Hire
Writers
Editors
Home Tour About Read What's New Help Forums Join
My Account Login
Shop
Save
Support
E
Book
Store
Learn
About
Jesus
  

Win A Publishing Package HERE            

The HOME for Christian writers! The Home for Christian Writers!
The Official Writing Challenge

BACK TO
CHALLENGE
MAIN

INSTRUCTIONS

how it works
submission rules
guidelines for
choosing a level

ENTRIES

submit your entry
read current entries
read past entries
challenge winners



Our Daily Devotional HERE
Place it on your site or
receive it daily by email.





TRUST JESUS TODAY

TRY THE TEST



Share
how it works   Submit

Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: The Family Home (05/29/08)

TITLE: Favela Início
By May Flowers
06/03/08


 LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
 SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
 ADD TO MY FAVORITES

Eleven-year-old Márcia climbed lightly down from her hammock, and silently squeezed between her still sleeping brother and sisters. Nando was four, Juliana, three, Eliana, six, and Isabel, eight. Jacqueline, twelve, had already left and Marcelo, fifteen, had not returned home last night.

Márcia stifled a yawn while pulling on her dress. Taking an orange and a piece of cheese, she went outside and carefully sat on the top plank of their stairs, held above the ditch layered with garbage. Suspended by posts on the front, with the back half clinging precariously to the gully, their shack huddled amidst hundreds of others, with no electricity, running water or proper sewer. Reeking garbage mingled and drifted with the stench of the polluted river saturated with raw sewage. The sun splattered the sky with ribbons of color and she watched it come over the shanty roofs, bringing to life the pale blue, grey or occasional red brick shacks. A mother holding a baby filled the baby’s bottle from the river and waved.

“Menininha, you must hurry.” Mãe said from the doorway. “Jacqueline has left. Run, my little girl. Isabel, wake up. You need to fetch drinking water.”

“Yes, Mãe,” Márcia said, gulping her orange. Navigating the pieces of stair with bare feet, she hurried down the wooden sidewalk that connected the streets of the favela. Only three planks wide, held up by posts driven into the drainage ditch, she hoped it remained vacant until she got to the dusty road. She would have to run all the way, if she wanted to get the cleaning done and not be late for school.

Working four hours, then seven at school was difficult, but if she and her sisters didn’t go, their parents wouldn’t receive Bolsa-Escola, the stipend the government paid for sending poor children to school, instead of work. It amounted to Cesta Basica, or a big enough basket to provide a family of four with basic groceries like beans and rice, but their growing family needed more.

The cleaning completed, Márcia hurried to school. During the last class, she painstakingly wrote to her new pen pal:

Olá

My name is Márcia Ana Costa da Silva. I speak Portuguese and English. My início- home is in a favela - shantytown, in Sao Paulo, Brazil. Sao Paulo means Saint Paul, and sometimes we call it Sampa.

My casa – house- is made of metal sheets and wood. One family has black plastic and cardboard on theirs. Their papai left and they are very poor.

Mãe, my mom, works sewing. I work cleaning and go to school. It makes me very tired. After school, I help my sisters Jacqueline and Isabel look after our brother, Nando, and our sisters, Juliana and Eliana.

My family moved to Sao Paulo because papai could not get work cutting sugar cane anymore. He sometimes helps build houses. Some days he takes my little brother and sisters to the dump and they look for recyclables. Papai is very sad those days. He says - as bitter as jiló, a vegetable that tastes very bad. He said it means life isn’t very good, at least at the moment. We pray and feel better. Some pais cry when they have no work. They have no food to give their family.

My brother Marcelo did not come home last night. We are afraid for him.

Your friend,
Márcia

Arriving home, Márcia and her sisters were surprised to see Mãe and Papai. There was news of more murders of ‘street kids’ and they were worried about Marcelo. Many children, like Marcelo, worked in the city to help support their families, while actual ‘street kids’ succumbed to drugs and the violence of street life. Corrupt police officers shot them like vermin almost daily.

Marcelo had shone shoes since he was eleven and recently became the leader of a ponto—an area in the city where he and a small group of boys charged for parking. Many willingly paid because of massive overcrowding and heavy traffic. Besides reserving parking for customers, they helped carry packages, cleaned windows, and some less honest, stole from careless owners.

Papai and Mãe gathered the children and prayed. Heavy footsteps and a knock interrupted their pleas. The police officer gently related how Marcelo had protected another boy from a gang beating. Police shot some gang members, but Marcelo died from his injuries.

Márcia clung to her papai, as tears cascaded flushed cheeks and inconsolable sobs shook their family home.





***
Favela Início- Shantytown Home
Casa-house
Mãe- Mom Papai- Dad Pais- Fathers Nando-short for Fernando
Menininha-little girl, and can be a term of endearment parent to child.
Bolsa-Escola -Scholarship School
Olá-Hello


The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be right now. CLICK HERE

JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.


This article has been read 549 times
Member Comments
Member Date
Helen Murray06/05/08
How terrible it is that some must live this way, suffering so. It's good to remind thw world that we have some duty here.
Jan Ackerson 06/07/08
I have a dear friend who lived in Sao Paulo for several years, and she has described it exactly this way! Very good writing, and I like the pen-pal approach.

I'd urge you to re-think your second sentence. Reading people's ages isn't always compelling reading, and it's rarely important to know exact ages at any rate. "Show" their ages by their activities, their speech, even their descriptions, and let the reader imply them.

I loved the bits of Portuguese sprinkled throughout this piece, which is very rich in atmosphere and setting. Nice job.
Joshua Janoski06/08/08
I really liked the culture that was infused in this piece. I can tell that the writer knows a lot about the culture based on what has been written here. Good job!
Andrea Hargrove06/08/08
Nice. Ethnic stories are hot right now, and this one definately captures the weekly theme.
Glynis Becker 06/09/08
Lots of atmosphere in this piece and I enjoyed learning the Portugese as well. Good job!
Catrina Bradley 06/09/08
Very good writing and a compelling story.
Norma-Anne Hough 06/10/08
Very good and moving. Reminds me of how so many people live like that here in South Africa. Well done.
Aaron Morrow06/11/08
Very compelling read and brutally honest descriptions. Very engaging, I hope to hear more about this family, and the setting is made even more vivid by the MC voice.
Well done!
Debbie Wistrom06/12/08
Your details of how you MC started her day put me in the story. I would like to read more of their stories, keep writing.
Sheri Gordon06/12/08
Congratulations on your Highly Commended. This is an excellent piece. The MC's voice is captivating, and the story is remarkable. Wonderful job.
Lollie Hofer 06/12/08
Congratulations on your highly recommend. Your descriptions of the destitution was remarkable. The ending was sad yet that scene is played out in the same way in so many poverty stricken areas of the world.