A glimpse of life two months in

Camp last weekend

Sorry it’s been a while since the last blog – hopefully some of you got my November prayer letter in that time (if you would like it let me know on facebook or on feb36@cam.ac.uk). I thought I’d do this blog a bit differently today and give you a glimpse of a few moments from my life over the past couple of weeks.

It’s Monday evening and I’m standing at the back of an exercise class that Judith’s running. I’m trying to do the class while holding 3 year old Niara and she shrieks every time we lunge forward. 12 year old Diogo has brought his friend’s Mum for the first time and she seems to be enjoying it, there are less people this week but it just means there’s a different atmosphere to it. It seems calmer, more open and a chance to get to know these women better. I hold Niara upside down and laugh at her giggles before trying to stop her touching the computer for the 100th time! A week later and we’re there once more, this week there are more ladies and Niara is climbing all over me as I talk to 7 year old Thalles, who is sitting in his wheelchair watching his Mum and the other ladies jumping up and down. He’s telling me how his football team won this week and pointing proudly at the badge on his shorts.

It’s 8 o clock in the morning and I’m sitting alongside a roomful of children eating a breakfast of cous cous and egg and extremely sweet coffee. Some children are squabbling over getting the purple cup and outside it’s just starting to pour, the kind of Brazilian rain that is so loud you can’t think and that immediately fills the streets with water. The rain drips through the roof onto my hair and an excited murmer of “chuva chuva chuva” (rain rain rain) echoes around the room.

Ten minutes later and I’m standing in front of the youngest class here at project CCM – the name is painted on the wall by the gate and in Portuguese it says “for every life, a new story,” it makes me think about the new story God gave me and the reason why we’re all here sheltering from the rain. After various attempts at loud Portuguese and eventual clapping to get attention the children are finally sitting down and (vaguely) quiet. We learn a song in English about God’s love and I’m just starting to pull tissue paper and toilet rolls and glue and brown paper out of my bag when suddenly chaos descends. Across the court the oldest children have run out of their classroom. My class start to panic and I notice a hissing sound coming from the kitchen, one boy jumps out the window, a little girl starts crying. I don’t get what’s happening until I start to smell gas, at which point one little boy helpfully informs me that it’s going to explode and we’re all going to die. We evacuate to about 10 metres across the yard and stand in the rain until Pastor Roberto turns off the gas, panic over and five minutes later we’re back in class making tree pictures.

I’m sitting on the little minibus with the 2 reais note (about 60p) clutched in my hand. I’ve been trying to give it to the conductor for 5 minutes now but he’s sleeping in front of me, I poke him a few times but he doesn’t stir and the other passengers laugh. Normally the conductors are loud and lively and shout a kind of place name rap out of the window at every passerby, jumping on and off the moving bus. I sit back in my seat and watch the familiar shops and churches and houses passing by out the window. On the ceiling in front of me there is a faded sticker that says in Portuguese “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want”, I smile to myself and finally manage to hand over my money to the stirring conductor.

I’m on my way to a church ‘acampamento’ (camp) down the coast and we’re stuck in what appears to be the world’s biggest traffic jam. I was picked up at 6:20am and the plan was to leave at 7am from church, however we didn’t leave until 8:30 and the optimistic plan of a day’s activities is fading as we pass hours without moving However the couple I’m in a car with are unfased, they play Brazilian worship songs at full volume and out of the passenger seat window a kind of bongo drum is being played, balanced on the roof of the car. Behind us are various other cars heading for camp and some of the mocidade (sort of 18-30ish group from church) have got out of their cars and are playing volleyball across the lanes. Everyone’s laughing and smiling and putting photos of the traffic on facebook and no one seems in the slightest bit annoyed by the hold up. There’s a favela at the side of the road and children are emerging from there to weave in and out of the cars selling water and popcorn and other snacks. In the hard shoulder two men stand chatting, laughing, their shirts say “Traffic Management”, which seems somewhat ironic. I curl up on the backseat close to the air conditioning, as the Brazilian national anthem blasts out of our speakers and several nearby cars join in singing.

The camp is called Solo Scritura (Only Scripture) and throughout the weekend I’m reminded time and time again of how God’s word is powerful and relevant to our lives. One evening I’m sitting with a couple of guys my age and we share our testimonies, hearing their stories is so moving that the hecticness of camp seems to stop around us and  I hardly even notice the mosquitos eating my feet. When I wake up in the morning there are monkeys out of the window and the sun is already hot at the window.

It’s 5 in the afternoon and I’m shattered, slightly sunburnt and desperately trying to stay patient with the girls telling me how the boy across the corridor has been tirando onda (taking the mick) out of them.  Then there comes a  beautiful moment of quiet, I seize the chance to sneak out onto the balcony and looking out at the palm trees and setting sun I ask God to give me the energy I need and help me to love, when everything in me cries out for bed. He gives me the moment of peace that I need before heading back out the door. In the evening we play a word game a bit like Articulate and I try and rise to the challenge in Portuguese, my first word I later find out means “anvil” and predictably I flail not having a clue what it means. Later on I manage to get some words though and everyone claps, I sit back in my rocking chair and watch everyone laughing and enjoying themselves. It feels for a moment like church camps back in the UK, that same feeling of one big family united on what really matters

.

On the beach at camp, with a guitar and a ukulele!

With the four teenagers who came on camp from Porta Larga, the
community I'm working with.

I walk in the door of the apartment, my 17 floors high home here in Brazil; at least the lifts are working today! Bruce and Bella the pugs jump up at me and I grab a banana and a chocolate milk from the fridge. I’m so tired from camp that when I give the dogs some banana I find myself telling them off in Portuguese for not saying “obrigado” (thank you). I laugh at myself and drag my bag to my room, there’s one hour until I leave for church so I sit down at my desk with my trilingual Bible trying to make sense of the passage we’re looking at in the teenagers class tonight and trying to wake myself up from my car sleepiness.

With my Brazilian cousin Augusto and a comedian called Nelson Freitas 

It’s 2am and I’m on a crowded dance floor with my Brazilian Mum and several aunts. It’s a week since I was at camp and we’re on a weekend away at a gathering for food company owners Recife (my Brazilian family own a supermarket chain called Arco-Íris (Rainbow!)) Around me everyone is sambaing like they were born with perfect rhythm and hips that move in directions mine just don’t. I make myself try again, and again, and again, I start to think maybe I’m getting it when an aunt informs me that the wiggle is coming far too much from my shoulders and needs to come from my chest, she helpfully puts her hands on my chest in case I’m in any doubt over where that might be! I turn to my Brazilian sister and say ‘socorro’ (help!) before inwardly promising myself that if I manage one more song I can raid the table of coxinhas (an incredible Brazilian chicken snack). I turn back to the dancefloor and stare at the feet below me that seem to be moving at 100mph, so different from the British jump up and down/halfhearted sway of nights back in the UK.

We make it back in time for our different church services on Sunday evening. I’m sitting in the front pew trying to keep the little boys beside me from shouting or hitting each other! In the service we sing what is so far my favourite Brazilian worship song,  

At the cross You beckon me

You draw me gently to my knees, and I am
Lost for words, so lost in love,

I’m sweetly broken, wholly surrendered

We head out for the teenagers group and do some dramas in pairs before splitting into boys and girls, as the group has become pretty big to keep all together. I take the girls next door and we’re looking at the end of Mark 1. It’s hard work and I’m struggling to get everyone to concentrate. I come away feeling tired and disheartened, yet I pray that somehow God taught them something tonight and for the umpteenth time I’m  forced to thank Him that it’s not about my weakness and tiredness and failures but about His strength and what He did on that cross.  Monday morning brings a new week, new opportunities, new challenges and the arrival of four bin bags of toys with damaged packaging that couldn't be sold in the family supermarket!

Lots of love and hope things are going well with you,
Flo xxxx

p.s. Bella the pug has just got home from her Ultrasound and it is now confirmed, FIVE PUG PUPPIES ARE ON THE WAYYYY!

Motorbikes, ketchup and an exercise class

As I'm writing this blog, I'm listening to the constant background noise of Brazilian life. It's so different from the quietness of back home and after a few weeks here I'm struggling to remember what it's like to have no noise at all! Here there are always cars beeping, brakes squealing, sirens going, dogs barking, people yelling, waves crashing and most of all a constant backing track of music pumping from the huge speakers that sit in car boots, or are pushed along on wheels. Music is such a massive part of life here. From the children singing (or arguably shouting) worship songs this morning at the project I've just started helping at, to my Brazilian cousin Leo (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IHJsS84-nQs) who up until a few moments ago was strumming a guitar at the other end of the table to me, to my Brazilian sister rapping Eminem!

The sunset saxophonist in Jacaré

Since my last blog I've been 'viajando' (travelling) with my Brazilian family for a weekend, which included a particularly embarrassing musical moment, but was on the whole great. We went to Campina Grande, which is a city in the next state up (Paraíba) and was about three hours away, although we stopped both ways in another city called João Pessoa, for two amazing lunches! We were going to Campina Grande in order to go to a motorbike rally where some of my Brazilian parents' friends were taking part in a Christian group called Luz na Estrada/Light on the road (kind of like a Brazilian Bikers for Christ!). This group brings together Christians in the biking world and had two bands singing at the rally, as well as a tent telling people about the work they do and generally getting to know bikers. We didn't actually spend that long at the rally (and to my relief no one discovered my absolute lack of knowledge on anything bike related!) but it was a great weekend of spending more time with people and eating lots of yummy food. On the Sunday we went to a local Baptist church in Campina Grande, which is where the embarrassing musical moment occurred. I didn't actually realise we were going to church until we walked in (!) but they were having a special service about the motorbike rally, which was really exciting to see. However, within about two minutes of arriving, the worship band discovered I was from the UK and I was pulled up front, given a microphone and asked to sing in English! Talk about being put on the spot! However fortunately I knew the song they wanted me to sing and the worship band were pretty loud so I don't think anyone could hear my poor attempt. My Brazilian family found it hilarious, and, as per usual, my Brazilian Dad has a cringeworthy film of the event (to add to the collection of embarrassing videos of me attempting to dance/sing/speak/eat!) However he has also made this video of the weekend which I will allow as it only involves a bit of me making a fool of myself! On the way home from our weekend away we stopped in a place called Jacaré (alligator!) where an amazing saxophonist plays on a kind of canoe/punt while the sun sets. It was even more beautiful than the photos suggest.

Me loving life with an accordian-playing-alligator

Since my last blog I have started helping at a different project in a community called Barra de Jangada. I help there on Monday mornings and sometimes Wednesdays too and so far it's been a really great experience. The children are amazing and in the words of one of the little boys this morning the project is a huge "bênção" (blessing) for all of them. One of the highlights of my time there so far was on Monday when some of the children (who range from 6 up to 12) shared little bits of testimony, stories of how they've seen God working in their lives and their family's lives. Many of these involved their family's lives being transformed out of situations of homelessness, and/or drug and alcohol addiction through coming to know the forgiveness and love of a God who has the power to completely change lives. I shared with them a bit of how God has worked in my life too. There was also a really moving moment when one of the little boys gained his first ever Bible, which he was so so happy about and when the other children had the treat of watching a bit of a film, he chose (and was so excited) to sit and read this new Bible instead. A big challenge to the way in which I approach reading God's word!

Some of the children playing football at the project in Barra de Jangada - I keep trying to play too but it is
 so so hot and being put to shame by incredible Brazilian football skills. Also not quite mastered barefoot playing
on lots of stones yet so Im just the awkward bright red one trying to play in flipflops and sunglasses!

One of the classrooms in Barra de Jangada - this morning the children had a lesson
on writing Portuguese plurals, which was so useful for me too!

On Sunday I was running the teenagers group with a friend called Rafael. I was slightly concerned that it was all going to descend into complete chaos as my plans included a play in which Rafa got covered in ketchup, egg, flour, yogurt and caramel sauce! It went well though - Rafa knows just what to say to get the teenagers' attention and as predicted they loved the chance to cover him in food!

One really exciting thing from this week has been an exercise class starting up with women in Porta Larga (the community where I'm working). Judith ran one in the past and decided to restart it, after the funeral of pretty young lady in the community a few weeks ago and a reminder of how little awareness of a healthy lifestyle there is. The first class was on Monday and went really well. Six women came (and one of their little girls who at about 4 had better coordination than me!) Judith runs this with a exercise video and it took place in a little Anglican church on the edge of Porta Larga that started up 2 years ago. The Pastor was lovely and so happy to see the building being used for the community, if you're a praying person please pray for this class, that it would bring a better awareness of a healthy lifestyle and be a great way to reach out to women.

Also, this is old news now but the Christmas tree went up here (ON THE 25TH OCTOBER!) which is pretty exciting. We also have two wreaths a snowman and a Nativity scene. Christmas is coming :) I tried (and pretty much failed!) to capture the strangeness in this photo of a Christmas tree beside a hammock looking out at blue skies and a very hot beach, however you get the idea!

Despite all these exciting things, there has also been really sad news this week. Yesterday little Lara Isabel, the daughter of one of our pastor's at church, died at just 21 days old. You might remember from one of my past blogs that she was born very prematurely (at not quite 6 months) and after fighting for 3 weeks she suffered 2 heart attacks earlier this week. Please pray for her parents, Rodrigo and Darlane, and for the church at this time.

I hope things are well with you, please keep in touch, I would love to hear from you and thank you so much for all your emails, skypes and letters. It makes my day when the Porter of the block of flats gives me post!

Lots of love from Flo (to keep up the name updates the latest name that a few people have gone for is Flor da Caribe (Caribbean Flower!!) No idea why, but it sounds exotic so I'll just roll with it! xxx