Dr. Jekyll + Mr. Hyde.

Tuesday, July 31, 2012, 2:05pm, Favela de Complexo do Alemao.

One classroom, two Professora Verdugos.

Subject? English.

Students’ ages? 9 – 61, of course.

You can guess how the rest panned out.

When we bid adieu last Friday to the only other volunteer (aka English teacher) in the favela, we should have known we were in trouble. Despite our lack of experience Diana and I eagerly agreed to pick up his English classes in addition to our Sustainable Jewelry sessions. Fast forward to today, and somewhere between Wanderson leaping across the room barefoot singing Justin Beiber, Juliana spreading her entire makeup collection on her desk, 61-year old Alice trying to give us her 5-generations of family history, and 14 year old Aline arguing on her smartphone with her 28 yr old boyfriend - all while trying to teach - I realized that the honeymoon was over.

diana trying to man the fort.

abandoned desks, abandoned havaianas.

new professors in charge.

We were not even half-way into the two hour favela-based English class, only describable as mayhem, and I was starting to question the way things were going. Had I over idolized the students? Had I too quickly given them too much credit? Were they truly motivated after all? Do they only care about JB (refer to previous post)?

On the length of the entire commute, from the 484 bus ride to Bonsucesso stop, then past 5 teleferico stops deep into the favela, Diana and I were organizing and structuring our lesson plan for the day. Both of us have a fear of teaching, especially language. Heck, until recently we both even had a fear of kids (exception: stinky little Parisian princess). So to combat these “fears” we thought we would prepare, and prepare we did. Lesson plans, games, class outlines, print-outs, stickers, rewards (aka American candy)….you name it, we had prepared it and brought it with us to class today. The result? Refer to the aforementioned situation.

By the end of what I can only call two hours of torture, Diana and I got to the “Just eff it” stage. Before I knew it we were all eating (undeserved) american candy bars, singing Adele at the top of our lungs and getting makeovers from Juliana. Class dismissed.

eff it, we're singing.

eff it, give me a makeover. blue eyeshadow and all.

On the bus ride home Diana and I, both feeling quite defeated, barely spoke. All I could think about was the long run down the Ipanema coast that I was going to take when I got home. Since I’ve been in Brazil I’ve found a new [sort of] love for running and find it’s the best way to clear my mind after a crazy favela day, get some perspective on life, and just take in the beautiful views (oh yeah and help me train for the marathon that I was somehow coaxed into running this September in Berlin). Anyways, got home, changed as fast as possible and within minutes was out the door running. About 15 minutes in when I started to feel more relaxed and quite invigorated when a bus driving by caught my eye...."JULIANA BUS" it read. I stopped in my tracks, almost tripped myself and the jogger on my heels to take a bberry pic of the sign for Juliana. "OMG! She would LOVE it!" I thought. Whoa. Guess I take back all of those words I said, ok thought, over the past few hours. 

My passion to snap a pointless pic of a dirty bus (aka my new and undying love for the students) got me thinking about them and their behavior. How could the situations make for such polar opposite outcomes? How could such little angels so quickly convert into little misbehaved devils? So strange it all was....same classroom, same teachers, same students, totally different behavior. They truly are amazing and driven little creatures. REMARKABLE how their behavior can change so much from one subject to the next. Then I started to see that it all boils down to passion. They [kind of sadly] don't have much interest in learning a foreign language, but now it was even more apparent to me that they [super amazingly] are MADLY PASSIONATE ABOUT FASHION. Their tremendous variation in attitude between today and yesterday verified that to the power of 1000. Guess that just means we have to keep working as hard as we can do to whatever we can to help them realize these big fashionista dreams. And that I won't waste another day (or bag of candy) helping them in any other way.


beijos,
Julie [+diana]


P.S. but no regrets from today, us Verdugos are famous for having to learn the hardway anyway.

We might be wrong. [and we like it.]

I’ve never felt so alive in my life.  Ok, top three days in my life.  Pretty sure we got slapped across the face about 6 times today with the reminder that life is INCREDIBLE in every beautiful and horrible way possible.  So Julie’s posts have left me drooling and glowing with pride, empathy, sympathy, super-charged, inspired…but will have to admit that her post regarding throwing out all she learned from an MBA is crap. Sorry Jucie.  Oh wait, shoot, hmm I take that back. I think she was completely correct...on that day.  But today we experienced the very contrary, which is the beauty of this rollercoaster ride.  Proving yourself wrong is one of the most humbling exciting things you can do. Like when at 12 yrs old Julie learned tuna fish wasn’t evil, or when we both realized Germany was actually cool (oops), or even that Favelas do need MBA minds.  Sometimes.

Well today was full of proving ourselves (and our colleagues, for the matter) Wrong and it was lovely. Actually, to brag, we achieved Reallllllllly exciting jumping-for-joy milestones today, getting leaps closer to our mission to make a sustainable difference in the community of Complexo Alemao and it feels like we’re at the free-fall part of a sky-dive.  It feels like a drug.  

Today I met a guy.  Julie warned me of this, as she worked with him last week, but from the 10am introduction to our 10pm goodnight, I wanted to strangle him, marry him, share a peace pipe with him, then roll him up and take me home in my [garbage-filled] bag.  Think Isaac Mizrahi+”Just Jack” from will&grace+Joan Rivers+Anne Frank+Mother Teresa = JoseIlton Barros, (or just Ilton = EEW-TOH), THE designer of “Fashion Lixo” (translation: Fashion Garbage, pronounced: FAH-SHOWN LEE-SHOE) of Complexo Alemao who has prided himself in creating head-to-toe runways looks just out of trash in the community.

Tah-dah! Presenting Ilton of Fashion Lixo

In Tia Bete’s School/Centro Cultural he teaches classes of transforming garbage into runway fashion and also modeling.  Though Vogue or Gucci or NY Fashion Week might as well be Euskera to him, he magically manages to not only harness a vision of changing the world through Fashion Lixo, but also projects this vision onto the young, green, wide-eyed kids of the favela, who he desperately wants to offer the future and opportunities he never had growing up there.  For this reason, out of the classroom he's a teddy-bear, inside the classroom he's a drill sergeant. Example of his Vision: He is creating an event this November with 150(!) looks dressing models (kids included) in the runway of Complexo Alemao, head-to-toe Fashion Lixo. ONE HUNDRED & FIFTY looks!

The day was mixed with jumping in on his fashion lixo class, a modeling class, an inspiring talk with Tia Bete and a eye-popping lunch with Ilton, learning all about his background of tragedy (Rated R example: images of body parts scattered on the street get in the way of him wanting to eat meat.) and accomplishment (being the first person from Complexo Alemao to secure a job outside of the Complexo, in Copacabana AND get promoted), explaining how as he had one foot in and out of the Favela he understood that there was a life choice for him and he felt a responsibility to share with the rest of the community who couldn't begin to conceptualize it.  His life story is the most inspirational and emotional tale i've ever heard, my heart felt like it was going to explode, and it just makes me wonder how the journalists of the world can write about behind motel doors of sleazy politicians or about a drunk deer that escaped in Northern Michigan.  I look at Julie and know that we are in synch with the gears in the heads spinning out of control with opportunities, ideas and emotions and we began to ask questions. A LOT of questions. And when we got an answer that wasn’t what we wanted to hear, we asked MORE.

It hit us today that Julie and I have ONE week left. ONE week to make a difference. ONE week to provide a sustainable tool-kit for the community of Complexo Alemao. ONE week to give back even a pinch of what we’ve already gained from everyone there.  Scheisse, can’t we stay longer?

With a newfound fire under our ‘bundas”, today’s conversations in portuguese between Ilton, Julie and I went a little something like this:

“So, I want to call the show in November “Fashion Lixo” with just my designs for the community.” –Ilton

“Ok, nice. But the name has to be bigger. MUCH bigger. To clearly communicate it to the whole world think: Paris Fashion week, think: NY Fashion Week…”” -Brutally Passionate Gringa Twins

"Ok I know those are important fashion events but what does 'Week' mean in portuguese?"-Ilton
Oops. Reality check.

 “Ok, so the name we work on later...For collaborations we reallly need to consider collaborations with X and Y ” -BPGT

 “It’s not possible, they’re too important, too far away and they don’t usually like to help us” - Ilton

“Nope, sorry, not an excuse.  Let's meet with them this week. Dream Bigger” - BPGT

“Ok, fine, we try for X and Y too…” - Ilton

"and the sponsers? A, B and C are huge global brands that 'supported' in some way in the past. - BPGT

“Yes, but they're huge companies that invested thousands by 'decorating' the favelas with their brands and brag to their customers that they're helping out the favelas, when in reality they give us Nothing but a new empty store full of products that no one can afford." -Ilton

"Damn, OK.  So we attack them top-down and challenge them to practice what they preach." -BPGT

Maybe he's right. Maybe we’re wrong.  Maybe he’s wrong.  Maybe we’re all wrong. Maybe we're just dumb BPGT who need to get real and come back to planet earth.  But, just like all the crazy scientists we learned about in high school science class, how does anyone know they’re wrong until they try to disprove their hypothesis? Besides.  Complexo do Alemao and favela life in general has to change, and as Tia Bete said “It will  change” So with her encouraging spirit, a little compromise, a lot of understanding (and a possible new stance on anarchy) emerged a handshake among the three of us agreeing on a branding meeting, a logo meeting, an event plan, a website workshop and a goal setting meeting for this Friday.  Basically our definig moment to prove and explain the value 2 gringas soaked up in a 2-year MBA and logically explain and execute it all on Friday. Phew.

Julie made a good point last night “To think that some people sit behind a desk forecasting the 2013 budget for bugspray in the Romanian market…” Damn it feels really really good to actually know the sweat you’re putting into a job can literally touch kid’s futures.  I’m by no means patting ourselves on the back, but as the ideas from collaborating continue to strike us like lightning, I can’t help but see the HUGE potential that the cliché act of putting together a few willing minds really has to change something. Maybe we’re totally wrong.  But we sure as heck can’t know until we try.

beijos do Rio,

Diana [+ Julie]