Dance Lest We All Fall Down - Margaret Willson [130]
Rita turned around. “A guava,” she said. “Isn’t it wonderful? Some real green. I thought we could make this back part into a garden. Use it to teach the girls about plants, biology, have them actually grow their own vegetables.”
“Yeah,” Rubim said. “I can see it. A little kiosk there at the back, what do you call it, a gazebo kind of thing. To give shade. You could even have classes out here.”
Rita laughed. “That’s what Fio said the minute he saw it.”
“So,” I said to Rubim, “you’re going to be working on this with us, aren’t you? Directing all this, making sure it goes right?”
Rubim looked at Rita. “Well.” He sounded embarrassed. “Rita and I haven’t discussed it. I just came to do an inspection for her. And because I like what Bahia Street’s doing. I mean, I’d be happy to do it. I think I have time. But it’s up to Rita. She might have someone else in mind....”
Rita laughed again. “You know you’re the best, Rubim.” She turned to me. “He signs off the permits to make sure buildings are correctly constructed, to make sure they’re safe and don’t fall down. So, he’s pretty good. And he’s my brother, so of course he’s great.” She stood up and brushed the dust from her pants. “We’ll discuss it.”
“Hmmm...” I said. “So, shall we go out for a beer—er, I mean a soda? To start the project off?”
Rita coughed as she negotiated the dust and broken stairway. “Perfect.”
To a Mailing List of 580: October 20, 2003
Dear Donors, Friends, and Volunteers,
As I write this, the first stormy rains of autumn slap their notice against my office window. Their energy swirls through the buffeting wind and creates mottled reflections in graphite pools that sit cupped on the sidewalks and wooden dockways. I am still in shorts, but wearing a fleece and rain jacket, torn between nostalgia for this last summer and delight at the changing color and pungent new smells. With these first rains come the greening of the land.
So, the news from Salvador. We have bought a building! Rita found a suitable building on the same street as the current Bahia Street Center, and negotiations began.
This has been an experience. I have learned more about Brazilian law and real estate than I ever wanted to know. We had wonderful help both here and in Brazil with advice from lawyers, real estate brokers, and others familiar with the pitfalls of buying property in Brazil. In Brazil, one does not buy title insurance as one does in the United States. Rather, one hires someone to do title and other background research on the building. We found several misplaced papers, wrong names on contracts, etc., but had it all sorted and were waiting for the final document, until…the government workers went on strike. Then, of course, nothing got done until they went back to work again, which was only a short time ago. The final papers have now been delivered to Rita, however, and she has the keys. Now we only have to rebuild it into the Center we have dreamed about. I am a bit intimidated by all this, but Rita, Fio, the girls’ caregivers, and other volunteers in Salvador are all excited to begin.
Last month, when I rang Rita at the Center, she sounded as though she were speaking in an echoing silence. Generally when I ring her, we have trouble hearing each other over all the noise of young girls shouting, running, playing, or whatever sounds come from a collection of forty girls. I immediately asked her what was going on, how come I could hear her so well. She laughed and began telling me about the children’s protest in Salvador. The city of Salvador has recently raised the bus fare to R$1.50 for each ride. Two rides, for example, coming to and from school, now cost R$3.00. Since many people in Salvador earn about R$300 a month, this is a huge daily cost and means that many families will not be able to send their children to school.
So, the public school children took to the streets in protest. They spilled out of the schools and sat on major Salvador avenues. This