A mallu in Brazil

 versão em português

Rema Nagarajan, a journalist who works in New Delhi for the Times of India, was in Brazil for two months, as a 2012 Global Health Fellow with the Nieman Foundation for Journalism at Harvard University. In a field work supported by the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting, Rema investigated the Brazilian public health system and the Bolsa Família program. As is showed in her travel diary, she came to know the country more than many locals, visiting riverside communities in the Amazon and favelas (slums) in Rio and São Paulo.  As a Mallu, colloquial name given to the natives of Kerala, a state in the southwest of India which was once part of the Portuguese routes in the spice trade, she was surprised to discover here many similarities with this Indian region, especially intaste. Rema´s work in India has included a series of stories on the practice of pharmaceutical companies bribing doctors and the rising cost of healthcare. Her reporting on these issues has played a role in making it ilegal for doctors to accept gifts from pharmaceutical companies in India.

RIO DE JANEIRO – July 22, Sunday _ I was so excited. Rio finally! I had gone there at the beginning of the month for a day with cousins who live in Sao Paulo and my mother, who had been visiting the US and decided to spent a few days with me in Brazil. This was different. I would be exploring the famous city on my own. I was tense about taking a taxi from the airport and finding my way to the apartment I found on the site Airbnb. But I was there in no time and it turned out to be a bright sunny airy place. The owner, Viviane Ponti, seems quite nice and speaks perfect English.  She drove me to a place where they serve galetos and very juicy and flavorful linguiças. The chicken tasted like regular chicken, though definitely better than the department store variety in the US. From there we went to the nearby mall, where I eyed the tapioca with longing. I find it fascinating how the flour when heated fuses to make the pancake. Back in the apartment, I write more emails looking for appointments. The Fundação Oswaldo Cruz, Fiocruz, is my focus in Rio, and I better not forget it.

I decided to report on the Brazilian public health system and the Bolsa Família so that I can relate them to the current debate on improving the social safety net in India. In the developing world there are just  two countries that have a huge population like India, China and Brazil. China is closer in population size, but since it is not a democracy the policies that work there are not necessarily of interest, as the way things work in a democracy is far more slow and complicated.  Brazil was the closest comparison, though it has a GDP per capita which is more than three times that of India (when considered the purchasing power of the population) and has an 85% urban population, compared to India’s 30%. Moreover Brazil has been improving its health indices rapidly and Bolsa Família is said to have helped Brazil in halving poverty.

July 23, Monday _My room is lovely! From the window I can see Cristo and from the kitchen I can see Pão de Açúcar and a bit of the Guanabara bay as I make my morning tea.  I had no appointments today and I was a bit panicked about that. But Viviane suggested I go to the street market with her. Tapioca  stands beckoned.  So many different kinds of filling both sweet and salgado. Such choice is exquisite torture! But she talked about a pastel stand at the end of the market and I decided to wait for that.  The piping hot pastel with carne seca (dry meat) was delicious.  Had sugar cane juice with it which I was wary of because in India usually that is a recipe for an upset stomach.  Then saw a tapioca  stand nearby. My resistance crumbled. I HAD to have one and anyway this was my lunch. So I ended up having one stuffed with coconut and condensed milk. Heavenly! Could have done with less condense milk as it dripped all over.  Why don’t we have this in India?

July 24, Tuesday _ With map and details in hand I headed off to the Botafogo metro station to meet Pedro Costa, from Actionaid, who would take me to visit Bolsa Família families. He was exactly on time. Not at all like what I was told about Brazilians, especially cariocas. We took a taxi and sped off to Cidade de Deus.  After hearing so much about the favelas of Rio, I finally get to see one. If this is a favela, things cannot be that bad! It looked like the poorer so-called illegal colonies in Delhi.  We visited the local health post. It looked like all government buildings do, even back in India. Ugliness combined with utilitarian block like design. It was shabby and crowded. Lots of people waiting.

From there we went into the favela to meet families. One after the other the stories of how difficult it is to make ends meet when you are poor came tumbling out. But what struck me was how women seemed to have kids at such a young age and how the men were mostly absent.  Mothers in their thirties with daughters who were barely 16 and had kids.  What with the church being against abortion! The poorer the people, the tighter and more revealing the clothes the women wore, especially the younger women. Even young girls seemed blatantly sexual, much more than anything I had seen even in the US. That seemed a problem to me but that could be because I come from India which is so conservative.

I had to run to my next appointment in Fiocruz.  Finally, after all the many pictures I had seen on the web of the Moorish castle, I stood in front of it thrilled. The only disappointment – the domes of the towers were covered for renovation, completely spoiling the effect. I was taken to a tour of the campus. Just adjoining is a huge slum [Manguinhos],  along a kind of dirty sewage canal that looked awful. Pretty bad, not like Cidade de Deus.

July 26, Thursday _ Off to Fiocruz with a taxi driver who did not know the way. That was not pleasant. But then I had a terrific interview with Paulo Buss, the director of the Center for International Relations and Health, and José Roberto Ferreira, from the Center for Global Health. Buss quite frankly admitted that cooperation with countries like India was difficult for Brazil since there was very little in common. I had to rush across to BioManguinhos to meet the former director, Dr Akira Homma, and Dr Andre Tontino, Vice Director of Business Development & Marketing Manager. Dr Homma is one of those who steered Brazil to self sufficiency in vaccines. As Homma introduced me, Dr Tontino shook my hand. When Dr Homma said that Indians do not like physical contact, and that is why we greeted with a Namaste by folding our hands, Dr Tontino pulled his hand back as if he was stung and I nearly burst out laughing.

Yes, we are not very physical in India but that did not mean that we would not even shake hands! Also I was getting used to the Brazilian way of greeting with kisses. It was a bit awkward initially since I was never sure what the rules were. Was it one kiss or two? Was I supposed to kiss or was I only supposed to show my cheek? If I did not kiss but only showed my cheek was I doing something wrong? Reading cultural signs can be pretty challenging.

From BioManguinhos, I rushed over again to meet Dr Carlos Morel, former presidente of Fiocruz and current director of its Centro de Desenvolvimento Tecnológico. I had to be there at 3 pm but arrived only by 3.20 pm. Mortified! I HATE being late. It is so unprofessional and plus, it gets read as being typically Indian with no respect for punctuality.  Dr Morel was absolutely fantastic. I am amazed at these completely committed senior technocrats who seemed to have a very clear vision for the country. Listening to them is fascinating as they have seen the country move from dictatorship to democracy and have witnessed the rise of Brazil from the mess in the late 80s. I also love the way he himself went out to get me coffee instead of asking some lackey to do it, as is often the case with senior officials in India.

Next I visited the office of Ana Vieira superintendent of Renda da Cidadania in Central do Rio to understand the working of Bolsa Família better. Ana talked non-stop for three hours answering all my questions patiently through Floriano Rodrigues, who translated for me. Her belief in the program and the difference it made to people’s lives was unshakeable.

She could go on but it was me who had to run. I had been invited for dinner to the house of a doctor in SUS, Maria Inês Couto Oliveira, who was a member of the International Baby Food Action Network (IBFAN), which promotes breastfeeding.  I reached rather late at 9 pm for dinner. She and her husband were an incredibly kind couple who fed me so well. I saw so much of vegetables in one meal for the first time since coming to Brazil.  When Dr Maria Inês heard I would be going to the Amazon region, she took out her hammock and put it up to teach me how to sleep in a hammock as I would have to do when travelling in a boat on the river. I was bowled over by her kindness and concern.

July 28, Saturday _ I checked the subway map on the internet again and again to figure out how to get to Ipanema. I was to meet Regina Zappa just outside the station at 10.30 am. She was a Nieman fellow in 1996. She and her partner took me on a long drive along the beach and then into the Tijuca forest. A whole man-made forest created by planting trees. Rio is indeed stunning. Out of Tijuca we pick up another journalist, also a former Nieman fellow from the 2006 batch. And off we go to Urca, where there is a place that sells empadas and pastels. We sit on the low wall of the bay and sip beer and eat one empada after the other. Warm sunshine, cool refreshing sea breeze, great food and friends. Divine! Empada is my new love.

It’s very special to be with women journalists, especially women journalists who are senior and experienced. Despite being from countries so far away and different yet, we seemed to understand each other’s world, especially our work world so perfectly.

They are excited at my offer to cook for them. We go to a super market and pick up the stuff we need for the chicken curry.  Sipping wine we chop vegetables and knead dough for the parathas. It was a LOT of work but worth it as everyone eats well. Best thing about fellowships is the fellows, the friends, the large family you have all over the world.

July 30, Monday _ It was the day to meet someone I had read about four years back in Delhi without ever imagining I would ever meet her.  Dr Vera Cordeiro of the NGO Saúde Criança (child health), a paediatrician who in the 1980s decided to do something about children being rehospitalised repeatedly in the Hospital da Lagoa where she worked.  I reached the office in Parque Lage on time and had a long interview with both Vera and one of her successors, Christiana Velloso, the chief operations officer of SC.  Vera called in two mothers helped by Saúde Criança, who I could talk to.

Vera’s enthusiasm is infectious. She is over 60 years old but has more energy than people half her age. We started at 11.30 am and when we finished it was almost 3 pm. As we walked to the restaurant in Parque Lage, I got a chance to see this amazing house. What a location! It used to belong to an industrialist married to an opera singer. The huge driveway, the extensive garden with huge trees, the courtyard with a pool in it onto which reflects the little balcony.  Behind it is the Corcovado hill with Christo at the top providing a stunning backdrop.

July 31, Tuesday _Quickly got ready to meet Samira Guachalla, who I met at Fiocruz in Dr Morel’s office. We met at Fundação Getúlio Vargas building and walked over to a nearby restaurant.  The conversation was fun because she is working on a very new field of risk sharing agreements in drug discovery. That’s just so cool. Sometimes I wonder if I am becoming a bit of a nerd in getting excited about these things. Samira promised to put me in touch with her friend Sue Menezes in Salvador. She is so excited that I am going to be in HER city. How and when will I ever repay the kindness of all these people!

Rushed back to change for the evening into a sari of all things! Don’t ask me why. I miss wearing saris. Stupid! The former Nieman fellow came to pick me up and we were off to the central part of Rio, to a joint called Trapiche de Gamboa. What a place! An old crumbling house renovated. The plaster of the walls has peeled off to expose the bricks beneath.  They had a woman with an amazing voice singing samba. If only I knew the language!  As usual I could not resist experimenting and so I had a drink that was cachaça and coconut cream or milk. Strong! But too milky!

With that we had a large bowl of escondidinho of carne seca. I am in love with carne seca. I love the flavor and for me as an Indian who loves meat really cooked through and through, steak here does not work because it is often half cooked and sometimes even bloody. I like meat of all kinds but raw? An absolute no!  And the sheer genius of escondidinho – so simple and yet so tasty. If only I could show people in Kerala what they are missing by sticking to using manioc just baked or boiled.

Manioc is one of the things that we from Kerala inherited from the Portuguese who arrived there after Vasco da Gama. He landed in Kerala in 1498 when all of Europe was searching for a sea route to get to the spices. Kerala was incredibly rich because of the spices trade with many different parts of the world and even today spices from the state are exported. It has always been a sea trading place with greater contact with places across the seas  than with the hinterlands of India, especially the north. After Vasco da Gama, more Portuguese traders came and finally a colony was established along the coastline of India after a sea battle with a local king. There was constant battle between the many kings in Kerala and the Portuguese.

By the 1800s the English had pushed the Portuguese out of most places, except the area of Goa. But having traded with the Portuguese for more than 300 years, Kerala has been influenced and changed by them in many ways. A large number of plants, fruits and vegetables travelled back and forth between Kerala and other Portuguese colonies. Portuguese are credited with bringing chilies to India, something Indians cannot live without today. Lots of Portuguese words, like mesa and janela, survive in the language of Kerala, Malayalam. Plus, there are many similarities in the cuisine, especially with Bahian cuisine. For a Mallu – a colloquial term or slang in India for someone from Kerala, or someone who speaks Malayalam – Brazil is full of incredible discoveries of similarities and many pleasantly familiar echoes, especially in taste.

August 1, Wednesday _Hated the thought of leaving Rio. I have come to love the city. Reached the airport and found that the flight was late by two and a half hours. Damn TAM!  For an international airport of such a touristic city, it is pretty bare. Just five or six duty free shops. No eating joints. Only some snacks vending machines.  Reached Sao Paulo in peak traffic time. Almost two hours to get to my cousin´s home.  But a wonderful conversation ensued with the taxi driver who knew little English and me who knew little Portuguese. Long pauses, some miming, a few words. Yet we talked a lot– the time difference between India and Brazil, compared Rio and Sao Paulo, talked of how we got where we were.

SÃO PAULO – Aug 2, Thursday _Spent almost an hour talking on Skype to Amma (my mother) and Renu (my sister) in Kerala. Then met Gilberto Dimenstein for lunch. A lovely tea place run by a couple. The woman is from Portugal, a real Portuguese. I had spaghetti with duck. Nice and filling. Round it off with peach cake with syrup on it and mild mint tea. The cake was very good, a bit too sweet. But this is Brazil and I am getting used to it.

Going back home late in the evening, I am about to step into the metro station when I see a street vendor selling lots of corn, but more interestingly, something surely made out of corn wrapped in leaf of the corn, tied up in neat packets and steamed. When a customer asks for it, he dunks the packet in hot water, unwraps it, cuts the thick square of what looks like steamed mashed corn into smaller pieces, puts it in a plastic bowl, pours condensed milk on top and sprinkles cinnamon power on it. Of course, I had to buy one. Just 3R! My dinner!  Kind of heavy, but loved the texture given by the chewy bits of the skin of the corn grains ground into it.

August 3, Friday _Got a tour of the verdant  beautiful campus of Instituto Butantan. Looked so much like similar institutes in India, except that in India they are all being shut down or falling apart while Butantan is investing in expanding its capabilities. It’s my lucky day. Outside Prof Jorge Kalil’s office I got to meet Dr Isaias Raw, former president and the person responsible for where the Institute is today. A sharp outspoken 85-year-old who blasts India for not vaccinating all its children, big pharma for its wily ways and so on. “I am called a loudmouth in WHO,” he says evidently pleased with that title.

In India, vaccination coverage of just the basic vaccines benefits barely 50% of the population.  The country has a publicly funded health system, but a much larger private health sector.And, healthcare is not a right. India has a three-tier public system with primary health centers at the bottom, community hospitals or district hospitals above it and then the tertiary care more specialized hospitals. However, the public health infrastructure has not kept pace with the growth in demand. It is severely underfunded.

The International Monetary Fund and the World Bank, pushed reforms that included slashing health sector investments, introduction of user fees, encouraging the private sector and private investments in public hospitals all through the 1980s till early 2000. Absolutely free treatment in public hospitals no longer exists. Even in public hospitals you have to pay. It might be a lot cheaper than a private hospital, but many poor people cannot afford it. The focus has shifted away from public health toward individual medical care, and from preventive treatment toward curative treatment. The cost has been rising dramatically.

The momentum gained in building public health infrastructure from the 1950s till the 1980s was slowly reversed. More than three quarter of the health spending in India comes from people’s own pockets. This spending is the second most common reason for people falling into debt and being pushed below the poverty line. The national government woke up to this danger and since 2005, after more than two decades of poor investment in health, and is looking to strengthen the public health infrastructure and to provide universal health care as was the goal after independence. Hence there is renewed interest in health care delivery, systems and financing.

August 7, Tuesday _Visited a the health center near Butantan. Health centers do look basic. Basic but clean. As long as they are efficient, that should be ok.  Lots of patients were waiting outside doctors’ consulting rooms.  It seemed well organized with a reception that recorded all patients who came, directed them to the doctors they were supposed to meet, a pharmacy that distributed the drugs free of cost, a social worker, and even a speech therapist who also helps mothers who have difficulties with breastfeeding.

Ramya Reddy took me around and introduced me to everyone. She is of Indian origin. Her parents came here in the late 80s.  I am getting used to people reaction when they hear I have come all the way from India to Brazil: “Que legal!” Ramya’s enthusiasm is infectious.  Soon we were off with Denise who had been a community health worker for a long time and knew the area like the back of her hand. The area is divided into five different colours and each doctor is in charge of one. It includes both rich and poor houses. Of course the rich don’t let the health workers in except when they have to check for dengue mosquito breeding etc.  It’s the same story in India when the census officials visit the houses of the rich.

The local health center keeps track of how many patients are bedridden in their area and need regular visits from the social worker or need regular visit from the health worker.  I am truly impressed by how well each worker knows his or her area and how well they know the families who all greet them as they pass by.  But even within this system there are delays as the center built to take care of about 50,000 people probably takes care of three times that population.

Also the same old story whether Brazil or India of gated colonies who hate to live near poor communities as they fear the drug and violence spilling over. So they build high walls, block off roads from that area illegally and with the support of the system that sympathises with the poor rich guys who feel so threatened. We even went to a nearby very posh area called Parque dos Príncipes where they had menacing looking armed security guard because of kidnappings. Typical problems of a highly unequal society that breeds intense tension between the haves and the have-nots. India is definitely going that way.

Back to the health center and then we decided to cover the nearby slum of Rio Pequeno on foot. The health workers knew exactly where they were going while it looked like an impenetrable maze to me.  In many parts it was dark with hardly any sunlight as houses built in a haphazard way one on top of the other blocked all light. And a large part of it was built on a river which was now just like a giant sewer line, said the health workers. With the river rushing beneath the houses it was always damp and humid leading to several diseases like TB. I was wrong. Favelas here are as bad as those in India. Just the fact that they are made of bricks does not necessarily make them better.

We are sickening as a society when we build huge solid structures of several storeys with elevators and good air circulation to park our cars while human beings stay in hovels like these just a stone’s throw away. You see it in all cities and even small towns whether India or Brazil. And we don’t seem to find it ironic! I was not allowed to carry my camera as it was an area where drug dealers operated.

After the health center I had to meet Eugenio Scannavino, the founder of Projeto Saúde e Alegria, the NGO that started the boat hospital in the Amazon. Eugenio wondered if we could talk in a bar. He was worried that I was vegetarian and did not drink as I was an Indian and a woman. Once he came to know that I eat everything and had no aversions to a drink he was very happy and we talked easily. He is eccentric and a dreamer but it is often people like that who achieve things that others imagine is impossible, like providing health to far flung communities in the Amazon. His organization had shown it was possible and now it was part of government policy. We talked non-stop as I had a maracujá caipirinha. I still vote for caipirinha with kaju fruit or with lemon.

August 8, Wednesday _The day started off badly with me discovering that I had lost my reporting notebook. One of the worst kinds of disaster that can happen to a reporter.  Many of the interviews were recorded. But many were NOT which meant the loss of many days’ work. I made desperate phone calls to people I had met the day before but had no luck. Dragged myself from the depression of this discovery and went to the office of the NGO Saúde Criança in Sao Paulo.

They work with Santa Casa hospital.  As always I am duly impressed by the air of cleanliness and efficiency in the hospital. But of course I am comparing it with overcrowded government hospitals in India which are far worse and perhaps that is an unfair comparison. This is more like the wards in the premier institute in India, the All India Institute of Medical Sciences. The wards are HUGE in India and usually crowded with patients’ attendants. But even here, talking to the doctors, it is all about being underpaid, about not having enough resources to treat all the patients and so on. Of course, here they don’t realize how lucky they are that they can walk into a hospital with no money and still get treated. Can’t blame them. They have moved beyond that and so they take that for granted.

Went back to Saúde Criança office to talk to some of the mothers.  It is the same old depressing story when talking to poor mothers here. Children from different fathers, fathers who might or might not support them, living in poor housing that itself leads to many diseases and mothers unable to work regularly due to sick children. I always imagined it is a good thing for a society to be liberated from traditional notions. But when I see so many children and their mothers with little or no family support, I wonder if it is such a bad thing to have a traditional society that kind of exerts pressure to keep family units together. Then again, is having an alcoholic father and husband who engages in domestic violence on a regular basis, as is the case in many poor families in India better than having no father at all? Who knows!

August 9, Thursday _Off to Santa Cruz, and reached Centro de Referência e Treinamento DST/Aids to meet Mylva Fonsi to talk about Aids patients on the fourth line of drugs and the problems with treating them. Work with her was over within 20 minutes, but then we got talking about what works and doesn’t in our respective countries. It is such conversations that I cherish because it gives me a window into what Brazilians think about their own progress and policies.

I later went to Livraria Cultura. I found Amitav Ghosh prominently displayed in the English section – The River of Smoke.  Then I found Aravind Adiga too. Never imagined finding these Indian authors here. Adiga, well I am not surprised. His writing is bound to appeal to …outsiders, I stopped myself from writing Westerners.  After all Brazil is not really Westerners! But Ghosh is a surprise. Found a lot of English classics too – Jane Eyre, Thomas Hardy and so on.  A lot of Sylvia Plath! I imagine they must be part of the curriculum in some courses in college. Entire Agatha Christie in Portuguese!

Anyway, I was looking for Jorge Amado. With difficulty, I communicated that I needed Jorge Amado in English, but one of his bestsellers.  They brought Gabriela, Cloves and Cinnamon. Is it his best? I needed some advice.  Called Cibele Alvodrandi and she said it was. In fact, it had been made into a hugely popular soap opera. Is that the definition of a good book? Maybe! So I bought it. Not cheap at all! 45 reais. Amazon would have given me a better prize.

Cibele said we should meet tomorrow for lunch in Gopala run by Hare Krishna. I am not craving Indian food but I am curious to see what kind of outfit the ISKON guys are running here and who comes to eat there.

Cibele is a perfect example of how things have worked for me in Brazil, through a chain of people. Before the trip, I met in Boston Paulo Rogério, a media activist who runs a news portal dedicated to covering issues of the black community in Salvador. Paulo was introduced to me by an Indian friend who was his colleague in a Fulbright fellowship. He, in turn, introduced me to Jaqueline Lima Santos, who was in Harvard researching hip hop music. Jaqueline, who is from São Paulo, told me there was a friend’s friend who was going to India soon and asked if I would like to meet her. Thus I met Regiane Ramos, who is now in Delhi doing research in Jawahar Lal Nehru University. Regiane connected me to Cibele, an anthropologist who researches Buddhist art and has been to India several times, including to Kerala.

August 10, Friday _ I found Gopala and was SO THRILLED that I could find my way despite taking a completely different and unfamiliar route. The restaurant location is like a mini India corner. A spices shop and two Indian restaurants, all connected to the Hare Rama Hare Krishna people.  The restaurant was packed. That’s amazing for a vegetarian restaurant in a predominantly meat eating place like Brazil. The food was marginally Indian. Way too mild to be Indian if you ask me. But then even by Indian standards I have too much spice.

Cibele used to be a Bharatnatyam dancer and now she is learning kathak. She has been on archaeological excavations in India. WOW! She probably knows more about my country than I do.   She fell in love with India in school when she first learnt about the Ganges and the civilization along its banks. Imagine! She talks of the dance forms like kathakali with such awe. Sometimes you need to see your own country through the eyes of an outsider to see how amazing it is.

In the afternoon I had a meeting with health secretary Dr Giovanni Cerri. He is very candid about the problems affecting the health system. It seems that despite the talk about equity, rich people do get more than their share out of the public health system through tax deduction on health spending and also by using the public system for high-end complex procedures for which their insurance companies then refuse to pay.

Got home and was tinkering about online and found that Times of India had published my blog finally. Sent links to various people, tweeted it, put it on FB. New age journalism – you not only write stories but also promote it, market it, manage responses to it. Oh well!

Aug 12, Sunday _ Rushed around to pack for my coming journey to Manaus. Absolute panic as I scrambled to find my passport. Finally found it. Thank God for small mercies.

The guy next to me on the plane is friendly and I am curious because he says he is going to Manaus to head a university. He is a guy who worked for cellphone companies and now he was going to head a university! He thought it was all the same since whether it was a company or a university; it was all about saving money, hiring and firing people and getting in more students. I have my doubts about that. And then he said he did not see much point in letting the Amazon stand as it is (“what are we going to do? Just let it stand there forever?”). After all, the US and Europe had destroyed all their forests and nothing had happened to them. In fact, they had progressed. I was appalled to put it mildly.  Even I who don’t belong to this country know how precious the Amazon is and how it needed to be protected.

In Manaus, I am staying at Andreza Andrade’s flat.  It was Paulo Rogério who also introduced me to Andreza, who works at Instituto Socioambiental. She is half indigenous, on her mother’s side, and she is passionate about the rights of indigenous people.

MANAUS – August 13, Monday _Woke up to the screeching of parrots which flew all around.  Standing on the balcony I was reminded of Kerala because it looked so much like that, minus the coconut palms. And the warm humid weather! Love it!  Finally, we were off after putting on lots of sunscreen as Andreza insisted. A short walk to the bus stop. The area looked just like small town India, waiting to boom as I could see lots of highrise flats coming up in the distance. The buses are Volvo and look modern unlike the buses in India, but they rattle loudly and are driven by maniacs. As we drove towards the Centre, there was water and garbage on the street, much more compared to other places I had seen in Brazil. However, not as much as India.

Finally we reached the main square of Manaus, past the Rio Negro palace. What an oasis in the middle of chaos. The square is blocked to traffic and beautifully maintained. Apparently, in the coming World Cup four matches will be held in Manaus. So a lot of renovation of the monuments such as the Teatro Amazonas. Beautiful and unusual looking building. Struck again by the Moorish look to it. The square is paved in tiles that form a wavy black and white pattern which is said to replicate the meeting of the rivers Amazon and the Negro. The same pattern can be found on the sidwalks of Rio. In the centre is a kind of monument with five sides depicting the five continents. Typical colonial stuff. Very pretty looking.  Andreza’s office is right on the square with a large window overlooking it.

We dropped our computers in the office and walked through the chaotic market towards the dock.  More fascinating were the different kinds of Amazonian fruits. There was sapota or chickoo, which I am sure the Portuguese must have brought to India because it is called sapoti in Portuguese and in Kerala it is called sapota. Then we tasted a very unusual fruit, tucumã, that was kind of high in fat with little taste.  It’s a thin lather of pulp over a big seed inside.

We wound our way to the dock which was even more chaotic. The sun beat down upon us and we were sweating freely. Finally we saw the guys selling tickets for the Santarém boat. Andreza wants me to take a good room on the boat on the upper deck. He said 400 reais and then said 350 reais. I felt handicapped because I did not know the language enough to bargain. I was sure it would be available for much less. Anyway, had little option and so we bought it for 350 reais.

Once that was done we went to see the fish market. All fresh water fish and shrimp from the river.  Also saw purple colored manioc. It is supposed to be an Amazon variety.  Saw the flour being made. Finally, reached a restaurant near the square where we had rice beans, salad and fried tambaqui fish. Andreza recommended the fish highly as it is a typical Amazonian fish. I had it with lots of pickled chillies.  Unlike fresh water fish in India which are generally full of tiny bones, this one had only large ones and so was easy to eat. And very tasty, though of course, I would have added more spice.

Andreza would not let me taste a soup called tatacá saying it was better in Santarém. So instead we took a bus and went to a place that served the best açaí with tapioca. Very unusual taste. Not sweet not sour but has a certain rawness.  You get roasted lumps of tapioca which resembles puffed rice to sprinkle on top and sugar to add. I can imagine missing this stuff and growing to love this stuff. But for now it was more novelty than instant liking. However the bolinho de aipim stuffed with carangueijo that we ordered next was absolutely mindblowing.

Aug 14, Tuesday _Woke up early, downloaded photos and emptied cameras. Charged everything as I worried about being on the boat for two days with no way to do it.  Andreza showed me how to make tapioca for breakfast. She made it with just cheese and salt, not sweet. I am partial to the sweet variety.   I wish I could take the flour home. Unfortunately it does not keep. However, Andreza gave me hope by saying that she actually made the flour herself when she was in the US. From scratch. Impressive.

The dock area is crowded but a guy materialized from nowhere to guide us. Andreza said we would have to pay him. Oh yes! For navigating that mess it was worth it. He also carried my stuff onto the boat. He demanded 20 reais which Andreza said was too much. He got 10. Was that enough? Locals always know best.  I was shown to my “suite” like a tin box with bunk beds and attached bathroom. No windows! But yes it had AC.

We quickly decided to put up the hammock. By this time even on the top deck, which was less crowded, most of the space was taken. Andreza expertly put up the hammock as I looked on like an idiot. Without help, I would have had the hammock and not known what to do with it. Like a dog with a whole coconut, as the saying in Malayalam goes. People looked at me with curiosity. Guess I do look like I don’t fit in and yet I do look like I could be a local.

Finally we left almost by 2 pm. I flitted between my suite and the hammock.  As I stepped out of the cabin, a girl stopped me and asked in English if I was from India. Thus I met Adrian and Lígia, a Swiss and a Brazilian who met in Vienna and were travelling the world together for the last two years. Curious as hell I plied them with questions.  Night fell and the sky was gorgeous. Full of stars, something we never get to see in a city. Adrian pointed out the Cruzeiro do Sul constellation. Fascinating because it is only visible from the Southern hemisphere and so I wouldn’t get to see it in India.

August 15, Wednesday _Woke up by 5.30 and rushed out thinking I might have missed the sunrise. No such worries. The sun did not come up till about 6.15.   By 11.30, the boat stopped for lunch and I was fascinated by the way the vendors were selling on the dock. A bottle cut in half tied to the top of a pole to deposit the money safe from being blown away by the wind and the packet of food slung on a hook a little lower down. Deposit the money and take the food packet. So I did. Also bought banana chips. The Mallu in me could not resist it. The food was basic-rice, noodle, farofa, beans and fish fry. Saw a car with flags and megaphones canvassing for some local elections candidate. It could have been a scene in small town in Kerala.

Óbidos was the next stop as we entered Pará. Federal police boarded the boat to search for drugs. All of them heavily armed more like military than police. Police everywhere in the world is despised by the common man. You could feel the sullen resentment mixed with disdain and tinged with fear. Or, was I imagining it? People stood aside as the police searched their baggage. A senior guy not in uniform searches the suites. He spoke to me in perfect English. Said he did think I was from India. Looked at my passport, took a cursory look at my cabin and went out wishing me pleasantly. I wondered if he was always this polite. Finally, they were off the boat and there was collective relief as people scrambled to close their bags and rearrange their stuff turned inside out by the police.

SANTARÉM – August 16, Thursday _Dr. Fabio Tozzi came at 8 am to take me to the biggest hospital in Santarem, which is public. 129 beds. Drove through this lovely familiar looking clean small town. Guess small towns all over the developing world look the same except of course if you are talking about the ugly hellholes in Uttar Pradesh. Fabio runs in greeting everyone at the hospital. Ever since I told him the population of India he is fixated on that and it amuses me a great deal as he tells everyone “She is from a country of 1.2 billion people, billion with a ‘b’ not ‘m’ as in million”.

Fábio arranged for a van to drop me off to the office of Saúde e Alegria.  Magnólio Oliveira explained the work of Saúde e Alegria and how through mime and clowning and entertainment they spread the message of health in the communities. He is the boss of the communication division and also a clown for 25 years.

Finally, I got to meet Caetano, Eugenio’s brother. Caetano took me out for lunch in the middle of his really busy schedule. I felt a little guilty. All the guilt was forgotten as we got down to discussing the food. I let him order for me. He made some terrific choices. We started with Cerpinha, or little Cerpa – cerveja  of Para, hence Cer-pa.  Bolinhos of piracuí fish with tucupi, which is basically pimento mixed with tapioca juice along with a wedge of lemon to be squeezed onto the fish balls. Terrific!  Then came the main course. Smoked pirarucu with castanha do Pará and raisins. If someone suggested fish with someting sweet like raisins I would have baulked. And this was served with rice and farofa.  The smoky taste of the fish worked really well with the Brazil nuts and raisins and some other stewed fruit. I ate most of it and ended up too stuffed for dessert.

After lunch Caetano took me to see the Tapajós river and Amazon meeting at Santarem – the same wavy pattern as waters of two different colours meet.  He said someone from S&A would come to pick me up at the hotel at 4 pm. So there was no time to rest. Paid my share for the boat fuel for the Sunday trip. Not cheap. But what an opportunity!

Fabio arrived and we were off to Alter do Chão, 33 kms from Santarém. What an incredible beautiful drive. Totally green and peaceful. Fabio’s house in Alter do Chão was HUGE and I was sharing the attic room with the nurse who will be traveling with him to help open a new hospital in Juriti.  Met Fabio’s daughter Luara and instantly fell in love with her. She is incredibly charming and serious without meaning to be either. She talked to me non-stop in Portuguese.

ALTER DO CHÃO – August 17 Friday _ Fabio and the nurse had left for Juriti telling me I could go to the square for internet.  Luara talked to me all along in Portuguese. And whenever I reminded her that I did not speak Portuguese, she would say solemnly “eu sei”, go a bit quiet and then would continue chattering. We went to the river and had a lovely time. Luara swam while I just sat in the water enjoying the feeling of cool clean water. She looked pityingly at me that I could not swim. She even tried to teach me saying “olha, olha”, and doing a demonstration. After lunch I went to the square logged in. Amazing to have free internet in a public square. Quickly booked my plane ticket to go from Santarém to Manaus.

April 18, Saturday _Fabio drove me to the dock to get the boat. Glorious day!  Ceramic blue skies and even bluer waters of the Tapajós as we left the Amazon behind. Beautiful forests and lots of river beaches. Beaches that were deserted and as beautiful as Alter do Chão.  The Saúde e Alegria team were soon having coffee, making sandwiches for everyone, distributing biscuits.  The boat crossed to the other side of the river taking almost 45 minutes. That’s how wide the Tapajós is.

A simple looking church grew bigger as we drew closer to Boim. The boat could not quite dock. And so we splashed into shallow waters carrying all our stuff and waded to the shore.

Boim is a tiny community of 130 families. The meeting was in a community building.I watched as the staff of S&A expertly prepared the space for the meeting, setting out water and glasses in one corner, checked out the bathroom, stocked it with toilet paper they had brought and so on. People from five to six communities were waiting. Magnólio took charge and in his raspy voice he made introduction, invited people to make their own introduction and in general broke the ice. I could see the clown skills being used in getting across to people. And like Shakespeare’s court jester in King Lear he could get away by saying a lot of funny things about people and poking fun at them – the licence that a clown is given.

Soon all community members were involved in the process of creating maps of their communities.  It is a fascinating process where people neatly drew maps of their little communities of about 20 or 30 houses absolutely to scale with details of well, water tanks, orchards, and with each house neatly labeled with the name of the head of the house.  It is work that S&A was doing for over a year and expected to complete by the end of the year – this mapping of communities. It was an effort to put the existence of these people on the map literally and to map their resources.

The community center we were in also doubled as the telecenter which is part of the effort of getting these people hooked up. Talk about technology adaptation! Every young person there had a Facebook account and was eagerly chatting and checking their accounts. Took a walk around the village which end by taking me back home. In front of the health post one of the local guys offered me a fruit. He called it jambo. Surprise surprise! It was jambakka from my childhood. Just a bit different looking.

SANTARÉM – August 19, Sunday _ Excited  to join the Abaré boat of S&A, the reason for my Santarém visit.  I was all set at 7am. Fabio arrived straight from his 24-hour duty in the regional hospital and was bustling about. The man is impossible! How can you be so cheerful after 24-hour duty? Along with him were three young doctors – Pablo Scheroke, a general physician from the army in full uniform, Carlos Simimbu, a paediatric surgeon from the regional hospital and one more doctor whose name I forget. At the dock, we had to wait till 9am for oxygen cylinders to arrive. All the while Pablo muttered that if the delay happened in the army someone would go to jail.  Army guys all over the world seem the same. They believe the army works the best. Maybe it does?!

This was a surgery trip for Abaré, for elective surgeries. Patients who needed had been identified in advance and were brought to Mentai, the village where Abaré was docked. The local church had been converted into a post operative ward.  On temporary scaffoldings set up inside the church, hammocks are hung and these are the post operative beds.  From the scaffolding, saline and drips are hung. On benches along the walls people sit in blue surgical disposable gowns waiting to be called upon for the surgery. A community hall kind of place had been used to set up the surgery tents, complete with sterilization unit and so on. And there were about a dozen small generators constantly running to provide power in the surgery tents.

Two guys were constantly tending to the generators. They are all from the organization Expedicionários da Saúde. All of them unpaid volunteers. I ran between surgery unit and post operative ward and pharmacy and the community kitchen and so on clicking photos and trying to talk to people. This is what I had been waiting to see and write about.  Pablo helped a lot in translating, wincing at the inquisitive questions I was asking people about their monthly earning, their families etc. I guess we journalists become oblivious and don’t realize that such questions can seem odd to others. Pablo kept explaining to the people that he was merely the translator and that it was me who was asking the questions, as if to say, this strange Indian woman is to blame, don’t blame me. It was amusing and very sweet of him. By evening I was really dead from the heat. It really saps you. By then, thankfully, it was also time for us to leave. Along with us was a young boy with a drip attached to his arm and accompanied by his mother. Despite all the difficulty in communication, I managed to find out that he had an ear infection which had damaged his kidney from delay in treatment. Now he was being sent to Santarém for further treatment.

MANAUS – August 20, Monday _ On the flight to Manaus had an old lady next to me who was flying for the first time. It was delightful to watch her amazement as she saw the clouds and looked at the landscape below. I watched too to see the Amazon’s winding path, just as you see in pictures, far below.  In Manaus, had tacacá soup as dinner since I had missed having that in Santarém. I added too much pepper which meant I could not taste the original tatacá – soup made of sour tapioca paste, dried shrimp and some kind of green leafy stuff. A bit too salty and the shrimp is not shelled. I laboriously shelled each shrimp.

Met Andreza’s friends Renato who speaks very good English and Josias who is studying the açaí market. I admired Josia’s bracelet made of tinybeads made from tucumã seed.  And as I said good bye, Josias removed his bracelet and gave it to me. WOW! All the time in Brazil, I am constantly being bowled over by the generosity of the people towards a total stranger. How will I ever repay all this kindness? He will probably never see me again. There is no expectation of reciprocity and yet…

SALVADOR – August 21,Tuesday _Reached Salvador at 6.30 am all groggy. Taxi took two hours to reach hotel as traffic crawled all the way.  Paulo Rogério was coming to pick me up at 12.30. With his friend Keila, we walked all the way to the historic part of the city, 3 kilometres away.  There was so much to see. Old Portuguese style buildings such as the governor’s house, the 150 year-old elevator connecting the Cidade Alta to Cidade Baixa, the newer not-so-nice looking municipal building, and onto the square where you can find a statue of Zumbi dos Palmares. I am ashamed at never having heard the story of Zumbi.

A man who defended a kingdom of 30,000 people who escaped and resisted slavery against the colonial might of Portugal. What an incredible story of resistance! It ought to be compulsory for schools all over the world for the amazing lesson of human spirit and quest for freedom.

We went to a restaurant for lunch. Umbu juice to quench out thirst and prawn and fish muqueca with rice and farina. Delicious! Now we are talking! This is my kind of cuisine. Sea food in curry form. After all, Kerala traded with Africa loooong back. No wonder we have similar stuff and similar tastes.  We were off to the mall to meet Paulo’s friend who teaches health system and public policy at Faculdade Baiana de Medicina. Karine Santana is passionate about SUS and its crucial role in the system. She explained how the system was being hobbled by private sector interests and mismanagement of funds. And she is not talking through her hat, she is pregnant and intends to have her baby in the public health system.  The food court where we were sitting was eerily like food courts inside malls in India or anywhere in the world. The clone like look was disconcerting.  If all places looked alike and were homogenized in this manner, then why travel?! We talked about the similarity between the caste problem in India and race in Brazil and how reservation or affirmative action worked in India.

August 22, Wednesday _Paulo picked me up from the hotel to go to Liberdade. It is the cradle of the black resistance and black pride movement.  It’s a thickly populated place but also poor with inadequate civic facilities. I saw a policeman who looked like he was going to war with a huge machine gun and so many other smaller weapons.  Then I saw two more policemen similarly armed to the teeth as they say. And they looked more like thugs than policemen. You don’t feel secure seeing them, just uneasy and scared. Paulo explained that they were there because of the drug trade and narrated how they usually ill-treated civilians especially Black youth. “You don’t mess with them because they can plant drugs on you and take you in” said Paulo.  The military police in Brazil is an anomaly in an otherwise democratic country.  When you look at them all the stories of street children being killed by the police come back to you and they seem all too true.

We waited at for Cristiane Lima, Paulo’s friend who was a health worker in the area. The health center looks more shabby than most I have seen so far. But it was packed. It was vaccination day and mothers had queued up with their children. Immunization is a definite success here in Brazil. Paulo then took me to see the office of Ile Aiyê,  the oldest African bloco, which led the movement that led to the reafricanization of the carnival in Bahia. Nearby is the house of Maria Felipa, a black woman whose role in the fight against Portuguese is finally finding its rightful place in Bahian history.  Paulo explains how they were trying to organize a history walk including all these places of importance to the African history of Bahia.

Despite its majority black population, Bahia is essentially dominated by a white elite as is obvious from the election posters too. Not enough black faces for a black majority state if you ask me! The best residential places in town are places which are mostly all white. And poorly maintained places like Liberdade are majority black if not almost completely black. And then we walk on into the area of the health center to meet families who are getting Bolsa Família. Again, the conditions are poor but most families considered poor had computer mobile phone, flat screen TV and so on and lived in decent, if not exactly great housing. Except for the better housing, that is like a lot of slums in India where many poor houses have a lot of stuff like TV and mobile phones. Downright suspicious of us, one woman insisted we just talk standing outside and leave. But as we talked the ice melted and then it rained and the ice disappeared and she invited us to crowd into the living room. All the suspicion was replaced by typical Brazilian warmth and camaraderie as we all squeezed into her living room with lots of kids and the crush of people and general chaos suddenly made everyone chatty and warm, offering us cold drinks and being incredibly frank. This is why I love my job. The opportunity to dive into people’s lives. As we left I was clutching a kite with fabulous flying power, a gift to me, from the man in the house, a passionate kite flyer who had made it himself.

We had lunch at the Barra beach area. Bobó de camarão with rice and pickled malagueta .The word in Malayalam for chilly is mulagu, which when spoken sounds very similar to malagueta.

August 23, Thursday: Paulo had fixed a meeting with an official at the local office of Bolsa Família, at the Centro Administrativo da Bahia, far away from the city.  This separation of state from the real living cities seemed unfortunate. What if people want to organize a protest? What if people want to demonstrate against something? They surely would find it too difficult and expensive to come in the thousands all the way to this place. That’s convenient for the government. Spent an hour with the official who explained how Bolsa Família worked. I am always amazed by how committed and involved government officials are to the program.

When the meeting was over we took a taxi for Sussuarana, one of the so-called dangerous favelas of Salvador. We reached there and were met by Enderson Araújo, Paulo’s friend who runs a community newspaper, Mídia Periférica. The health center of Sussuarana is the worst health center I have seen in Brazil. It’s run down, rather poorly maintained. Yet, there were a lot of mothers with their children as the immunization campaign was on. Just we neared the center, a woman came straight to us complaining how the center had no medicines for her daughter who had a wounded foot. The woman herself was pregnant. She said she had ten children!

After Paulo bought the medicines she needed we went with her to the health center and found that they haven’t had a doctor for five years, only a gynaecologist who came there on fixed days of the week. Immunization was all that seemed to work in the center. It was a glaring example of the breakdown of SUS as envisaged by the government. The center meant to cater to 50,000 people was catering to 180,000 people of Sussuarana, said Enderson. Apparently, a new health center that was supposed to start functioning was yet to be opened.

Sussuarana too is majority black but not overwhelmingly so like Liberdade. But like Liberdade, it is marked by poor civic amenities like badly maintained roads and poor garbage collection. The place looks a lot like places in India especially because of the garbage piling up.

Enderson took us deep into the favela to meet a family on Bolsa Família. Again, no photos, I was told when I clicked a few, because the drug dealers did not like that. Through steep crooked paths we reached the house of Edina Maria Pereira with 11 children. One child was special and hence in a shelter. The oldest daughter was over 20 years and the youngest boy was under five years. I met the first and only family in Brazil where they said they hadn’t eaten that day. The only income was from Bolsa Família, 286 reais and then some help from her stay-away husband who did not live with them and some from her eldest son who occasionally got some work. The house was more a hovel. Poverty was extreme and obvious there. And the thought of all those little children being hungry was unpleasant. Reporters are only supposed to report, but we ended up giving some money to her.

Next we visited the office of Mídia Periférica. Enderson has an amazing story of a youngster who escaped the pull of the drug trade to become the voice of his community. He is proud of it though he tries to be nonchalant. Behind a tiny shop, the back room was the office. A weekly paper was designed using Microsoft Office, photos were taken using cellphone cameras and it was printed using an ordinary laser jet printer. A hundred copies that were distributed free of cost in the community.

August 25, Saturday _Samira’s friend Sue Menezes picked me up to go for the capoeira performance in Pelourinho at the Academia do Mestre Bimba. We reached too early. It starts only at 11. So we went for a jaunt around Pelourinho. Conned by baianas into taking pics with them. What the hell, isn’t that what people do in all tourist spots all over the world? So I did. Saw the gothic church, the Church of the Third Order of St Francis from the 1700s.  Interesting! But churches in Brazil become like forts in Rajasthan! One too many! Finally, ran back to see capoeira which had started.  Sue told me capoeira angola is better. I was just glad to be able to watch at least this.

Sue took me on a driving tour of Cidade  Baixa. The beaches of Ribeira with its beautiful old houses, the crumbling facades of the city below that will, hopefully, soon get a makeover with the World Cup coming, the huge São Joaquim fruits and vegetables market that announced its presence from the smell, Bonfim church, the Monte Serrat fort and so on. Simply beauuuuutiful.

In the evening went to Keila’s house. Cooked fish curry, traditional Kerala meen mole and rice. It was fun. Her parents were so sweet about it. They watched in amazement at the amount of ginger and garlic and onions I used remarking about heavily spiced Indian food. The food was polished off and as the cook, I was delighted and flattered.

August 26, Sunday _ Went for lunch with Sue to try food from the sertão, a dry arid region – more meat than fish. In fact, a lot of preserved meat. Tried everything from galinha ensopada to rabada. Also stuffed myself with desserts. I have such a HUGE weakness for pudim de leite. But the fruits stewed with sugar and cloves is just toooo sweet for me.  Also got to try the famous manissoba, made with meat and leaves of the manioc. I was amazed by how much the food looked and tasted like Indian food minus the high chilly level of course. In the rest of Brazil meat is mostly baked or grilled or fried. Not much of meat in gravy. But here almost all of it was meat in different kinds of gravy and even looked a lot like Indian curries. I could happily live in Bahia.

August 27, Monday _ Visited the Instituto de Saúde Coletiva to meet Dr. Inês Dourado. She seemed glad to see me but had little time. Everyone is rushing for the Sao Paulo HIV conference, that would begin in three days. But it was a productive meeting as she revealed that everyone was shaken by the protest in Washington DC where Brazil did not come out looking good about its HIV program, especially the prevention program. I am hearing this everywhere. This feeling that Brazil’s HIV program has lost the momentum. “We had the Americans telling us how to run our public health program. That is just so ridiculous”, Ines blurted out. How much Brazilians hate being bossed by Americans.

SÃO PAULO – Aug 28, Tuesday _ I am back in São Paulo and off to the Harvard office. Got tips about managing in Brasília from Marina de Moura, who takes students there all the time.  We exchanged notes of how officials in Brazil NEVER ever gave appointments much in advance or never responded to emails. And if they did, it was always at the last moment.  We laughed about how that shocked Americans. Well, not me because it was just the same in India. Always people say they can spare maybe half an hour and then spend at least an hour or two talking to you once they meet you. I love that. But I don’t love them asking you to mail for further queries but never respond to those mails. Then again, there are always exceptions!

BRASÍLIA – Aug 29, Wednesday _ By 3 pm I was in Brasília and speeding to my hotel staring at the flat dry landscape. Got a GREAT room with a fabulous view of the city in Manhattan Plaza. The design of the buildings and the brown flat land around made it seem like some kind of alien city dropped from the skies into the middle of nowhere.  The worst thing of all, in the middle of all this modernity my room had no Wifi! It had only cable internet and my MacBook Air has no port for cable internet. If I wanted to check the internet I had to go down ten floors to the restaurant and swimming pool floor of the hotel.  Tiresome is an understatement.

I had no time to dwell on this as I had to be ready to meet senator Eduardo Suplicy, the man who appeared in the senate wearing a Robin Hood cap and who sings Bob Dylan’s “Blowing in the Wind” in both the Senate as well as to Iraqi statesmen. The world has less and less of such interesting people especially in politics. Politics was once alive with such “characters”.  I waited in his office reading one of his documents on basic income guarantee for all citizens. And in walked the senator. A tall man. A dignified man.  Much older than I had imagined. Tried to imagine him singing and wearing a Robin Hood cap and couldn’t.

He talked exactly like a professor, which is what he still is part time teaching at the Getulio Vargas Institute every Friday afternoon for so many years now. He asked questions, would wait for an answer, smile indulgently at my ignorance about books and essays written by people through the centuries on justice and basic income and would answer them patiently. I found him delightful especially for his wonderful dream that one day, soon, people all over the world will have a basic income that will grant them all the basics of life. He believed in it. Me the cynical journalist I am not so sure this can happen.

Next, he invited me to watch the Senate voting. Lot of older men in black and grey suits. Suits everywhere. A roomful of penguins flapping about! Very few women. Lot more orderly than the Indian parliament, with its cacophony of languages.  He asked me home for dinner and I promptly said yes. Went to his house where the wonderful friendly woman from Minas Gerais who cooked made very good food.  Beans, rice, salad, fried chicken fillet and a rich creamy sauce. All through dinner he lectured me on the issue of social justice through the ages until 20^th century.

I was beginning to tire out. Then he made me watch two videos, one of the speech of Desmond Tutu on basic income and another of his own visit to Iraq where he sang Blowing in the Wind to straight faced Iraqi officials. By now I was wilting quickly as it was midnight and thankfully the taxi finally came and he saw me off. He is just so incredibly sweet, polite and gentle with everyone, from the liftman to the security guy to the taxi driver. You can’t help but like the man.

August 30, Thursday _ Reached IPEA (Instituto de Pesquisa Econômica Aplicada) by 2 pm. Met Edvaldo Sá, his boss Sergio Piolaand colleague Matheus Stivali. Piola is among those who were part of building SUS. I had a fantastic discussion on health financing with them. The economist Joseph Stiglitz was right when he told me long back that if India opened up the insurance sector to private health insurance we would go to hell. The experience in Brazil with private insurance does not sound good at all.  Limited opening of market seemed better than unfettered access for all kinds of unscrupulous companies of the US variety.

August 31, Friday _ Checked out of the hotel (I decided to move to another with wifi in the rooms) and went to meet senator Cristóvam Buarque. The conversation became even warmer as he had been to Kerala and to my city Trivandrum. Imagine meeting a senator who knows that little corner of the world.

But then again, Kerala was a model of development discussed all over the world.  It is a state with 100% literacy and the highest development indicators in India. In fact, its HDI (human development index) is marginally higher than that in the US (0.920 x 0.910). One of the reasons for this is supposed to be the openness to influences from all over the world as Kerala thrived as a trading center for centuries. The other reason is the leftist ideology which has very strong roots in Kerala even now. The focus on education through enlightened kings and the Christian missionary schools was the other reason.

The senator is obsessed with the idea of education being the way out of poverty and blamed the government for not investing enough in education. He felt that Bolsa Família was merely a social assistance program that helped to prevent extreme poverty but that did not help them get out of poverty. He believed that only education could do that.

September 1, Saturday _ Rose Yukiko picked me up for lunch and chose a vegetarian place as she imagined I would be vegetarian as I am Indian.  So many people imagine that ALL Indians are vegetarians.  Anyway, I am NOT. I am from a different part of the country where we eat everything, or so I tell everyone. They are really surprised. Anyway, I was glad for even vegetarian food. LOTS of leaves. I really needed that. Rose is a friend of Regiane Ramos, the paulista who is now studying in Dheli.

Then Rose took me to the TV tower from where we could see the entire city. Its beautifully planned but not for pedestrians or people without cars. That’s rather unfortunate!

Ana Vieira’s friend Bruno Câmara Pinto in SENARC (the Secretaria Nacional de Renda e Cidadania of the Social Development Ministry), was helping to connect me to several people in Brasília, just as he had helped me get the interview with Suplicy. Thank God for all these kind souls who are making so much effort to help me out.

September 2, Sunday _ Met a whole bunch of privileged kids who are all mostly in comfy government jobs. The party was to celebrate one of them, getting into the diplomatic service after trying five times. It was a barbecue by the Brazilian lake.  The housing nearby was expensive and people used golf carts to go from gate to the houses! Can’t walk even that short distance? Talk about being spoilt.  Slowly they got talking to me and then it was fun as I got to know them better. Just a bunch of fun-loving youngsters, but they don’t seem to like social programs like Bolsa Família or SUS, or appreciate the difference it is making to the vast majority of people in their country. I constantly fretted about how I was wasting time when I could have worked in the hotel room.  But I also loved watching the way the barbecue had been organized, the items that had been brought along like the huge ice box to keep drinks cool, lots of mineral water, bottles of mayonnaise, lots of fresh loaves of bread, cheese spread, plenty of meat and sausages to roast over the barbecue and vinaigrette, rice, farofa.

September 3, Monday ­_ Rushed off to meet the secretary of SENARC, Luís Henrique Paiva and Bruno Câmara Pinto, thanks to whom I got the interview. Had a GREAT interview. I was thrilled because Luís said he will try to help the mother with eleven children in Sussuarana who lives on just the 286 reais she gets from Bolsa Família, as she was definitely entitled to more. I told him how she was the first person I had met in Brazil who said they hadn’t eaten that whole day. Luís looked concerned when he heard that.

Back at the hotel, talked to Enderson in Sussuarana on Facebook to help officials locate the mother. Enderson is an impressive guy. He is using Google Translate to talk to me in English. Terrific!

 

September 7, Friday: It was Brazilian independence day and I was torn between going to watch the parade and seeing it on TV. Finally my laziness won the day and I watched it from the comfort of my hotel room. Dilma is a smart looking president. Brazil is lucky, things are working out. Soon, it was time for me to check out. I grudgingly am fond of Brasilia with all its faults, but I was excited to get back to Rio.  I was craving rice and feijão. So Viviane took us to a place where I could get my fix of it with galeto, while planning to say goodbye to friends and places in Rio. In a few days I would be back in the US and then, finally, to India.