Dance Lest We All Fall Down - Margaret Willson [127]
I looked at Rita. “Did you know this? That the entire thing has to be rebuilt?”
Rita seemed unperturbed. “No, but I’m sure we can do it. Mario’s right. This way we can get what we want.”
“But Rita, there’s the cost. Have you considered how much this will cost? How are we going to get the money?”
Rita laughed. “You worry too much. You got that wonderful grant. We’ll figure out a way if we need more. That’s how we do it in Bahia.”
We then all trouped to Fio’s nearby apartment where he had been preparing a goodbye fish dinner for me. He served the dinner on the roof, in the night breeze, with a view of the Salvador sky. I sat there a few minutes, watching the sky go from turquoise to cobalt in the rapid tropical twilight.
Later, I asked Mario if we could go downstairs so I could talk with him. “How much is this going to cost?” I asked.
“Well, we have to figure that out.”
“Can you make even a rough estimate?”
“Of course. It’s all based on engineering, on mathematical models of what, structurally, you’d need. Let’s see…” He took out a pen and notebook and began making calculations. “First, you have to pay for the demolition. That’s expensive. And you won’t be able to start until after Carnival. Then it will be the rainy season, so you can’t really start until June. The foundation. Steel structural beams. Cement. This is very rough you understand, based on the size of the area.” He paused. “I’d say about a hundred thousand.”
“A hundred thousand what? Reais or U.S. dollars?”
“Dollars.”
I sat there. Mario laughed and went upstairs. When Rita came down, I called her to the window. “The rebuilding is going to cost a hundred thousand dollars. We don’t have the money.”
Rita laughed. “Why are you talking about this? This is your going away party! Come and eat the dinner Fio made. Have a drink.”
“Rita, don’t you get it? I cannot get this money. It’s too much. We’ll have a shambles. We’re already in debt for the building itself. And we’re supposed to come up with this ridiculous amount on top of paying that off? My board in the States will flip. I don’t know what they’ll do.”
“You worry too much. We have the building. It’s incredible. We’ll figure something out.”
“Rita, I don’t think you quite get this. You‘re here, doing the program, but I’m having to come up with the money. The economy is terrible right now in the States. I see no way I can come up with this money.”
“Margaret, relax. If I’d known you were talking with Mario about this, I’d have stopped you. He’s a middle-class architect. He thinks in middle-class terms. We’ll do it for less than half of what he’s talking about. We’ll go to the different vendors, get them to give us cheap deals, hire local people. In Bahia you have several prices for everything. If you deal with official people, they all take their cut. We won’t do anything official. We’ll make the building safe. We’ll do a wonderful building, but it’ll cost much less. You’ll see. Now, relax. Forget about it. Come and enjoy Fio’s dinner.”
“Easy for you to say. You don’t have to come up with the money or face my board.”
I went upstairs, tried to eat Fio’s dinner, tried to be polite to the other guests, tried to be civil to Rita. Then I came home to my hotel room and lay on the bed all night, unable to sleep. After what seemed an eternity, I watched the growing light of dawn.
I felt betrayed. I loved Rita. In the eleven years or so I had known her, she had only grown in my esteem, only gained my increasing respect as she devoted herself to this project. She had such vision and had created an incredible program that now functioned in a city where so much never did. She demanded teacher attendance in a society where teacher truancy was the norm. If a teacher didn