Police, Corruption and Drugs

I wrote this a few days ago, but the past few days, my neighborhood has been on the city wide news for drugs, with police all over the place...

Yesterday was the last day of practices (we still have a bunch of games and then our camp before the year really ends) for the year for my escolinha de futsal (Soccer school) and so we had coaches versus kids game. Although there are only 2 coaches, Fabio (the head guy) and I, but there a lot of people involved in the project and so we put together a team and the kids were very excited to play against us. We managed to win all of our games, I think we played for about 4 hours in total and by the end of the day my legs were so heavy I felt like I couldn’t walk, but it was a good feeling. I feel like I have come such a long way in my 2 1/2 months here, I remember my first day at the soccer school, not so confident in my Portuguese, finding it hard to communicate with the kids and not even knowing the rules of futsal. Now, I feel like I can communicate what I need to, know the kids by name and feel comfortable joking around with them and having a good conversation and I think I am finally starting to play futsal better as an added bonus. All this to say that as I was heading home I was feeling pretty good about the day, but ready to take a cold shower, drink a lot of water (preferably clean and cold, but knew it would be from the faucet and room temperature) and just relax.
Earlier in the day I had wanted to go back to my house to get something during our soccer lunch break and noticed about 8 police cars outside my favela as well as a helicopter hovering overhead, I cautiously entered, passing several policemen on my way to the house, grabbed what I needed, said hi and goodbye to some house mates who made sure I carried my documents (here in Brasil everyone always carries documents b/c it can be dangerous not to have them if the police stop you, especially here in my neighborhood). I went back for the afternoon of soccer forgetting about the policemen, but as I returned to my house for the day about 6 hours later the police and helicopter were all still there. It is common to see cops in the neighborhood, but usually they just drive by or stay for a few minutes, but yesterday was obviously something entirely different. From talking to neighbors most of the time the cops just drive by, take the drugs and money from the kids that are selling and leave the kids themselves alone. This time it was clear that would not be the case.
I later learned that the helicopter was not from the police, but from the news and that all this had happened because of a news report. Apparently our favela was on the news the night before as a reporter had gone undercover and bought drugs here. He had apparently done it several times as well as filming the drug activity. Within 12 hours of its airing on the news the police arrived in force at the favela, swept the place clean and put on a nice show for the news helicopter hovering overhead. It all makes me so mad, the police knew that drugs were sold there, they would come by and basically steal from the drug dealers and keep the money/drugs for themselves, but now that it was on the news they had to make a show of it as if they didn’t know beforehand. It’s all so political that it makes me sick. As I returned to the neighborhood the entrance to the favela (one day when I have a bit more courage I will take some pictures, I just don’t want to look like a tourist here) it was surrounded by about 6 police officers with probably about 20 more waiting by the 10 or so police SUV’s that were parked outside the entrance. I cautiously approached not sure I wanted to enter the favela when I noticed the two guys who always sold drugs outside the community being handcuffed and carried off in the police cars. I realized that for a while I had carried animosity for them, but just recently had started praying for them as human beings, not just for the drug traffic to go away, but for them and I felt such sadness seeing them carried away. (As I now talk to the guys in my house it is unclear who if anyone was actually arrested, but I’m fairly certain at least one guy was, the cops often let people go for a bribe.) People don’t leave prison rehabilitated, the leave worse, I fear for their lives and for their souls. I don’t even know their names, I would say what’s up to them as I passed by, but I never had a real conversation with them and it just seems so wrong that they should be taken away. I know they sold drugs, I know they brought so much pain to others, but they are only just kids (18-22 years old), kids making dumb decisions and now will pay with their futures.
As I walked into the favela tonight and saw the police sitting outside I found myself sad to not see the guys out there and with animosity towards the police. I know that both sides are wrong, the police who normally steal from drug dealers and don’t care about the welfare of the people only the size of the wallet and the kids that sell drugs and make money illegitimately. It maddens me that they come and do this whole show just because it was on tv when they have obviously known about it all for a long time. The politics of it all is just sickening and my heart sinks to think about those guys spending a few years rotting away in jail.
Earlier in the day I was up on the roof of my house trying to find internet when I saw one of the guys I play soccer with a bunch and always try to talk to when I see him. He is the nicest guy, very intelligent and well mannered. He is probably about 20-21 years old and used to be involved in the ministry of our house and of an area church. He still talks fondly about a group of Americans that came down on a missions trip and worked at his old church. Now, he never goes to church anymore and I knew he was involved in the drug trafficking, but I wasn’t sure how. As I stood on the roof and saw him across the way I said hi and he cracked some joke that I didn’t quite catch and then proceeded to step on the roof of the house in front of him carrying a big clear plastic bag that I could see had the packaged drugs in them. He went to the place I have learned is their stash (which is quite visible from my house, but almost nowhere else) hid the bag underneath the roof in this little place they created and went back to his house. It was the craziest thing just how normal it all was for him, I don’t know what to say to him or how to reach him, to help him. Later in the day I saw him and felt a bit awkward, I think he felt it too. I would pray for wisdom with how to talk to him and to pray for his life too. I don’t want to put his name here just in case for some reason someone understands English and reads my blog from here, but please pray for him.
It is such a battle to make kids understand that trading their future for a few highs today is not worth it, but this is so hard for them to grasp. I would ask for prayers for those guys, prayer that God might work a miracle in their lives and that instead of growing a hate inside of them while they are in prison there might grow up in them a hope that there could be a better life out there an alternative life, a fulfilling and abundant life of faith in God. Please pray for them and for my neighborhood both so desperately needing the love and healing that only God can bring.

Shoe shine boys and homemade bombs

Monday is my day of rest here, where I usually take it easy and have a Sabbath. Today, I walked to São Paulo’s domestic airport which is about 15 minutes from my house. I went there to look around and to check something for a friend that is coming to visit after Christmas. I found myself surprised by two things. First, was that I was able to read this month’s TIME magazine, The Economist and a bit of Newsweek in English while I blended in with the other air plane travelers in the airport news store. It’s a small thing, but a neat discovery as I miss reading print editions of news in English.
The other more noteworthy realization from my airport visit was the unexpected sight of a few people I know. I was sitting on a bench outside of the airport journaling a bit when I heard a familiar voice and looked up to see Rut, one of the guys from my soccer ministry. He sat down next to me and started to chat for a while. He was carrying a wooden device which took me a moment to recognize as a shoe shining stand. I asked him how business was and he said it was a Monday and so a slow day, not much business. As we continued to chat two other guys that I know from soccer/the neighborhood stopped by and sat down, Johnny and Felipe. We talked some trash about our big Coaches vs. Players game we have tomorrow and about the shoe shining business. These guys come to the airport every day after school for four or five hours and said on a good day they can make $20USD which is quite a good amount of money considering minimum wage here is about $200USD/month. They said they can make about $1.50 a client and on a good day shine the shoes of 20 or 30 clients. (It made me think back to my parents visit to Mexico City when my dad was conned into a $40 shoe shine.) As the guys ran off abruptly from our conversation (I think because they saw a policeman) I thought to myself what an interesting sight. A middle class white guy from the US sitting on a bench at the São Paulo airport with 3, 13-14 year old shoe shiners and not having his shoes shined, but talking to them as friends and being surprised at their occupation. I then realized that most of the kids that shine shoes and sell little pieces of candy are kids I know from my favela or one of the surrounding favelas. My experiences here are really helping me to redefine how I see people that sell things on the street or who are homeless. As I throw a tennis ball back and forth (being caught with one of those round Velcro “gloves”) in the midst of a business walking intersection of the city, I too was struck at the strangeness of the sight. Most people walking by seemed to be businessmen either ignoring completely the antics of the street kids or looking on them with disgust. I now see them as friends and the shoe shine guys too. I think I will never be able to see people the same on the street and I think that’s a good thing.
A minor note, the latest fad in my favela is the homemade bomb, a very powerful firecracker that would definitely do some damage if it went off in your hand. All day yesterday the sound of the explosions filled the favela. One time right next to the window I was standing next time causing me to jump and even be pushed back a little. I feared the glass would break, but luckily it didn’t. Just as I was thinking that its odd that no one ever complains about the 24/7 loud music and now the bombs going off two women simultaneously came out of their house and started to yell at a couple of the guys (my age) who were setting the bombs off. The guys responded that they lived in a favela, what could they expect, people that live in a favela are like this and she had better get used to it. I was struck by the defeatism of the whole thing. There is a word in Portuguese enfavelado, which means someone that lives in a favela and doesn’t really know anything outside of the favela. It is a sad and pessimistic culture which calls for low expectations; an acceptance of your favela dwelling and poverty as a permanent condition and as a result a culture of today, which glorifies drinking, drugs and criminal activity with no thoughts for the future. Its a sad reality and one I pray for often, I pray for my boys, my friends, that they might have the courage to look to something greater, to an eternal city, not an earthly one and in the process to be able to overcome the plethora of vices and traps in the favela to grow up to be successful and honorable fathers and husbands.

Is it still Thanksgiving if no one else knows it is? Thanksgiving o jeito brasileiro (Thanksgiving Brasilian Style)

I woke up early Thanksgiving morning not to the smell of turkey and gravy, but to the 6:15 ringing of my alarm clock. I brushed my teeth, threw some water on my face and made my way downstairs. We had our usual coffee/hot chocolate and bread for breakfast, shared our prayer requests and prayed together as usual. Then I did my laundry and made my way to the center of the city to have lunch at a friend’s house. I sat around a big table with about 10 people and we ate the usual rice and beans with some chicken and broccoli. The house is a big one that was donated to a ministry called Toque that works with prostitutes, transvestites, street kids, homeless people and drug addicts. As we sat down to eat I casually mentioned to my American friend who was with me that this wasn’t the typical Thanksgiving dinner, but that it was good none the less and we were thankful for friends and food. We explained to them the holiday and the importance of it in the US and then talked about things we were thankful for. Then they showed me pictures of a party they had thrown for the transvestites they work with and talked about the pain and sadness of so many of them and the rare smiles on their faces to know someone cares enough about them to throw them a party. As we watch the pictures and then the video of them singing worship songs I am struck by the wonder of the kingdom of heaven, how God could love people that are so unlovable like ourselves. I then come to know that one of the guys sitting on the coach next to me who was also a lunch guest is a former transvestite who is temporarily staying at the house while he is trying to find work and figure his life out.
We then head out to the streets, we walk all around the city and I am amazed at how many of the people that live on the streets the ministry workers know. It seems every street kid, homeless guy and drug addict knows them and they call each other by name. It strikes me that every one of them has a name and a story and how easy it is to walk past and entirely ignore them, treat them almost as subhuman. We then go to this plaza where we usually find the street kids and after talking to some of the older ones head off in search of the young ones. After walking around the city for about a half an hour to several different spots, stopping along the way to talk to various people, we decide that the kids won’t be found today and head off to another ministry/church in the center to pick up their medical kit and head to cracklandia. I had heard stories about this place, but none of them prepared me for what I saw. One moment we were in a seemingly nice part of town and the next moment it seemed another planet. It seemed like something out of a movie, a city that has suffered a nuclear attack, or a zombie infested neighborhood, I just couldn’t wrap my head around the reality of the situation. There were probably about a 100 people in a big herd together, most everyone smoking a cigarette or with a crack pipe. Most people looked zombified, clearly under the influence of crack. Kids as young as 7 or 8 smoking crack and a pregnant lady with a shirt that no longer fit her, lipstick smudged across her face, a short skirt, her belly exposed protruding from her clothing that no longer fit her, a crack pipe in hand mumbling something to herself.
The scene was almost too much for me, I didn’t know what to do or how to react. I couldn’t believe that I was still on the same planet, much less the same city. It seems like a place I might expect to find in Africa or some other place that suffers from much more extreme poverty and hardship. Hundreds of people living on the streets, just huddling around hoping to get one of the many rocks of cocaine that are being sold all over the place and living from one high to the next. People stand in one place in a huddle, some buying crack, some smoking it, others puffing on a cigarette and then some policemen on horseback who until then had just been observing the people chase the people off of one stoop and unto the next one or across the street. Then a store owner comes with a stick and threatens to hit someone yelling at them to get away from his store, a scene I have seen hundreds of times, but always with dogs and not human beings. As the crowd settles in front of an abandoned building I notice a pvc pipe running across the front of the building with little holes in the pipe and wonder what that could possibly be for, but I quickly realize as water begins to fall from it that it is a device designed to keep people away. Water begins to fall on the crowd who slowly react and move to the next spot. So it seems is their life, get up, buy crack, get chased by the police, move, smoke crack, get chased by a storeowner, buy some more crack, get chased by the police again, smoke some more crack, have water thrown on them, move to the next corner, buy yet more crack, smoke one last rock and then go to sleep.
Walking through the streets people recognize and say hi to the heavily tattooed, big Brasilian guy who would at first glance be more likely in a motorcycle gang or a tattoo artist than a missionary. He begins to talk to people and ask if anyone has any medical needs, we clean various wounds and bandage them up, one lady shows us where she was stabbed with a knife and we do our best to clean and bandage the wound, but encourage her to go to the hospital. Then some guy comes up and asks the guy with me to remove his stitches, which he proceeds to do. As the people are being treated a relationship is being built. Over time they talk of Jesus and of another way, of rehabilitation and how they don’t need crack to be happy. The people are encouraged to go to the casa amarelo (the yellow house) to get a hot meal, a shower a bit of time off the street. There they can find rehabilitation if they want it and find people who love God and who love them. As we are about to leave b/c we are running low on medical supplies I hear someone speaking in English with a South African accent, a friendly looking guy introduces himself to me as Warren. He tells me that it’s a good thing I’m doing, an experience that I need to have in life, one that will make me grow and then says that he too is a son of God, that he is a brother, and a missionary too. He says that we are missionaries on the outside coming in to help, but that he’s on the inside, that his thing is crack, that his new experience is crack. He says it so matter-of-factly as if he were saying that he liked football or something, he then briefly says that he was a business man in São Paulo, that his family in South Africa is rich and that a business transaction here went wrong and he lost his life savings (by his description of something getting confiscated at the airport, I’m guessing it was something illegal). After losing his life savings he said he went to the streets with $3,000, found crack and has been an addict every since.
As I return to my community house I am struck by how my definition and perspective of the world continues to be transformed, how my definitions of poverty and needs continue changing. As I become more like a regular community member here I begin to get used to favela life, I am no longer too surprised by anything here and although there is definitely poverty, most everyone has their basic needs met and has a little extra money for a few other things. After witnessing this new place I realize that the people in my neighborhood aren’t so bad off after all. My world continues to change and be shaken. I still don’t feel like I know my place in the world; I know that there is so much brokenness and injustice, but also that there is a God who cares, who suffers as he sees what we do to ourselves and to each other. I realize the pain of God’s omniscience and omnipresence as he has to see every sin, every evil thing that is done, every child kidnapped into a militia and forced to kill, every woman raped, every baby left alone on the street to die, every business man obsessed with money and greed exploiting his workers, every desperate drug addict doing anything to find his next high, he sees this terrible broken unjust world and must feel so much pain and sadness. The fact that he knowing all this would still send his own son to pay for all these sins and to one day bring us back to himself is just humbling.
To finish my Thanksgiving I return to my house as game night is just starting, about 10 adolescents are playing ping pong, jenga or uno and greet me on my entrance. I play with them for an hour or so and then leave for my weekly Thursday night soccer game from 10:30-midnight. Returning home I am tired from a long, but good day, it certainly wasn’t thanksgiving US style with a big turkey, lots of food , family and football, but it was a good day. I realize how much I have to be thankful for, I realize how great our God is, how deep his love for us must be and I am thankful for the opportunities I have to learn to love like he does, to learn to hate injustice like he does and to be a repairer of the breech and a restorer of streets to live in. (Isaiah 58)

Drug Dealers and the Kingdom of God

As I sit here and reflect on my time here and on my community the all too familiar smell of marijuana fills the air of my patio overlooking the favela. That smell and the metaphorical wreak of the drug traffic fill this community; each day as I walk enter and leave the favela (slum) I walk past the same two guys that are selling drugs on the corner. One guy usually is sitting up a little higher (the pathway out of the favela slants up) waiting for cars to slow down on their way by and he asks them what they want and collects their money. The other guy, usually waiting further into the favela then comes up with the drugs and the car speeds off. They do this for obvious reasons of keeping the drugs as far away from the street as possible so if the police come they will not find the drugs. As I had previously commented the favela itself is a labyrinth of walkways, one who doesn’t live in the favela would quickly become lost and it is easy for someone to run away and hide in any number of places. I comment on the drug dealers because every day as I walk by them I find myself hoping that the police will come and take them away, find myself wishing that they would be thrown into jail and stay there forever. These guys are about my age, maybe a bit younger and sell drugs there for about $20/day which here is about twice the normal day’s wage. I don’t know why I feel such animosity for them every time I pass them, but I guess it is because I feel like they are a disease that infests and is destroying the community I now call home. I am now however realizing that they are not the disease, but mere symptoms of the larger problem of the vast injustice and sin of this world. I realize that if they had the opportunities to have good education (instead of the terrible 4 hours a day public education) or a well paying job they would much rather earn a living that way. I realize that it is largely the rich people that surround this community that keep the drug trafficking alive, those that roll by in their fancy cars and buy their drugs and leave. I realize the drug dealers are as much victims of the injustices of the world as anything. Today as I was returning from a house visit of a family in another favela I had to pause entering the favela as I noticed these same two guys who usually look very serious selling drugs or arrogantly dancing, drinking and singing were instead innocently smiling as they flew a kite between the electric wires and houses. It was in that moment that I realized that I had been so eager to judge them, to sentence them to a lifetime of prison, when it is they who are also kids and deserve another chance. More often than not they are the brothers of the younger kids who I play with nearly every day and spend much time with. I realize they are lost sheep without a shepherd, most have never had a positive role model in their lives and are doing the only thing they know. I realize my anger towards them is misguided that I am angry at the hostage instead of the kidnaper. I realize that my anger is justifiable, but is wrongly aimed, my anger should be with the injustice of the world, with the pain and the torment; I need to cry out to God to rain his justice down on my neighborhood and to bring healing to my community.
Just as I was thinking this over I was stopped by a guy a bit younger than me who I had played some soccer with and he asked me how I was doing and said he heard that we came in second in that tournament (he had played the first Saturday, but missed the second one). We ended up talking for about an hour about futebol, basketball and a myriad of other subjects when he got a phone call and I noticed his luxurious phone and listened to his phone call which was clearly an order for drugs to come to some location. I then came to understand that he is one of the leaders of the drug traffic along with previously mentioned Giló (who I occasionally talk to now, actually seems like a pretty friendly and intelligent guy). This guy whose name is Stallone is so nice, incredibly welcoming, a great soccer player, articulate and seems to have big dreams, he is also a drug dealer. Another guy Claudio, is in his 50’s just got out of jail for a 35 year sentence of killing a police officer when he was a like 16 years old who is also involved in the drug trade. He was the first person to every say hi to me in the favela, he welcomed me here, said he was glad to have me here and said that I had a good heart to come and live and serve in this community. He said he wanted to have a heart like me too. When I met him I thought he was the friendliest guy and then I come to find his background. I am realizing that drug dealers are God’s children too, they are people too, they are sinners just like me and need the same redemption that I need. I am learning not to look at them as evil drug dealers, but to look at them as people, as Stallone, Giló, Claudio and Lucas. I am learning to pray for them and not wish harm on them and to hope that God can use them to bring change to this world. Even as I write this I realize that it was perhaps the drug dealers of the day (tax collectors, emblems of an empire gone wrong, just like a drug dealer today) that were welcomed into the kingdom even forming part of Jesus’ circle of friends. I realize that change can come to this community, but only by the grace of God and the power of prayer. I ask that you would join with me, to pray for these guys, these friends who are caught up in drug trafficking, I would ask that you would pray for healing and the breaking of the bonds of oppression of drug dealing here. I pray that God might use me in some way to bring this change in the life of one of those guys, that they might be able to see that there is more to life than the temporary power and money of the drug dealing, that there is something bigger out there, something actually worth dying for that they should be living for.

Camp!!! White water rafting!!!

I am just arriving home from our 4 day camp for the Radicais (Radicals, the kids/teen group from our community). We went to a place about 2 hours outside of the city, but still in the state of São Paulo. I left for the camp early to help set up a zip line and a nature trail with an obstacle course to simulate their arrival to camp as if it was their arrival to Babylon. We studied the first four chapter of the book of Daniel seeing how God used Daniel and friends to change the empire. We focused on our commitment to God, prayer and love for God. I was really encouraged by the stories, it seems each time I really take the time to dig into the Hebrew scriptures (also known as the old testament) I find such rich and encouraging stories of God's faithfulness to his people. Daniel was such an inspiring figure as he ministered to 4 Babylonian kings and made a real impact on Babylon. On the first day we read about when Daniel refused to eat the kings food challenging that God's food was better for your health than the king's food. I challenged the 3 teenage guys (Afonso, Pedro, Erick) in small group to take that lesson to heart with sexuality, I think they were surprised I brought up the conversation, but I challenged them to challenge their friends and not live like everyone else, but to know that God's ways are better, that God knows what we need and set rules for us to protect us, not to keep us from fun. We continued talking about the power of prayer and love for God and I think they were really challenged by the life of Daniel.

We also got a chance to go white water rafting. We ended up paying next to nothing for the trip as the place that took us was amazingly generous and kind. I really enjoyed the experience. I had a long conversation with our river guide and was really happy how my Portuguese pretty much let me say whatever I wanted to say, he said he had thought I had been in Brasil for a long time. (still worrying about losing my spanish though) Our boat ended up flipping on the big rapid at the end which for me was a cool experience, but there were two pretty little girls on our boat who were really panicked, I managed to grab them and pull them up to the guys who were helping get people out of the water, then one of them fell again and was about to hit her head on a rock and go back into the water, but I managed to grab her foot and pull her back up. Now I really want to do some more serious and more difficult rafting as I had such a good time. The coolest thing though was to see the smiles on their faces. These kids don't often get a chance just to be kids and to see unabashed joy on their faces throughout the camp was amazing.

It was great to get to know some of the kids better, especially some of the older guys. One of the guys really shared his heart with the group and brought me to tears. He thanked everyone for the camp and said that at that moment he felt truly happy, that its not often that he could say that, but he appreciated the few moments. This guy, Danilo, has an amazing heart, he loves God and you can see it, but he definitely has a rougher side, he happens to be an amazing free style rapper and showed off his talents the last night of the camp as he did some free style and then took some popular Brasilian songs about drugs and sex and changed the lyrics to be about God. His mom spent a long time in prison and he is constantly faced with the reality of that and of the weight of the drug traffic all around him. He lives in the neighboring favela that is constructed mainly of 4X4's and plywood. I would ask for prayer for Danilo as he continues to try to figure out what it looks like to be a man of God. The juxtaposition of the situation of these kids and my childhood are astounding. When I was in Sunday school we talked about temptations and problems, but they were really so small and not that significant compared to these kids. Pretty much every kid has a brother/sister/mom/dad or cousin in jail, normally because of drug trafficking, they often have to deal with death in the family and absentee father and the weight of having to be the man of the house at 14 and 15 years old. There is a constant temptation for the easy money and status of the traffickers and the lure of alcohol and women to numb the pain of the reality of their lives away.

It is really a privilege to be able to work with them and be a friend and an encouragement for them. They are such special kids who are so much stronger than I ever had to be as a child. They have seen and experienced so many things that no kid should have to. Each and every kid could tell a story about how they had to overcome so much to follow God and I fear for all the little ones, to know the challenges that face them ahead. But, I also know that God loves and takes care of each of them and that if they can remember that, cling to that, then they will be able to make it through the storm. I was just struck this weekend at how precious each and everyone of their lives is. I'm tired and so thats all for now, thanks for all your prayers and support, love and miss you all.


You can check out more pics from camp here

some more rafting pics too

all the guys from the house

Fabio and I working the zipline

I was the braking system in the zipline i helped build for the camp

my small group, from left to right Pedro, Erick, Afonso

white water rafting!


check out my face as the boat flips

helping the little girls get out of the water

An Obama aside

Most of you probably know my political thoughts and I'd like to say that I called it a long time ago. I wish I had put money on it when the odds where like 500-1, I knew he'd be the next president the moment I finished reading the Audacity of Hope. However you feel about the election it was certainly an historic event. I've read a lot of Brasilian newspaper and magazine articles and translated a few headings and quotes from the articles I thought interesting, just to see the foreigners perspective on the American election and the American democracy.

"Now, at the dawn of the 21st century with the election of Obama, the United States offers the spectacle of its own sublimity. In the space of a little more than a generation, the country has continued to overcome its deaf racism and legalized segregation in several states, a process which culminated in the euphoric acceptance of a black man as the supreme commander of the nation. Barack Hussein Obama has a name, political biography and family history that just a few years ago would've scared any American voter. Last week, 64 million Americans voted for him. With the eyes of the world watching, this triumphed the reconquest by the US as the moral authority based on equal opportunity for all, a fundamental principle of the true revolutionary experience inaugurated by Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and Ben Franklin in 1776 in Philadelphia."

"The Americans showed that equality is a value that they practice freely, and not just because the law says that they are all equal."

"Obama, the answer!"

"He showed uncommon talent and noble ideas. His victory reaffirms the American power to renew their country and surprise the world."

"Obama proves hope is stronger than fear."

"Does the election of Obama prove the theory of American exceptionalism? You may doubt it but they have raised the bar for anti discrimination for the rest of the world."

"The true test would be if Brasil could elect an Argentinian as president."

Street kids, a preschool zoo visit and a futsal campeonato

Hey all, this week was easily the most encouraging and best week of my two (eek, how time flies) short months here. I am seeing how it takes time to really establish a ministry and am learning to have patience, realize the limitations of my short time here and take advantage of the time and moments that I have. This week was great as I was very busy and felt like I was meeting lots of people and doing some cool things. On Wednesday I went to a leadership meeting for the ministry that has a service on Sunday nights where I have been attending and is also the ministry through which the soccer ministry I work with is run through. I enjoyed going to that meeting and getting to now some of the leadership better. One of the guys who started the soccer ministry had been in Asia for the past month on a soccer evangelism tour, he took a team of former Brasilian professionals and played against national teams in Vietnam, Malaysia and Thailand (they won all the games even know their average age was probably in the late 30's. He played professional indoor soccer in the US.

On Thursday I went downtown to work with a ministry for street kids, i was invited by an American missionary friend who is about my age named Tim. We met up with a Brasilian missionary named Caetano who works with a really neat mission that works with street kids, prostitutes, transvestites, drug dealers, drug users, basically all the most marginalized people in society. I am hoping to become more involved with their ministry. On Thursday we mainly worked with the street kids. They are mostly aged 10-16 or so and live on the streets with no family or parents in sight. They live there because they want to not so much because they have no other options. The kids pretty much all had old plastic coke bottles with a glue type substance that they sniffed and the smell of glue was pretty strong in the air, they kids passed around cigarettes from one to the other, it was so hard to see such young kids doing such destructive things. We brought a jump rope, puzzles and various other games and just played with them, talked with them and laughed with them, i think just trying to remind them that they are still kids. They visit the same kids every week and try to encourage them to leave the streets, but most of them just don't want too. I'm excited for the possibilities to work further with this neat ministry.

On friday all my stick shift driving abilities were put to the test as I had to drive an old VW conversion van full of 10 preschoolers and 4 other adults to the Zoo. There are lots of hills in the city, but I am learning to drive more effectively and enjoyed spending time with the kids and was glad to not get lost or stall out. Friday night we had another meeting for our kids camp coming up this week and tomorrow some of us will be going to the camp ground to finish some last minute details to get the place ready for the kids on Thursday (this thursday and friday are holidays here in the city). On Saturday we had a Futsal tournament with 8 teams, mostly of people my age and older. We brought a team with an average age of probably 17 or so and managed to get second place. I know its sounds dumb, but playing soccer well helps me feel like I earn the respect of these kids and am able to reach them more effectively. Perhaps that is all in my head, but whatever the case it was good to get to know some of the "rougher" kids in my neighborhood that would never really come to our community house or any other church activity. I didn't really play at all in our first two games and played kinda poorly when I did. In the last game we started losing 3-0 in about 5 minutes because they had one big guy that kept scoring all their goals. I came into the game and for the rest he didn't score any, I managed two goals of my own and we just fell short of our come back, but I was glad for the experience. One of the guys then came to our house for the Saturday night church service, I think it was the first time he had ever come, so I was really excited for that. Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers I will try to continue to keep you updated. Much love and God bless

here's a few pics you can check out the rest here