Favela Freedom

Rocinha was situated on a mountainside south of Ipanema. The condominiums of Sao Conrado stood imperious below it, the richest and poorest of Rio de Janeiro sharing the same premium ocean views. Little boxes stacked upon each other like a lego castle, climbing the mountains that rose up either side of the favela. Thick clumps of electric cables hung at head height in the narrow alleyways. There were shops, restaurants, supermarkets, bars, schools, gyms, laundries; all packed into tiny streets, cluttered upwards. There were people everywhere. Mopeds and motorbikes roared about the streets. I had to keep my eyes on Zezinho who was walking ahead of me. If I lost him I was sure I would be stuck in the favela forever. At first glance Zezinho was as gringo as I was. He was quick to assure me he was born and bred in the favela. He didn’t see Rocinha as a drug-infested, dangerous slum. You had to look past the guns, the drugs, and the rocket launchers that could be seen on the streets, and see the community. People lived on top of people. They shared the same grievances. Everyone was poor. However he rushed to distance it from the cardboard kingdoms of Indian slums. Here they had houses, electricity, water. The Comunativo, the gang that organised Rocinha, had set up free internet in some areas. The majority of people worked, whether they were a shop owner, beach hawker, or bus driver. Within the community reputation was integral. At times this was more of a deterrent against crime than the punishments of the Comunativo. If one was to steal their hand would be shot, cut off or burnt depending on the severity of the theft. You can imagine what they’d do to a rapist or murderer. As a result, crime was not a problem within Rocinha. Zezinho told me that the favelas were growing faster than Rio. They were taking over. Soon Rio would need to dispel the segregation between the favelas and the rest of Rio and integrate. Soon Brazil would have to recognise the existence of the poor.