a devida prisão do Vice-Presidente, Paulo Otávio, assim como do Presidente da Câmara Distrital, que também está envolvido no esquema de corrupção que fundamenta o golpe contra Arruda. Mas quem quer assumisse o cargo nestas circunstâncias eliminaria assim suas possibilidades de concorrer por qualquer outro cargo político durante os próximos quatro anos, devido à atual legislação do Superior Tribunal Eleitoral, algo que nenhum burocrata de carreira teria gosto por fazer.

Ainda assim, a oposição eleitoral poderia simplesmente levantar a sua bandeira por trás de qualquer burocrata de viés mais “técnico” que aceitasse o “sacrifício” do cargo através de eleições extraordinárias. Mas porquê se dar o trabalho de disputar não só uma, mas *duas* eleições, arriscando uma reação contrária ao candidato “titular” em Novembro devido as possíveis mazelas atribuídas ao Governador “temporário” aliado? Ainda além da politicagem eleitoral Distrital, pra que transformar este problema, ainda geralmente “contido” ao Distrito Federal, em um lance prévio de expectativa das eleições Federais de Novembro, que poderia afetar tanto a legitimidade dos partidos mais de direita (DEM e PSDB), quanto provocar uma possível reação por parte do de “centro” (PMDB) a consolidar em si mesmos uma “frente ampla” de oposição a candidata do PT? Lógico, nem PSDBistas nem Petistas a nível Distrital ou Federal querem “chacoalhar muito a canoinha” em vésperas de eleição!

A decisão a ser tomada amanhã então pelo Governo Federal de intervenção e designação de um Governador suplente para o Governo do Distrito Federal é a estratégia favorecida pelo grupo que está agora, por esse golpe, levando vantagem na politicagem. Mas é aqui também que entra o último elo que acorrenta esta forma de governar às mãos do Diabo - a sobreposição dos interesses empresariais junto aos burocráticos nesta “transição” orquestrada pelo Governo Federal.

Seja com Arruda, Paulo Otávio, Roriz ou algum Petista, a estrutura burocrática dos Governos (Distrital, Estaduais e Federal) foi moldada junto ao desenvolvimento do empresariado capitalista em nosso país, fosse este de caráter estatal ou privado, nacional ou transnacional, indivíduo ou corporativo. A derrubada de Arruda é um *golpe* no sentido mais limitado de transição política entre grupos de elite – a esmagadora maioria da participação popular no evento foi financiada e controlada pelos interesses das elites relacionadas – e o “desfecho” do golpe é apropriadamente jurídico em caráter, feito *em nome* da democracia (e não é, portanto, político no senso de envolver a atividade política da população, um evento democrático) e será completado por intervenção institucional do Governo Federal ao invés de uma resolução no mínimo nominalmente democrática como a via eleitoral.

Se há alguma mudança de força política entre as classes econômicas durante a transição (assim como se espera refletir na classe burocrática através da ação Federal amanhã), esta não é uma disputa de *governo*, mas de quem governa, ou em outras palavras, não é uma disputa política, de Estado, de forma de organização social, mas somente uma disputa de politicagem, de administração em benefício maior desses ou daqueles membros da mesma classe, mantendo a mesma estrutura de relações sociais.

O esperado para amanhã é o óbvio: a determinação de um Governador temporário da base governista do PT que buscará apoiar as candidaturas Petistas e aliadas nas eleições Distritais e Federais *mantendo* o apoio das alianças (mesmo que redesenhadas entre alguns de seus membros) das classes empresariais e burocráticas.

O simbolismo de Paulo Otávio não ter sido preso reflete o fracasso das classes trabalhadoras (incluindo, além dos trabalhadores nas redes privadas, os nossos poucos trabalhadores no campo, camponeses, assim como as classes urbanas ditas “médias”, numerosas no Distrito Federal, que atuam nos vários setores de serviços burocráticos dês da educação, saúde, polícia, até nos órgãos gestores dos Governos em si) de reconhecer seu interesse comum e tomar consciência de classe para assumir o controle do Governo e o desvincular do controle das classes empresarias e burocráticas – isto é, de destruir esta atual estrutura burocrática de governo (e de politicagem eleitoral) e reconstruir um novo modo de se governar.

A ação de Lula amanhã será considerada como uma vitória “do povo” Brasileiro, ou até mesmo “dos trabalhadores” Brasileiros, quando na verdade será somente a mais recente cooptação do que deveria ser a atividade das classes trabalhadoras de reconstruir um novo modo de se governar após a derrubada do Governo Arruda, pois tal será prevenida e travestida por uma ação burocrático-eleitoral com objetivos únicos de fortalecer a aliança burocrático-empresarial articulada em torno de um projeto de nacional-desenvolvimentismo capitalista tão sustentável quanto original – isto é, nem um nem outro.

Não há e não houve dentro da maioria dos órgãos de representação e ação de classe um debate sério sobre como executar uma reestruturação de poder dentro da oportunidade de crise política ocasionada pelo golpe. Se este não se iniciar e alastrar logo, perderemos até a oportunidade para aprender desta situação o que realmente é importante e nos preparar para os subseqüentes momentos de crise.

Atente a isto, pois esta é uma crucial falha nossa.

Me gustas tu

2010-02-09T17:01:00.001-03:00

(de Manu Chao)

Me gustan los aviones, me gustas tu
Me gusta viajar, me gustas tu
Me gusta la mañana, me gustas tu
Me gusta el viento, me gustas tu
Me gusta soñar, me gustas tu
Me gusta la mar, me gustas tu

Que voy a hacer, je ne sais pas
Que voy a hacer, je ne sais plus
Que voy a hacer, je suis perdu
Que horas son, mi corazón

Me gusta la bike, me gustas tu
Me gusta correr, me gustas tu
Me gusta la lluvia, me gustas tu
Me gusta volver, me gustas tu
Me gusta marijuana, me gustas tu
Me gusta colombiana, me gustas tu
Me gusta la montaña, me gustas tu
Me gusta la noche

Que voy a hacer, je ne sais pas
Que voy a hacer, je ne sais plus
Que voy a hacer, je suis perdu
Que horas son, mi corazón

Me gusta la cena, me gustas tu
Me gusta la vecina, me gustas tu
Me gusta su cocina, me gustas tu
Me gusta camelar, me gustas tu
Me gusta la guitarra, me gustas tu
Me gusta el reggae, me gustas tu

Que voy a hacer, je ne sais pas
Que voy a hacer, je ne sais plus
Que voy a hacer, je suis perdu
Que horas son, mi corazón

Me gusta la canela, me gustas tu
Me gusta el fuego, me gustas tu
Me gusta menear, me gustas tu
Me gusta la Coruña, me gustas tu
Me gusta Malasaña, me gustas tu
Me gusta la castaña, me gustas tu
Me gusta Guatemala

Que voy a hacer, je ne sais pas
Que voy a hacer, je ne sais plus
Que voy a hacer, je suis perdu
Que horas son, mi corazón

Que voy a hacer, je ne sais pas...
Que voy a hacer, je ne sais plus...
Que voy a hacer, je suis perdu...
Que horas son, mi corazón...

On my way home

2010-01-25T20:27:00.002-03:00

I feel that I have been traveling for quite some time now. When I was having my last days in Bolivia, I was happy to head home for the holidays. I was happy to have good coffee again, good food, rest at my parents' home... But then I was also happy to get a car and hit the road. To come to the beach. To work at a meeting of the vanguard of the peasantry in Brazil. And now, after all of these unknown times I took head on, wind on the face from the open windows of the car, I am again ready to go back home.

A few weeks, no more, and I will be gone again. This time back down north. Friends in the US, I hope to see you again soon. Before then, I will make more time again to write here of these times of travel. Of what I have learned. And of what twists my guts and zings my mind and moves me throughout this broad land of ours.

I hope you all are well.

With love,

Ainda é cedo

2010-01-25T19:58:00.002-03:00

Uma menina me ensinou
Que quase tudo que eu sei
Era quase escravidão
Mas ela me tratava como um rei
Ela fazia muitos planos
Eu só queria estar ali
Sempre ao lado dela
Eu não tinha aonde ir
Mas, egoísta que eu sou,
Me esqueci de ajudar
A ela como ela me ajudou
E não quis me separar
Ela também estava perdida
E por isso se agarrava a mim também
E eu me agarrava a ela
Porque eu não tinha mais ninguém
E eu dizia:
- Ainda é cedo
cedo
, cedo
, cedo
, cedo.

Sei que ela terminou
O que eu não comecei
E o que ela descobriu
Eu aprendi também, eu sei
Ela falou: - Você tem medo.
Aí eu disse: - Quem tem medo é você.
Falamos o que não devia
Nunca ser dito por ninguém
Ela me disse: - Eu não sei mais o que eu
sinto por você.
Vamos dar um tempo, um dia a gente se vê.
E eu dizia:
- Ainda é cedo
cedo
, cedo
, cedo
, cedo.

Legião Urbana

De esperar e trabalhar

2010-01-12T11:04:00.003-03:00

Estou na espera. Sou, quase me sinto, na espera. Um estado de ser, mais que estado de estar. Sou já a bastante tempo assim, na espera. Mas, melhor assim, que ser des-esperado. Esperar também é ser esperançoso, afinal. E enquanto espero, penso. E penso não só no que espero – penso também no que não espero. Espero voltar a estudar, mas se não volto, devo pensar no que fazer. Trabalhar, quem sabe, como se fosse a primeira vez na vida. Não que seria, mas talvez seja o primeiro “emprego” assim, do tipo de se submeter as demandas de produção de uma laia que quer lucros... Só trabalhei antes por minha própria conta, para organizações sem fins lucrativos, ou para o Estado – e ainda assim, só quando o Estado era tããão fraquinho que a comunidade tomava conta do trabalho por conta própria, sendo assim, as custas do Estado (e era um Estado que merecia ser “chifrado” assim, as próprias contas). Mas trabalhamos bem.

Um destes trabalhos públicos foi o melhor emprego que já tive na vida. Eu era pintor. Eu era um *bom* pintor. Pintor desses assim, de pintar parede de branco mesmo. Aprendi com as companheiras que já trabalhavam antes de mim. Era um trabalho de verão, a universidade não tinha aulas e contratava um grupo de uns 12 alunos para fazer todo o trabalho nos dormitórios. O nosso “chefe” em imediato era um ex-aluno, e escolhiamos entre nós mesmos supervisores de grupos para cada tarefa. No início do verão, todos trabalhavamos juntos, limpando os dormitórios. Era uma das melhores partes do trabalho. Entravamos nos quartos recém abandonados e encontravamos, no meio do lixo, muitas coisas boas também que os filhinhos de mamãe largavam pra trás. Móveis, utensílios domésticosde todos os tipos, até frigobars, livros, CDs, e todo tipo de coisa que entulhavam os dormitórios daquela gente. Chamavamos isso de “loot”, a despolia de guerra ou de piratagen.

Depois que separavamos as “spoils” do lixo, limpavamos tudo, e esvaziavamos os móveis a ser trocados. Depois disso, entravamos na rotina de verão: cuidavamos dos jardins e áreas externas quando a manhã ainda não estava muito quente, depois nos dividiamos em dois grupos: um para reconstruir as dry-walls, aquelas paredes de gesso-com-cartolina barata que se usa nos EEUU, e que apodrecia de ano em ano no clima húmido da Florida; o outro para repintar os quartos.

Nas primeiras semanas, as novas trabalhadoras revezavam nos dois grupos, para aprender os dois tipos de trabalho, e para decidir aonde levavam mais gosto e aptidão. Ao longo dos dias, os dois grupos se solidificavam, e ao fim do verão já tinhamos caráteres devidamente distintos – uns se orgulhavam do trabalho de se revezar nos buracos e da lizura de seu produto, outros se orgulhavam do trabalho conjunto de acabar um apartamento inteiro rapidamente, cada um tomando uma parede, e da brancura homogenea de nosso produto. E é claro, chamavamos os outros de preguiçosos e pulmão-de-pó, e elas nos chamavam de trolando-em-tinta e tolos por trabalhar todos ao mesmo tempo.

Mas não trabalhavamos todo o tempo. Na verdade, das 8 horas por dia que recebiamos, trabalhavamos mesmo, mesmo, só umas 4 a 6 horas. Dependendo do trabalho e de nosso gosto. Especialmente na maior parte do verão, pintar e refazer paredes, o time “plaster” levava certo tempo para preparar a massa. Enquanto um preparava, as outras descansavam. Enquanto outra rebocava, o resto descansava. E depois enquanto outro ainda limpava o material, denovo descanso.

Já o time da tinta levava menos tempo para preparar o material. Mas as vezes levava certo tempo para preparar o quarto. Afinal, como qualquer bom pintor sabe, é necessário passar fita nas janelas, nos rodapés, nas tomadas (ou retirar as tomadas), etc. Então, após o serviço de jardin, até preparar um apartamento, já era 10.30 da manhã, e não daria tempo de pintar tudo antes do almoço... e, é claro, não valeria a pena começar a pintar, ter que parar, embrulhar os rolos e pinçéis, as tintas, sair para almoçar, cheios de tinta, e voltar para tentar melhorar a estranha mistura de tinta fresca e tinta secando já em partes da parede... Então parávamos o trabalho as 10.30, descansavamos até meio dia, e depois de uma da tarde, aí sim começavamos a pintar. E como pintavamos bem, e como todos pintavam juntos, conseguiamos terminar o apartamento inteiro naquela tarde. Se estivessemos animados, dava tempo de limpar o material e preparar outros quartos também. No dia seguinte, entravamos, pintavamos, e terminavamos o serviço todo na manhã. Por que se chovia de tarde, era tão húmido que não dava para pintar (a tinta escorria pela parede e não secava). Aí agente usava esse tempo para preparar um quarto ou outro, mas ainda assim, só bastava preparar o serviço do próximo dia, ou dois, se trabalhavamos em quartos menores, em grupos menores. O resto do tempo então jogavamos cartas, liamos livros, tiravamos sonecas, as vezes a tarde inteira...

Ou seja, nós eramos donos de nosso próprio trabalho. Nós e nossas amizades moravamos naqueles quartos e apartamentos durante os anos. Nós escolhiamos quando e como trabalhar. Contanto que produzissemos o serviço, nosso “chefe” não nos daria nenhum trabalho. E ele trabalhou conosco antes, os mais velhos, assim como um de nós depois foi ser o “chefe” do novo grupo em um ano seguinte. Trabalhei três anos assim. No primeiro ano, era membro do time da tinta. Depois passei a ser o supervisor desse time. Eu que era “responsável” por coordenar as decisões de trabalho do grupo – incluindo as decisões de quando não-trabalhar – e garantir que o serviço ficasse bem feito e o material limpo no final do dia. Claro, minha posição era mais simbólica que funcional. Afinal, não tinha poder nenhum de forçar alguem a trabalhar. Se havia pressão, o grupo inteiro fazia essa pressão dizendo “pô, fulano, não faz bagunça assim por que então nós todos teremos que limpar, e isso sai do nosso tempo de descanso!” Eu agia, então, mais como representante do time da tinta, quando tinhamos que coordenar tarefas entre os times, do que um “chefinho.” Toda parede reconstruida tinha que ser pintada depois. Mas não só as paredes reconstruidas tinham que ser pintadas. Eram quartos tão cheios de fumo que as paredes amarelavam. Eram quartos tão cheios de artes de todos os tipos que as paredes se tornavam murais. As vezes, decidiamos deixar os melhores trabalhos. As alunas que morariam naquele quarto no próximo ano teriam de aprovar e adotar a arte. Se não, branco. Tinhamos mais liberdade nos apartamentos dos alunos mais velhos, pois lá sempre escolhiamos uma parede para dar uma cor viva ao ambiente. Eu gostava do vermelho vinho. Fiz esse no meu próprio apartamento.

No final do verão, trabalhavamos dobrado. Por escolha. Era um trabalho duro, pesado mesmo. Tinhamos que recolocar os móveis no lugar, sabendo quantos alunos em cada quarto ou apartamento. Carregar estantes de ferro acima e abaixo escadas, armários de madeira grossa, e colchões até não acabar mais. Mas era um trabalho conjunto, um trabalho curtido, e um trabalho que valia a pena fazer hora extra – era melhor trabalhar menos dias, mas longos dias, do que extender esse serviço e fazer se tornar chato e árduo. Assim, escolhiamos quando tiravamos nossas férias, e também escolhiamos quando fazer hora extra. Tiravamos toda a hora extra nas mesmas duas últimas semanas juntos. Recebiamos assim, logo após concluir o trabalho de verão, aquele pagamento gordão, mil contos ou mais, fácil fácil, por cada uma destas semanas. Durante o verão, não tinhamos dispesa, e não precisavamos de dinheiro. Mas também então, tinhamos mais dinheiro quando precisariamos de mais dinheiro, no início do semestre.

Alguns de nós mantinhamos o trabalho durante o ano, nas raras ocasiões que algum serviço necessitava ser feito ainda durante o semestre. Outros só voltavam no ano seguinte. Quem já tinha trabalhado antes já sabia trabalhar e conhecia os esquemas, era automaticamente recontratado (a não ser que a pessoa tivesse causado problemas para o grupo, então não voltava). Muitas outras pessoas queriam o emprego, as vagas que esvaziavam quando graduavamos ou não queriamos ficar no campus durante o verão. Então as trabalhadoras do verão passado se juntavam para ler as aplicações dos outros, e a escolha era feita baseada em nossa recomendação: quem trabalharia bem no nosso esquema, quem trabalharia bem em conjunto, quem produziria, com disciplina, com bom humor, e com a organização necessária para administrar nosso próprio trabalho, para manter nossos bons salários (que incluia habitação durante o verão inteiro) e continuar trabalhando como e quando decidiamos.

Summer at large

2010-01-10T22:21:00.002-03:00

If I havent writen in English much, it is due to two main reasons: primarily, while little feedback came from my English speaking friends, I began to receive much more feedback from the (far fewer) Portuguese speaking friends, at first along the lines of "why dont you write in Portuguese", and then in all other sorts of ways; secondly, because while traveling in South America and back in Brazil I began to have spells of wanting to re-Brazilianize myself.

If any of you English-only readers feel that you would like to know more from me, then do a better job letting me know! There have been some events, sure, but, not to say they are not 'blogworthy', they are at least, compared with the more touristy parts of the blog in Peru and Bolivia, or the more (I dont know what word to use here) part in my work with social movements, etc., the recent times have been more of the traditional Brazilian taking-it-easy vacations... Holidays, sitting around on the beach, yadda yadda.

As for re-Brazilianizing myself, well, that is a tough project... and not one I am always excited to take on. Sometimes it feels something of an obligation. The reasons for that are left for another ocassion - for now, I want to rant about why this obligation is sometimes faced as an uncomfortable challenge, rather than a joyous endeavor. Truth is, having spent the past decade (ish) abroad has left me very unused to the lack of structure of life here, and the ways in which I was already critical of this lack of structure became harsher.

By 'lack of structure' I mean not only institutional mess, such as the inabily of the post office to keep up with a 10am deadline for the special service (and, what really hits the spot, the fact that 'the system was down' in that whole city and we couldnt check on the delivery status). I mean a social lack of structure, where something as simple as using an elevator becomes a moment for culture shock; after all, something as obvious as the fact that the people inside a very small space must first be able to leave it in order for others to enter escapes the mind of some, who cram themselves onto me with a dog-look on their face as I try to make way for them. Now, this is not to say that this only happens here, as opposed to the US, for example, but it is an example from this afternoon that struck me as illustrative of the type of 'lack of social structure' that I am talking about. THAT is far more widespread here than down north.

It frustrates me. I can also see how too much such 'structure' could also be frustrating, as a friend of mine living in Germany has pointed out. There, she said, people dont jaywalk, even if there are no cars around, or if they do, they look around to see if anyone else is watching, and justify to themselves their 'transgression' saying that, "well, at least there werent any children watching to take on a bad example." These real life acounts may be a bit extreme, but perhaps, between the matuto from the elevator and the chucrute who doesnt jaywalk, there is a comfortable in-between - what I am used to.

And before anyone takes this to be too much of me acting gringo, you must first know my parents. They are not typical Brazilians, in so far as social structure is concerned. My father actually tends towards the German end of things, but in that conservative Minas Gerais way. They are people who struggle alot to live through a world in which nothing works as well as it should, could, and would if the structure were maintained. Also, when I speak of the 'typical Brazilian', one must understand that I am writing this from a beach town in the state of Rio de Janeiro, a place quite different culturally from other parts of the country to the south of here, where there indeed is more structure (and heavier central european colonization). As far as north of here, on the other hand, I believe the structure is even more chaotic. And out west, where I am from, well... It is a mix of all these things, as it has been historically settled afterwards from the southeast and northeast.

And if anyone wants to know where are the indigenous in this 'typical' picture of Brazil - well - dead, for the most part. We carried out one of the most extensive genocides of the Americas, along with the United States. F'd up. The sad thing is that it hardly enters the 'picture' then.

There is a classic book called "Raizes do Brasil", "Roots of Brazil", by Sergio Buarque de Holanda. It was a piece of scholarship somewhere between sociology, anthropology, history and social criticism, on the formation of the Brazilian people. A classic, it is not that new, duh, so approach it with the grains of decades of salt - but - it remains an amazing piece through and through. There, he explains the word "desleixo." I cannot begin to make justice to it as a concept, the role it plays in our society, or Holanda's account of it. But, it has something to do with what I have here been calling 'lack of social structure', with an added layer of laziness and feeling that "it is just not worth it."

And when I really face up to the struggles of improving society in Brazil, when I am really realistic about the prospects for progress, I struggle the hardest with that most Brazilian part of myself... desleixo. It feels that, really, it just might not be worth it. It would crunch my heart and tear my brainvessels, it would alienate me from society and threaten my quality and quantity of life, and it would all be for a seemingly impossible goal, a goal that mocks with its distant grandeur.

I go back to the thought, now, of graduate school down north. So comfortable and comforting a thought. I go forwards to a feared future in which I am resigned to an ink-and-paper interaction with this society of desleixados. A prophet never-been-armed, however, seems a dim and sad old man, grouchy with the world around him, or happy only in its hermit den. Children and grandchildren would then embody, literally, all the hopes that I would have left aside - por desleixo.

Highland to sea, a year dawns

2010-01-06T19:09:00.001-03:00

Summer storms, highland waterfalls flood
Down, earlier than thought, we rolled

In the brick bowl of Beautiful Horizon
A fourth friend there dragged on

From Black Gold to Stone City
Comrades host amidst mountain mist

Three again, down ashore we wash
Sun at day, fires at night, the sky burst

Onto the sand, days come and go
Companions afar, heart at a hold

The fourth joins again, at the sand
Sun, guitar, the lazy days bend

Two off to the River, but I
Heart- with the home- sick, lay by

Blitz

2009-12-31T18:11:00.001-03:00

- Fuck,

exlcamei para mim mesmo enquanto colocava a seta para a direita, seguindo a indicação do policial para que parasse o carro. Já haviam outros dois parados, parei na frente destes, chuvia ralinho, o policial chegou pedindo minha habilitação e o documento do carro que eu não tinha – não tinha por que não verifiquei antes de pegar a estrada, e minha mãe, que tinha pego o carro emprestado de minha avó, não havia deixado o documento dentro do carro como faço de costume. Notou isso já quando estava horas ao sul de Brasília, e enviou Sedex 10 para BH. Atrasamos nossa saída até meio dia esperando o correio que não chegava. Desistimos e seguimos, afinal, já havia feito metade do caminho sem documento, faria a segunda do mesmo jeito, mas pelo menos mostraria as minhas amizades Ouro Preto – almoçamos um belo tutu a mineira e fejão tropeiro – e chegariamos ainda aquela noite em Petrópolis. Até aí tudo bem, e baixar a serra também foi tranquilo, tranquilo até demais, quando leva mais de duas horas para atravessar nove quilometros entre Magé e a porra da estrada entupida no sentido dos Lagos. Foi então, logo quando o transito seguia, a cinquenta kilometros de nosso destino, que fomos parados.

Expliquei a história, e antes mesmo que se encompridasse demais, o policial já me explicou

- Pó pará, pó pará, xeu te explicar a situação, é necessário ter o documento com você a todo momento, só isso já é pragente apreender o carro, mas o negócio é o seguinte, agente tá atrás de drogas e armas, então vamos ter que revistar seu carro.

Acordei, claro, com a revista, e ele foi logo entrando pela minha porta, quando saltei, remexendo no cinzeiro, depois pelo lado do passageiro, no porta luvas, no painel, em qualquer cantinho que pudesse meter os dedos. Logo, cheirou um pedacinho ou outro de tabaco dos cigarillos que havia fumado ao longo da estrada – cigarillos cubanos que ganhei de natal de meus pais – e mandou a passageira do banco de trás saltar também, e nos mandou pegar nossas bolsas para que fossem revistadas. Me mandou levantar minha camisa, já quando outro policial chegava por lá, e explicava a “situação”, meteu a mão nas minhas virilhas, e mandou eu e o meu passageiro homen entrar na estação. Notando que meu companheiro de viajem mal falava Português, me perguntou se eu falava, respondi, Claro, sou Brasileiro! Abriu a mochila dele e minha bolsa, cheirou meu canivete, fuxicou os livros dele, e quando chegou no meu saquinho com a caixa de cigarillos e um charuto, cheirou-os, olhou dentro da segunda fileira de cigarillos, enquanto isso um outro chegou também, denovo a “situação”, e denovo, o outro, verificou minha virilha – isso foi, aparentemente, sorte minha, pois este outro havia feito meu companheiro de viajem abaixar as calças, depois as samba-canção também, na tal busca – e este, sabendo então da “situação” com os documentos, exclamou

- Então temos que revistar eles muito mesmo!

Fuxicou denovo em minha bolsa, denovo mexeu com os cigarillos, duvidoso, e depois me mandou acompanha-lo para revistar, novamente, o carro. A chuva apertou, e ele me mandou entrar no banco de trás, enquanto ele entrava no do passageiro, fiquei, como antes, de olho em suas mãos e seus bolsos enquanto fuxicava, e enquanto ele fuxicava ia me dizendo

- Deixa eu te explicar a situação, Gustavo, é Gustavo, né?

Confirmei, enquanto ele pegava do banco um pedacinho de tabaco.

- O negócio é que tem indícios de drogas no seu carro, e vocês não estão cooperando. Agente vai revistar tudinho, tudinho mesmo. Agente vai fazer vocês abrir a mala do carro, vamos checar suas mochilas, roupa por roupa, cada bolso de cada calça, e se agente encontrar droga, você sabe o que acontece, né? Você vai preso, o carro fica apreendido, você tá até sem documento, então se agente fosse na dura mesmo, só nisso agente já apreendia o carro, sacou? E se vocês continuarem não cooperando, vai ser na dura mesmo...

...interrompi o sacana

- Mas nós estamos cooperando, estamos aceitando que revistem o carro, nossas mochilas, nossos...

Mas ele me cortou

- Deixa eu terminar! O negócio é o seguinte, se você fizer agente revistar tudo, se você der o trabalho de fazer agente ir buscar as drogas, ai vai ser na dura mesmo, aí não tem conversa – você vai preso mesmo. Agora, se você entregar as drogas pragente agora, aí dá pragente conversar, aí agente vê como que faz, dá pra dar um jeito.

Disse que o compreendia, mas que não tinhamos droga nenhuma. Disse que entregaria se tivessemos, mas não temos. Disse que poderiam revistar o carro todo, o porta malas, nossas mochilas, tudo.

Ai ele forçou a barra.

- Vocês estão fazendo as coisas difíceis pragente, aí não vai ter como ter conversa mesmo então. Você veio de onde? Brasília? Po cara, tem que ser muito estúpido para transportar drogas entre estados assim, né? Você não sabe das consequências não, hein? Não sabe que você vai preso?

Não havia espaço na trela dele para meu protesto que sabia das consequências mas que não estava, afinal, transportando droga alguma. Os “indícios de drogas” que ele dizia, tentei explicar, enquanto ele continuava, eram tabaco daqueles cigarillos, a única coisa fumada no carro, quatro cigarillos daquela caixinha que ele viu, que ganhei de natal de minha mãe.

A menção de minha mãe, talvez, ocasionou ele a perguntar de quem era o carro. Expliquei que era de minha avó, e que por isso não havia percebido que os documentos não estavam no carro quando saímos de Brasília.

- Mas você não sabe que tem que ter os documentos do carro sempre com você? Como é que você pega a estrada sem documento?

Pois é, foi lá a explicação denovo, sabia, mas quando percebi a falta já estava (e aqui estiquei a história uns duzentos quilometros) pra lá de Juiz de Fora e minha vó (ou mãe, pra ele isso não deve importar) já me mandou o documento lá pra Cabo Frio (pulando a confusão de BH pra fazer a história mais simples), aonde passariamos as férias de verão.

Por alguma razão, talvez a mesma pela qual ele parou o Renault da minha avó, ele quis saber

- O que sua vó faz lá em Brasília?

É aposentada, uai!

- Mas aposentada de quê?

- Bem...

tive que explicar

... na verdade ela trabalha em casa, meu avô que era aposentado.

A pergunta, em transição, era para ser respondida então sobre a profissão dele.

- Ele já faleceu, mas era Ministro do Superior Tribunal Militar.

Alguns anos atrás, quem sabe, isso seria suficiente para o reco dizer logo “ah, desculpe então, por favor siga viajem!” e até parava o transito para que eu saísse logo e recuperasse o indevido atraso. Hoje, não sabia se o efeito seria oposto ou semelhante...

O que se passou foi o seguinte, ele continuou fuxicando pelo banco da frente um momento, repetiu que haveria conversa se eu entregasse as drogas, e repeti que não haviam drogas, e que esperariamos o quanto eles quisessem para revistar todas nossas mochilas, todos os bolsos de todas as nossas calças.

Então ele saltou do carro, saltei atrás, ele entrou na estação, fiquei no lado de fora, embaixo da sacada, ao lado do carro, disse alguma palavra ou outra de calma para as duas companhias gringas de viajem, e logo depois aquele primeiro policial que me parou veio a porta, fumando um cigarro, e disse

- Ó, você vai presizar desse documento para voltar na estrada, hein! Por que se você pega um policial que está assim, teve um mal dia, tá de mal humor, ele leva na dura mesmo, apreende o carro.

Minha resposta já foi uma mistura de “entendo” e “obrigado”, pois, imaginava esperançosamente, seguirei viajem afinal!

Ele me perguntou se estava com minha habilitação, olhou pra dentro da estação para ver se estavam com meu documento por lá, saquei ela do bolso e disse que estava com ela e perguntei se estariamos, então, liberados.

A resposta positiva ainda foi temperada com outras advertências, mas nisso já me virava para minhas amizades e dizia

- Let’s get out of here, quick.

Entramos no carro, ligava o motor enquanto dizia para os dois verificarem seus documentos e seu dinheiro. Estavam com tudo, eu dava seta para a esquerda, e largamos deixando o folego escapar e as histórias do absurdo rolar.

Traduzir-se

2009-12-25T01:37:00.000-03:00

de Ferreira Gullar

Uma parte de mim
é todo mundo:
outra parte é ninguém:
fundo sem fundo.

Uma parte de mim
é multidão:
outra parte estranheza
e solidão.

Uma parte de mim
pesa, pondera:
outra parte
delira.

Uma parte de mim
almoça e janta:
outra parte
se espanta.

Uma parte de mim
é permanente:
outra parte
se sabe de repente.

Uma parte de mim
é só vertigem:
outra parte,
linguagem.

Traduzir uma parte
na outra parte
— que é uma questão
de vida ou morte —
será arte?

De volta para casa

2009-12-20T18:50:00.002-03:00

Longos vôos de volta para Brasília, passando por Campo Grande e São Paulo... Logo que cheguei em solo nacional, curti uma bela xícara de café de verdade. Mimo que seja, é uma delícia de requinte que quase não existe nos frios e distantes Andes... Chegando em Brasília, me impressionei e gabei da panidiversidade de nossas padarias.

Dormi mais que doze horas... Tive um dia tranquilo em casa de descanso... Vimos fotos e desperdicei tempo online.

Dormi mais tantas horas... Tive outro dia tranquilo em casa com um churrasquinho, lendo ao lado da piscina, vendo mais fotos e mandando mais emails...

Escreverei mais quando retomar aventuras.

Santa Cruz, Bolivia Brasileira

2009-12-18T23:58:00.003-03:00

Primeiro descansei bastante em Santa Cruz, num calor de vale de rio tropical sem saida para o mar... Lá faz calor, mas não tem brisa. Cheguei de avião, baixando a altitude rápidamente e cambiando drasticamente a pressão dentro da minha cabeça. Saí com meu ouvido infectado e destroçado. Uma cabeça de melão.

Li bastante Eça de Queirós na praça central, aonde muitíssimas pessoas convivem agradavelmente naquela sauna de cidade. Depois nos encontramos com dois mochileiros bem duros, que fazem e vendem braceletes para pagar sua comida de comedor de mercado e alojamiento de último nível, o contente Harvey de Colombia e outro Simon da Suiça, um padeiro hiponga da boa. Estes também buscavam couch surf com Carlos, um Cambazinho de 19 anos que estudou na Europa e admira fortemente esta sua cultura não-americana. Nos acolheu bem, nos levou a bolichar, e almoçamos em sua casa no dia seguinte. Interessante aprender as opiniões desta classe, estes que são literalmente sobrinhos do general Banzer. Sua tristeza não era a raça do presidente mas a incompetência de seus partidários que, contrário aos seus ideais, não foram devidamente educados em grandes centros acadêmicos europeus ou estadounidenses.

Mas disto se faz a Brasileirada de Santa Cruz, uns que se distinguem com orgulho dos indígenas do altiplano. Lá, minifundios de batata e quinoa mantem um campesinato nas margens da fome. Aqui, há cana e soja, a mesma que já infectava o Mato Grosso e tanto mais de nosso Brasil...

Santa Cruz é mais Brasileira também em sentir uma cidade larga, alastrada pela mata e sem nenhuma montanha no horizonte para limitar seu domínio. Santa Cruz é até cheia de Brasileiros de verdade, uma cidade que consegue fazer mais comércio e mais facilmente com nosso país do que com os povos de arriba monte.

Onde há latifúndio, há luta. E é lá nos entornos de Santa Cruz aonde lutam o MST-Bolivia, movimento joven que segue as práticas e estratégias de ocupação de terra do nosso MST. Tive a oportunidade, através de uns contatos da Via Campesina, de me encontrar com o Silvestre Saisari, um dos dirigentes do Movimento. Fizemos uma boa entrevista, e gostaria de socializa-la aqui em nosso país. As opiniões do pessoal que luta como nós mas que se mantem criticamente distantes dos aliados no governo são, em minha opinião, muito valiosas para nossa compreensão do que se passa e do que espera-se que passará agora com um governo MASista ainda mais forte do que antes. Oxalá que tenham vitórias, os co-Movimentistas, e oxalá que tenham um bom aliado no Palácio Quemado e na Assembléia Plurinacional.

Sucre y enfermedad

2009-12-18T23:33:00.002-03:00

Do sal dos desertos ao calor das termas ao frio duma cidade a mais de 4 mil metros, em algum lugar neste difícil trecho de viagem adoecí... Cheguei sentindo-me fugido a Sucre, que se diz capital de uma Bolívia que não é nem Camba como Santa Cruz mas também ainda não é Colla como La Paz... Naquela primeira noite em Sucre já sentia tanta dor que não conseguia dormir após 3.30, liguei para os meus pais e entrei com Avalox. Não há Novalgina que aguente...

Sucre foi então curtamente sofrida, apesar de ser em geral uma cidade até boazinha, cheia de chocolaterias e pracinhas tranquilas. Vimos um lindo museu de arte indígena, isso sim valeu a pena, sendo que não estavamos com tempo ou disposição para quedar o suficiente na região e passar uns dias no campo. Um verdadeiro renacimento é proclamado e exposto na história dos últimos trinta anos quando artesãs começaram a receber apoio para seu trabalho através de uma ONG e grupos acadêmicos. Trabalho de tear como nunca havia visto antes - indescritível.

Também assistimos a um forte filme sobre trabalho infantil no Cerro Rico, que se passa até mesmo na exata mina em que estávamos dois dias antes em Potosí. Chama-se "The Devil's Miner" e recomendo para quem não terá logo a oportunidade de conhecer Potosí em pessoa. Pena que o documentário não demonstra a espessura do sofrimento, foca na vida de uma família, e assim perde de vista a pluralidade de mineiros embriagados pelas ruas assim que terminam sua mita diária ao Diabo.

Comemos, lavamos roupa, e comprei alguns regalos... Foi uma fraca despedida da companheira de viagem Élisabeth, estando doente, distraido, fraco, sem nenhum fogo de vida. Gostaria de mais tempo, enstando saudável, em Sucre. Há muito lá da história da independência. Mas, já quando saia de lá só queria casa, cama, os lábios cheios de uma mulher que pudesse cuidar de mim quando mal assim, um chazinho dos bons... Pensava, logo isso, logo aquilo, mas ainda faltava um pouco mais de Bolivia.

The Southwest Corner

2009-12-14T12:27:00.002-03:00

Depois de sair de La Paz pela última vez esta viajen, segui através de Oruro para tomar um tren até Uyuni, a base turística do cantinho sodoeste da Bolivia, nas margens do maior salar do mundo. Foi uma semana intensa de viajens e aventuras... pouco sono tranquilo e confortavel, nao durmi nunca no mesmo lugar duas vezes, e várias vezes só dormi em uma cama por parte de uma noite.

De Uyuni saimos em uma Land Cruiser guiados por Franz e sua irmä Lisele, eu, Eliza, Élisabeth (que haviamos conhecido no Peru), e tres novos amigos, o economista italiano engraçadíssimo Carlo, sua parceira de viajen alemä Laura, e outro amigo chucrute Friedrich 'Frederico,' um psicólogo de negócios que acredita em Econ101 e no 'mercado livre' fielmente. As vezes o interessante de mochilar pelo mundo é se relacionar (até bem) com pessoas com as quais normalmente nunca dariamos um minuto de nosso dia.

No primeiro dia visitamos o salar, almoçando em uma de suas lindas ilhas cobertas de cactus milenares. Assistimos o por do sol do salar, vendo as cores dançarem em volta de montanhas e vulcöes ao redor da imensidäo branca. Naquela noite, dormimos em um incrível hotel de sal nas margens do salar... o chäo era de sal grosso, as paredes de blocos de sal, assim como as mesas, cadeiras, até as camas (menos o colchäo, claro). Coisa estranha... Mas quase que faz sentido. Quase.

O segundo 'dia' começou antes do alvoreçer, para ver o tal já do meio do deserto de sal. Isso sim foi magnífico. O clarear do horizonte logo já irradiava tudo como se fosse meio dia, antes mesmo do sol se fortalecer suficientemente para atravesar as nuvens do horizonte. E quando os raios finalmente quebraram as nuvens, todas as cores floreciam nas montanhas, nas nuvens, no mundo inteiro.

Seguimos do deserto de sal por desertos de pedras e areias e arbustinhos e cactus tao pequenos que pareciam uma plumagen nas encostas dos Andes, vimos várias lagoas de cores e minerais diferentes, varias formaçöes vulcanicas espetaculares, e eventualmente paramos em um refúgio para dormir as margens da Laguna Colorada, vermelha como só o sangue de uma mártir! Infelizmente, este por do sol eu näo ví por estar me recuperando de alguma enfermedad de viajero... (vomitei bastante ao lado da famosa Árvore de Pedra...) Mas aquela noite encontramos gente incrível no refúgio: Javier e Asa, um casal que está aventurando de bicicleta do Panamá ao Uchuaia, fazendo parte de um documentário sobre mudanças climáticas que chamará Going South. Ele é um engenheiro florestal formado no Brasil, entäo conversamos muito sobre desmatamento, especialmente sobre o cerrado, reforma agrária, e política Sul Americana.

O terceiro dia também iniciou as 4 da manhä, vimos o sol nascer nos gêisers que incendeiam o deserto - é lindo como em Yellowstone, mesmo que sejam menores, mas é ainda mais excitante por poder caminhar por entre os olhos de lama e minerais ferventes, desaparecer-se em meio as fumaças de enxofre, e buscar o sol nascente e a lua poente por entre esse labirinto que parece de outro planeta.

De lá, passando por mais desertos e vulcöes e lagoas, eventualmente fomos desayunar, descansar e retomar nossas forças em uma nascente de água quente. Que paz. De lá, horas em uma sacudida e arduosa estrada de volta pra Uyuni, parando só para almoçar e visitar o pequeno povoado de San Cristóbal.

Este povoado predominantemente indígena se baixou do cerro para crescer com a indústria mineiradora de lá, mas sua famosa igreja de pedra estava fechada agora para forasteiros porque sofreram um roubo de toda sua prataria (inclusive o cajado que säo Cristóbal segurava, que teve seus dedos quebrados no crime). A comunidade disse näo haver roubos antes, quando tal crime era punido com morte na tradiçäo andina, mas agora com a mineraçäo e o crescimento do povoado e a entrada de gente de outras comunidades pelo trabalho nas minas, tudo está mudando.... ainda assim tem seus caciques, eleitos anualmente, sua justiça comunitária, seu sincretismo de orar em um grande altar de pedra após sair da festa na igreja, e uma alma santa que nos recebeu por lá e nos contou muito de sua comunidade mantinha um forte argumento por esse indigenismo. Gostaria de poder ter ficado mais tempo aprendendo com ele sobre sua comunidade, mas logo seguimos sacudindo pela estrada...

De Uyuni foi uma contínua sacudiçäo de ônibus para Potosí, e uma chegada menos que calorosa as 3 da manhä. Ao acordar, no sábado, a única opçäo de conhecer as minas que fizeram a colonizaçäo espanhola e mudaram a economia Europeia era de seguir direto para o Cerro Rico, e quando voltamos a cidade de Potosí já fechava em sí mesma num estupor bêbado de fim de semana de mineiros e mulheres sofridas.

Mas as minas... você tem que entrar nas entranhas daquela montanha de séculos de exploraçäo para poder sentir o que realmente se passou e ainda se passa por lá... A Presença do diabo näo é meramente alegórica, nem muito menos turística. A gringaiada que ignore esta verdade e a trate como um tour. Mas que todo, todo es mentira neste mundo. Todo es mentira, la verdad. As minas ''cooperativas'' escondem o sofrimento e egoísmo e medo e desgosto pela vida aos quais os mineiros foram sujeitos des da época dos aventureiros espanhóis, e agora seguem ciegos siempre siempre ciegos, se colonizando e se escravizando pela pouca prata que ainda sangra daquela montanha.

Saindo na próxima manhä com uma breve mirada na Casa de la Moeda, vimos a prisäo sobre-terrânea que os espanhóis fizeram construir para trazer a prata e o diabo da montanha para o resto do mundo, e estampar nisso tudo as caras dos reis espanhóis e imperadores alemäes. Nada era Boliviano se näo o sofrimento e o trabalho - e ainda hoje, suas moedas mesmas que usamos aqui para pagar as Salteñas (coisas que, mesmo quando säo daqui, fingem serem de Salta) näo säo feitas em território nacional... algumas vem do Chile, outras do Canadá, as notas da Europa... Isso é um país proletário, que näo é nem dono nem produtor de suas próprias ferramentas, seus trens vem de Pittsburg, suas maquinas editoras de Nova Iorque, seus ônibus säo segunda mäo do Japäo e do Brasil...

Potosí é sofrida, colonial, difícil... Logo saímos de lá para Sucre. Sucre é a pobre riqueza que explora a própria irmä mais velha, mas menor e envergada pelo trabalho forçado...

Evo de nuevo!

2009-12-07T17:16:00.002-03:00

Evo Morales e Álvaro García Linera foram reeleitos com mais de 60% dos votos e o Movimiento Al Socialismo ganhou dois terços da Assembléia Parlamentar. Esta é uma vitória ainda maior que as de 2005 e da Assembléia Constituinte, e as expectativas para este segundo governo säo igualmente maiores. Se espera que os bloques e 'compromises' do primeiro governo, quando o MAS näo controlava o Senado, que tinha que aprovar toda legislaçäo do Congresso, e também na Assembléia Constituinte, agora cederäo para a implementaçäo completa da política MASista. Esta agora é a maior oportunidade para reconstruir o Estado Boliviano e o socialismo Latinoamericano.

Evo Morales and Álvaro García Linera were reelected with more than 60% of the vote and the Movimiento Al Socialismo won two thirds of Congress. This is an even greater victory than in 2005 and the Constitutional Assembly, and the expectations for this second term are equally higher. The blocks and compromises of the first term, when MAS did not control the Senate, which had to approve all legislation from Congress, and also in the Constitutional Assembly, are now expected to give way to the full implementation of the MASista agenda. This now is the greatest opportunity to reconstruct the Bolivian State and Latin American socialism.

Houve uma grande festa na Plaza Murillo... Conhecí muita gente boa. Dançamos nas ruas até a polícia fechar a praça. Foi um evento lindo.

There was a great party at Plaza Murillo... I met many good people. We danced in the streets until the police closed the square. It was a beautiful event.

Time to think....

2009-12-06T13:49:00.002-03:00

Today almost everything shuts down in Bolivia for the elections. No public transport, and supposedly only cars with special permits can circulate. Hence, I have more quiet time to think, to sit online, and to write to you...

One thing that has been predominantly on my mind is how difficult I find it to escape my middle-class habits... I feel far more comfortable in wealthier parts of town, and in wealthier countries in general. I recognize that I will not commit class suicide, and with this comes an uneasy understanding that I will also have to juggle blindly my privileges.... potable tap water, for example, an amazing privilege I just can't let go very easily when considering a place to raise my future family.

But in general there is a deeper sadness when I consider the cultural differences between me and most of those around me.... waiting in line, for example, to buy bus tickets, to get information at a kiosk, or anything, is a practice which I undertake naturally but which also seems wholy alien to people around me. I cannot expect to be attended when I am 'waiting in line' since the attendants themselves don't even recognize that there is (or would be) a line!! Add to this a whole list of other differences... here are some noted in Church this morning: dogs being taken through a stroll, cell phones ringing, an armed policeman...

My habitual reaction is to declaim the lack of respect - my reaction is to consider my exogeneity and ignorance - the result is my sad confusion....

In some ways, when I am lied to, when I am left to undergo discomforts that any would feel, when I understand how the chaos makes life more difficult for most involved... I simply stomp my feet and damn the falta de educaçäo, the lack of 'education' in the cultural sense, not the formal academic sense.

On the other hand, the discomforts are still my own, from my own contrast of experience and expectation. Take this example:

When traveling from La Paz to Cochabamba on a daytime bus, we stopped for lunch at a road junction. Our bus supposedly had a bathroom in it, but it was piled up with buckets and clearly out of order. I tried to talk to one of the three agency representatives who travelled with us on the bus, I asked him why those things were in the bathroom and why we couldnt use it. Well, we were stopped, and I clearly could have used the bathroom at the restaurant, and the young man was clearly angry with my questions. His anger expressed itself, inclusively, in speaking so quickly and with such slangs and hard accent that I was sure not to understand him. It felt like being barked at.

The problem for me wasn't so much that there was no functional bathroom, but that I was told there would be one. An untruth that may not have been intentional on the part of the agent who sold me the ticket, since he couldn't know the status of the bus, and tells the situation as it is supposed to be, whether or not the actual state of the buses conform to that. In addition, the bother for me was the complete disrespect the bus agent at the stop willingly expressed to me. There was no attempt to patch up an un-service... in fact, there is no concept of customer service. There is what you get, and complaints are never welcome. In fact, complaints are seen as a disrespect on the customer's part. Perhaps by expecting and complaining about that situation I was asserting an inferiority of their expected and regular state. Hence my deserved being-barked-at, which can only make sense like this, as an after thought of my own, which may not even occur in the mind of he who barked... for him, perhaps, I was just another offensive gringo.

If I could vote today I could come face to face with this dilemma: the ideological choice I would like to make would mean having my white urban privileges confronted directly. Yet, what I have is the inevitable blind oppression: even seeking out the comfort I (thought I) paid for in a trip is an act that reasserts a class and race structure that continues to oppress an impoverished majority... There aint no ballot box there, and there isnt any action I can take that would easily shed my expectations of 'proper manners' that any people should have.

This is more than the differences of culture easily explained such as "forks or chopsticks". Those who use forks and knife at a table might consider it barbaric to suck your noodles or rice from a bowl... Those who use chopsticks might consider it barbaric to butcher one's food on one's own plate... But both can recognize the "civilizing" intention behind it all.

Contrast that with the talking loudly in museums, getting in front of each other and never considering lines, hacking on the sidewalks, doorsteps, and even inside buildings, and generally just honking one's way about town as though there were no lanes, no lights, and as though it were the case that cars in front of you could magically disappear at the sound of one's horn...

Where is the civilizing intent in that?

And fuck that charge against "civilization" made by Daniel Quinn.... Blame industrial society, blame bureaucracy... but there still seems to be a wiiiiide gap between all of that an a set of social manners that express recognition and respect for the other.

There is either a disconsideration of what "the good life" (Vivir Bien) would entail, eg., stepping on other people's hacked luggies must be "just fine and dandy", or worse, there must be a simple disregard for the other - a selfishness, an egoism that is sin in any culture, religion, time or place. That is the disrespect I fear plagues so much of our world...

Now, lest I be misunderstood, I am not leaning back towards those arguments that "the underdeveloped are so because of their own problematic cultures". I would sooner think these cultural problems of poor social habits are a result of political and economic situations that constitute the so called "underdeveloped" as the other side of the coin of "development for some". Yet, of course, this doesn't excuse the mal-educados (the ill-mannered) from their responsibility for improving social habits. This also doesn't mean that improving social habits can solve political and economic problems... Nor does it mean that only political and economic "solutions" can affect these social habits. Call it "dialectic" and give it an -ism if you would like, but the point is that in real life things are complicated, families raise their young, and political and economic changes affect the context in which this takes place... There is little that can be done outside of raising one's own young, and dealing as lovingly as we can with our peers... be it to reprimand them when they need to be shown back to the narrower path of recognizing-the-other, or be it to follow them ourselves on that path when as we try to stumble alongside it...

Enough rambling for now... later I will write about the events of today's election.

Aprendendo...

2009-12-05T13:01:00.002-03:00

Hoje tive um bom dia. Soube preparar minha viajen de Cochabamba de volta para La Paz. Saí tranquilo após um delicioso jantar com amigos de lá, Daniel que nos hospedou, sua parceira Hannah and roommate Josepha, e a parceira de viajen que deixei por lá, Eliza. Também foi bom e aproveitei a amizade de Rodrigo antes de voltar... buena onda!

Dormi bem na estrada, e mal posso descrever a beleza do nascer do sol junto a cordilheira!!! Quando radiava o lado do Illimani, que brilho divino! O nascer do sol transluzia por uma grande imagen do Sagrado Coraçäo em um pano fino na frente do onibus.

Cheguei, busquei hospedagen cerco ao centro, me alojei e fui atrás de passagens de tren para Uyuni. Quem tem boca vai a roma, mesmo que rode pela cidade até chegar... rodei pela estaçao central, baixei o Prado, e cheguei a uma oficinia fechada até segunda, já no confortável Sapocachi. Bem, até lá, curto La Paz.

Comi salteñas com jugo de durazno na plaza Avaroa. Que paz, que nao sabia havia em La Paz. Terei uma cozinha para usar esse fim de semana. Logo, terei novamente amizades de viajen e aventuras ao sul. Logo, também, conto mais daqui, das eleiçoes... com tempo, até escrevo em inglês.

La Piramide e além!

2009-12-04T01:13:00.002-03:00

Hoy fiz uma puta caminhada nas montañas ao norte de Cochambamba. Acordei cedo com o irmäo de Daniel, chamado Rodrigo, com quem estamos quedando de couch surf aqui em Cochabamba. Seu pai nos levou até a beira da cidade, já quase uns 3 mil metros, e seguimos subindo por várias horas mais.

Quando chegavamos já ao pé da tal montaña llamada el Piramide, já nao sabia se teria folego para subir toda... mas seguimos, chegamos ao topo, e de lá ví um outro pico, com uma rocha arrendondada, que seguia mais além da piramide. Descansamos um pouco neste primeiro pico e descidimos continuar até o próximo.... Logo que continuamos percebi que havia um terceiro pico entre a piramide e este outro arrendondado... Mascando coca, tomando agua e bolachas nos picos, seguimos de um para o outro, e depois o outro... escalamos as rochas to pico arrendondado, já a uns 4 mil metros fácil, e decidimos näo baixar ainda mas continuar...

Havia de lá mais três picos, seguindo do oeste à leste. Da piramide seguiamos direito ao pico do meio entre estes mais altos, e pensávamos baixar depois deste... subimos este outro pico, do qual já näo se vê mais da cidade de Cochabamba, escondido atrás da piramide... Chegamos ao topo, e nossa ruta planeada para bajar já se tornava täo íngreme que näo se podia descer... Duas alternativas: voltar por onde viemos, ou seguir deste pico para o outro a mais de 5 mil metros através das rochas que os ligavam, fazendo um crest da codilheira.

Chegamos ao segundo pico, e lá nos quedamos mais um tempo.... putz, que lindo é estar lá. Fotos nao foram tiradas, e bem por que nenhumas fotos poderiam realmente capturar a beleza daquele lugar, a altura em que estávamos, e a emoçao de ter subido tanto já em só umas 4 ou 5 horas. É uma experiência única que deve ser vivida pessoalmente para realmente poder aprecia-la.

Já depois começamos a descer do segundo pico para um passe, e de lá pelo braço leste do vale, oposto ao que tinhamos subido, contornando várias lagoas e riachos e cachoerinhas de montanha bellísimas! Bajamos forte até la laguna Wara Wara, wara significando ''vento'' em Quechua, e o lugar fazendo jús a seu nome. Lá tomamos nosso almoço, e sacamos que deviamos continuar a descer em um passo mais forçado, pois ainda haviam uns 10 kilometros para voltar, e já era entäo umas 4 horas...

Mas pra descer todo Santo ajuda, e foi fácil. Tomamos quase que uma linha reta, cortando a carretera que descia do lago, e cruzando até várias vezes la senda que bajava por dentro de las curvas de la carretera. Já cerco de las 6 y media, bajavamos hastá lo começo de la ciuidad... llegamos a las 6.45, y tomamos un taxi colectivo hasta lo valle de la ciudad...

Ducha, descanso, y depois um bom burrito alá fajitas, con mucha chela y alegria. Rodrigo dormiu des de que voltamos, e já nos buscou quando já tarde tinahmos saído, mas Daniel e Eliza me acompanharam, e encontramos alguns outros amigos depois do juego de Bolívar con un equipo cruçeño. Bolívar gaño dos a uno, e provabelmiente vá a gañar el campeonato nacional en los próximos juegos de la final. (Juegavan en Cochabamba por que havian empatado ya en los últimos dos juegos en La Paz y Santa Cruz).

Agora estou morto de cansado... foi um lindo dia. Estas montanhas säo as mais belas que tenho visto des das Rochosas no Colorado e Wyoming... Realmente incríveis. E a experiência de subi-las é até mais emocionante, pois näo levavamos os tradicionais equipamentos Coloradenses como mapa com altitudes, tarps, e first aid kits de medicamentos Europeus... ao invés levavamos o basico Andino: muita coca, agua, galletas, solo un abrigo cada, um canivete, päo y sardina. Nao há los guardaparques y no há rutas ciertas... solo se sube y baja por donde se puede, so no las carreteras y una senda en el final.

Pois mira, além da piramide, já nao se via nem ouvia a cidade... Já estavamos acima da tree line, já seguiamos nas supra-renais e coca mais que nas próprias pernas... Já miravamos abajo como condores, e já com aquela rocky mountain high de querer chegar ao próximo pico e querer subir ainda um pouco mais, e um pouco mais...!

E isso tudo gracias a el couch surfing. Realmente é o melhor modo de se viajar.

Ahora para los gringos que no compreenden nada de nuestras lenguas... pô, tem que se virar as vezes, né¿!

The mountains north of Cochambamba, in the Tunari National Park, are abso¡fucking!lutely gorgeous. It is an amazing challenge to hit 4 thousand meters and keep going, and it is amazingly ecstatic to bag not only one 5k+ peak, but from there to another right on the same stretch!!! Then down a mountain pass over a delicious cold cold Andean lake, and a straight line down along the opposite arm of the valley we went around. Reward: good food, local brew, and a priceless experience. Amen.

Cochabamba

2009-12-01T23:27:00.002-03:00

A estrada de La Paz para Cochabamba é relativamente boa... plana, através do planalto seco do noroeste boliviano, depois que a estrada separa-se do caminho para Oruro começa a atravessar uma serra, muitas montanhas marrons, mais baixas que no Peru, e depois de muito sobe roda e desce, chega-se ao vale aonde se esparraaaaama a cidade de Cochabamba.

Mas, de estilo especialmente nosso, o fato do ônibus ''ter'' um banheiro a bordo näo quer dizer que este näo tenha ''acabado''... haviam vários baldes entulhados no banheiro, que aparentemente näo funcionava... umas 8 horas de viajem, com várias paradas no caminho aonde näo se tem a oportunidade de descer para usar o banheiro, e uma curtíssima de 15 minutos para almoçar, de onde o ônibus vai saindo sem nem verificar se todos estäo abordo! Putz... é foda quando neste paísinho metade do que se como e bebe dá diarréia...

Mas amanhä seremos recebidos por um couch surfer daqui, quem sabe descansados e mais animados possamos vir a curtir esta outra louca cidade boliviana! Amen!

And now for all yall gringos...

Cochabamba is a sprawling city at a valley that takes a loooong time to wind down after crossing several mountains on the way from La Paz. The mountains aren't as tall or as beautiful as in Peru, and the first half of the trip is across the dry brown bolivian plateau... Mind: just because the bus company says there are bathrooms, doesnt mean those work. and that matters when you are in an 8hour trip, and with a bad stmoach....

shiiiit

write more soon

La Paz!!!

2009-11-30T19:49:00.002-03:00

La Paz is a big city... harsh, sure, but also somewhere you can find a more calm, more clean, more quiet part of town where to enjoy some quality food and drink. Mira, Sapucachi is a great place to live, and would have been wonderful to couch surf if any of the 5 people we tried contact were to have responded (laaaame). Having rested and gotten more used to the city, it was even possible to enjoy walking about town, checking out the main university (UMSA), and having a good vegetarian buffet for 24 bolivianos (about 3usd).

It is indeed Latin America... UMSA students occupy an entire building demanding (something about) summer courses, the police in heavy riot gear chill outside the front door of the building and people go by casually... The electoral offices have huuuuuuge lines, and, again, heavily armed police all about. It turns out the (conservative) courts nixed almost some half million voter registrations... yet, all seem quite sure of an Evo victory. The questions pertain mostly to whether they will also control both houses of congress, and which mayor offices, etc... Note: many leftists here are quite dissatisfied with Evo and MAS, making even a ''voto nulo'' campaign (none of the above, nix the elections). Especially around UMSA. Moreover, most peasant organizations are organic with MAS, taking on complete electoral support now... the other side of this coin is a weak Via Campesina of independent social movements as in Brazil... The work now is mostly with MST-Bolivia, which I will hopefully visit around Santa Cruz later this month, the last week or ten days before returning to Brasília.

Till then, off to Cochabamba for the week, back for the elections (I may possibly tag along a Spanish delegation that will be observing the elections in some indigenous communities of the Altiplano, cross your fingers and toes!!! Otherwise, I will be at Plaza Murillo!). Then next week meeting some other backpacking friends and heading south to Oruro, Uyuni and Potosi. Then taking a flight from Sucre to Santa Cruz, since, hehehe, there are no real roads that way ;)

Loki at me, I can be in Gringoland wherever I go!!

2009-11-29T01:23:00.002-03:00

There is a hostel chain in Peru and Bolivia called Loki. They are committed to providing a safe and fun environment for backpackers. By safe they mean you can be surrounded by nothing but Ausies, Kiwis, Brits, USers, Germans, Israelis, and most other brands of pasty folk speaking English with the widest diversity of accents... By fun they mean that they actually pack in 200 such gringos in the hostel with its very own burger-n-guinness bar. Result: a piece of Gringoland in the heart of La Paz.

Don't get me wrong: if you don't speak any Spanish, and if you don't *want* to speak any Spanish, this is a wonderful place for you! You can watch the rugby or basketball or UEFA game and try to get laid with that hot blonde Kiwi or that cute Irish redhead... There are costume parties sometimes, and an all English speaking tourism agency right there, so you only need to leave the building on a tourist bus with a foreign guide to an extreme adventure experience in, which is this country again? No matter... the mountain bike is still gringo made, so you can trust it and break your arm on the steepest route of the world, or you can rent gringo made gear to scale that 5000m mountain with some name you can't and don't really care to pronounce.

Best of all, you can repeat this diversity of experiences in some three other cities! Can you imagine how wonderful, to be able to travel with the same gringo folk through the same drinking nights with the same gringo music across various different places? A hostel-hopping good time!

The diversity of a corn cereal isle in a USer supermarket!

In how many different places can we replicate the same lifestyle you could have had without ever having flown half way across the world and into a completely different country?

I bet I can paint corn pops blue and sell them in another box and make bank. As long as I can include it at Loki's complementary breakfast, until 1pm for the hungover!

La Paz...

2009-11-28T20:21:00.002-03:00

鄭小塔: ...tell me more about la paz

me: there is a huge sprawling slum on the higland above... (The famous city of El Alto.) then you drive along a big highway on the edge of a mountain, (like dangling off a cliff) and below in the valley is the ''rich'' city, that looks like the same big slum, but with big buildings here and there... it looks like a boiling bubbling mass of people inside a bowl made of mountains. the mountains are beautiful, snow capped, but the lower you go, the dryer it gets... the more brown... until you get to that ugly brick exposed brown.. the city is all in construction. it looks like everything is a half done construction... so no one can really live in it yet

...and when you get down here... the cars twist all around each other, and the people move in between them like water through rubble. the honking is even worse than in peru, smaller cities, sure, then that might explain... and the streets all go either up or down... nothing is flat. nothing is straight for too long. it is as though the life of the people here falls crookedly onto each others', like the buildings and the street lines adjusting themselves to the harsh ground all around.

鄭小塔: ....haha, i guess i like chaotic cities... i think i'll like la paz

me: :)
if only it were safer...

鄭小塔: em..how's the man got robbed?

me: (a fellow Brazilian who came from Peru the same day) he got into a taxi... the taxi picked up another tourist. drove into an alley with both of them. other men showed up, said they were police, needed to investigate their passports. looked through his passport and bag, took his laptop, gave the passport and bag back to him. and they took away the other tourist... they probably took alot more from him. maybe took everything, and dropped him off in some far away place... it is really horrible.

Frontera hasta La Paz

2009-11-28T01:33:00.002-03:00

A long day it was to cross borders into Bolivia... a bus, a van, another bus, a boat, that bus, a walk, a taxi... Never assume you know what is to come, always keep a spare few coins and short bills for the travel. And keep safe. A friend was robbed first few minutes in La Paz, hurray, a classic game of 'I took a wrong cab at the wrong time and place'...

MAS posters and grafiti all about... yet in a gringo oh so gringo hostel. A contrast I cant even begin to describe...

Remember that consolidations come from struggles, that are waged far afield from the resulted stays... Kataristas and comunistas and capitalistas all pull the centering state apart...

Defend it with the paid flag wavers¿

Sure MAS will be reelected.

But what is to come¿

What can they do, if a liberal twist remains in the unwillingness or inability to truly decapacitate and decapitate the oligarchy¿

Call it 'revolution', call it 'patria o muerte', invoke the ghosts of el Che all that you want....

no GueMing, no cutting necks, no truly systematic change... and that, even for only a possible gneeration...

for old Bolsheviks were buried in the 30's.

and we now look onto a whole new century.

what is to come¿

what is to be done¿

Titicaca

2009-11-28T01:23:00.003-03:00

The life of the lake is dying. The peasant people's that used to compliment their farming with fishing can no longer do so, and so submit themselves to the industry of tourism, where a proletariat hussles up and down mountains 30 kilos of gringo pampering gear, or the harshness of a faked culturicity of dances that are simply pra inglês ver.

Yet a short time can yield a rich experience... the islands's very geography makes more or less sheep, more or less papas and maize grow. The families hold micro-plots throughout, integrating interests and spreading risks and tasks... 3 years rotation and 3 years fallow... no llamas or sheep enough for fertilizer, but also no chemicals that vitiate. A self-sufficiency that can't sustain the gas and oil and rice and clothes that come from the continent... And so, where are they to go¿

When canadian trout catch is sold at 20 centavos de Sol per kilo....

When no fish outside farms can yield the weight and wealth for complimenting the dry peasantry...

When tourism is the harsh and degrading and ocasional support it is...

Can there be a turn to an electoral populist compromise as here in Bolivia¿

Can there be a solidification of a mass movement that escapes the repression of the 'terrorists'¿

Peru, and I have left it, is left alone...

...leave it to them to shift the gears of our continents path, from the Chilean economic 'growth' or the Colombian military ossification, to the populist innovations of Bolivia and Venezuela.... donde quedan los Peruanos¿ Donde vamos nos Latinos nos quedar¿

Machu Picchu 2

2009-11-28T01:10:00.002-03:00

Machu Picchu, for those of you who can't understand the languages of my continent, was a wonderful experience. It is an ancient ruin perched between two mountains at the curve of a deep river... A old sacred city to which the Quechua people took refuge during the Spanish onslaught, and which was left to forgetfullness untill Yale took it over... What is to be described, how can it be told, what it is like to be at such a place¿ A gringo could go there and appreciate the stones, the mountains, the mistique of the place.... but only a south american, even if adopted as I am, an truly take in the burning emptiness of the ''what we could have been'' and the values that built that place. Let no romanticism whitewash the imperialism that built it, the newness that contrasts with the millenarian Tiwanaku and Guarani peoples, and the painfulness of a classist religious exclusivity... but, still, it is not like the ongoing genocide, like the capitalist imperialism that places gringos there with their mcdonalds and pasty-fleshed women posters... what is to be done¿ to acknowledge it, even, is to go out of one's way in that international but not internationalist play ground. a pluricultural country, even, would negate Collantisuyu, in which I now write... Waikis, learn our world. Learn this in the pain in which it is deserved. That is the hammer that harshens the glow of the past glories that linger in the mountain forests mists of Machu Picchu. Friends gave me prayer flags to flutter on trees of a mountain.... may those prayers incarnate loving karma to that place, to our world, to the passing flourishing decay of the cultures that trample each other on the thin mountain air, of the jungle moisture below raining all about the jagged mountains all about.

Machu Picchu

2009-11-23T16:36:00.001-03:00

Aventuras aventuras, como näo! Estive em Machu Picchu ontem, que tinha outro nome em seu tempo... Há um encanto com o que fomos (me fazendo agora de filho adotivo de nossa América) e oque poderiamos vir a ser, mas ao mesmo tempo uma estranheza no compreendimento que os povos que construiram aquelas lindas cidades e templos também o fizeram sobre os templos de outros povos, que seu império expandiu como os árabes em realezas polígamas que transformavam outras culturas em suas próprias, que todo imperio é imperialista... aí, perde-se todo o romanticismo sobre aquela gente e seus Incas... mas ganha-se, ou digo somente pessoalmente, ganhei uma visäo comparativa de civilizaçöes: se ambos impérios Inca e espanhol fizeram genocídios, pode-se comparar a medida de adaptaçäo dos outros povos à cultura ''vencedora'', e ví mais vestígios dos outros povos pré Incas em suas ruinas que vejo agora destes todos em nossas igrejas católicas... vejo a melhoria de esgotos e eletrecidade (para alguns) que vieram com a contínua colonizaçäo européia, mas vejo agora a morte das centenas de espécies de milhos e batatas e outras plantas que os povos dos Incas criaram e recriaram em seus terraços. Aonde cheguei? Aonde estou chegando? Nesse vai e vem de histórias sobre histórias, de impérios sobre impérios, de culturas sobre culturas, fico até tonto como os que caminham sobre essas montanhas sem se adaptar ao ar fino... mas me encontro cada vez mas. Fui até um pouco mais irmäo latino dos portadores Peruano-Quechua naquela trilha classista de turistas romanticos... Aprendi mais sobre eles e sobre mim mesmo. E assim vou... Por el suelo agora, cada vez mais, e mesmo ciego, sigo. Seguirei. Estou contente.

Valle Sagrado

2009-11-18T14:23:00.002-03:00

We visited the Valle Sagrado for a day... A few notes: tour agencies never fill a bus, so they subcontract a bus and guide, who actually set the tour. You can get an idea of the tour from the agency, but never be too sure of details... Ideally, if possible, book it straight with the guide. We also found that you can get a single-language tour, with, possibly, more information than splitting the time into two languages. Costs a little, more, but still, off season, no more than 30 soles.

The tour is a mix of craft markets and ruins. The markets aren`t too different than in town, so it would be best to just spend time visiting the ruins. We only saw, really, Pisaq and Ollataytambo. The first is much larger than we could visit in such a short tour... The guide information is good, but it would be good too to return another day on our own to actually see the rest of the place. If one has got enough plata, you can spend a whole morning there, and a whole afternoon at Ollataytambo. Better that way...

With enough time, but not enough plata, bus your way to Pisaq for a day, try to find an improvised guide in town... They may or may not know much, but if you get a good improvised guide, twould be ideal. Same at Ollataytambo.

Lunch stops at either Urubamba or Calca. They said the former at the agency, but the tour actually went to the latter. Eliza and I packed sandwiches and granola, so instead of having a 20 soles lunch, we took a motor-shaw (a motorized rickshaw hehehe) around town and stopped out at their market. Unlike tourist markets, here they dont sell traditional trinkets and clothes, but clothes that say Adidas n such crap on it instead, cheap food and stuff the locals want. A very good experience to see the way people really live around here. Cheap fruit too, but don´t recommend any other food you can wash... There I bought some nice wool longjohns for 10 soles. A good deal too.

Tomorrow we leave for the Inca Trail. Excited. News from Machu Picchu next week.

Love.

SEIS Ruinas

2009-11-16T13:41:00.004-03:00

Normally people pay some 30 soles for a day tour of four ruins near Qosqo. In just 3 or 4 hours, people are taken to one after another by bus or van, receive some info at the sites, and get back into town. Instead of doing that, Julian suggested that we take a kombi to a certain stop, then another up the mountains, for a total of 1.60 soles. It dropped us off at the highest of those ruins, Tambomachay, where we bought the needed Boleto Turistico (most of the profits of which go to Lima instead of staying here, sadly...). Those are small ruins with interesting stories, which we were able to catch from a few of the different guides other people paid ;) Climbing above the ruins you can reach a small indigenous community, which is as worthwhile to visit as the ruins themselves. From there you can climb down the other side straight towards the next ruins, Poca Pocara, and then you notice you could have probably walked across the community towards Tambomachay and seen those ruins without passing through the front gate and having to buy the Boleto... (but you should buy the Boleto anyway, more on that below).

Poca Pocara is more interesting than the first, and there too a guide offered us a free preamble to the ruins, a good 5 minute teaser, for further information he would charge for later. The pramble was very very informative, but the further guidance seemed more speculative, and we did not feel bad missing out on it. These ruins are very good to walk through and envision the activities there... From there you can also glimpse the old Quechua road that has fallen into disuse above the asphalt highway.

Continuing walking down from those ruins, you pass through another community along the side of the road. There are a few places there when you could eat. But we packed a picnic instead. Along the road there we met up with a Canadian who was coming down alone from a mountain hike. We offered her company down towards the city so she didnt have to go alone, and she came with us for some of the way.

We reached a point where the highway curves around a long way, but where our kombi driver pointed out a footpath that shortcuts and passes through another set of ruins not on the traditional tour. The woman who sold us the Boleto told us not to take such a route, since it is less safe to be away from the road, but there was a group going through that path on horses right in front of us, and we felt secure to follow them, so we did. We got to see the extra ruins, much of it still under excavation, which where said to be a temple to the moon. There, above a large rocky cliff, overlooking shepherd boys with their sheep and women washing their clothes by a creek, we took our picnic. It was quite wonderful to rest, on our own, behind a rocky edge, laying down in the sun, shielded from the wind... A peaceful silence that no tour could ever provide.

From there we kept along the path towards the ruins of Qenqo, where we again got some free info from other people`s guides. The amazing thing about that place is the work on bare rocks inside caves which were used to embalm mummies. There were also smaller, less excavated ruins nearby, which the locals called Qenqo Chico, which are also not on the traditional tours. The wonderful thing there was to find a carved altar on the bare rock where the Quechua still make offerings of coca leavest o Pachamama. There was also an amazing large rock shaped like a doorway, which in an Indiana Jones movie or Tolkien novel would surely open into a secret passage. There was a hole on the rock the size of a tennis ball, which I poked into looking for a trigger or other way to open the passage, and tons of huge black ants came out all about! That was where they nested their young, and they were desperately trying to fend off the invader and rescue their larvae. If the passage required one to continue proding her fingers there, it would surely require alot of strength of spirit to withstand the pain. I guess I didn`t believe in Indiana Jones and Tolkien stories enough to risk it...

From Qenqo we continue past other small food and craft stores to the largest and most amazing ruins around Qosqo, the grand complex of Saqsayhuama. There, another kind soul showed up and began giving us information about himself and the place. He is a teacher of Quechua at a small community up those mountains, and he comes down to the ruins in the afternoons after classes to give information to tourists and raise money for the school. He taught us about the ritual significance of that place, about the Quechua religion, and walked us through a ritual of offering to Pachamama and Apu. He gave us far more information than I could convey here, and without experiencing the place it would not have the same impact anyway... Above the ruins, where the towers used to stand with the altars, he crossed the security lines with us to show us the base of the towers, how it is a calendar, and how we can experience the echo of the Earth all around us from where the tower of the sun used to rise. We gave him 20 soles at the end, which is about how much we saw guides requesting at the entrance to those ruins, but we felt a bit heart crushed for giving so little to someone who gave us so much. Oxalá we can return more to his Quechua people whom he loves in the more valuable goods of the spirit than what we were able to give in lowly-but-necessary material goods...

Afterwards we completed our descent back into Qosqo, which seemed so noisy and busy with taxis and tourons all around... It was as though returning to a different realm after experiencing something higher. From the Condor to the Puma. Or even from the Puma, its head, through its heart, down towards the Serpent world below...

To walk through these places on our own, open to those who God trances their paths alongside ours even for a few hours, open to the experiences that befall us like the rain that comes with the unpredictable mountain weather, to experience on ones own feet the walk that the Quechua would take between their own places... that is how to experience this place - despite what the tour buses and the foreign cameras do to this place. It is still nothing compared to what it must have been like to live here before the invasion and occupation, what it must have been like to visit it even fifty years ago when the ruins were neglected to those who wished to trample or dismantle them, but it is still a blessing and a rarity compared to what it will be like soon when a Hyatt and a Marriot twist this place even more like the McDonalds that already encroached, below a marquee and without a big arch, at the heart of the Puma city... The new cathedrals that dismantle the Quechua people, but while I can feel the sour pain of the churches built from temple stones, the genocide-that-continues is even more painful. From the past, I feel but a pain of my history, but for now, I feel the pangs that torture me each time an old Quechua lady stretches out her strong scrawny hands from the ground up towards me asking for coins that I spend with much less care than she would...

It is beautiful...
...and it is painful
to be here

Couchsurfing

2009-11-15T00:01:00.003-03:00

Couchsurfing is the way to travel. Eliza and I are staying with Juan Carlos and Julian in San Sebastian, an actually Peruvian neighborhood of Qosqo, we experience Peru for real and we can cook our own meals and get reliable information about how to move around town for 60 centavos instead of 6 soles, and to visit the ruins for the price of two micro rides instead of a 35 soles tour.... so much more to come on the actually city of Qosqo and the nearby ruins soon soon soon!

Llegando dolorasa y cansativamente hasta Cusco...

2009-11-13T01:25:00.003-03:00

I got sick just before leaving on my trip to Peru and Bolivia... Xiao Ta was taking care of me, with teas and other chinese medicine, that was wonderful and I miss it now.... I got sick, I think, with the stress of graduate school applications and the impending travel, and wanting to spend time with Xiao Ta, I overlooked the date of my flight, and left a day late! Had to reschedule some flights and dar um jeitinho, and a jeitinho was figured out, and I am now in Cusco. But still with a sore throat, and sometimes a little fever... I flew from Brasilia to Sao Paulo, rested some three hours, flew through Campo Grande, landed in Santa Cruz de la Sierra, where I went to a hotel (thanks to Aerosur) for four hours, then continued on a flight to La Paz, then finally, to Cusco.

Arrived tired, but I´ve also been taking (western) medicine, and now lots of mate de coca, and joined a Swiss backpacker named Simon to split a cab to downtown, and finding a hostel. After a light lunch, I briefly visited my tour agency where I booked my visit to Machu Picchu hiking the Inca trail, and came back to the hostel, drank more tea and slept the rest of the day... Only went out again for dinner with Simon, at a balcony overlooking the Plaza de Armas, gorgeous at night, with the rain, sparkling and sprinkling on the broad slabby stones of the square. The city lights also climb up the mountain sides all around. The earth colored buildings that seem so plain at night gain a colonial air in the evening, and the mixture of Inca walls and colonial ´superstructure´ (in both the literal architectonic and more abstract sense) make this a truly wondrous place.

Tomorrow I might visit the Inca museum here in town, and meet with Eliza at the bus station in the afternoon (she flew in through Lima and is currenlty taking a bus over here). Afterwards we will go find a couch on which to surf, she may need food and rest, and we will make our plans for visiting the region. There are many ruins all around, small towns with traditional markets, and many other good things to do and see. Hopefully, my illness will soon pass and I will soon get used to the altitude (we are even higher than Boulder, I am quite sure, perhaps as high as Eldora).

As my mind settles and my body heals, I hope to find here, in the very heart of my continent, a peace which has been lacking and a rooting which has been left hanging while I bounced around Brasilia and sought more education down north again...

The Chinese

2009-11-13T00:50:00.002-03:00

Despite my disappointment with academia and the situation in Brazil, other things did fill out my days for the past month in Brazil: helping to host three chinese visitors, who are spending one year with the MST in Brazil. They arrived through Sao Paulo but came to Brasilia soon to learn Portuguese at the Catholic Church´s Missionary Cultural Center, where they are used to giving crash courses in Portuguese to foreigners who need to quickly engage with Brazilian society. This was arranged by Paulinho, who straddles both Church and Movement, but since he was in Europe for the first month the chinese were here, he asked me to help translate and take care of them. I agreed with much excitement.

We showed them around town, they were hosted at Paulinho´s house by the rest of his family of friends, who are also my closest friends in Brasilia now, and they were taken to visit camps and settlements around the Federal District and surrounding region. I also brought them over to my house sometimes to see a different class neighborhood, experience, etc. There were many things we did together, many great conversations, about the land issue in Brazil, China, Taiwan, the rest of Asia, Latin America and the world, other political issues, many other social and cultural issues, religion, food, music, history.... So much that, unlike my previous blog entry, on this one I must admit I didnt not write much because I was too ´busy´ with my activities in Brasilia to make time to sit and write. Unfortunately, it is also too much now to ´catch up´ in any significant way, so I will only highlight a few events and a little something about each of the three.

They have Portuguese classes during the mornings, and most afternoons free, which they end up studying language, watching Brazilian movies, or sometimes going on some outings or just resting. They visited Pipiripau twice, at first more officially, going around to a few families and seeing a formal meeting, the second time we went there to work on the land of our friends who will be living in nucleus 16 (Luiz and others from Paulinho´s family, and other organizers from the national office), and ended up having lunch with the community and taking our siesta at Netinha´s house. They also visited a settlement on its two-year anniversary, Eldorado, and a few others on the region. That was a great visit because of the celebratory situation, and also because a UN/FAO delegation was going through the settlement as part of a weeklong visit to Brazil to report on the right to food to the commission on human rights. They made a very short visit, clearly, and although their work is similarly superficial, they seem to be providing, at least, generally positive reports on the situation in Brazil - that is, condemning what is to be condemned and praising what is to be praised, generally, with some complications.

The best times and experiences I had with the chinese, however, were in more personal interactions during our field visits, translating for them, and also there in town, going out for food, drinks, film, meeting university professors, or just spending good quality friend times at my house, at our friends´ house in Sobradinho, or at their school (where they also reside).

Sit Tsui is the only ´real´ chinese of the three, and even then, she is actually from Hong Kong, but taught at Shanghai and currently at the Univeristy of Beijing. She teaches cultural studies and rural sociology, and works with peasant women in organizing themselves through handcrafts and such work. She is very involved in the research and process of ´a new socialism for the countryside´, a policy of CCP since 2004, in addition to having done work elsewhere in Asia, such as India. She is the most ´academic´ of the three, which sometimes raises discomfort on the other two, but I can relate with her as well because of this... her questions, which I´ve had to translate many, are the most systematic and structured ones. She really does field work. After all, she is doing a post-doc in social movements and the agrarian question in Latin America! She, as with the others, is being funded by the HaoRan Foundation, a make-me-look-good institution for a fucked up construction development corporation in Taiwan... They hosted, however, the Via Campesina to talk about the current economic crisis last year, where Latin American peasant movement people made the contacts that is resulting in their visit now to us. Sit Tsui will return to Sao Paulo after Brasilia to do some more research and work with the MST´s national college, named after Florestan Fernandes, and from there she is still to decide where to go.

Ming Hsien is Taiwanese, very Taiwanese, and also the only one who has any peasant background. The oldest son of a peasant family from northeast Taiwan, he went to college in Taipei and stayed there working with labor movements, to which he is still attached. He is also the oldest of the three, the one with most language difficulties, but also the one who is most excited about children and most adventurous to deal with Brazilians and make his way around. He even prefered to move out of the Missionary Cultural Center to go live on his own at the Movement´s lodging in a satelite city of Brasilia! Being a social movement organizer and not an academic, as well as a pro-independence Taiwanese (still of Han ethnicity, but Taiwanese for a few centuries already), he is often at odds with Sit Tsui. After November, however, they are going separate ways, as he is going to Belo Horizonte in Minas Gerais, where the MST has a strong urban presence and where new labor movements are gaining strength. Hopefully he will learn more Portuguese now that I am gone and he can no longer get English (or often, English-with-Mandarin) translation.

Xiao Ta is the youngest of the three, and one that goes between them in many ways. She is Taiwanese, but her mother´s family emigrated only recently, with the Guomindang occupation during the 50´s, so she speaks more Mandarin than Taiwanese at home. Also, her father is a prominent labor movement organizer, while her mother is a prominent university professor. Both are very politically engaged, and she was raised in the struggle all along. But, being this new, apathetic generation of ours, she has always had to play mediation roles between generations within the movements, as well as in other ways (as between Sit Tsui and Ming Hsien, since she, after all, speaks both Taiwanese and Mandarin, identifies as being from Taiwan but culturally chinese, etc.). She graduated with a history degree, but went on to work with labor movements in many ways... played and sang in a workers´ band known in such circles, helped found and organize a documentary film directors union (since she also makes documentaries herself), and was a major force in the sex workers´ movement in Taiwan, serving as secretary of their union until she came to Brazil this year. Unlike the other two, who have clear interests in rural sociology and land issues and fomrs of social movement organization (Tsui and Ming Hsien), Xiao Ta is currently with less specific goals and broader horizons... In a way, she needed to get out of Taiwan for some time, but, given who she is, she doesnt just go on vacation backpacking... she writes grand proposals and takes on a project like this one of working for international solidarity! Just before, for example, she undertook a similar, but shorter project investigating community currencies and barter systems in Mexico and Argentina, and since she had also lived in Guatemala for six months working with sex workers, she speaks relatively good Spanish and has far greater ease speaking Portuguese than the other two.

It also turned out that Xiao Ta and started liking each other a lot....

...but soon I had to leave for Peru and Bolivia. When I come back to Brazil, however, I will do some more traveling, and she will likely be in Paraná, so I might go see her there, and travel some with her. That would be good.

Intermission

2009-10-19T22:25:00.001-03:00

It has been a long time since I updated this blog. This has been for a variety of reasons, but first it was due to a general ‘desânimo’ (a disappointment, a disillusion that drains me of life), that came with shifting gears from Rio Grande do Sul into the life to which I returned in Brasília. I will say a little about three events that are marking of this period, from which I felt a need to withdraw into personal affections, most of which are distant now, and to put my body into work at my family’s garden and reading poetry and literature to heal the spirit.

The first event was a meeting of researchers of the Cerrado, organized by some faculty from the Center for Sustainable Development (CDS) here at UnB, during a weekend-long series of events celebrating the peoples, cultures, and biodiversity of the Cerrado. It was with this event in mind that I set my return date from my adventure in the South, so the disappointment with it was all the more marking of the contrast I felt in the experiences there and back here.

The academic presentations were reports on past research, and only 45 minutes were allotted at the end for a group discussion on how future work could be done by such a group towards the greater understanding and advocacy of healthy ties between the people who live on the Cerrado and this, our ecosystem. As a first gathering, expectations should not have been set too high, I understand, but the lack of preparation of those there still caught me off guard. Over 20 minutes were wasted at first by a woman who is neither researcher nor knows anything about the Cerrado, but enjoyed to hear herself change words around and speak of the Maya as though she were enlightening the world and all around her. She was by far the biggest waste of time, but not the only one to do so there.

When more serious deliberations were raised by others, they resulted, through a windy process, in the call for a committee of four to eight researchers to prepare next year’s meeting in order to take into consideration all the other comments raised during the conversation (which ended up doubling its allotted 45 minutes). Few volunteered to actually join such a working committee, and very little concrete directions were given for the improvement of the collective work of the group. I myself raised the suggestion that next year’s presentations not constitute reports on past research, but proposals for future collective research and work with social movements already invited for collective work and present at the meeting. This suggestion seemed timely, since not few of those present repeated the consideration that a large amount of money for work in the Cerrado was (or was to be made) available through the Ministries of Social Development, the Environment, and maybe some additional government branch or another. Yet there they were, self-important academics, for the most part, licking their chops over research budgets while itching around like blind mice who know not how to get their cheese, and fearful it would “go to the Amazon instead” or rot in some office, unused. The quickness with which my comment disappeared from the conversation (about budgets and the need to research the Cerrado, things which I would imagine needed no repetition given the very nature of the meeting) was a pillar of my disappointment that day.

Yet don’t let the focus on the disappointing aspects distort the reality that, even still, good came of my participation at that event. There I ran into some people mentioned in previous posts, and such occasional encounters are of utmost importance to the building of more significant ties. Some, for example, have persisted, as with Janjão, who was there as one representative of the regional MST, and who went with me and another group to spend last weekend at a settlement in the Minas Gerais region surrounding the DF (the Federal District in which Brasília is situated) – more on that at a later post.

Yet the event as a whole left me with a sour taste in my mouth for Brazilian academia in general, and the CDS at UnB in particular. It was the third-to-last straw in my consideration of trying applications already this round here in Brazil. The second-to-last came only a few days later, when the CDS hosted the Green Party (Partido Verde) presidential candidate, Marina da Silva, past Minister of the Environment and dissident from the Workers’ Party (Partido dos Trabalhadores – PT), for a talk on the topic of sustainability. The disappointment here was two-fold; with CDS and with the Greens, which meant further disillusion with academia and the electoral process.

As a PT dissident, Marina’s candidacy had represented for me, when I first returned to Brazil, the possibility that a serious challenge to the current government could, at least, force it into a position of accountability. If other leftist opposition parties rallied around the Greens, the PT would simply have to straighten itself out some, or all would risk a return to the rightist coalitions built upon the social-democratic PSDB. But Marina’s challenge is not serious by any stretch of the imagination… and I do not refer to how many votes she can get or “take away” from PT. Rather, I refer to the content of the speech she gave that night – pure bureaucratic banter of green reformism in pro-business developmentalist discourse. Big conservationist transnational NGOs have her in their palms, and she has no concrete alternatives to the economic or social policies of her erstwhile party. When pressured by more critical questions from the (younger members of the) audience, she responded with the most uninspiring bullshit about “consumer choices for green products” and “good corporate examples” in the “European models.”

To make matters even more ridiculously distasteful for me, one of only nine people who were able to raise questions after her speech was that woman-with-nothing-good-to-say-and-who-likes-to-hear-her-own-voice from the above mentioned meeting! And this – mind you! – was a recognized question by the same CDS organizers who already knew that woman was a verbose bag of egoism! But none of this seemed to bother the bigwigs of the CDS, and none of that environmental reformism or consumerist cooption seemed to bother the vast majority of people who packed that auditorium, and most of those faces are already beginning to be recognized by me as the same little clique of middle-class liberals from Brasília who would likely fawn over everything that distastes me about Boulder… And I realized that this would be the setting in which I would envelop myself if I were to ingress at the CDS program and dwell among the middle-class of Brasília, and this was the second-to-last straw…

The very last straw came the following week when I went to the VIII National Bioethics Congress, to present an essay on “Agroecology of Agribusiness? Revolution or Genocide!” along with my mother, who was also presenting some other works of her own in more bio-medical ethics. My presentation was a very, very short summary of the argument about agroecology in a chapter of my thesis, but even such a short summary did not have the opportunity to be discussed during the congress. Other than the keynote speakers and very few “round” table discussions by a few other bigwigs, all other, and I mean the vast majority of the presentations, were limited to a ridiculous 10 minute interval. That did not allow for a proper exposure of a research topic, its results, an argument, or much less any debate about the issues at hand. This fact alone suffices to characterize the congress, in my view, as a complete failure, and an embarrassment to Brazilian academia.

But this is not all that is embarrassing and disappointing. The chair of my session did not even bother to show up, and this forced us to delay our already short time of presentations. Those researchers who did have time for proper presentations and Q&A’s that I saw were, for the most part, very poor speakers, with weak arguments, empty rhetoric, and uninteresting content. In particular, the speakers who addressed the “environmental crisis” focused on it as a result of some abstract “anthropocentrism” and advocated for its solution, therefore, a “planetary ethics” with no specificity whatsoever. When I, and a few others, raised questions about what such a “planetary ethics” would entail in concrete terms for the solution to the problems presented, as political alternatives, or at least social practices, the same resounding stupidity of “consumer choices” reared its ugly head, but this time the aura of importance shifted from electoral politics to the “moral high ground” of academic masturbation over –isms.

Now, I do not expect everyone, or even the majority, to agree with me, or to part from the same questions or considerations… but at least I would be satisfied if there were at least some echo to the seriousness of the work that these people claim to be doing that corresponded in any way with reality. It is as though there were three sorts of characters in this land: those Pontius Pilates who see themselves as so much more intelligent and pure than the rest for preaching “conscious personal choice” while they wash their hands; a small minority of politically engaged illiterate prophets whom they crucify; and a vast sea of ignorant and willingly-ignorant sheep who demand only the liberation of the soap-opera that kills their mind and rapes their dignity, instead of those who sacrifice themselves for a better world.

Let this image conclude, then, my account of the first twenty of my past forty days. With a decision to not subject myself to an application process into Brazilian academia for now, and while endeavoring to care for my own sanity by withdrawing into the privileges of my family’s hammock and backyard, I had felt no ‘ânimo’ to write anything… not until I busied myself with more rewarding activities, and with a new injection of life in my very physical presence, have I now been able to write again.

The occupation of INCRA / RS

2009-09-20T23:48:00.002-03:00

I arrived by bus from the northern region of the state late on a Monday night and went to the Movement’s residence hall in Porto Alegre. I had originally planned to rest from my trip and find a ride the next day to the region of São Gabriel, several hours west into the countryside where most mobilizations are taking place in Rio Grande do Sul (most encampments have been moved there to form a critical mass in the struggle for land in that region). Once I arrived, however, I was informed about an “activity” early the next morning and decided to take part. Those within the Movement in Porto Alegre knew that a mobilization on the regional headquarters of the National Colonization and Agrarian Reform Institute (INCRA, the government agency in charge of such issues) was to take place soon, in conjunction with an escalation of mobilizations in São Gabriel, but it was only the night before that those in support capacities in Porto Alegre received confirmation of the mobilization.

After very few hours of sleep I made my way to the INCRA building, where some from the residence hall had already arrived somewhat earlier and taken their positions inside and around the building. I was entrusted to join two other comrades with the duty of keeping the front gate open when and while some 9 bus loads of landless peasant families arrived from their countryside encampments with their personal belongings (rolled up mattresses and some clothes) and additional gear and food for a lasting occupation (such as pots, stoves, rice and beans). These were busloads of encamped landless peasants from São Gabriel and, mostly, other camp sites around the northern region of the state (where the Judiciary has been consistently issuing orders for the removal of encamped families from occupied farms, from the sides of the roads, and, ultimately, even from other previously established agrarian reform settlements… With no place else to go, these landless families went to the government bureaucracy in charge of obtaining land for their settlement to pressure it to advance the process in São Gabriel, where simultaneous mobilizations were taking place, and elsewhere in the state.).

It was very, very rainy, but this didn’t matter for the mobilization. After the first few hundred people made their way into the building with their personal belongings, some of the men that had gone in first began to go back to the buses to bring the rest of their heavier gear (pots and stoves) and food (mostly rice and beans). Once most women, children and personal belongings were already inside, we understood that an attempt to close the gate would be futile to stop the occupation. One, then another, then finally all three of us that had been guarding the gate began to help carrying these heavy items. The Movement’s flags were placed at the gate and banners with slogans for agrarian reform and against the state government and its repressive actions (that had murdered another landless peasant in São Gabriel just three weeks before) were hung throughout the front of the occupied building. The entire process took place completely non-violently and people were remarkably well disciplined, with the entire building being occupied before 10am.

The bureaucrats that had actually arrived to work on time began to pack their bags to leave, telling their peers arriving late, “don’t even bother going in there, its packed with the landless.” I was not too near them to follow their conversations in depth, but it looked as though they wanted to take advantage of the situation to orchestrate their own strike – instead of working harder to attend the demands of the occupying landless peasants, they chose instead to extend their long holiday until “decent” work conditions were reinstated by their repressive government.

Soon families organized themselves into the “base nuclei” already set up at their encampments and the buses in which they came, and decided on which floor each group would settle during the course of the occupation. Personal belongings were soon spread throughout the entire hallway of all eight floors of the building, but the office spaces themselves were not occupied by decision of the Movement (also, most had been still locked, or where soon locked when the occupation began). Three kitchen groups soon began to set up their large gas-fired stoves (each with at least 5 tops) under the awning right in front of the building, an empty room near the front of the building was found and designated communal pantry, into which all foodstuffs were taken, and the coordinating committees began their articulation with the base nuclei to set their terms of negotiation. The INCRA superintendent wasn’t at his office, and his deputy refused the initial negotiation “as long as the building was occupied” (ignoring the fact that the purpose of the occupation was obviously to guarantee that a negotiation would take place and that its terms would be followed).

The first lunch was served to the 450 people occupying the building, and in the afternoon the first sector meetings began to take place to organize a lasting encampment in the occupied INCRA building (since by then it had already become clear that no easy negotiation would be forthcoming through the mere show of force and that the occupation would indeed be necessary). Companheira Isabela, who I had already met on my travel into the countryside a few days earlier, introduced me to some other comrades in her sector, education, and this determined the capacity in which I was to lend support to the occupation. We raised an inventory of the children participating in the occupation up through the 5th grade, split among ourselves the responsibilities over each grade and a daycare (ciranda), searched for spaces to use for the education activities, and decided on the class schedule for the following day. We chose the afternoon, since that was when most meetings would be taking place and parents would need to leave their children to participate fully in the collective decisions over their terms of negotiation and the next steps of the occupation, as well as building maintenance activities (cleaning, etc.).

Since I knew that I would likely have to take my flight back to Brasília before the end of the occupation, I decided to work in the larger group of the daycare, where my leaving would cause less problems than if I had taken on the more committed responsibility over teaching one of the grades myself (or along with one other person). We chose an empty bank facility in the main floor of the building for the daycare, since its heavy double-doors would keep inside any runaway kid, and since the space could be kept relatively isolated from the busier parts of the building (in order for the smallest kids to take their naps, play at ease, etc.). The first activity in which all kids engaged was the making of signs to stake their own claim to the spaces of education. In the daycare, they stamped their little hands and feet with different color paints on a sign where we wrote “ciranda” (daycare). Still on the afternoon of the first day of the occupation, I ran an errand back to COCEARGS to pick up some toys for the children in the daycare. (Since I didn’t have any specific duties at the occupation, unlike most others, running such errands was a task more easily entrusted to me.) School materials for the children in grades 1 through 5 only arrived on the following day, when some unionized teachers from a nearby town brought donations.

During the first three days of the occupation, INCRA requested the local judiciary to issue a removal demand, but the judge refused saying that, since INCRA is a federal agency, the federal government could send in the federal police or the military to remove the occupiers without recourse to the civil courts (i.e., him). No legal claims were filled for three full days since neither the federal agency nor the local judiciary wanted to take responsibility for forcing the removal of 450 peaceful people, including children, from the public building of the bureaucracy that has been stalling their settlement and keeping them homeless, that is, landless. During this time, a public hearing took place at the state’s legislative assembly on “the criminalization of social movements” (it was called by a representative from the Communist Party who wore a very fine three-piece suit and spoke forcefully and eloquently, and held at the legislative assembly’s “citizenship and human rights commission”) and a meeting also took place in Brasília (thousands of kilometers away) between members of the Movement and the federal-level bureaucrats from INCRA. Recommendations came out of the first meeting, but the other seemed even less productive, and no direct negotiation was obtained by the fourth day of the occupation, when the judge finally caved in and signed the order for the removal of all occupiers within the next 48 hours.

During the days of the occupation a routine began to take shape, with the previous day’s leftovers being heated up for breakfast (along with a little bit of coffee, flat breads made then and there on frying pans, and lots and lots of chimarrão, i.e., mate), a few meetings during the morning and more during the afternoon, when we operated the education programs, the same rice and beans and some donated veggies (by Mauro from Integração Gaúcha) for lunch and dinner, and in the evening a movie was shown in the largest room at the top of the building through a projector brought from COCEARGS. One night we watched the first of the new Che Guevara films, on another night we watched a documentary about the popular uprising in Oaxaca in 2006, and all other films were similarly themed. There was a lot of time to get to know these people who go camp in extremely precarious conditions for months and years in the struggle for their own piece of ground, and all these conversations were fueled by lots and lots of hot chimarrão.

While I was there, I slept on a small couch on one of the hallways since I didn’t have a mattress. A 40f sleeping bag kept me nice and comfortable, though, even while it added to the way in which I stood out. Still, I soon made friends with others in that floor, helped them cleaning our bathroom regularly, and they shared with me their toilet paper, plates and silverware (since I didn’t have any with me while at the occupation). There was always a very long wait for the few showers available in a single bathroom in the first floor, so one was rigged in the bathroom of our floor, and even still I went without a shower until the third day, when I went on another errand (to bring some extra clothes for the occupiers and another piece of gear from COCEARGS for the movie showings) and accepted Jana’s invitation to shower and rest a moment with her at her apartment.

On the Friday of that week I had to leave to take my flight back to Brasília, and although I was no longer there to follow what happened, I know that the 450 landless peasants occupying the INCRA building refused to leave at the end of the 48 hours allotted in the judiciary’s removal demand. I do not know if the military police attempted to enter the building and dismantle the occupation, but I do know that a massive siege was staged in São Gabriel against the escalated mobilizations there, and those comrades decided to end their mobilization in order to avoid another conflict like the one in which Elton Brum da Silva had been murdered by the military police just three weeks prior in that very same place. Knowing of this decision, the peasants who were mobilized in Porto Alegre decided to follow in solidarity and disband their occupation as well, on the following Tuesday, a full week after the occupation had begun. It would have been unwise, they thought, to aggravate a situation in Porto Alegre against a decision of those in São Gabriel who were under far more severe repression, seeing the occupation of the INCRA building as an extension of the broader struggle being waged in the countryside itself.

The immediate goals of the occupation were not achieved, but there is a recognition that such are only the maneuvers of a long and intricate class struggle, where, as in any other struggle, there are times to advance and times to retreat. Nationwide mobilizations have already been in the works for the month of October, and the Movement in Rio Grande do Sul “jumped the gun” in launching these mobilizations on their own during early September. This was due to the particular circumstances of state repression, criminalization and judiciary blockading that have been so prominent in that state in recent times, and it demonstrates also the independence with which each regional branch of the Movement acts, as well as the independence within the sectors of the Movement in the same region. Still, the Movement has deep roots in the South and it remains strong in that state, so no one doubts that they will launch a new wave of mobilizations soon, most likely in conjunction with the series of mobilizations planned for this October.

Educar Institute

2009-09-17T00:50:00.002-03:00

The Educar (“To Educate”) Institute is a high school conceived, built and operated by the MST that combines academic education with technical formation in agriculture (agropecuária) with a focus (habilitação) in agroecology. Since the first group began its studies in 2005, three classes have graduated with a total of about 120 peasant youth and young adults now providing technical assistance to agrarian reform settlements and other peasant communities throughout the state (such as Alan, for example, who was doing the inspection of the organic rice paddies at Filhos de Sepé). The school’s “daring proposal” is to form “peasant technicians seeking to question and debate the sustainable viability, as well as the political, economic, technical and productive viability of the current model of agriculture.” (This and all other quotes in this entry from the “Cartilha No. 1” produced by the Instituto Educar itself.)

The Institute is located in the Nossa Senhora Aparecida Settlement in the highlands of north Rio Grande do Sul, one of the oldest agrarian reform settlements conquered through the peasant occupations from which the Landless Rural Workers’ Movement (MST) would eventually be born in 1984. This is a region of deep fertile soils and rolling hills, marking a strong contrast with the low wetlands near Porto Alegre. Here, a “breadbasket” region of the country, agribusinesses still flourish with massive industrial monocultures of wheat, oats, (and during the summer) corn and soy. The community life and diversity of fruit, vegetable and animal production (especially milk) from the agrarian reform settlements contrasts harshly, then, with the endless plantations of grains, only marked by few empty farm houses used sporadically by absentee landowners.

“The history of this school has its roots in the 1980’s when, following upon the conquest of land, demands for basic necessities were also undertaken, such as: housing, education, healthcare, community centers, leisure and sport facilities as well as technical assistance for agricultural production. Technical assistance was a necessity for both the settled communities in the old Annoni plantation [where the Nossa Senhora Aparecida and eight other settlements are located] and also for the peasant communities nearby, organized through rural unions, the (now called) Peasant Women’s Movement and Church groups (Pastorais da Terra).”

“This need began to be satisfied when the MST donated 42 hectares of the above mentioned settlement, the area closest to the road and the city of Pontão, and organized “barn raisings” (mutirões) for the construction of the basic structures of the formation center then called Center for Alternative Popular Technologies (Centro de Tecnologias Alternativas Populares – CETAP). The goal was to rescue popular knowledges and to appropriate knowledge about alternative productive technologies with an agroecological dimension. By the end of the 1980’s the structure was built and the proposal for technical assistance for the settlement and peasant communities elaborated.”

“The technical group (agronomists, veterinarians and administrators from CETAP) worked in outreach technical assistance, built a seed bank, realized experiments with organic fertilizers, free range pig raising, grass fed cattle for milk production, biological control of soy pests, organized field days, systems of seed-barter, and a variety of meetings and seminars with the local peasantry for 10 full years.”

“By 2000, CETAP moved to the nearby city of Passo Fundo, where it could be nearer the majority of small farmers for whom it provided assistance (which were no longer agrarian reform settlement areas) and also because of the closer proximity to communication and information technologies. The MST organizers were pushed by their communities to set up a school for their youth, who had no other choice but to leave the countryside to study in the cities, where education was dissociated from their reality. This fact often led students to abandon their education, or abandon the countryside altogether.”

By 2004, the MST succeeds in establishing a partnership with INCRA (the National Institute for Colonization and Agrarian Reform), and in 2005 with the Federal Agro-technical School of Sertão, to create its own course for agriculture technicians with specialization in agroecology, choosing the structure of alternating periods of intensive residential education at the school and periods of work back at their own communities.

“The pedagogical strategy is to work on the construction and formation of militant agents with the capacity to analyze the social, political, cultural and economic reality, discerning the alternative technologies appropriate for the development of the countryside without depending on agribusiness. Hence, agroecology is the central focus of the education at the Educar Institute, which seeks to awaken the student’s conscience towards the harmony and coexistence between the ten million species that live on the planet and the struggle against the behaviors that destroy the equilibrium between them.”

While I visited, 42 students of mostly high school age were in residence. The students are organized into “base nuclei” of 5 or 6 members, who alternate on the daily tasks of cleaning their residential and academic space, running their kitchen, planning and leading the “mística,” organizing their library, etc. The students also have work hours (two days a week) and work days (Saturdays) where the groups alternate between operating the various productive sectors of their school: the vegetable garden, three extensive orchards, arable fields, raising animals (pigs, chickens, milk cows and sheep), healthcare (a medicinal herb garden and the production of homeopathic medicines), a bakery and the maintenance of building infrastructure. Every week day the students have classes morning and afternoon on all academic subjects of high school education. This intensive work/study schedule crams into 5 or 6 weeks the work of full semesters, allowing the students to return to their communities for a few months to live and work with their families before going back to school for another period of work/study.

The socialist ideological formation is strong at the school, not only through the communal work ethic and the socially engaged content of their academic education (especially through courses in history), but also through the practice of “místicas” every morning. The mística is an ever changing ritual of readings, songs, symbols and reflections on the history, life and struggles of the peasants and workers. The symbols usually include vegetables, fruits and grains produced, flowers, music and work instruments, flags and other symbols of the community. During Brazil’s independence day while I was there, the group of students who put together that morning’s mística read an account of the series of revolutions in 1848-49, called “Spring of Nations,” finding in that chain of nationalist bourgeois revolts the seeds of internationalist socialist revolution. Instead of singing Brazil’s national anthem, they sang the Internationale, as well as an anthem of the landless peasant movement and other songs of struggle.

The coordinator of the Institute is a respectable and intelligent peasant woman called Salete, who has been active in the land struggle since the late 1970’s, having taken part in the very first land occupation from which the MST would then be born at Encruzilhada Natalino. She has been an active force of the pedagogical formation of the landless peasant movement throughout all these years, from the organization of alphabetization programs while still at the encampments to the foundation and continued operation of the Educar Institute nowadays. The years of stories from the peasant struggles and the detailed knowledge she has of the students at Educar and others within the landless peasant movement kept me enthralled for long hours and many gourds of chimarrão… there is no way to begin to relate such an experience without living it for oneself.

THE SEEDLINGS BROKE THE SILENCE

2009-09-14T22:55:00.000-03:00

There was a sepulchral silence

over the eighteen thousand hectares stolen
from the tupi-guarani peoples
over ten thousand quilombola families
evicted from their territories
over millions of litters of herbicides
poured in the plantations

There was a promiscuous silence

over the chlorine used
for whitening paper
producing carcinogenic toxins that harm
plants, animals and people.
over the disappearance
of more than four hundred bird species
and forty mammals
in the north of Espírito Santo

There was an insurmountable silence

about the nature of a plant
that consumes thirty liters of water/day
and does not give flowers or seeds
about a plantation that produced billions
and more billions of dollars
for just a half a dozen gentlemen

There was a thick silence

over thousands of hectares accumulated
in Espírito Santo, Minas, Bahia
and Rio Grande do Sul

There was an accomplice silence

over the destruction of the Atlantic Forest and the pampas
due to the homogenous cultivation of a single tree:
eucalyptus

There was a bought silence

over the voluptuousness of profits
Yes, there was a global silence
over Swedish capital
over Norwegian companies
over large national stalls

Finally,
there was an immense green desert
in concert with silence

II

Suddenly,
thousands of women got together
and destroyed seedlings
the oppression and the lie

The seedlings shouted
all of a sudden
and no less than suddenly
the smile of bourgeoisies became amazement
became a grimace, disorientation

III

The order raised incredulous
crying out progress and science
imprecating in vulgar terms
obscenity and bad language

Newspapers, radios, magazines,
the internet and TV,
and advertisers
well spoken businessmen
crawling advisers
clever technicians
reluctant governments
the yelling right
and all the centre extremists
in chorus, echo,
assemblies and declarations
to defend capital:
“They cannot break the silence!”
And cried for beheading!

IV

Suddenly
no less than suddenly
thousands of women
destroyed the silence

On that day
on the so called Aracruz land
the women of Via Campesina
were our gesture
were our voice.

Manifesto of Men and Women in Solidarity with the Peasant Women of La Via Campesina

Integração Gaúcha Settlement

2009-09-14T22:48:00.000-03:00

Integração Gaúcha was named accordingly because peasants from some 30 municipalities from all regions of Rio Grande do Sul (the state whose people are called gaúchos) were integrated in it. This was probably the most successful agrarian reform settlement I have seen so far, which I believe to be due to two major factors: its proximity to the large urban center of Porto Alegre (a mere 15km across the rivers) and the subsequent facility of marketing production; and its relatively small and politically conscious population (68 families), which facilitates strong civic ties and democratic organization. Still, the settlement is not without its challenges, among which remain the lack of resources for production, the difficulties of creating new forms of social organization (such as cooperatives), and, which is the other side of the “proximity to urban center” coin, the ease with which some settled families can obtain income from off farm labor limiting their agricultural production.

This land was previously owned by a government institution that researched alternative agricultural techniques for the production of rice in areas of high ecological risk and importance, but the institution had been mostly un-functional and underfunded for years, managed by a board of wealthy farmers, and the majority of the land had been “rented out” (under highly questionable legal terms) to a large farmer who operated it as a conventional plantation, with synthetic fertilizers and pesticides and the threat of violence against the peasantry encroaching nearby and all. As in other similar stories, the farmer eventually stacked up enough debt and the land came under enough pressure from the landless peasants (who began to carry out occupations and to blockade the entry to the farm in order to demand its expropriation) that the state finally caved in and expropriated the land some 16 years ago. (The farmer’s debt and the legal status of the land as public property are important considerations, since agrarian reform in Brazil is still carried out “with due compensation,” unlike agrarian reforms carried out under conditions of revolution or foreign occupation.)

The settlement is located in a mostly low wetland (várzea) like Filhos de Sepé, so rice is also the predominant crop of extended production. Like at the other settlement, ecological considerations restrict all production to organic techniques, but unlike at Filhos de Sepé, there seem to be fewer challenges managing and maintaining this practice collectively. However, the ease with which other goods can be marketed allows for a much more substantial production of vegetables, dairy products, chicken and pigs, and even baked goods (this last having been originally structured as all-women collectives that have since broken down into two private bakeries that employ female wage labor). The production of rice is sent to two other settlements near the metropolitan region for processing, storage and marketing (Assentamentos Capela and Tápes), since the cooperatives at those other two larger settlements have more of the necessary infrastructure for such tasks. The vegetables are marketed in farmers’ markets in Porto Alegre twice a week, where they obtain relatively higher prices as organic produce (but still at quite low prices, especially when compared to organic produce in the United States).

I was taken there by Mauro, who has been at Integração Gaúcha since the beginning of the occupations there, and hosted there by him and his partner Chris, a lovely couple that met and married within the Movement itself. While I was there, Chris was putting the final touches on her geography dissertation on the negative impact of agribusiness on women (an incredibly interesting piece of feminist-socialist-peasant research) and Mauro was straining to do most of the domestic work (including caring for their two young daughters) while keeping up the family’s income through work on their vegetable gardens, rice crops and farmers’ market. Luckily for him, Chris’s sister, Luciana, was also visiting and helped care for the young some of the time as well. Moreover, they have given part of their land to Mauro’s brother and his partner, who built their own residence and vegetable garden there as well, and who also help care for the young some of the time. This practice of hosting extended family in their land is not uncommon at Integração Gaúcha and speaks to the success of the settlement as a whole (since, instead of losing substantial portions of the originally settled population through abandoned plots and concentrated ownership, a mark of settlement failures, here the settlement community and production continues to expand and employ every nook and cranny of the land).

Chris and Mauro own 7 hectares of high ground, on which they have built their residence (and his brother’s), a fruit orchard and their vegetable gardens, and also 14 hectares of low land, on which they farm rice. The 7 hectares of high ground are not contiguous, in order for their vegetable gardens to be located alongside the land of two other families near an irrigation reservoir (açude), making up a little over 3 hectares of vegetable production. These three families cooperate informally on the seedlings, irrigation, care, harvest and marketing of their vegetables, grossing “easily” R$15 thousand per week. Mauro and Chris’s production is the least significant of these, then, rendering for them R$1.500 to R$3.000 per week. Mauro speaks mostly of popularizing his organic produce, rather than selling at higher prices to few elite buyers, which may also account for their lower income from their vegetable gardens. Moreover, the main share of their income seems to come from the production of rice, which is also carried out informally along with five other families (the vestiges of a previously failed cooperative arrangement). Mauro’s family had owned their own machinery for the production of rice in the past, but a sharp fall in the price of rice in recent years forced them to sell their machinery so now they cooperate with another family in the settlement that still has theirs. It was this drop in the price of rice, however, that motivated them to reinvest instead in organic produce and vegetables, providing them now with a more diverse and stable source of income. A last notable fact about Mauro’s production of rice is that he works with several organic varieties at the same time (red, brown, white, and he wants to experiment with black grains soon), priding himself of his organic production and quality whole grains.

Chris is a strong woman with visible leadership skills. She took part along with other peasant women of their settlement in occupations of the townhall nearby in order to demand the release of funds for the infrastructure and operation of a day care right there in the settlement itself, which was already an extension of their earlier struggle to set up a public school in the settlement for grades 1-5. The women’s successful struggles to set up education facilities in their settlement are among the positive qualities that highlights this settlement among others. But Chris’s struggles have extended far beyond her own local community, as she has taken part in several other mobilizations throughout her state and beyond, most notably the direct action during the International Women’s Day in 2006 when a group of peasant women of the Via Campesina uprooted thousands of eucalyptus seedlings in a direct action against the expansion of the “green deserts” of eucalyptus monocultures for industrial production in place of agrarian reform and food sovereignty of rural communities. This event has since been memorialized through the touching poem translated in the next entry.

Filhos de Sepé Settlement and the Sepé Tiarajú Workers’ Formation Center

2009-09-13T23:50:00.001-03:00

My first visit in the South was to an agrarian reform settlement called Filhos de Sepé (Children of Sepé). Sepé Tiarajú was a Guaraní who held an office of importance at one of the Jesuit Missions hundreds of years ago. Although the facts about his life are far less pleasant than the symbolism he currently represents (having been Europeanized, implemented order upon the other Guaranís at his Mission, and fought violently against “less civilized” indigenous peoples in the name of the colonizers), he is currently highly regarded for having (perhaps) proclaimed the phrase “THIS LAND HAS OWNERS” against invading European colonizers. He is usually depicted in traditional Guaraní attire and said to have died in battle against the colonizers (partially true due to the complex relations between the Missions and Spanish and Portuguese colonial powers more directly associated to the “crowns”).

The settlement is in the rural surroundings of the city of Viamão, one of the oldest in the state (indeed, older than the capital Porto Alegre). It was originally settled by Azorean peasants, the first of many waves of European family farmers that colonized this region of South America. Nowadays, the city is almost a satellite city of the capital, but maintains an attractive “small town” feel near its downtown historic district.

At the settlement, I was hosted at the Centro de Formação de Trabalhadoras e Trabalhadores (Workers’ Formation Center) Sepé Tiarajú. The Centrão (big center), as it is affectionately called by those in the Movement, is a space for social gatherings of the peasants in the settlement all around, as well as for broader meetings, courses, and other such events for members of the Movement and their allies from all over the state. It is maintained currently by two encamped landless peasants, Paulo and Tidão, both being freed from their camp duties to care for the Center. They lack many resources to do the upkeep of the infrastructure, but still do what they can to keep the space functional for all upcoming events, including the production of an organic garden (including medicinal herbs), some pigs, and a young fruit tree garden (pomar) with 180 sprouts. All production is agroecological (employing no toxic agrochemicals, but instead, e.g., organic fertilizers such as chicken manure, of which we unloaded 64 large sacks for use in the new fruit trees).

All that is there has been built by the Movement itself along the ten or so years of existence of the Filhos de Sepé settlement. It is composed, in addition to the agricultural production space around, of five main buildings. The largest has space for large meetings or seminars, a spacious kitchen and an office space packed with books and with computers linked to the internet. The second largest is a residence hall with enough space to host 130 people in large rooms with bunks and other beds (each room named after a known Latin American revolutionary). The third largest building is still under construction (along the principles of permaculture) and will serve varied functions from library to classroom space. The fourth and smallest building is an adobe construction with a grass roof (built along the principles of permaculture) to serve as a classroom and reading room. And the last structure is a common house in which Tidão and some of the agricultural technicians who work in the settlement reside. There is an effort to reduce consumption of energy and water, e.g., with the construction and use of three cisterns to capture and store rain water.

The land in which the settlement is located is a low wetland (várzea) of immense ecological importance. Although it was public land held as an ecological preserve, it was illegally seized by a big farmer during the 1960’s – 80’s, who created a dam for irrigation that has caused serious flooding issues down along the basin (affecting the function of the várzea as a sponge that should drain rain water and slowly release it to the nearby streams) and employed vast amounts of agrochemicals. Due to these and other economic problems (i.e., unmanageable debts stacked by the land “owner” against the state), the land was finally expropriated when the state was pressured by the landless peasants, who settled a few hundred families there, each with about 15 hectare plots. Most families have smaller plots (about 1 hectare) on higher ground where they built their homes and where they keep their gardens and small farm animals, while the larger plots are concentrated in the lowlands where there are mostly wet rice paddies (due to the nature of the place).

This year, only about 80 families have prepared projects for the production of rice, adding up to about 800 hectares of wet rice paddies. This represents only about half the arable low land and irrigation capacity of the settlement as a whole, due to the challenges of agroecological production most peasants there face. Due to the ecological importance of the place, government bureaucracies have required and are attempting to regulate the production of rice in the settlement to restrict the use of agrochemicals. That is, all production is required to be organic by law. Yet not all peasants there refrained from using such toxics, however, and last year a substantial portion of them had their crops seized by the state due to such infringements. This accounts, therefore, for the smaller number of families who are investing this year on the production of rice (either because they do not have the resources after having lost much in the previous year, or because they have chosen to focus on other sorts of production, and some even rely primarily on off-farm income, which is facilitated due to the close proximity of the settlement to the city of Viamão).

The process of organic certification is carried out by internal and external investigators. The external investigators come from some organization in Switzerland once a year, and the internal investigators come from other MST settlements who also work with organic rice. The process involves an extensive questionnaire about each family plot’s production and history, as well as plot walk-throughs and production site verification. The agronomy technician who I accompanied, Alan, is a recent graduate from the Instituto Educar (which I visited later and about which I will write in another entry) and since this was his first certification visit, he was joined by one of the agronomists from the local technician’s cooperative, Leandro, who showed me and him around the settlement and helped him through the process with the 20 or so peasants with which he worked on the certification process. The process was friendly among all, and we all seemed to be learning much throughout about organic production and the politics of the settlement. It was interesting to note that some peasants responded to the question “why have you decided on organic production” going beyond the obvious “because its legally required” to point out that such production is less costly and so they had already practiced agroecology before even knowing what these words meant, since their marginalized conditions precluded them from purchasing agrochemical inputs in the first place.

Such issues of organic vs. conventional production are an important challenge to the settled peasants themselves, who must struggle not only with the state and with the challenges of production, but also with each other for the control of their irrigation and other resources between the organic and the conventional “parties” in their settlement administration elections (the practice of direct democracy common to all agrarian reform settlements). As one of the leaders of the “organic camp” told me, “God is here in the settlement, but so is the Devil.” What he said is as true of that and any other settlement I visited as of any other place on this Earth…
This peasant of German descent is an important reference for the organic rice producers of the region, having produced his own rice crops organically for over 9 years now and even had much success with the combination of rice and fish farming in the same paddies (a practice through which the fish till the land while eating the pests and recycle those nutrients into fertilizer for the rice, a perfect example of the symbiotic integration of meat production in agroecological practice, pace dogmatic vegans). In fact, companheiro (“comrade”) Zang was so successful with the conjunction of fish and rice production (having produced higher yields this way than the average of conventional rice growers who use agrochemical pesticides and fertilizers) that he ended up with far more fish than he was able to sell to the local Gaúcho market (who have no tradition of eating seafood). Since the costs of freezing and shipping the fish beyond the local markets would render the production inviable for him, Zang abandoned the practice of combining fish with rice production this year despite the higher yields of fish-based pest-control and fertilizer and cheaper practice of using the fish instead of tractors to till the land. Comrade Zang’s agroecology seems to be, unfortunately, ahead of his time.

Porto Alegre and COCEARGS

2009-09-13T23:47:00.000-03:00

The city of Porto Alegre seems a typical big city with its tall buildings, busy streets and graffiti on the walls downtown (some illegible tags, and others are political stencils against racism, sexism, the fascist governor, the bureaucracy in Brasilia, etc). The city seems to have lost its leftist streak, however, having elected rightist representatives and executives lately (an inversion with the currently leftist countryside which used to be the bastion of rightist politicians). It is quite easy to get around town by bus or downtown on foot, if one doesn’t mind the constantly wet weather that is causing serious flooding problems throughout the state.

The Central Cooperative of Settlements of Rio Grande do Sul, COCEARGS (Cooperativa Central dos Assentamentos do RS), hosts the main office of the MST in that state, right in downtown Porto Alegre. Originally a very small office of the Central Cooperative alone, half the adjoining office spaces in that building’s floor have since been occupied by the MST in place of a public finance institution that shut its doors and left its employees jobless (who, then, helped the MST organizers occupy the vacant spaces). Nowadays, the total space includes room for finance, education, cooperation and production, mass movement and several other sectors of the Movement, as well as a cafeteria and kitchen large enough for all office workers to take their meals in common right there where they work.

This occupation is maintained through arduous negotiations with the state, which demands the evacuation of the Movement organizers or the payment of unmanageable rent and overdue fees, while the organizers negotiate and renegotiate payments in terms of community services in their own areas of rural extension programs and food donations from their own agrarian reform settlements for the federal government’s “Zero Hunger” program (of food donations for families in extreme poverty).

COCEARGS was my point of contact once I arrived in Rio Grande do Sul, and although my two contacts arranged in Brasília weren’t there to receive me when I first arrived, a member of the directory of the movement in that state, Janaína, received me and set up my visits throughout the state. She became an invaluable companion during my time in the South and since…

Most workers at the office are encamped somewhere throughout the state (and freed from their camp responsibilities by collective decision of their camp peers in order to take on office duties in the capital) and live in a residence hall of the Movement itself elsewhere in the city, while some live in nearby settlements and drop in and out to carry out organizational duties at the state level, and a smaller number still live on their own account nearby. The residence hall is quite large, with apartment spaces for more permanent residents as well as larger rooms with bunks to receive organizers, militants and select visitors on a more temporary basis. There are also common spaces for storage, cooking and sharing meals.

All in all, the Movement has strong roots in the city, even while the main functions carried out there are administrative and organizational in support of a much stronger and wider presence throughout the countryside of the state. After a few hours in the city, I soon left for the countryside by bus and only passed through the city on my way from one settlement to another, and then to participate on an ongoing mobilization at a government bureaucracy’s regional headquarters (to be described in a later entry).

Pipiripau

2009-08-30T00:32:00.000-03:00

Paulinho, who works at the national office of the MST, was taking Lungisile, a South African sociologist who works on the land question, along with two young anthropology students from UnB to visit the Oziel Alves II settlement at the edge of the Federal District, and I tagged along. The settlement, called Pipiripau (after the creek near which it stands) is actually a pre-settlement, since the 168 families living there are already living on the land which is to be legalized as their settlement (i.e., not a roadside encampment with little space near a different property to be expropriated), but they haven’t yet been granted legal recognition by the state.

Although the families living there have been struggling for this territory for over seven years now, they still receive no support of any sort from the state, not until they receive title to the land. The land used to be part of a much larger soy plantation, expropriated years before and left unproductive on the hands of varied state bureaucracies. Hence the MST occupation. Over the course of these years, they began whatever production they could, with their own limited resources, and organized themselves politically to demand that the state follow up on its land reform program. Several times, they had to resort to blockading the main highway nearby which connects Brasilia to the North in order to demand meetings with the bureaucracies that have been stalling the process instead of meeting their demands.

There we met Cupim, a young agronomist who is working with the peasants at the Pipiripau on his own account as his MA field work in agroecology through a Spanish university. Cupim and 15 families are starting a project of organic passion-fruit in some of the collective land of the settlement. Other than a few collective areas used for irrigation reservoir, collective crops such as the passion-fruit, and common building structures (for now only a meeting space, but when they obtain government assistance they’ll also set up their own school, daycare, church, community center, etc.), the rest of the territory is organized into 7 hectare plots, set up in four or five groups (called nuclei). Each family then has her own plot and common use of the collective land and property. (These arrangements are made collectively by each settlement on its own terms, depending on the political, cultural, geographical, agricultural, etc., factors of each settlement.)

Only a few of the families are working on the passion-fruit project, since they have very little resources to begin with, especially irrigation, which for now is restrained to a single reservoir (from the waterbed) dug out by an arrangement with a donor ngo. Many families must still resort to non-agricultural work in the nearby towns to make a living, since they are unable to be self-sustaining farmers without enough government assistance, and, which is just as important, not having title to their land yet they are left in an extremely vulnerable situation where any investment they make on the land (such as sowing crops) is a high risk endeavor, since they can be forced off the land any moment.

The majority of peasants there haven’t worked on the land in some time, having tried to carve up a living through whatever jobs they could find in the cities around. And the agricultural experience of most is limited to work in larger plantations that focus on grains and other cash crops. As such, their predominant production (restricted to the few months of the rainy season) are beans, followed by corn. The beans are kept for subsistence the rest of the year, and whatever surplus is sold (in informal markets, since their ‘illegal’ situation as yet precludes them from setting up formal market connections). The corn is used mostly to feed chickens, and some have pigs. These too are kept for subsistence, and the surplus is sold (also informally). Most of these peasants use agrochemicals as fertilizers and pesticides, both from habit, and also from fear of losing too much of their crops otherwise.

The land is somewhat eroded, significantly in places, due to the unsustainable practices of soy plantation that were employed there before the original farm was expropriated. The lack of a strong enough tractor to till the land and clear the rough Cerrado grasses leaves many of the peasants with no alternative but to resort to fire to clear their land. Although strongly discouraged by their own common arrangements, such fires are still used, and often get out of control, resulting in crop loss of other settlement neighbors, as well as the common field space in which many of their chickens roost. Needless to say, such fires getting out of control causes serious problems within the community, who collectively impose restitutions upon those found guilty, and sometimes even resort to expulsions for repeated offences (it seems this happened a handful of times during the past seven years or so).

We visited for some time with dona Almerinda, a charismatic woman from Bahia with deep agroecological knowledge. She never had any formal education, but learned much about medicinal plants from her family. She experimented much with different policultures and varieties of intercropping, as well as with different ways to employ some plant’s oils as pesticides on other crops. Although most peasants have small gardens, mandioca and fruit trees, Almerinda’s garden was clearly more diverse and cared for. She also grows a wide variety of beans, corns, and legumes for her own consumption, unlike most of her neighbors who grow single varieties and attempt to market it. She also has a wide variety of farm animals, such as chickens, pigs, ducks and other fowl, goats, as well as cats and dogs for pets. After having tried to work in the city for some time, and suffering unemployment and hunger, she gave up all she still had and joined the Movement to fulfill her “dream of having her own piece of ground.” She participated in three or four encampments before coming to Pipiripau, because she would always attempt to start her production of crops and animals even while in roadside encampments, causing distress to other campers, who then strongly encouraged her to relocate. Eventually, others in the Movement were able to figure out a way to bring her to this pre-settlement, where she has enough space to have her animals without inconveniencing her community neighbors.

Dona Almerinda is highly regarded in her own community, and also by Cupim, the agronomist who learns agroecology along with her, and also by Lungisile, who was enthralled by her personal story and her productive ability. Lungisile has been visiting Brazil to learn more about our peasant movements for land reform, in order to advance also the struggles in his native South Africa. He tells us that the struggle there, unlike here, is driven mostly ‘top down’ by ngo’s, with very little experience in agriculture and very little ability to maintain coherent and sustainable struggles for agrarian reform. Moreover, settled peasants are now finding that the struggle “for land” cannot stop with the title, but continues just as arduously in the production stage, i.e., on “what to do with the land once you get it.” Hence his interest in Brazil in general, where the struggle “for land” has already advanced to the comprehension of a broader struggle for “agrarian reform”, and his interest in dona Almerinda’s deep agroecological knowledge in particular. For more information on the land struggle in South Africa, see Lungisile’s own websites here and here.

Dona Almerinda told Lungisile that she has a deep passion for Africa and the African people, and that receiving her in her home is already a little fulfillment of her dream of knowing Africa. After their long exchange and after she showed him her gardens, he asked if she would be ready to visit Africa along with him. She, turning red with emotion, tried to say that the people in the country are never ready to travel, but with the reassurance with the others present, she agreed that she would visit if she could. Lungisile said he wants to make arrangements for some people from Brazil to visit South Africa for some three months to share their experiences with agrarian reform and agroecology. He will continue working with the MST during the next three years, and I trust that sooner or later he will bring dona Almerinda to complete her dream of going to Africa, and to advance his own dream of strengthening the South African movements for agrarian reform and agroecological production.

When saying good bye, I thanked dona Almerinda for all she taught us, for hosting us, and asked if I could come visit her again and work her garden with her so I could learn as well. She said I not only could, but should! So we made plans for me to return there after I come back from my trip to the South, and I can hardly wait!

After our visit to the settlement, I returned with the younger folk to their common house in a nearby town for a meal, then we came back to Brasilia to meet another young anthropology grad student, and have a few beers with some other young folk. We talked a lot about our different academic experiences, about life abroad and in Brasilia, about the peasant movements and class struggle, about healthcare and race and gender… It was an amazing time, and after several hours, when my mom came to pick me up, she joined us to talk about bioethics (which my mother studies now at the graduate level at UnB) and public health care (with which she has worked her whole life).

These new friends gave me a Via Campesina flag, which is to decorate above my bed, and invited me back to their house to spend Sunday afternoon with them. I, of course, agreed, with much joy.

…and we’re moving forward!

2009-08-27T22:38:00.000-03:00

An extremely important victory for the peasant cause: the first expropriation in Brazil due to ecological considerations! The Plantation Nova Alegria (“New Joy”) in the municipality of Felisburgo, in the Jequitinhonha Valley of the state of Minas Gerais, was expropriated on the 20th of this month and the victory was pronounced today in the Movement’s website here.

According to the superintendent of our national agency for land reform (INCRA), Gilson de Souza, “the fact that the decision was based on an environmental crime does not make any less relevant” other criminal factors that support the expropriation, especially “the massacre that took place there in 2004. Five people were murdered and thirteen wounded on orders of the landowner.” The landowner, Adriano Chafick, is being charged not only for ordering the massacre but also for murder in the first degree since he was there with the gunmen at the moment of the murders.

As I have argued in previous posts (and in all my recent work), such expropriation on grounds other than productivity are extremely important for the articulation and definition of the SOCIAL FUNCTION OF PROPERTY. As the superintendent said, “To ignore the social function of a piece of real estate is a disrespect on behalf of the owner against the Federal Constitution.”

Here is an excerpt from the news release from the MST website:

“O fato de a decisão ser pautada na prática de crime ambiental não tornamenos relevante o massacre ocorrido na área em 2004. Cinco pessoasmorreram e 13 ficaram feridas a mando do proprietário da fazenda”,argumenta o superintendente do Incra. Além de ser apontado como mandante,o dono da fazenda, Adriano Chafick, é, segundo o superintendente, acusadode ser o execu tor do massacre, uma vez que estava junto com ospistoleiros no momento dos assassinatos.

Essa desapropriação, afirma Souza, é uma importante inovação porque buscao cumprimento da função social do imóvel. “Desconsiderar a função socialde um imóvel é um desrespeito do proprietário contra a ConstituiçãoFederal”, argumenta Souza.

My own personal story was also blessed with an important step forward today: today I finally received a positive response and an invitation from the coordinator of the Education of the Countryside program to meet with some organizers of the MST at their office here in Brasília, and once there I was invited to visit a settlement in the Pipiripau basin here in the Federal District (DF), some 15 miles outside of Brasília.

As my luck would have it, I will be going with a member of the Movement who works here in the national office with programs of international exchange in South Africa. He has been hosting a sociologist from Johannesburg and two Brazilian sociologists from the Federal Fluminense Universtity (i.e., of the state of Rio de Janeiro), so I will have very interesting and informative company on this visit. The contacts with the sociologists from Rio will be useful for me next month when I go through their own state, and the company of the African sociologist will provide an important international context to the conversations.

Topping off the good news, the member who hosted me in the office today is from Rio Grande do Sul, so he gave me some important pointers for when I get to Porto Alegre next Monday and, most importantly, he will be contacting the Movement’s office there ahead of time to give them a heads up about my visit next week.

Such personal contacts are important, especially in the South right now, where State repression has been extremely harsh and, just this past month, turned extremely violent. In conjunction with the encampment here in Brasília (and other simultaneous actions nationwide), a group of landless peasants in São Gabriel (RS) were attacked by the police, who murdered Eltom Brum da Silva with a shot on the back, using a weapon outlawed for use in civil disputes (i.e., he was murdered as though in a military operation). This same month in this same city, where the Mayor has been forcefully opposing the Movement, other landless peasants were arrested and tortured with the School of the America’s techniques employed during the military dictatorship.

Clearly, then, we are moving forward, but still against extremely violent resistance, and there is still a long way to go…

Sustainable Development?

2009-08-26T23:33:00.000-03:00

Following up on the contacts with the folk at the Center for Sustainable Development here at UnB has been harder than I would have liked, mostly due to health issues that forced two meetings to be postponed. I won’t make any claims about these two professors themselves, but in general, people here are freaking out far more than is justified or necessary about H1N1. I blame corporate media, which still profits from hysteria.

Still, I will be looking into the possibility of applying for the program here this year, but now I feel far less excited than last week when I was first invited (indeed, encouraged!) to enroll at the program. Several factors to be noted here. First, most people in the program, not surprisingly, adopt the discourse of development full force, and more critical approaches to it are seldom considered (see, for example, Arturo Escobar’s excellent book “Encountering Development: The Making and Unmaking of the Third World” and also Gustavo Esteva’s essay on development in “The Development Dictionary,” ed. W. Sachs).

Second, the chances of obtaining funding are rather slim for my first year of doctoral work, so even though the University is public – and therefore free – I would still need a job to cover my own living expenses, or I would need to continue dependent on my family for even longer. Staying in Brasília, moreover, would make it harder for me to justify additional expenses when I could continue to live at my parents’ house (as many young Brazilians still do in such situations) or my grandmother’s apartment; and neither option seems too exciting for me.

Third, over the weekend I went out with my cousin Graziela (a cardiologist doing her residency in São Paulo, but visiting her family and partner for the weekend) and didn’t really have much fun at all… The “scene” here is ridiculously bourgie, preppy in the worst way, and quite limited. The thought of spending the second half of my 20’s here in Brasília is nowhere near as exciting as being in some place cool within the US, such as Chapel Hill or Berkeley… Sad but true, most of my young adult life has been down north and so my habits, comforts and desires as all quite “amerikanized.”

Fourth, everything is just plain old messy around here… Certain Portuguese words defy translation, being so endogenous to our culture: “desleixo” is a kind of attitude of “it is not worth it” to actually do things properly, and there is the “jeitinho” where “a little way” is always found around the protocols, rules and regulations, and all of this to the point of utter chaos, confusion, and “bagunça,” the messiness I am talking about. Returning to live and work in Brazil, I must inevitably deal with all of this, but there is still a big different in dealing with this as a “mere” graduate student, who is far more dependent on other people and institutions, and dealing with this afterwards when I can have more control and autonomy over my own activities.

Still, I am also getting in touch with professors and researchers in other programs and other institutions. Next week I’m going to Porto Alegre – the city that developed Participatory Budgeting! – where I will be meeting with three or four professors in the program of Rural Development at the Federal University of Rio Grande do Sul. Oddly enough, their team seems somewhat conservative in their focus on “small farmers” instead of “peasantry” and on more natural science-y issues instead of agrarian reform.

Hopefully, I will also get to visit some agrarian reform settlements and cooperatives there, which are some of the oldest won by the MST (in the state, after all, where the Movement first organized itself) and also considered to be some of the most functional and successful. However, it has been difficult to get into contact with people from the Movement here in Brasília. The contacts I do have are all postponed until my return from the South. (This difficulty has been part of my frustration, added to that described above.)

In September and October, I am also looking to visit some folk at the Federal University at Viçosa, Minas Gerais, going through there on a road trip with my parents on our way to Búzios to present that paper at our national Bioethics conference. From there I’ll go to the nearby Federal Fluminense (UFF) and Federal Rural (UFRRJ) Universities, but probably on my own since my parents need to return to Brasília to work. From there, I’ll bus over to São Paulo, where there is a kick-ass Geography program (at USP, probably one of the programs I am the most excited about here in Brazil) and where I get to visit Graziela and another cousin of second-degree, Alexandra. Then bus back over to Campinas (inland São Paulo) to visit another second-degree cousin, Mariana, as well as the university there and some folk from our Green Party and a lawyer who works with the MST.

Exciting times ahead, but right now I am wondering whether I can sustain my OWN development in this search for possible academic programs who could host me during my doctoral research. In the end, I am feeling more like I am doing this to get to know these schools and researchers as possible partners for my work while enrolled at a school in the US. I will be taking the month of October to complete some high quality applications to programs down north, since I need to have them done by mid November, when I leave for Peru and Bolivia and don’t come back until Christmas time. By then, all application rounds for programs here in Brazil will already be over, so I will continue to try work here in Brazil into the first half of 2010 while waiting to see if I get accepted and funded in the United States. Failing that, I’ll then have much more to go on when actually making an effort to apply to programs here in Brazil, and if I do get accepted and funded there, then I’ll have the knowledge and contacts necessary to carry on my dissertation research here in Brazil even while based on the US.

First Contacts

2009-08-17T23:57:00.000-03:00

Today I went with Sérgio to visit the Education of the Countryside program just outside the city, where he gave a lecture on the agrarian situation of the Cerrado. (The Cerrado is the highland savannah of central Brazil where I am from. It is the world’s richest savannah in terms of biodiversity, but it is also one of the world’s most threatened ecosystems by the expansion of soy monocultures, as well as cattle and, more recently, sugar cane. It is being deforested at twice the rate of the Amazon, and some estimates indicate that close to half of the entire ecosystem is already destroyed. Unlike the “charismatic” rainforest, however, the Cerrado remains relatively neglected in domestic and international environmentalist circles alike.) The other lecturer on the topic this morning was Donald Sawyer, who works on the agroecology of the Amazon and the Cerrado at the University of Brasilia’s (UnB) Center for Sustainable Development (Centro de Desenvolvimento Sustentável – CDS) and with related NGOs. Donald will be my first contact in that program, with which I intend to further familiarize myself this week. The students of the Education of the Countryside program are primarily from peasant movements, including those from Quilombola communities (ex-slaves and their descendents who set up their own communities). Hence, the program is structured on a work/study basis that allows the students to spend several months living in their own communities, and crams full semester loads into 30-40 day periods of morning/afternoon classwork and evening study. The students live in community while studying here, near Brasília, taking common meals prepared by a women’s cooperative organized through the MST. Students with children bring them along for their study periods, so daycare facilities are also set up right there where they live and study. The students were quite even in their gender, and there were both younger (20’s) and older (30’s and 40’s) students, as well as a typical racial spectrum for Brazil. Several times during the day they took breaks to play music and sing together, keeping away the lethargy that would overwhelm anyone on the harsh study schedule they keep. I had opportunities to talk to several of the students during these breaks, as well as during the (delicious) lunch they invited me to share, and I also met several of the academics involved in several ways with the program (younger graduate students and established professors alike, from areas as diverse as pedagogy, anthropology, biology, sociology, geography, philosophy, economics, literature, and theater). In the afternoon, the course took a turn to language, literature, theater and social engagement. Some of the students were noticeably less interested in these “idealist” topics than the issues discussed in the morning, which are more directly related to the struggle for land on which they seem to base their lives. Still, the general feeling I had was that the students were all very happy to be there, and excited to integrate their education to the common education and progress of their own communities in the countryside. The most important developments for myself were the contacts I’ve started to make with members of the social movements like the MST, such as with “Janjão” (Janderson’s nickname that affectionately indicates also his large size and charismatic presence), who is here from the Federal District itself, and therefore someone with whom I can maintain closer contact even after this study period of the Education of the Countryside program is over next month. I asked if he’d introduce me to others from the Movement around Brasília and if he’d show me around the encampments and settlements around here (including, for example, the settlement where he lives himself). He not only agreed, but even suggested that I could perhaps work with them in the Movement on philosophy/education at the encampment and settlement schools. I am very honored and excited about this possibility, but I tried to be clear with him from the get-go that I am here to learn with them, and not to teach anyone the highly bookish thing that I was taught in the name of philosophy. He agreed that we learn best when we learn together. Hopefully, the seeds planted in these first contacts today will bloom into friendships and good work partnerships. I look forward to what is yet to come.

Getting started

2009-08-15T06:15:00.000-03:00

After an amazing ten days of travel from Boulder to Brasília, I arrived at my parents' home, where I lived while growing up, and already on the following day I met with Sérgio Sauer, who was very friendly and extremely helpful to me. We talked for over three hours about where I've come from, what I am doing, and where I am going, and all the while he taught me much about what has been taking place in our country, how academia works around here, and many important things about our struggles for agrarian reform. The most exciting thing I took from this first personal exchange is the awareness that there is a space into which I can move through my own work. Agroecology is hardly developed in the Center-West (my own region in our vast country), and where it is developed, it remains focused on the natural science end of the deal. There is an important lack and need, therefore, for theoretical articulations of this praxis/concept that can relate it to our struggles for land. I was surprised to find that, among those who advocate agrarian reform, there has been a not-too-fruitful debate over whether the terms "small farmer" or "peasant" should be promoted in opposition to the increasingly hegemonic role of *agribusiness* in Brazil. Our traditional agrarian reform debate charged the "latifúndio" (akin to "plantation", but with the connotation of lands unused for productive activities, but still maintained by its supposed owners as reserves of value or wealth) with being unproductive, and demanded the expropriation of its unproductive portions and redistribution for the small family farmers, peasants, or landless populations. With the advancement of industrialization into the countryside, agribusinesses began to employ hitherto un- or underused land for the production of agricultural commodities, through massive, mechanized, highly energy and chemical input dependent monocultures, geared towards export. The large landowning class and its enmeshed industrialist (and financial and bureaucratic) elites have been attempting to dismiss, therefore, the arguments for the necessity of agrarian reform, claiming that since the latifúndia are no longer the foundation of our rural economy, demands for agrarian reform are misguided, anachronistic, and plain old counterproductive for the economic development of the country. The employ their control of/alliance with major media to promote an image of the agribusiness as "modern" because of its employment of industrial technologies and as "efficient" because of its massive production of commodities through large scale monocultures. Against these, some say, it is difficult to promote the image of "small farmers" who seem inefficient, or "peasants" who seem anything-but-modern. Proponents of the latter charge advocates of the former for employing a term that does not, itself, differentiate between capitalist and non-capitalist modes of production (since, after all, a small farmer could still produce commodities for a market, or food for her communities). In turn, proponents of the former charge advocates of the latter for employing a term that seems simply unable to win for itself the good-making-quality labels of "modernity" etc. Here is where I find my own niche: an articulation of *agroecology* that is able to break out of the natural science boundaries in which such praxis/concept has been coined sidesteps this entire debate, employing a term that is both "modernistic" in its "green" appeal (in addition to being a neologism imported from English, which serves precisely the desired purposes on debate) and also directly conflicting with the agribusiness practice of subjecting all considerations (not only social but also ecological) to the capitalist goal of profit-maximization. Its "logic" is precisely that of the small peasant famers, but it is more than a "good label" with pragmatic appeal for the same thing under dispute: in fact, agroecology necessarily ties the broader socio-economic-ecological context of peasant agriculture to the particular terms in which our Constitution demands the expropriation of land for purposes of agrarian reform. That is, instead of entering into debates about the productivity of agricultural production (the only terms in which any land has been expropriated so far in the 20 years of our Constitutional demand), which is precisely the terms in which the proponents of agribusiness attempt to promote their own cause, the shift towards agroecology highlights the social and ecological preconditions of ownership of property (including in land) regardless of its productivity (or lack thereof). In a way, the "modern" agribusinesses should be even easier to expropriate *in agroecological terms* than the old latifúndia, since the latter at least let the land lie fallow and refrained from infusing it with toxic agrochemicals and wasting the soil with industrialized irrigation and/or erosion from overproduction. And here is the last, and perhaps most important, niche into which I am already setting myself on the move: the SOCIAL FUNCTION of property, including the social function of land. Our Constitution ascertains that all property rights can only be valid in so far as the property in question fulfills its social function (Article 5). However, the Constitution hardly spells out what this means, save in terms of the social function of land, where the focus remains on the productivity of the land (as explained above). Hence, the vast majority of discussions about the concept of the social function of property remain limited to legalese back-and-forth-ing in extremely limited circles of Constitutional scholars and attorneys. There is a lack and need for more philosophical/political articulations of the concept of social function, in order for its articulation to further imbue a praxis of democratic regulation of property relations such as, of course, the expropriation of those would-be-properties that cannot-be-private-property because they fail to fulfill their social function. This is where I come in, this is what I am setting myself up to do, and this is likely going to be the basis for a dissertation of mine (if I do end up taking on such a task for myself). In the meantime, however, I have been finishing a short essay for oral presentation at our national bioethics conference this September on "Agroecology or Agribusiness?", arguing briefly, as I did far more fully in my thesis in Colorado, that these alternatives are ultimately a matter of "Revolution of Genocide!" The essay was submitted today, and I would be quite disappointed if it is not accepted into the conference. (My mother helped me write the essay in Portuguese, since my abilities with spelling and grammar are, how do I put it, hardly better than the 8th grade level at which I stopped formal studies in Portuguese... The cool thing, then, is that I'll now have a co-authorship with my mom!) Now I'm also starting to translate some sections of my thesis for publication in Portuguese journals, and tomorrow or next week Sérgio is going with me to the MST encampment here at the capital to introduce me to the folks of the Movement. They are here to demand the release or some 800 million Reais the State had promised for the agrarian reform settlements already won, as well as the settlement of millions more landless peasants who are encamped throughout the country. On Monday morning, Sérgio is also taking me to Planaltina (one of the satellite cities around Brasília, where he teaches) to meet other folk who work with, research and promote our land struggles. Things are well on their way, then, for my own participation in our common struggle and search for our Promised Land. That is why I've named this blog accordingly, and if you, my friend, are reading this now, then the purpose of this writing is fulfilled. So many of you, dear friends, said to me you wanted me to keep you posted on my work while we are apart, and I will do my best to update this with some regularity, highlighting at least the important developments pertinent to my life of such interest. I hope you all are well too, loving this beautiful life of ours and advancing strongly in your own paths towards our common goal!