EduAction - Maracanaú

So the real reason I´m in Brazil, is to take part in a nationwide education project that is present in 5 cities across Brazil; Porto Alegre, São José dos Campos, Soracaba, Recife and now... Maracanaú, Ceará. It is a Corporate Responsability iniciative financed by the steel manufacturing giant Gerdau that aims to bring the themes Multiculturalism, Sustainability, Social Responsability and Entrepreneurism to Brazilian public schools. 


The Brazilian school system is divided between public and private schools. Suffice to say that those who attend public schools have much poorer chances in life. Many only send their children because they are guaranteed to receive a meal there. Their parents work long hours and they have little hope of breaking out of their cycle, their city. So we bring the world to them. We open their eyes to a whole range of issues they never thought they could be a part of. And they absolutely love it!

Maracanaú is 16km from central Fortaleza and often described as it´s poor relation. The urbanization of the capital spread and many industries built factories in Maracanaú, resulting in a huge concentration of inhabitants in an area poorly equipped to deal with the demands for healthcare, housing and infrastructure. Today there are an estimated 17,318 families living in poverty in Maracanaú. 


Considering my culture shock when I came to Fortaleza, Maracanaú was even further off my radar. Dusty plains stretch out for miles, cows meander along dirt tracks, the higgeldy piggeldy houses are bolted shut with wrought iron gates... it´s not the safest place to hang about. But the schools are alive, like little pockets of activity in a strangely deserted neighbourhood.

I was pretty nervous of them at first... I had visions of classrooms that were falling apart, kids running riot and being disinterested in anything I had to say. But I couldn´t have been more wrong! The schools seem to be the pride of the town. Their means are small, but the local government seems to be doing its best to provide these schools with the basics, and even a little more. Most of the schools have a little library in which we teach, with a working projector or DVD player, so the subjects we teach can really come to life.


What struck me most is the pleasant atmosphere the schools have. Everywhere you look there is a mural to welcome you to the school...

or an inspirational phrase....

The school uniform is a simple but effective...

... and the kids are immaculately behaved! Lets hope it stays that way...


I´m working with two fantastic boys, one from Argentina and one from Colombia. Our first lesson was a presentation of our cultures, followed by a discussion of what culture means to them. We talked about their culture and they produced some beautiful collages of which they were all very proud.

The funniest thing is how they treat us like celebrities... we´ve actually given out autographs! It´s customary for younger children to call their teachers "Tia" and "Tio" (Aunty and Uncle) which is pretty adorable. They want to hang about at the end chatting and taking photos, asking us all about our countries (Do you have computers in Argentina?). Some even attend the class again because they thought it was so much fun. 


I needn´t have worried whether this project would really make a difference. After only a few days I can see that we have bought something new and exciting into their lives. Even when my alarm goes off at 5.45am and I struggle to open my eyes, the thought of spending the day with such delightful children gets me out of bed and onto that yellow bus to Maracanaú.

Sounds of Ceará

If there´s one thing Fortaleza isn´t...it´s quiet.

It didn´t take me long to realize that Brazil as a whole is in an eternal state of construction. The World Cup and Olympics are fast approaching, so it´s time to finish that metro that has been 10 years in the making (not even an exaggeration!) and improve the rugged roads. The clang and drill of this work seems to be inescapable when I´m asleep... but when I´m up and about the sites are deserted... and boys play football in the closed off lanes.

The Presidential Elections are also soon upon us. How do Brazilians disseminate propaganda? Why, by strapping sound systems to a car emblazoned with photographs of the candidate of choice and playing jingles at an ear splitting level whilst circulating the city, of course!

When at home, if the television or radio is on, it must be on loud - regardless of whether there is another set blaring out from a different corner of the house. In the streets, dogs yap, women gossip with their neighbours, and scold their disobedient children.

It´s all in good humour though - the noise is just another facet to the Brazilian´s unshakeably cheerful lifestyle, it seems to go unnoticed as they bustle about their daily lives. I just tend to turn the volume down when noone´s looking.

Friday Night Forró

Learning the local dances was top of my to do list in Brazil. So when I was invited to go to Kangalha – the home of forró on Friday nights in Fortaleza, I was more than keen to give it a go. Little did I know that it would be one of the richest cultural experiences of my trip so far...

As we approached the entrance I was astounded at the throng of people jostling to get in. Everyone seemed to have been waiting all week for this moment – girls looked glam in shorts and high heels; men looked fresh in crisp shirts and smart shoes. As we passed through the wooden turnstiles we found ourselves in a huge open air arena, already alive with revellers. Barmen carried plastic tables above their head and set them down randomly to accommodate new arrivals. Chairs were not necessary; everyone was already on their feet. The first band was already playing on the stage, filling the air with the unmistakable rhythm of forró.

At first, I was content to watch as the place filled up, in awe of the couples already in full swing, stepping from side to side, their bodies fused tightly together, swaying their hips the way only Brazilians can. I wanted to learn to feel the beat the way they did… but I had no idea how to, I might as well have been carrying a watermelon.

After meeting up with our group of friends and a few large shots of cachaça, I was ready to give it a go. The place was now packed and the crowd was undulating to the beat, singing at the tops of their voices. Everyone was drunk on forró, the atmosphere was electric. Leandro, a self confessed forrozero and the friend who had extended the invitation was my first teacher – the basic side to side movement wasn´t hard to master, but making my hips move in the right direction was! Once I had started I didn´t want to stop and was soon dancing with all and sundry, loosening up, learning to turn… often getting my arms in a muddle… but loving every minute all the same.

The music went on and on, but I didn´t notice the hours pass. The bands got louder, the crowd got livelier and the dancing got wilder. The edges of the arena were lined with food stalls, clay pots steamed with crème de galinha, arroz and feijão. The girls loos were chaos – there was no room for privacy – doors opened and shut with urgency, girls climbed over each other to reach the mirrors and soap, all eager to get back outside to the party.

The sky above the area was gradually getting lighter when we decided to head home. My feet were black, my legs were aching, my head was spinning, and I had had an amazing time. I truly felt like I had been slap bang in the middle of North Eastern culture and will be going back for more very soon.

Culture shock

After four years of studying Brazilian culture, I thought I was pretty clued up on how my life would be out here. I already spoke good Portuguese (albeit with a strong European accent), I already adored Brazilian food and I was more than familiar with the history, literature and music. I thought I was the epitome of open mindedness, heading somewhere where I´d take to the everyday life like a duck to water. But nothing can prepare you for the day to day challenges when you find yourself over 4,000 miles from home.

Funnily enough, it´s the little things that you don´t think twice about at home that prove to be the most exasperating. Why must you buy a card to use a payphone here? Why can´t I take money out of any ATM? And why don´t supermarkets stock tampons?  I suddenly found myself in a very different environment – one that I couldn´t control.

Control is the key word here; I´m a bit of a freak for it, ask any of my friends! I like order, organization, punctuality and efficiency. But what I´ve always considered to be a virtue in England, has become the most frustrating vice in Brazil. Here, there are no plans, and if there are, they will be changed at least twice. If a meeting is scheduled for 6pm, it is perfectly acceptable to arrive at 7pm, if at all. You can spend an age wandering around without actually going anywhere; hours can be spent talking without any conclusion being reached.

Time and time again I found myself angrily asserting how much easier life was in England. That´s when I realised that I was being the exact opposite of open minded. I was being thoroughly ignorant. Ethnocentric, if you will. I was getting worked up because I considered this behaviour to be wrong. But it isn´t, it´s just different. Culturally different. Isn´t that what I´d come here to experience? Would things be any fun if everything operated like it does in Europe?

With lack of organization comes great spontenaeity. The most wonderful experiences I´ve had so far have happened by simply strolling into the right place at the right time. I´ve seen a traditional forró band play in a tiny bar crammed with locals sipping Skol.

I´ve seen a band of dancing cangaceiros, turning and stamping and brandishing their rifles.

I´ve seen the local samba school rehearsing in a park...

 ...and taken an impromptu ride on a jangada at Cumbuco beach.

These serendipitous moments are all the more exciting as they´ve not been planned. No wonder the people here lead such stress free lives, they´re not slaves to timetables or changing seasons. Here, they live by the motto that ´vai dar tudo certo´- it will all work out. There is always tomorrow, and the sun will undoubtedly be shining. So I´m trying to unlearn my inflexible ways and just go with the Brazilian flow. 

First impressions of Fortaleza

Just a few weeks ago I was working a 9 to 5 office job in Canary Wharf, London. A good proportion of that drab 8 hour routine was spent dreaming of my escape to Fortaleza, Ceará, where I´d be taking part in a nationwide Education project for 3 months. Now that I´m finally here, I honestly feel a world away from my previous London life.

I´ve swapped the sleek, homogenous glass skyscrapers of London Docklands for winding streets crammed with mismatched buildings painted every colour one can imagine. I no longer travel on the stuffy yet smooth London Underground, but on bumpy buses that clumsily negotiate the wildly uneven city roads. The temperature barely drops below 27 degrees – and that’s only at night time. During the day the sun beats down mercilessly on this North Eastern city, cooled only by the tropical breeze from the sea.

The sweeping coastline caressed by turquoise waters is of course the most beautiful sight this city could offer an English girl like me, whose beach life is normally limited to a few afternoons on Brighton Pier every year. The hot air is thick with forró and samba, and the pavement is lined with locals selling handicrafts, clothes and coconut water.

Like London, Fortaleza is a city that bustles – but it is a much earthier bustle than that of the English capital. It is cries from street vendors, sand between our toes, dust in your eyes, the roar of interminable traffic and the heat of a population on the move.

A makeshift church crowns every corner, adorned with proclamations of faith “God does the impossible!” The lettering is bold, but the faith is bolder. Lula´s favoured successor Dilma smiles down from countless billboards – a smile that is likely to grow wider come October. Green and yellow streamers flutter from telephone wires and barefoot children chase each other through the dusty streets.

I´ve already tried several of the local delicacies, and fear plans of trimming down for the photo album won´t be so easy to accomplish. Tapioca is by far my favourite (especially when layered in chocolate) closely followed by skewers of chicken hearts eaten straight from the grill.

After only a week I´m so excited for the discovery and adventure to continue. I was to explore every nook of the city, to stroll along every beach, to learn every dance to every song, and absorb the culture of the North East.