ARAXA,
Brazil – Flies buzzed around plastic-encased toilets on the edge of the
broiling-hot landless camp. Dirty dishes with
crusted rice, beans and vegetables were scattered in metal buckets filled
with brown water. Disheveled children
with dirt-stained clothing and open sores sauntered in the red mud instead
of playing.
For me, it was an
experience I will always remember. For the thousands of
poor, landless farmers, it is a lifestyle they don’t have the option of
forgetting.
In February, I had
the privilege of visiting Brazil for two weeks, taking trips to the many
landless camps and settlement farms near the cities of Uberlandia and Araxa
in the central region of the country.
I visited homes
constructed of splintered planks of wood that served as wobbly frames. Black
plastic bags draped the spindly foundations, protecting the farmers from the
blazing sun, but not from the horrible heat. This was home – at least for
now it was home. The land owners could force them to leave the land at any
time with no warning.
Strolling through
the sometimes inhumane living conditions, it was heartbreaking to put myself
in their tattered sandals. But it was heartwarming to start understanding
what it all looks like through their eyes.
The poor in Brazil
don’t want fancy cars, air-conditioning, or three-level houses. They don’t
want steak dinners at classy restaurants, video game systems, or computers. They don’t want
handouts.
They simply want to work. They want
land they can call their own. They want an education so that they can take
care of themselves and contribute to society. They want dignity. They want
an identity. They simply need an opportunity and the guidance to accomplish
this reasonable goal that most of us take for granted.
Imagine sending your
children to school in a building with bugs, a dirt floor, and mold, where students
don't have enough paper or
pencils to last them a third of the year. Imagine your children using
outdated materials as their only source of education. Imagine not sending
your children to school at all because you don’t trust the bus driver, who
has reportedly beaten and molested the children.
Six-year-old Rafael
won’t be going to school this year because of the dangers of simply
traveling to the broken down building an hour-long drive away from his
landless camp.
“The worst thing
about all of this is that there isn’t any real education,” said Luzinete,
Rafael’s mother. “It’s hard because you want what’s best for your children
and they can’t get that here. (Rafael) wants to learn but where is the
opportunity?”
Luzinete tries her best to teach Rafael, but
she has had no formal education of her own.
“It’s hard,” she
said. “It’s an endless cycle.”
Not necessarily.
Thousands of miles
away, Fr. John Quigley,
Franciscans International (FI), and
Franciscans Network (FN) have an eye on Rafael, Luzinete and the
millions of desperately poor children and their parents throughout the
world.
Franciscans Network contributes to human rights work on two levels. The
first is a direct approach, helping fund programs in Brazil which educate
and clothe the poor. The second is by having a presence at the international
level to affect standards of trade, human rights, environment, labor,
health, etc. and to monitor countries' adherence to these standards.
Before my trip to
the landless camps, I knew of these organizations. I knew what they did to
help the poor, but I didn’t fully grasp the impact FI and FN had
thousands of miles away. After seeing first-hand the suffering of these
landless farmers, I understand just how important FI and FN are, and just
how much even the smallest ounce of support can provide.
The organizations do not simply give money to the poor or send them a basket
of food. Their help goes far beyond a mailing. Instead of giving handouts,
FI and FN give a helping hand. By providing funding for teaching and advising, they give hope to
the landless farmers and to all the oppressed who are so desperate for the
most basic of human rights.
I have witnessed first-hand that these organizations have indeed made a
difference. I have seen a man who was once landless, commuting to a
university where he is finishing his law education because of the support of
FI and FN. He will then use his law degree to advocate for other landless
workers.
I have seen settlement communities, complete with electricity, running
water, and lush crops thriving simply because these organizations made it
possible through their funding and through their partnership with APR, a
pastoral land organization that works with the landless and homeless in
Brazil. APR volunteers show the poor how to defend their right to land, then
provide agricultural and spiritual support once land is granted.
I have seen the hope in the eyes of the poorest farmers, and I have seen the
excitement when they come to understand there are people in the United
States and other countries looking out for them – that know they even exist.
Traveling to the poorest areas of Brazil was a rewarding trip for me and one
that opened my eyes to the injustice and suffering people are forced to live
with every day. It allowed me to see life from a totally foreign
perspective. It gave me a sense of just how big this world is and a clear
idea about what is truly important.
And it warmed my heart to know that I could actually make a difference, that
I could actually bring a smile to a face that so desperately needed one.
