(Claire) A swift dismount!

It’s been a while since writing... lots has been going on here at the Pink House, with non-stop days and seemingly endless lists of things to do! So we’re looking forward to spending a few days in Recife over Christmas – where we were the last time we were in Brazil. Before we head off, the final push here is for the Christmas party on Friday that we’re doing in the Pink House. It’ll be the first time that all of the girls (without friends, parents or other town-members etc.) will be together under the same roof, and we’re sure it’s going to be a mix of beautiful, fun and unpredictable!

Over the last few days we’ve been going from house to house, inviting the girls to the party and using that as an opportunity to spend a bit more time with them, and take a step into their worlds for a little while. One such world was that of a fifteen year-old, who has the biggest (cheekiest) smile we’ve seen yet. Her world is filled with chaos, violence,  drugs and prostitution, and she shows all the tough signs of someone who’s survived more than any of us could really imagine. We arrived to find a man lying knocked out on the floor of her tiny, dark living room, and were told to ‘feel at home’ and just step/sit round him. It turned out that this man was her Dad. So we carried on the conversation that involved a lot of laughing, joking and teasing, with feet barely inches away from his head, realising that this is absolutely normal in her world. One of her two children was there, who she loves in the best way that she can… a cheeky chap who was yet another reminder that at age thirteen this girl had already given birth.

Amidst the many signs of poverty that existed all around us, a funny thing happened! As we were chatting in the house a massive horse galloped up to the door and stood about two feet away, blocking the tiny brick doorway. A sight I definitely wasn’t expecting! Our yelps of surprise and interest in the horse swiftly led to the whole family getting really excited about Sam saddling up!! So there in the tiny street of one of the poorest areas in Medina Sam was holding the reigns, with the whole (dynamic) family cheering him on and telling him to gallop down the cobbled street! “You’ll be fine – just hold on!!” To the disappointment of all he panicked and made a swift dismount (!), and as we left that family we giggled about how he could well have trotted very slowly out of the city and onto the BR116 with no idea how to stop or get off!

So life is a funny mix of happenings. In the next post are a few photos of some memories thus far...

Sam and the lovely Vicki who stayed with us whilst volunteering at the Pink House (in our most favourite room at home...the hammock room!)

The Pastor of our church and his wife and daughter at our house. They are such a lovely family, full of fun and laughter, and have been such an encouragement to us, especially in giving me space to just be myself despite the language barrier 

Me and Vicki after a trip to the salon! (never been to a salon in my life before coming to Brazil!)

Me and Sam having good old English tea and biscuits (thank you Vicki!)... in the hammock room!

Snowing in Medina!! 

Not really - this is the remains of Sam's freezer de-icing party!

A typical roads in Medina, and one that leads out to the hills...

Sam about to carry our palm tree across the town to a friend's house as a present! It looks harmless enough, but he arrived with soil and scratches all over his face! What is the gringo going to do next...?!

One of the many bugs in our house that made Sam genuinely scream and hide!!! (This isn't microscopic photography... the bug was huge!!)

Sam fixing our roof after the worst storm that Medina has had in the history of it's current inhabitants! We thought it was a tornado at one point!

A gecko :)

A witchcraft monument on top of the mountain that we climbed

Me and Sam doing Rita's hair in the salon (This is just a set-up, there is absolutely no way Rita would let us go anywhere near her hair!!!)

Sam, me and Rita, hiding in amongst all the PINK

Outside the Pink House the day after the big party for the girls. From left: Warlei, Dani, Sam, Dean, Me, Matt and Rita! This hurt more than it looks!!

Rita, Sam and I visiting in the pouring rain and asking how to get to a certain girl's house... it involved sliding(literally) down the hill to her doorstep!

Guina, a local graffiti artist, doing awesome things to the Pink House walls! 

Sam doing a broomstick dance. He's actually stuffing the holes in the roof of the dance room with plastic bags to hold back the rain! This idea was developed after we realised that the roof wasn't doing it's job and every time after it rained the inside of the house was flooded... and surprisingly it works! (This picture is also very reminiscent of a midnight broom incident that you should ask Sam about...)

At the big party for the girls! Me and Sam with Dean and Rita. By this point everyone was shattered, but so excited about the wonderful evening that had just taken place

The salon in the Pink House, leading into the bean-bag room next door! 

A sneak preview of Sam as Santa before the Christmas party that's happening this Friday night! The sad face I think has something to do with the absolutely huge trousers that he has no choice but to wear! Will post photos of his final 'look' in a few days...!!

(Sam) 50 precious lives!

Last week we finally had the most immense privilege of visiting all the girls in their homes, to deliver their personal invite to the project. We finished the last few yesterday and are filled with such a sense of joy and anticipation.

On arriving back from the visits (we had been through so many houses in such a short space of time), my mind was a flood of images...

each girl is so unique and beautiful, and in every hardened or downcast expression we could see the creases of a reluctant but irrepressible smile breaking through when they heard that they had been 'chosen' to be part of the project. It was such a privilege to be there at that moment, to be sharing the news that there is an opportunity for something different, an alternative for the future.

There were quite a few girls who Rita had so wanted to invite before it was too late, but who we now realised were already pregnant. One beautiful but very tough young girl was playing football in the street when we called her. She came over with a really hard and mistrusting face but then produced the most amazing smile when she thought of the idea of being part of the project, having her hair done, learning guitar...Even though she already has a baby (who is fortunately being looked after by family), she's only 13 and she really needs this chance that Meninadança will offer her, to be a child again herself.

The invites were absolutely perfect even for the older, tougher girls. Their eyes widened and cheeks softened as the pink girly picture with their name on the front inspired the beginnings of a belief that they may in fact be worth something....wow...hope is the most beautiful concept and this week we saw tangible glimpses of it in the most unlikely, seemingly impossible situations.

At one point, as we walked out of yet another house with Rita, we realised that we were all grinning from ear to ear! and just couldn't stop smiling and laughing...Rita had been so frustrated because in the face of such need we had to limit the number of girls to 50; but today she said that it had suddenly hit her in a different way when chatting with a friend that we were going to be involved in the lives of Fifty young women and girls and their families, speaking of hope and transformation to those who most desperately need it. Seeing the difference that some conversations have already made in how the girls look ahead, we believe that God really is going to bring that transformation here in Medina.

(Sam) Budding photographers!

It's been great having Vicki, a teacher from the UK, volunteering with us during this set-up phase. One of her passions is photography and so this Sunday we met up with two of the girls to give them an introductory lesson! Vicki showed them the basics and then we wandered through the countryside outside the town with the two girls pointing and shooting as they went!

One of Vicki’s aims was for them to see their town through different eyes, since both of them have seriously considered leaving for various reasons. It was amazing by the end of our walk to hear them actually noticing the beauty around them, and realising that there is life here outside of what they have experienced so far. It's so good for them to know that there is another perspective on the same reality, one which is so much more filled with life and hope.

One funny moment was when one of the girls looked at the ground and screamed, and out of fear I ran and jumped into the air, landing straight onto the thing they’d been screaming about – a big hairy tarantula! It didn’t bite me, but it was huge! We filmed one later and then a woman came and beat it to death with a stick…it’s not just us who don’t like them!

Medina!

A couple of weeks ago we climbed one of the hills around the town with two friends, and sat at the top for so long with the hot wind in our faces, not quite believing that this is where we have landed! We're so so thankful for being in this beautiful place.

I may have convinced Claire that it was only a 15 minute walk to the top! haha...she was not too pleased an hour and 15 minutes later when we got to the top with no water around for miles! But the beautiful sunset was definitely worth it. 

(Claire) Cry, The Beloved Country

Last night my heart broke as I read this paragraph in Alan Paton’s Cry, The Beloved Country. He paints a devastating picture of what can happen when oppression has ruled a people, and how from that point on fear robs you of the ability to hope. Though he’s writing about South Africa, I was struck by how many of the girls here in Medina experience this same isolation, and could relate to these painful words:

“Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing, nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or a valley. For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much.”

With their stories of abuse, violence, rejection and exploitation there are really only two ways to go: to die, or to choose never again to hope, to love, to dream, to believe – close up their hearts to all that surrounds them, hold it in their hands and run, far away. Smile, but not in their eyes, laugh, but not from their hearts. Nothing can hurt them any more, but behind the smiles are hurting eyes, wondering if anyone really ‘sees’ their pain.

Every moment with these girls is an incredible privilege. My prayer is that over time, I imagine years rather than months, there will be no need to hide, no need to run away. That through a process of being loved for who they are, every girl would feel safe to hope, to be free again to open her heart to the beauty of the world around her, and to believe that there is a reason to dance. I pray that the devastation of Paton’s words would be transformed for the girls into something like this:

“Dance, beloved daughters, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of your hope. Let her love the  earth deeply. Let her laugh gladly when the water runs through her fingers, stand silent when the sun makes red the veld with fire. Let her be moved when the birds of her land are singing, and give her heart to the mountain and the valley. For fear will not rob her if she gives of her heart.”

Meeting the girls

(Sam)
Since the elections are now over, Rita has had a lot more time and we've been able to talk a lot more about how to reach girls, which girls, and how the house will be structured etc. We have started visiting a few, which has been a real privilege but also heart-wrenching, meeting the girls themselves who are the faces of the stories we've heard. For each one it seems impossible that someone so young could have already lived through so much.

A fifteen-year old that we've spent quite a bit of time with, and wrote about in the last group email has now disappeared again, moving up and down the nearby towns along the motorway and staying with friends or anywhere she can find. Her family is distraught and desperately wants her to get out of this town and get help. We're waiting for her to appear again before talking through the possibilities with her. Please pray that she can believe just a tiny bit in the possibility of hope for her future and make the choice to get out...also that we can actually find somewhere that will truly provide all that she needs to be healed from past traumas and start to build a new life.

We met up with another younger teenager tonight and it was such a privilege to sit with her - she really is a very special one, has huge potential and an extremely likeable character! As I said before, it is beyond my imagination to link this lovely girl with all that we've heard she's been through already at her young age, and the way that she lives at the moment. We met the whole family, quite a mixed bunch, and then sat for a while teaching her a few chords on the guitar - it was great watching the transformation from frustration and lack of concentration to then being so chuffed once she persevered and learnt three all at once. My next task is to research her favourite artist so that I can teach her an actual song next time! It's going to be a funny moment!

While Rita is at work in the mornings at the Children's Council we have been given the go ahead to decorate and kit out the whole of the Pink House. The last few weeks have been quite a mix - frustration with the time it takes and the tedium or roundabout ways of getting things done!but also amazing to see things really coming together now...I think probably by the end of this week nearly everything will be in place. We've had Rita's nephew Washington helping us out, and here are some of the photos of the work in progress...

Claire in the hair salon

Sam painting the lounge

Washington fixing the TV in the dance room

How Not To Paint Your Wall (our house, not the pink house!)

                                                 Step 1: Mix your paint (cast your spells?!)

                                         
                                           Step 2: Test your colours (with much deliberation)

                                             Step 3: Spill half of your precisely-mixed paint

                                 Step 4: Paint the wrong wall (it was meant to be the one on the left!)

Whilst Seated On The Comode

(Claire)

I know that we’ve not yet written much on the blog about the work that we’re doing here! We’ve realised that it’s going to take time to work out how much we can say about the girls, the town and the development of the project... There are lots of different factors to take into account which make writing honestly seem a bit of a minefield! One factor is that all of the girls here have access to the internet and so could easily google translate what’s being said…as could anyone else in this small town where everybody knows everybody. Identifying a girl wouldn’t take long with a bit of description about where she lives and her family. The police, politicians and anyone else who’s interested to know what’s being said and exposed about their town would also have access to read what’s written. And so, we're working out bit by bit how to get into a rhythm of writing in a way that protects both the girls and our team, whilst being honest and sharing what’s really happening…

There have been lots of challenges over the last couple of weeks, on all fronts! However, in the midst of that the Pink House is receiving it's final touches with lots of colourful (pink!!!) walls and pink cushions! (Photos to follow soon!) We’ve been praying that we would have opportunities to meet the girls who are most caught up in exploitation and are most in need, and in response to that we’ve had two awesome times of ‘bumping into’ girls around town who we highly suspect are involved and are friends with Leticia… they’re all really interested in the project, and we’re going to see if we can start visiting them more over the next few weeks. We’re going to be spending our Saturday nights on the streets to give more opportunity to meet girls, and are really enjoying time spent with Leticia :) Last time we were in her house I made one of those snap-decisions to sit on an old rusty commode that she had in the garden… I didn’t make the link between the ailing grandmother and the comode – or perhaps I did but the beaming invitation of a seat in the hot sun was too much to resist. After about two minutes of swinging my legs (it was taller than I expected!) and chatting to Leticia I started to notice a wet sensation on the top of my right leg… I was determined to remain neutral in my facial expressions as I realised that the commode was very much still active, and had hidden its urinary gems within the plastic seat - to the dismay of any unsuspecting passer by needing a sit down! Next time I'll go for the reliable floor option...

Moving in :o)

Go Boris Go!

(Sam): In this wonderful place of cowboy hats and dusty streets, obscene car sound systems and constant fireworks, we have been (un)fortunate enough to land just at the time of the elections.
Elections in Medina are notoriously closely contested, mostly because a shift in politicians really does mean massive shifts in power and money, and many risk losing their jobs if the other parties win. Even for Menindança, if one of the other two candidates were to win, we are likely to suffer huge delays in paperwork, fewer donations and government support, and much harsher scrutiny.

However...unlike power-dressing politicians in the UK, this two-month long build-up to the voting day is jam-packed full of fireworks at all hours of the day; ridiculous jingles for each of the politicians blaring through the streets out of car boots (literally like “Number 10 is the best, dance with him and forget the rest” or “Everyone I know votes 25, my granny, my dad, my uncle, my dog, everyone votes 25”); and the most hilarious yet intense parades through the streets that we´ve ever seen!

In the photos you´d think we were caught up in a terrible riot, but what happens is that three or four nights in the week, each party takes it in turns to march round the town and then descend upon the main square with as many supporters as they can bribe, threaten or blackmail to join them. The first time was only a couple of days after we had arrived…we had heard music and fireworks all day and then as night fell, the madness unfolded. The distant music and shouting got louder and louder and then fireworks exploded literally outside our windows. Claire screamed and hid (haha!) and I ran out to the street to see what on earth was going on – in the darkness we could see all our neighbours outside their houses looking up the hill of our street and at the top all you could see was smoke, light, and crazed silhouettes jumping up and down. They gathered their forces and then came racing down the hill! First there were about 50 motorbikes laden with too many people and waving banners, burning their tyres and revving way too high. Then about 30 horses (?!) which we couldn’t quite believe, ridden by cowboy-hatted guys letting off fireworks and drinking cans of beer. The air was filled with smoke and the smell of burnt rubber, and the poor horses seemed as shocked as we were. Literally hundreds and hundreds of people were running and dancing down behind them, with cars full of people inside and on top, and massive boom boxes…and the climax was half-way through the procession, seeing their political party’s candidate for town mayor sitting on a throne on top of his car, surrounded by fairy lights and massive banners, shouted on by the masses of drunk people who didn’t have a clue what politics was even about.
It took over an hour for it all to pass by and fill the town square below, and I was just imagining a scene in Trafalgar Square with crowds of drunk Brits whooping Boris Johnson on to his next four years as Mayor of London! Viva Boris Johnson!

Jokes aside though, the election day is 7th October, when we'll find out what the impact will be for our project and the next four years of social work in Medina. We're voting number 10! Robinho!

(Claire) Honeymoon period!

Life in Medina is fun...and funny! Before arriving in Brazil I was prepared to go through each stage of culture shock, and, despite finding certain things difficult (force-feeding, for example!), I'm aware that I am currently in that wonderful honeymoon period! We've been here a week, and I've found Medina to be a town of quirks, with a carnival atmosphere and yet snuggled into it's tranquil, remote surroundings. It has been a wonderful experience getting to know this corner of Brazil's vast 'interior', and I know that amongst the many tragedies that we will find, there are many wonders to discover as well...

These are some of the elements of this new world that I've enjoyed the most...! The wonderful range of colours that people paint their houses - and the surprising number of bright green parrots that you find within them (named after grandchildren in the family); mazes of cobbled streets; the use of a horse - with or without a cart - for transport; the always-visible view of the surrounding hills which create a beautiful silhouette at sunset; the depth and consistency of hospitality by every person we've met; the fact that countless items of food get stored in Tupperware due to the heat - nothing can escape the small flimsy plastic tubs and I've found myself measuring crackers before going to the shop to find just the right container! ; the fact that when people say the pace of life is slower in the countryside - it actually is in the sense that people actually move their legs more slowly!! Especially when climbing a hill, and I've thoroughly enjoyed joining their pace (and have been overtaken by a horse  a number of times!). All of these I have enjoyed, but probably my favourite was a few nights ago when we'd done our week's shop in the supermarket near our house, paid for everything at the counter, and noticed that our bags had not only been packed for us, but were being carried out of the shop! I wondered where they were taking our pasta... We were then asked for our address, and our bags were put into a motorbike with attached side car! (see above!) The driver put his helmet on, revved up the hill and dropped our bags off at our door - which is only five houses down on the same road! This kind of delivery is normal, and free! We're now considering getting one of these as our own mode of transport... the question is...who should go in the side-car??? :)