Reality Rio. Favela Tours Help Travelers Bridge the Class Divide

washingtonpost.com By Sean Green Special to The Washington Post Sunday, March 30, 2003; Page E01

Naturally, I had apprehensions about going on a tour of Rio de Janeiro's favelas. I worried that I would be joining the equivalent of a 19th-century slumming party, in which Manhattan elites hired police officers to lead them through the Five Points neighborhood to ogle the other half. I thought, "Could I be such a voyeur? Am I really so bourgeois? Did I really just use the term 'bourgeois?' " As I was on the verge of an identity crisis, our tour guide arrived in a white minivan.

Favelas -- the densely crowded neighborhoods of makeshift houses and impoverished residents that dot the hills of this notoriously festive city -- are an indelible part of Rio's landscape and culture, although many would prefer they were not. The geographic landscape of the city's economic classes is the opposite of most other cities: The poor live high in the hills, encroaching on the lots of the city's wealthiest residents, and look down on the middle class, who live below. This is primarily because the city's hills originally were zoned as public land but were taken over, and continue to be taken over, by destitute families who flock to the city to find work. Consequently, some of Rio's poorest citizens are privileged to some of its most impressive views.

"I am taking you to a place where most Brazilians would not go," our guide, Marcelo Armstrong, said as we pulled into the traffic on Avenida Atlantica, where the beautiful chaos of New Year's Eve preparation was taking place on Copacabana Beach. "Rio is far more than Copacabana, Ipanema and Sugarloaf Mountain."

Now I felt better. "I'm no voyeur," I thought. "I'm just a tourist who wants to experience as much of the city as possible." After all, according to one guidebook, Armstrong's tour is "highly recommended for anyone with an interest in Brazil beyond the beaches." Of course, I wanted to experience it safely, which is what landed me in the minivan.

I've always believed that organized fun is no fun, which is another reason I felt odd on this organized tour. I prefer walking aimlessly through every city I visit. Two days earlier, however, this thinking had led me under a bridge where three young boys had encircled me, trying to grab at my pockets.

It was innocuous enough, this attempted mugging. They walked away with nothing, but I felt emasculated by their attempt. The fact that my 115-pound girlfriend frightened them off with an assertive "Hey!" and a lunge in their direction did not help matters.

Although I was lucky, no one venturing into a favela on his own should expect to be so fortunate. Permission and protection come from one source in the favela: drug dealers. Favelas operate almost outside the governance of the city. Inside these neighborhoods, the dealers fill the roles of legislature, executive and judiciary. They make the rules, enforce them and, when they are broken, issue punishment.

Armstrong assured us that we would be safe, telling us he had received permission from the resident dealers when he began giving tours of Rocinha, Rio's largest and most visible favela, 11 years ago. Nothing happens in a favela without their approval. When director Fernando Meirelles made "City of God," the critically acclaimed Brazilian movie about favela life, a convicted drug dealer approved his script and gave him the nod to shoot the film about his neighborhood.

As the van climbed the narrow road to Rocinha, we witnessed, as Armstrong said, "the social contrasts we have here." Rio's poor and rich seem to live in closer proximity than anywhere else in the world. Rocinha is adjacent to Sao Conrado, one of the city's wealthiest neighborhoods, with its white mansions strung like enormous pearls along the green hillside. The size of the homes and vastness of the properties juxtapose starkly with the labyrinth of concrete boxes that spreads down the hill, somehow accommodating 60,000 residents in its cubes and crevices.

"There is one of the city's most prestigious schools," said our guide, pointing to the American School with its "Home of the Panthers" sign in large red letters that hung above the entryway. Despite such close proximity, Rio's socioeconomic classes do not mingle. It is clear that most Cariocas (residents of Rio) go to great lengths to avoid the favelas.

One of the preconceptions Armstrong said he wants to alter is the belief that those who reside in the favelas are inherently violent, lecherous and miserable. "Poverty is very different than misery," he said as we arrived in Rocinha.

He invited us to get out and walk around, saying we could leave our valuables in the unlocked van. Robbery, he said, is strictly forbidden in Rocinha -- a mandate from the drug dealers. This is not the result of idealism or respect for one's neighbors; the no-robbery policy, like the permitted tours, is good for business: If Rio residents are afraid for themselves or their valuables when they enter the favela, they will not come to buy drugs. The added attention from the police would also threaten their trade.

We admired the works of Claudio Lezino, a street artist who sells paintings and photographs of Rio's most distinctive landmarks -- the statue of Christ the Redeemer and Sugarloaf Mountain. According to Armstrong, the stretch of road where Lezino has set up shop -- and where he also teaches local boys to paint -- is the only place in Rio where the Christ statue and the mountain can be captured in one photograph.

We next stopped at a resident's home, for which Armstrong had a key, although he said he never needs it because the door is always open. Like all the homes we saw, this one was nothing more than a stack of cinder blocks, lighted primarily by the sun beaming in through paneless windows.

The inside was barren. As with every other place we visited in Rio, life takes place outside.

Streets are rare in the favela, so most people move to the open space of their rooftops. Women hung up laundry while children chased each other around the flat concrete surfaces. From the rooftops, many of the kids launched kites of all colors, miniature versions of the hang gliders that soar down from Pedra Bonita to Pepino Beach, overlooking the favelas and the rest of the city.

For all of the city's and nation's fear of the poor, the favela residents' contributions to Brazilian life and culture are invaluable. Many of the samba schools, which prepare every weekend for Rio's famous carnival by dancing and performing in massive dance halls from midnight to sunrise, draw upon favela residents as performers and patrons to fill their venues. In addition, some of the country's greatest celebrities, their soccer players, hail from the favelas.

We moved on to the marketplace, where street vendors, mopeds, pedestrians, public buses and private vehicles negotiated the obstacles of the one-lane road that leads in and out of the favela. With so many people and so much activity crammed into such limited space, trash, sewage and the animal waste of the marketplace make an abhorrent stench. I briefly feared that I would vomit in the van. "Perhaps I don't have the grit for this," I wondered.

We stopped the van and were allowed to roam for 10 minutes. "There are a lot of drug dealers out on this part of the street today," Armstrong said, pointing south. "Be cautious of the pictures you take." We were free to photograph the landscape and crowds, but no shots of individuals.

We drove on to Vila Canoas, a relatively small favela of just 2,000 people. As he had been in Rocinha, our guide was greeted by residents as a local celebrity. We all received smiles and handshakes from the adults, and laughter and smiles from the children.

Vila Canoas seemed more alive than Rocinha, its residents more hopeful. The exterior of every home is covered with colorful tiles, part of a government initiative called Bella Favela, or Beautiful Favela. From the open windows came the sounds of samba music and, from one, U2's song, "Where the Streets Have No Name." Perhaps they knew the gringos had arrived.

We toured a school and handicrafts center, vacant because the students were on summer vacation. The school is funded partly by Rotary International and the proceeds from Armstrong's tours. Favela children have access to Rio's public schools, but they are often difficult to reach and offer subpar education. The community schools are nonaccredited schools where parents can drop off their children and be assured of their safety.

As Armstrong explained Brazil's mandatory voting system and fielded questions about the nation's new president, Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva, I watched two children play in a wading pool outside their home. They couldn't have been more than 5 years old, and seemed unaware of my presence as they splashed and wrestled in the water, laughing unchecked as only children can. They were too young to know about poverty, and they certainly knew nothing of misery.

Marcelo Armstrong's favela tour is offered twice daily and runs for three hours; the cost is about $17. Tours leave from major hotels and hostels. Details: 011-55-21-3322-2727, 011-55-21-9989-0074 or 011-55-21-9772-1133, www.favelatour.com.br.

Sean Green is a teacher and freelance writer living in Virginia.