<a href=Brazil's War on Hunger Off to a Slow Start>The NY Times By LARRY ROHTER

BRASÍLIA — The day after he was elected president of Brazil, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva announced that his administration's top priority would be to guarantee that every Brazilian could eat three meals a day. But five months after he warned that "the hungry are in a hurry" and promised immediate help, his "Zero Hunger" program has generated more controversy than results.

The reasons for the delay, critics say, range from the new government's lack of administrative experience to a protracted philosophical debate that has slowed the opening of the program. Should the help be delivered as food stamps, a cash transfer or handouts of food? Should receipts be required? A single national menu or regional variations?

"Society is mobilized to break this vicious circle of poverty and hunger," José Graziano, the chief of the government's new Ministry of Food Security, acknowledged in an interview here. "There is a great deal of expectation, and we are having difficulty keeping up with it."

Popular support for the program is indeed remarkably strong, with affluent neighborhoods organizing gift campaigns and large companies offering free advertising, phone lines and other services. But when newspapers recently reported that a $15,000 check that the Brazilian model Gisele Bundchen donated after appearing in a January fashion show had not yet been cashed, the program came under attack.

"Bureaucracy 10, Hunger 0" read one headline. Another daily titled its report "Amateurism 1, Hunger 0."

At the moment, only two towns, Guaribas and Acauã in the state of Piauí, in the remote semiarid interior are taking part in a pilot version of the program, which has a budget of just over $500 million for this year. By midyear, Mr. Graziano predicted, at least 150 cities will be taking part in the program, with the number rising to 1,000 by year's end.

But the residents of one town chosen said they really needed greater access to clean water, not food. They also complained that they were allowed to spend the monthly payment only on basic foodstuffs, not on medicine, clothing, schoolbooks or other items that they might need more.

"We are starting with those measures that require the smallest investment," Mr. Graziano said. "But this is a long-term program with more than 60 elements."

The government seems unsure, however, of how many people it will eventually need to serve. During the campaign, Mr. da Silva spoke of more than 50 million hungry Brazilians, out of a total population of 176 million. But once he was elected, some of his advisers began using the more modest number favored by the government's statistical service, about 18 million people.

Some of the confusion may be linguistic. Brazilians tend to use a single word — fome — interchangeably to refer to hunger, malnutrition, famine and starvation. It is also not clear whether potential beneficiaries are going hungry or simply reporting low incomes, an important distinction in a country in which millions live from subsistence agriculture.

The aid for hungry families has also been scaled back, reflecting the austerity measures Mr. da Silva has been forced to put into effect as part of an agreement with the International Monetary Fund. On the campaign trail, he talked of stipends of as much as $70 a month, but the Zero Hunger effort will, at least initially, be limited to a $15 monthly payment.

In the face of the delays, Zilda Arns, director of Brazil's most successful social assistance program for needy children, affiliated with the Roman Catholic Church recently cautioned that the government "shouldn't try to reinvent the wheel." While "it is natural for people to want to present their own ideas and innovate," she said, "the good administrator knows how to look at what is already working."

But the officials running the Zero Hunger effort are uniformly critical of the efforts of the previous government of Fernando Henrique Cardoso, which in December were commended by the United Nations. Although Education Minister Cristovam Buarque has suggested using an existing school voucher program to administer the food benefits, the Ministry of Food Security argues that that plan and others like it are flawed.

"The official registry is not reliable," said Carlos Alberto Libanio Christo, a Dominican friar and senior adviser to Mr. da Silva who has been detailed to the food program. There were people on the registry who should not have been getting aid and people not on the list who should been, he said.

Before Mr. Cardoso took power in 1995, "Brazil probably had three dozen hunger and nutrition programs, which were often little more than political patronage, poorly run and coordinated, with a lot of waste and incompetence," said Nancy Birdsall of the Center for Global Development in Washington, who formerly monitored social programs in Brazil for the World Bank. "But I think that a lot got cleaned up under the Cardoso government."

Friar Christo said Zero Hunger would avoid any return to political patronage by funneling aid directly to the needy rather than through local officials. But in some areas, opposition mayors are threatening not to take part in the program, arguing that the new structure, which includes local supervisory councils, is intended to advance the interests of congressional and state deputies who belong to Mr. da Silva's governing Workers' Party.

"A ministry is not the right path" because "you create one more structure and resolve nothing," Mauro Morelli, a Catholic bishop long involved in antihunger efforts, warned recently. "Without a partnership with society," he said, "government finds it difficult to escape from two terrible things: bureaucracy and corruption."

<a href=www.voanews.com>VOA News 30 Mar 2003, 02:10 UTC

The World Bank has agreed to loan Brazil $505 million to help finance social programs.

World Bank President James Wolfensohn and Brazil's Finance Minister Antonio Palocci signed the loan agreement Saturday in Brasilia.

President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva met with Mr. Wolfensohn to explain his plans for social reforms, including a "Zero Hunger" program aimed at providing money for food to poor Brazilians. But Reuters news service quotes Mr. Palocci as saying the loan funds are not earmarked for a specific project.

Mr. Wolfensohn said he was very impressed by the Brazilian government's commitment to providing social services while addressing economic problems.

Brazil has been struggling to recover after economic crises both there and in neighboring Argentina. But the nation relies heavily on foreign investment, which has dropped because of tensions over the war in Iraq.

BBC

Brazil has secured World Bank loans worth $505m to finance its social programme. World Bank President James Wolfensohn said Brazil could look forward to an influx of foreign investment once the war with Iraq is over.

"You do not have the immediate problems that the Middle East does, or the fundamentalism or trans-Atlantic differences that exist today. After we get out of this crazy situation in the world, there could be advantages for Brazil," he said.

You do not have the immediate problems that the Middle East does, or the fundamentalism or trans-Atlantic differences that exist today

James Wolfensohn

He added he was "extremely impressed" by the present administration's commitment to curbing spending and economic reform.

Brazilian President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva used the announcement to explain his social programmes to World Bank officials and Inter-American Development Bank President Enrique Iglesias.

'Zero hunger'

He said the centrepiece of his social reforms is his Zero Hunger scheme to feed the 46 million Brazilians who survive on less than a dollar a day.

Brazilians have worried that the war in Iraq would dampen economic recovery if high fuel prices led to inflation.

Brazil relies on foreign investment which has dropped as companies suspend investments until after the war.

It has been said that up to $10bn could be available in World Bank loans over the next three-and-a-half years.

Reuters, 03.29.03, 4:53 PM ET BRASILIA, Brazil (Reuters) - The World Bank Saturday extended Brazil a $505 million loan and said the Latin American country could become popular with investors after the end of the U.S.-led war on Iraq. At a press conference after meeting with Brazil's President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva, World Bank President James Wolfensohn said investors and banks will begin looking for low-risk places to place their cash after hostilities cease. "You do not have the immediate problems that the Middle East does, or the fundamentalism or trans-Atlantic differences that exist today. After we get out of this crazy situation in the world, there could be advantages for Brazil," Wolfensohn said. He was "extremely impressed" by the Lula administration's commitment to austere finances and economic reform plans. The vote of confidence comes amid worries the Iraq war could stymie a budding economic recovery in Brazil if high fuel prices fan an already worrying level of inflation. Brazil is very dependent on foreign investment, which has dropped as companies suspend investments until after the war. The loan is part of up to $10 billion that could be available in Bank funds in the next three and a half years. Contrary to expectations the money would be used for Brazil's new anti-hunger program, Finance Minister Antonio Palocci said it was not earmarked for any specific projects.

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.