BARRA DA TIJUCA

Few months ago, returning from a dreaming trip to France, I wrote in this blog about “the Africa in Paris”, described my amazement about the gap between the white and prosperous population and the black poor one from the outskirts of the city of Paris.

I lived a similar experience…in Barra da Tijuca! Taking advantage of a free rare afternoon, I decided to do by bus, the Ipanema - Barra da Tijuca route - something I’d wished doing for quite some time, simply for the pleasure of looking around without worry about driving. It was fine, easy and quick: in less than half an hour I arrived to the big shopping mall. Arriving in Barra I was surprised (one more time) with the rising number of new luxurious buildings, and with the fact that there weren’t people walking on the avenue. I decided to visit the shopping mall before taking back the same bus, at the same bus stop which I had got out and, go back to Ipanema.

I walked into two very good bookstores, set down on an armchair of the first one and read an American article, without buying the magazine… I had a great cup of coffee, walked a lot, my right foot started to hurt - showing that it was time to stop.
I walked back to the bus stop I was recommended to choose, waiting for the bus coming from Ipanema. It would certainly be emptier, I was told. It would go to the last bus stop and then make the turn back to Ipanema.

Fifty minutes later and no bus! What to do? Keep on waiting or cross five lanes at the traffic light that was about 60 meters distant, to take the bus on the opposite side? The sun was still scorching, my feet hurting from walking in the mall, and the watch showing 5 o’clock… It was then that I witnessed an unexpected scene (at least for me) in this part of the town: dozens of people (few hours before there weren’t anybody around!) running from one side to another, chasing their buses, dozens of them, with signals indicating neighborhoods from the west side, the north side of the city: Taquara, Campo Grande, Madureira, Cidade de Deus, São Cristovão, Vila Kennedy, Tanque, Méier. They would make triple lines because there wasn’t enough room for them to park by the sidewalk. And people were running back and forth after their buses, wherever they would park. Bus stop! Not even think of it. I stood there, dizzy from the heat and astonishment. Is this also Barra? Hundreds of men and women modestly dressed, from all ages, sweating and breathless. I suppose they were employees from the shops, offices, clinics and schools. Was that the end of a working shift? Could be.

Living, once again, the contrast and all that it implies (the social inequalities, the political neglectfulness, the absurd sharing of privileges), so close – it was good. Good, doesn’t mean pleasurable. But it made me think: I’m part of this world, just like it is. I’m in it, and I don’t want to leave it.