Brazil, the only country where small children make my heart seize

* Side Note 1 to Mom & Dad: Maybe best not to read this one ...

* Side Note 2: I always walk on the beach side now, which is just fine ...

This morning I woke up bright and early [although definitely not at the crack of dawn since that happens at 4:30am these days] and headed to the São Bento Monastery in Olinda for mass, complete with Gregorian Chants. I had been meaning to go for a while and finally decided to put my plan into action. São Bento was built in 1582 and was the second Benedictine Monastery built on Brazilian soil. Considered the richest church in Olinda, São Bento's main attraction is the 18th Century baroque cedar and gold-leaf altar. The altar, which measures 14m x 8m x 4.5m, even called the Guggenheim home for six months in 2001-02.

After the mass -- which incidently will now require more research on my part since I always thought that Gregorian Chants were unaccompanied and the monks singing today had the definite help of an organ -- I had a very enjoyable lunch in the leafy courtyard of the local creperie ...

...and then headed to the bus stop to catch the infamous 910 Rio Doce/Piedade home.

As I stood at the stop I wondered if I would have to wait five minutes or twenty-five minutes. Although the bus runs every half hour I have yet to figure out its exact schedule and often end up just missing one / waiting a long time for one. As I wondered, I glanced around and noticed three children near the stop; two young teenage girls (maybe twelve or thirteen) and one eight or nine year old boy.

The children were poor and without shoes. Not even a pair of tattered flip-flops protected their soles. One of the girls called out to another young boy across the street. The children were incoherent and had glazed eyes -- an obvious indication that they were high on glue or another easily obtainable solvent. One of the boys approached me and asked for money. I refused and he returned to the bench where his friends (siblings?) were sitting. He then went to the curb, an empty beer bottle in hand, and broke it, leaving the neck intact. He returned to the bench with the bottle tightly gripped in his hand, the ragged edge gleaming in the bright midday sun.

One of the girls called out again to the boy across the street. This second boy then crossed the street carrying a concrete cinder block on his shoulder, perhaps from a nearby construction site. This is when I decided that as the person standing closest to the quartet, I should move. And along with a another woman and her three small children/grandchildren, I moved closer to the small group of people waiting at the stop. The children made no obvious moves after this. They wandered around, tried to get in the back door of a bus or two, muttered amongst themselves, and cast frequent glances at us waiters. I eyed the taxis waiting patiently for their next client and again thought about the timing of the bus. Would today be the five minute or the twenty-five minute option? Just as I was sure that my heart would launch into a total crisis mode, the 910 rounded the corner and a wave of relief passed over me as soon as the numbers came into view. A couple of us flagged it down and hopped on with no delay.

I have no idea what happened at the bus stop after we pulled away. Maybe nothing. Hopefully nothing.

Fearing children is one of the worst things I can imagine and it conflicts my soul. One of the things we deal with a lot while wearing our work hats is programmes that aim to raise the self-esteem and leadership capabilities of young people. Often discriminated against simply because of poverty, a tattered shirt and/or skin colour, poor Brazilian kids frequently complain that they are treated like criminals, drug-addicts, or cast-offs for no reason other than their socio-economic or ethnic background. Giving these kids a chance in life through skills training and building self-esteem is often one of the best ways to change an individual life. On the one hand, I try my best not to jump to conclusions without just cause. But on the other hand, it is pretty hard to not feel nervous when a glazed-over gang of four is armed with a broken bottle and a concrete block. The incident reminded me of two things and made me sad:

First it reminded me of a moment back in June or July when Mark and I were walking home along the beach. It was evening and although some people were out for a stroll or jog on the promenade, for some reason we had chosen to walk on the apartment-side as opposed to the beach-side of the road [never again, I tell you!]. At one point a small gang of five or so children came into view. These children were very young, the oldest being again perhaps eight or nine. Clearly the leader, he also sported a large open golf umbrella even though it wasn't raining. I mentioned to Mark that I thought the situation odd. Why were these kids out so late? Why did they have such a huge umbrella? Where were their parents? Questions that don't really have answers. Our two groups passed each other without incident. A moment later I turned around to make sure that the distance between us was increasing and realised that Mark had also turned around. A split second later, something small and hard hit my back. An apple. Surprised, I let out a little yelp and exclaimed. It turned out that Mark had also been hit a moment earlier which is why he turned around in the first place. The kids continued on their way and we on ours.

The second incident was also back in June or July when we were having lunch in a nearby bakery. Three young boys came into the store to buy a bottle (plastic) of coca-cola. As the boys came in, again, perhaps nine or ten years old, the beefy security guard protecting the door also came in and stationed himself near the cash. The kids went to the fridge and pulled out a 2L bottle of coke. They went to the cash, opened their little hands, and showed the cashier their coins. The cashier counted the money and shook her head. The boys then went back to the fridge, replaced the 2L bottle and pulled out a 600mL bottle. They returned to the cash, paid for their prize, and left the store. The security guard followed them out and repositioned himself outside. My heart broke for these three boys. Carbonated, caffeinated drinks might not be the best thing for them, but there was no reason for the store to treat them as potential thieves. Whoever said that all chances are created equal?