My First Day in Terra Prometida...

There I was stepping out onto the street of Terra Prometida. I recognized one of the young girls faces and was eager to take the next step into the town. Prepared for anything our greeting party walked down a crude street adorned with rocky, uneven steps that jabbed at the hardened toes of the children. It was then I was glad that Bo had told me to wear shoes instead of my "gringo sandals". I passed a donkey and a cat on the road; It was my first trip into the community; by my third trip that cat was no longer living. I found myself shrouded in a benign contradiction, benign because It was what I perceived as, their "cultural normalcy." It was a contradiction because it just wasn't normal to me. I should explain, I was surrounded by poverty, impoverished people mostly women and children who have never seen shoes, and who see all too much the harshities of living in their ghetto. This was not an, "American ghetto" This was a Fortaleza ghetto, and now I can tell you there is a big difference. On one hand there is this culture shock to witness and subjectively internalize, and at the same time you witness such happiness, curiosity, eagerness, and comradery expressed by the women and children there. They wear it there on their faces. This was a quick realization, I knew I would have time to think about this later, my eyes were too wide-eyed to pander this further so I excepted this and was eagerly on my way.

I was second shift and part of a two man construction crew, well two person I should say because it consisted that day of true-blue Seza and myself. It was around this time we met up with Paul and Steve White upstairs where the library was under construction. Well, demolishing would be a better word. Steve White was there still bleeding from his, "I'm gonna knock the stone and cement wall down with one karate kick to the center." I was not about to disengage from this pace, Steve set it and I was game to keep it, How? Well I dug a giant hole, a hole that Scott had started earlier that morning. There aren't any dumps so you bury your waste, well whatever you can't burn! I must have dug through a few years of previous dumping before I quit. We took all of that wall Steve White conquered and buried it there in the sandy dirt of Terra Prometida. They say that in a short time there will be a garden thriving there. The seed cast about the rocks I suppose will bear the fruit of our first day.

Steve spilled blood, but I'm sure I spilled at least a gallon of sweat there on that very fist day in Terra Prometida. Fortaleza, Land of the sun..Sho gibola. Fresh mango to drink where the drinking water will kill you...sho gibola. No more digging... I'm off to build some shelves with my cordless drill I smuggled in my suitcase. The wind on the top floor..SHOGIBOLA!!