Favella Folly - Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Favella Folly
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

OK, so in hindsight, it was a very stupid thing to do, and my guardian
angel, who I now believe in completely, must have had a busy time. I had
only just arrived in Rio, but I blame my naivety mostly on the atrocious
(but cheap!), guidebook I had picked up second hand in Chile, that described
the ‘favellas’ as “quaint little communities built on the sides of the many
hills within Rio - you will be charmed by the rambling streets and
higgledy-piggledy houses.” It failed to mention the many very bad things
that I was only to discover later.

Some “higgledy-piggledy houses”

On my travels so far, I had enjoyed wandering away from the tourist attractions - seeing how the ‘real’ people
of a city live, popping into a local’s cafe, maybe having a game of pool in
a bar. So on spying my first favella near the Maracana soccer stadium, I
pulled up my shorts, hitched my thumbs under the straps of my little
rucksack and put my best skinny white traveller foot forward.

The guidebook was right on one count - the maze-like, rambling streets enticed
me in and did their best to get me lost. I was trying to work my way to the
top of the hill, but each street seemed to end in a cul-de-sac, or at
someone’s front door, forcing me to retrace to the last junction and try
again.

The houses were like nothing I had seen before - each one was a little shack
thrown together from a pile of bricks and a couple of breezeblocks by a
person who had already drunk the fluid out of his spirit level. As room to
build new houses had run out, there was only one solution - applying for
planning permission must have been along the lines of “I want to put my
house on your roof, that’s OK by you isn’t it?” What, from a distance,
looked like a miracle of planning and building to have got the houses
fitting together so closely, turned out, on closer inspection, to be just a
miracle. I’m sure the phrase ’safe as houses’ - widely used in Britain - is
not part of the Brazilian language.

Wandering the streets past, but not too close to, these little houses,
seemed like so much fun (despite the occasional rat and huge mound of
festering rubbish), but I now realize that my angel must have been working
overtime.

The people I saw in the favella seemed really happy despite their poor and
precarious surroundings, and their rather tatty clothes. Kids were out in
the street playing soccer (of course!), young teenagers would buzz past on
their trail bikes, and music blared out from all sides. Everyone was full of
life in the way that only carioca’s (people from Rio) can be. To me,
people being happy, despite being poor, was what life was all about - proof
that we’d got our priorities so totally wrong in Britain. And I had not seen
anywhere that that applied more than here.

The favella

After twenty minutes or so poking my nose around, and getting mostly warm
smiles, but the occasional odd look from the locals, I wandered back down,
as I had a ticket to the Maracana stadium to see Fluminense (”Nense!,
Nense!, Nense!”) take on Botafogo (”Botafogo!, Botafogo!, Botafogo!”). As I
left the favella my angel must have gone off for a long lie down.

The next day, whilst having a typically tasty Rio cheeseburger and
passion-fruit juice in a cafe in the Catete area of Rio, where I was
staying, I was approached by a grizzled looking Canadian with clattery false
teeth, apparently an ‘Nam vet, called Richard. He told me he was one of
only two people in Rio who could take me on a guided tour around a favella,
and the only one who would do it on foot. I told him not to worry, as I had
already been around one myself.

When he had recovered his composure, and replaced his teeth, he told me how
stupid I had been, and proceeded to stand up and tell everyone in the cafe
what I had done, receiving the appropriate incredulous looks. I agreed to
accompany him on one of his own tours the next day, and headed off to do
some research in the local book shop.

This is what I found out…

Each day in the Rio favellas there are an average of 13 murders, down from
40 a day in the early 90’s. Four of those 13 murders are of children. That’s
because the children help the different drug cartels that virtually own
each favella. The main reason that the average has come down from 40 is that
the local police have been forced to stop sending in their own illegal death
squads to kill people. It’s been known for tourists to wander in, and later
to be deposited on the other side of the city minus money, belongings and
clothes. Most people who live in a favella have some kind of gun - someone
from a nearbly favella had recently shot down a police helicopter with a
rocket launcher. See the film City of God for more details!

So I joined the tour rather more clued up and distinctly more concerned than
on my previous visit - Richard had an agreement with the drug gangs of one
favella to do walking tours, providing he slipped them some money. We met
the sentries on guard at the bottom of the road, had plenty of bullet holes
pointed out to us, drank beer in a local bar, visited the cartel boss’s
luxury (in favella terms!) house, and Richard recounted stories of gang war,
police brutality, and how a German tourist who demanded that a local show
him a gun almost met his end. I felt reasonably safe with Richard - he did
seem to have a rapport with the locals in charge. Apparently, the other
favella guide - Marcel - does his tours from within a van, so you don’t feel
quite as intimate with the locals, although you can make a quick getaway if
necessary!

No Stress

Richard can be found in Catete, in the bars or the casino - the bouncers
will know where to find him, but he will probably find you first! He’s quite
a pushy character, and if you meet him, you should be quite firm with him,
as he will try and sell you all sorts of other tourist activities that you
don’t want to do. However, he can take you on a fascinating tour!

I loved the buzz, the fun and the excitement of Rio so much that I will
definitely go back one day. I was mugged three times in my two months there,
so a certain amount of street wisdom is essential when wandering around away
from the tourist areas, but the rewards are worth it! I would never go into
a favella on my own again, and I’ve been extremely kind to my angel ever since!