Brazilian Prisons

Two days a week I visit woman in prison in Brazil.  On Wednesday we have a health class for elderly woman at a prison called Santa Anna, the woman in this class are all Brazilian and are moms and grandmas.  Friday we have a similar health class at a prison called Capital, the woman in this class are young.  Four of the woman are pregnant, one woman is from Bolivia but does not even speak Spanish, she only speaks her own tribal language; three woman are from Thailand, a handful are from Brazil, and a few are from South Africa.  One thing that not all but most have in common, drug trafficking.

The three woman from Thailand are so sweet.  They don't speak Portuguese and only know what little English they learned in High School.  Last week they told me they had been prison for 1 month & 10 days.  The class we do is in Portuguese and English.  Because many of the foreigners understand English and may not have picked up Portuguese yet.  The other missioners lead the class because I still cannot teach in Portuguese.  But I have really enjoyed being able to help the English speakers in the group.  Sometimes I translate the Portuguese for them and sometimes I need to break down words in English to make it easier to understand.  After our last class I was speaking with my friends from Thailand.  The woman were joking with each other and hugging each other.  I asked them if they knew each other before they came to Brazil.  They told me they had met in the airport when they were each being arrested.

One thing we don't do is ask them about their crime,  if they offer information we can talk to them but we don't begin that conversation.  They did not tell me anymore, however, I assumed that they were being arrested for drug trafficking.  Later, one of the other missioners told me a little more of their story.  All three had been hired in Thailand to come to Brazil.  They took different routes here but arrived on the same day.  They each stayed in different hotels for one month.  Then they were given drugs that they swallowed or put in their body cavities.  They arrived at the airport at different times but were booked on the same flight home.  One was arrested around 8am, another 9am, and the last 10am.  This pattern leads us to believe that they had been set up.  Many times drug traffickers set up decoys to be arrested so someone who has more drugs can get through security while the authorities have been tipped off about the decoys and are busy arresting them.

The woman now will spend several years in prison, yes they are guilty of drug trafficking but from what I know of them I would guess they come from poverty.  These are the woman we meet in the Brazilian prisons.  Very poor, simple woman who broke the law as a means of survival.  We don't meet the major drug traffickers, or the rich who buy the drugs, only the poor.  I am sure that some of the others do get arrested but I have not met them yet.

Catherine & Katie holding the
names of the men who were
killed at Carandiru Prison.

Last week was the 20th anniversary of a massacre at the Carandiru prison.  111 prisoners were executed by the police after a riot.  Reports show that the prisoners had surrendered and that no one had tried to escape.  Yet the police were ordered to enter the prison and kill many of the prisoners.  Carandiru was destroyed in the 90s.  Now there is a park in its place.  This park separates the two prisons I visit.  Carandiru was a men's prison and the men were moved elsewhere.   You can watch the movie of what happened on You Tube (however it is in Portuguese) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wn4HYrt1-sM or I got a copy from the library and watched it with English subtitles.  It is very violent so don't watch with kids. You can also skipped to the end on You Tube and just watch what happened and not get the back stories of the prisoners.

Many of the Maryknoll Lay Missioners in Brazil attended the memorial for the prisoners killed at Carandiru.  7 out of 8 of us work in prison ministry.  Our work is about human rights and human dignity.  A person does not deserve to be killed simply because they are a prisoner.  A woman deserves to give birth to her baby without her hands and feet handcuffed to a bed, and everyone deserves food, water and basic shelter.  I believe that all humans beings have the right to life, even the prisoner.

Me @ the memorial

Heidi being interviewed about
the massacre at Carandiru.

My New Apartment

Many people have asked me to post pictures of my new apartment so here they are.  My roommate Catherine, is a Maryknoll Lay Missioner who arrived in Sao Paulo about a year and a half ago.

Dining Room/Living Room

Bathroom

Living Room/Dining Room

Kitchen/Laundry Room

Kitchen/Laundry Room

My Closet!!!

My Bedroom

The apartment is starting to come together. We still have a few more things to do but we now have cabinets and I have my room mostly set up.  It is starting to feel like a home.  After 8 months of moving around from place to place I am very grateful to have my own space.  It was a great experience getting to stay with the Maryknoll Community in Brazil, Brazilians and at language school.  But I am ready to unpack and be in one place for awhile.

Taking Things for Granted

So tonight I entered the bathroom and began to play the game Catherine and I do with the light switch.  We have 2 light switches but they don't turn on at first so we flip them both on and off about 10 times trying to get the right pattern and the right pressure to have the lights come on.  In one of the apartments I stayed in for a while it was a similar experience trying to turn on the lights in the bedroom and at times when cooking in the kitchen the lights would just go off.  It was really no big deal we would just wait for them to come back on which they would eventually do.

Tonight after I got the lights on I turned on the shower and waited for the warm water to come which it never did.  Eventually Catherine helped me turn a button on the shower head which made the water hot.  I did not know about that button and I stay away from touching the shower heads because with most of them you can be shocked if you touch them.  Ours does have the shock thing too but at least now I know about the button.  Also many showers do not have a shower box so the water goes all over the bathroom, after we are done with the shower we take a big squeegee and mop up the floors.

All of these things are just a normal part of life for many Brazilians.  For me, they just add to the adventure of living in another country.  However, this week I have been reflecting on the things I have taken for granted in my life in the U.S.  Lights and a warm shower are part of those things.  Also, a clothes dryer and perhaps one of the most important is heat.  I do miss being able to turn on the heat when I am cold. The houses don't have heat here.  I am going to buy a little heater but have not done so yet.

I started thinking about this topic last week when I was visiting the woman's prison.  We have a heath group with senior woman on Wednesdays.  As I sat in the circle of about 9 woman who are moms and grandmas I noticed they have such a desperation when it comes to their families.  Last Wednesday I listened to their stories and their desperate pleas for help and I thought about all that they have lost.  These woman have nothing and yet it is not the conditions they live in that they care most about it is their families.  I thought about the fact that when everything is stripped from a person what is the greatest need and desire, family.

I can understand this somewhat because there are times when I really miss my family and friends.  And yet my situation is different because I can skype or email or call my loved ones.  If necessary I could get on a plane and go home.  I have the freedom to make choices these woman do not.  And yet when I think about how my life will be different because of my choice to live as a missioner I believe that I may not take things for granted like I might have in the past.  Yes, water, lights, heat, peanut butter, those will all be things I will notice.  However, the most important thing I believe we should all not take for granted are our family and our friends.  Those people who stay with us in good times and bad and stand by us because they love us. I ask myself  if everything was strip away from me what would I miss the most...family.

Children of Poverty

She arrives early every week.  When I arrive she looks up to see if I notice her.  As I say her name she lets herself smile, but only a little.  She pretends to go back to sleep but I think she is watching everything that is happening.  We all move to a large, cold room with a table.  Seven other girls take their seats at the table.  The girls range in age from 14 to 20.  They all have unique qualities and personalities.  But they also have a few things in common.  The first is what they hold in their arms.  Each one cradles their baby.  And each one lives in poverty.  Poverty I don't know that I could ever imagine.

Today as I sat at the table I thought about all the teens I have worked with in the US.  I thought of how in so many ways these young ladies are similar to so many groups I have sat with for so many years.  And yet their lives are so different.  Today we did a tree of life where we placed our values, our abilities, our dreams, our desires and the names of those who support us.  This was like so many activities I have done in the past and yet the outcome was so different.

When it came to writing abilities a few of the girls said they had none.  They were not being modest, I think they really believe that have no abilities.  When it was time to write about the future the girls said I use to have dreams for the future but now I don't any.  I have a baby.  And when it came time for dreams the girls dreamed of having money, and one said I hope my baby has a house some day.  She was not hoping for a big fancy house she just wanted a house because she has none.  She bounces from place to place and she fears that the next time she has to leave the place she is now she will be on the streets.  She is 14, has a 3 month old baby, and is pregnant again.  Her mom is in prison and when she stays with her grandmother her uncle beats her.

These girls lives are full of violence, drugs (the girls don't necessarily do drugs but others in their life do), sex, and uncertainty.   The group they go to is an attempt to help them to see beyond their circumstances and dream of a different way of life.   Very difficult when you are 15 have a sick baby and are not sure where your next meal is coming from.  After the session the girls get something to eat.  As they ate I held one of their babies.  I held the 5 month old boy in my arms and I wondered what his life would be like.  Like his mother he is a child of poverty.

Poverty is dreaming of a house no matter what it looks like.

What's Next?

My first goal as a Maryknoll Lay Missioner is done.  I have finished language school.  I have a piece of paper that says I have been trained in Portuguese.  I am thinking about carrying it around with me so the next time someone does not understand what I am saying I can show them my certificate (the reality is that will be tomorrow when someone does not understand my Portuguese).

So what is next for me?  Right now I am in Joao Passoa, Brazil which is in the North.  We are visiting one of the Maryknoll Sister's home.  It is a wonderful home within walking distance to the beach.  It is winter now so it is not hot but it is warm.  Today we had a lot of clouds, nonetheless, it is wonderful to be here.  We will be taking a break after a lot of hard work this year and visiting the ministry of the Sisters.

On June 3rd I will return to Sao Paulo.  The plan for now is that we will continue our orientation by living with Brazilians, learning more about ministry opportunities, and working on our Portuguese.  One way that I will do this is by volunteering in a few ministries.  What we have planned now is that I will accompany a social worker who works with young, single mothers on Monday, on Wed I will visit the woman's Prison with another Lay Missioner to work with woman over the age of 55, and one other day a week I will visit a homeless center.

I am planning on living with another Lay Missioner.  We think we will find an apartment around August. Until then I will continue to move around to other Lay Missioner homes and live with Brazilians to understand the language and culture better.  I will not lie, moving a lot is a challenging experience but also a rewarding one.  The generosity of all those to open their homes to us is overwhelming.  I am grateful to all of those who offer me the gift of hospitality.

So that is what is next for me (at least today, things change from day to day but that is the plan for now). My next plan is to go to bed so I can be ready to go the beach at 6:30AM tomorrow.  I know some of you might have your mouths open right now because you cannot believe that I will be up that early.  But for the beach in Brazil I will get my......out of bed.  Boa Noite.

My fellow language school students from all over the world

How Many Pizza's Have I Ordered?

Tonight as I sat in a Mass celebrating 25years of religious life for one of the sisters here at language school I realized something.  It was my 25 year anniversary of ministry as well.  I was such a young woman (20) when I prayed that I would find a way to serve either in the church or with the poor.  All I can say is that God acted fast because the next Sunday was Pentecost and before I knew it I was given a card to fill out to volunteer.  I chose Youth Ministry honestly because I did not understand most of the other ministries and I thought I could serve cookies and chaperone a dance.  25 years later I find myself in Brazil.  All I can say is be careful what you wish for because it may just come true and then some.

As I reflect back on the years my heart is full.  So many people have touched my life in profound ways over the years.  I think of all the young people and their families, the staffs I have worked with, the parish communities of St. John the Apostle, Our Lady of the Lake, St. Pius X and St. Cecilia's,  and all of my fellow ministers and I am overwhelmed.

How many floors have I slept on?

I started to laugh when I thought about counting the number of meetings I have been too, the amount of chairs and tables that I have stacked and unstacked, the number of people who have thrown up on me (or worse), the number of hospital visits, the number of vans I have loaded, the number of times I have rolled up a sleeping bag, the number of bowls of punch I have made or most importantly how many pizza's and Costco cakes I have ordered.

These are the daily details of a minister but they are not the ones that stay with me.  I have been so graced to be welcomed into so many people's lives.  I have been blessed to witness the faith of young people come alive, I have seen first love blossom and heartache take it's place, together we have served in soup kitchens, homeless shelters, migrant camps, and in Mexico.  We have sang and danced, we have laughed and cried.  I walked with so many people suffering from life's challenges of depression, eating disorders, drug abuse, divorce, pregnancy, abuse, and sexuality.  I have welcomed new life with you and I have helped bury you and grieve with you.  Together we have walked the road of life and the road of faith with all of its joys and with all of its sorrow.

Tonight I am grateful for my years of ministry.  For all who have been a part of it.  For my friends and family who have supported me in the good and bad times.  At Mass this evening I thought about just reflecting on this moment and letting it quietly pass because I don't want any attention, I prefer to honor it in quiet ways.  But here I am writing about it.  The reason I chose to do that was to honor and thank all of you who have shared these years with me.  You have all brought me to this moment.  I never dreamed I would be in Brazil as a Maryknoll Missioner and yet here I am.  The past has given me strength to embrace my present and my future.

St. Pius X on Mexico Mission Trip

The Cry of the Poor

"The Lord Hears the Cry of the Poor, Blessed Be the Lord." (spiritandsong.com)
Today's Psalm is 34, it is the one I used for my sending Mass when I left Oregon.  Today I again find comfort and challenge in this scared scripture.
This week I have reached the half way point of language school.  Honestly, I really wish I had more command of the language at this point.  However, I know that I am in a better place with it than I was 1.5 months ago.  Today I was in a 3 hour lecture on church history in Brazil.  (I know right about now you are thinking how lucky I am).  Of course it was in Portuguese.  I understood 3/4 of the talk which I was happy with.  I am able to understand a lot more, however, I am still struggling with speaking.  I like to say I speak shopping.  Because I can go to the grocery store and get whatever I need.  Granted it is messy but I get it done.  

Today some one said to me that we should enjoy our time in language school because this might be the best time of our mission.  I totally disagree with this statement.  At this point I think this may be the hardest part for me.  Learning the language is challenging and humbling.  Many of the students reflect about how stupid they feel when trying to speak with Brazilians.  It is true I do feel stupid a good part of every day.  This person said we are lucky because we have a great room.  Which is true.  And I love, love, love, that Maria washes my sheets and towels every Friday.  But for me this time is not what it means for me to be a missioner. It is a necessary time for me to learn the language and the culture.  It is important for me because it gives me some of the tools to build my foundation as a missioner.  However, if I could I would run out the front door of the school and into the streets where the people I came to accompany live.

As I reflect on the words "The Lord hears the cry of the poor," I feel like I too have heard those cries.  In my work and ministry for the last 25 years I have listen to the stories of the poor.  I have seen their tears and felt their pain as well as their joy.   And it is those cries that have brought me to Brazil.  To do what, I still do not know but I long to be able to get started.  My heart's desire is to live out my vocation to journey in this life with the poor.

But for now I have to think about my own poverty.  My lack of control and power at this point in my life.  My dependence on others and a humbling of my heart.  I think about a child learning to ride a bike.  I remember my dad putting my training wheels on my bike.  Then having my parents holding on to the bike and running alongside me, until I was ready to go it on my own.  At this point in my journey as a missioner my training wheels are still being installed.  I have so many people that are working on running alongside me.  As much as I desire to take off and ride I am not ready yet.  I long to feel the wind in my hair as I peddle on my own, but for now I know I must embrace my journey.  I need to trust that I will get there, and appreciate all those around me who are cheering me on.  

I think the cry of the poor comes from each of us.   My poverty is no where near that of others.  And yet in my poverty and in my weakness I know that God listens to my heart.  He hears me and answers me. 

O Senhor ouve o grito dos pobres, bendito seja o Senhor.   

What matters is not how fast we go, only that we go.

Below is a link to the Psalm on spiritandsong.com.  It is a nice prayerful song.  I like the one by Jesse on Pray Your Heart.   If you have a chance listen to it, I find a lot of peace in the prayer.
The Cry of the Poor