In Hebrew we have a saying: “A stranger will not understand”
The other day I was walking up the street to my English class, when one of my Havaianas tore. I was standing there, in the middle of the favela, thinking what should I do. I sat on someone’s stairs and went through my bag, looking for something useful. After 10 minutes of hard work, trying to fit a metal clip through the broken part, I was good to go. Seeing my fixed Havaianas, my friend said, now I am officially a favela girl…
“A stranger will not understand…”
For years I was fascinated with favelas, but studying about the emergent structure, or seeing pictures, doesn’t really make you understand what it is. So, I’ve decided to move to a favela, experience it, see it with my own eyes. I’ve been living in favelas for quite some time now, and the truth is I’m still a stranger, and I will probably never understand completely.
Because what makes a favela, like any other place, are all the small things, and there’s no way to explain or experience them all…
Like, when it rains thoroughly, sloppy streets become rivers, and walking with Havaianas and shorts actually makes more sense in knee-deep drift water.
Or the fact that there’s no inappropriate hour, or volume, to play music. Any music, but mainly church or Funk.
You can always find kids playing or hanging out outside, even in the middle of the night.
And, unlike touristic places in Rio where it might get dangerous alone at night, Rocinha's streets are always occupied by people, even at 3 in the morning, and are completely safe thanks to the mafia control.
And what at first looks like a maze of stairs, actually does have some logic, and even though I still get lost sometimes, I can already sense the right way… And it’s really only a magical maze for outsiders, who didn’t grow up exploring these ways.
And I could go on….
But most importantly what I’ve learned is that, there’s no one favela like the other, Each has its own unique emergent structure and its own rules…
And what makes you a favela girl is not where you live, though it might be your fixed Havaianas flip flops…
My home in the Favela.
Typical sewage system.
The gate to heaven, my favorite viewpoint on Rocinha.
Lunch at the Baianas, Favela style.
Crossroads | Stairs
Laundry day...
The favela at night reminds me of million fireflies.
Sunday, market day.
Favela Rochinha