So tomorrow marks the third week anniversary of my arrival in Cape Town, South Africa. So far I've met amazing people, seen unforgettable landscapes, and begun to catch a glimpse of the Capetownian lifestyle. Now that I'm starting to settle in, I've begun the overstimulating task of processing all these new experiences. Visiting a local township last week was one activity in particular that's required a lot of retrospection. The ethics of a shanty town tour were a big concern for me at first; the idea of a group of Americans walking through a neighborhood with cameras and objectifying gazes was discomforting, to say the least. My hesitations were met head-on by our enthusiastic guide and township local, Mike Zuma. With a conscious effort to avoid these issues, he provided us with introductions to residents and candid explanations of culture that allowed us to engage rather than observe. The visit challenged the common perception of most outsiders of the population as stereotypical "starving Africans." That story definitely exists, but it's not everyone's. As one resident put it, "I may live in a shack, but I have a satellite dish and an awesome car. We are not poor because we don't have enough; we're poor because we still want more." While different in many ways, I couldn't help but draw connections to a trip I made last year to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Having had sufficient time to process that experience, here's my take on the perception of slum-life there.
I’d never had so much fun going through airport security. It was an odd form of pride handing over my passport to the bored TSA employee and watching the smile form as they inspected my boarding pass. Yes, it was two days before New Year’s Eve, and yes, in a few hours I would be away from the slushy DC weather and in the arms of the famously beautiful Rio de Janeiro. While I nodded, said thank you, and reattached by belt and shoes, I neglected to shatter their image of a fabulous hotel vacation on Copacabana Beach by mentioning that my precise destination was somewhere in the heart of Rocinha, the largest favela in Brazil.
For those of you who haven’t seen City of God, a favela is the Brazilian version of a slum or shanty town: countless little cement boxes literally stacked on top of each other and reaching up into the mountainy region between São Conrado and Gávea. As I would later discover, a twenty-something white American choosing to vacation in Rocinha (pronounced ho-seen-ya) was perplexing and met with near disbelief to the city-dwelling natives. Even I only had a vague idea of what I was signing up for, but my mind was set on two things: catch up with an old friend who had moved to Rio, and experience firsthand a city famous for having one of the most sharply defined divides between the rich and the poor.
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| Rocinha |
As distasteful as the common perception of slum-life seems to be, the quality of life in Rocinha and the surrounding favelas was surprising--and not just because they had the bare necessities of what is considered to be a modern lifestyle. Safety was ensured by the machine gun-armed police force stationed throughout the streets, every small business from haircuts to internet cafes could be found within the neighborhood, and, while the water delivery might be a day late, at least you could unfailingly find and access a Wi-Fi network. The surprising part was not that these amenities existed, but that some of those in the favelas were better than those in the city. Having divided my time between Rocinha and the mostly upper-class neighborhood of Botafogo, here is an overview of some of the most surprising differences.
Safety: As I mentioned before, the police in Rio are heavily armed. The difference is that in Rocinha the police make sure you know that they’re heavily armed. Within the last few years, the drug lords who governed the favela were pacified by the police who are now stationed sporadically throughout the streets with automatic weapons in plain view. This was shock at first as I had never seen a loaded gun in real life, but the trepidation passed within a day and I actually felt safer out in public than in my current residence of Worcester, Massachusetts. My friend, who had at this point lived in the city for a couple years, put it like this: anyone living in the favela who would potentially rob you was out robbing tourists outside of overpriced restaurants, not harassing their neighbors. While the pacification of Rocinha was beneficial for personal security, it did come with a few drawbacks:
Amenities and Utilities: Rocinha offered all the amenities of modern living you could hope for, but in previous years is was governed by drug lords. Recently the police pacified the favela by overthrowing the drug lords, creating both safety and a lack of supervision in the utilities department. The electricity that’s “included” in your rent is really wired into the favela through legally questionable methods, so while they’re willing to turn a blind eye, it’s unlikely that the government is going to repair your connection when it breaks. Some other issues come from negligence: the police threw out the people in charge of making sure the water was delivered to the roof tanks every week, so now there’s significantly less attention paid to the slum-dwellers and there was a two day period where we were waterless. Staying hydrated was easily solved by buying jugs of water down the road, but not being able to shower after climbing the enormous hill in 100 degree weather was a far greater price to pay. While the transition to a pacified neighborhood is still in progress, one thing the Brazilian government paid extra attention to was transportation.
Transportation: Getting around in the favelas can be difficult because of the haphazard development of houses. Rocinha is built on a hill, so its streets are winding and steep. Our apartment wasn’t even accessible by road for a large portion of the way and we had to find our way home through mazes of back alleys and slanted staircases. Two forms of transport were essential to getting anywhere in the favela. At the bottom of the hill, what appears to be a motorcycle gang is actually a group of moto-taxi drivers that are authorized to take you anywhere in Rocinha for R$2.50 (although the real fun can be had by paying a little extra to have them remove their IDs and take you outside the neighborhood—nothing is faster and more badass than showing up at the club or beach on the back of an illegally hired motorcycle). The other method is a series of vans that have specific routes throughout the entire city—R$5.00 (about $2.50) will let you stop at any point on the ride. While these vans are now officially recognized by the city government, they’re still considered a non-option by the middle and upper classes because of the stigma associated with the favelas. One of the most awe-inspiring forms of favela transportation is the billion-dollar sky tram looming over the vast Complexo do Alemao, which solves the issue of streets-too-narrow-for-cars by carrying you over the neighborhoods for the unbeatable price of R$1.00 (As a point of comparison, the tram leading to Pão de Açúcar was R$53.00)
Experiencing the city of Rio from two opposite points of view was an unforgettably fortunate way to glimpse a new culture. If you feel comfortable, going to a favela can offer a rich experience that is largely free of the influence of the tourist industry (although ethically questionable tours have already begun to grow in popularity); nothing beats a favela funk, the transportation can get you where you want to go faster than physics should allow, and climbing up the mountain side to get back to your apartment will undoubtedly give you killer calves. My favela flat had an ocean view and was in walking distance from the beach--all for a rent that was maybe 5% of an apartment in Botafogfo. And before you criticize the trash on the streets and stray dogs in the alley, remember that anywhere you go in Rio is sure to smell like garbage.
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