“The
problem could easily be solved—and it surprises me that no one has thought of
it—if the two teams would just cooperate. Whoever happened to have the ball at
the moment would be perfectly free to put it wherever they want, included in
that little netted area. That done, they would give the ball quite courteously
to the other team. That way, everybody would be happy, and the scores
would be phenomenal—can you imagine it? You’d have games with scores of 333,633
versus 975,813—and the crowd would be delighted, because apparently the big
deal is to shout “GOALLLLLLLLL!” So the entire country would get laryngitis and
could stay home in bed sipping hot tea, and resting their vocal cords—a nice
bit of secondary gain. So who wins? Well, we total up both scores, and if it’s
larger than a set amount, both teams win!”
Guess what?
Liany,
Raf’s sister and a Montessori teacher, absolutely loved it. But the rest of the
family?
Well, they
were acting a bit more like the crowd that—inexplicably—had gathered in the
lobby of the Fine
Arts Cinema, which has a little café and, more importantly, a large screen
television. And it was standing room only—every chair was taken. By chance,
just when we arrived there, the Argentinians scored a goal, and the crowd
erupted. Given that we were there to watch an opera, it wasn’t necessarily a
god sign.
“Marc,”
says María, a 20-year old who works at the café, “do you ever get the feeling
that it’s just too much, the world? The corporations and the news media control
everything, and the little people of the world are forced to pay more and more
and are being manipulated by the media into being silent and thinking they’re happy….”
Was it time
to sneak in the backdoor of adulthood and tell her that every generation has
felt that way, has wanted to change the world, has been idealistic, and when
she was older….
No.
I had spent
twenty minutes, you see, watching the goings
on in the slum, or favela, of Maré, in
Rio de Janeiro, which in fact is getting a little ethnic cleaning
done to it while the rest of us are enjoying the World Cup. Consider this
quote:
In a bid to
try and make the country appear much more socially acceptable to the influx of
oblivious visitors and dignitaries who will be flying to the country to watch
the games, the Brazilian authorities have forcibly evicted thousands of people
from their shanty towns and gunned down others on the streets indiscriminately.
It is
estimated that at least 40,000 poor people have been gone (sic) missing from
the militarized favelas; while kids were killed with impunity in the ghettos
which were then occupied by the police, who, according to insiders, later
bragged about the amount of people they murdered.
Or consider
this:
Some
in the stands vented their frustration by cursing President Dilma Rousseff,
whose government footed a good chunk of the tournament’s $11 billion cost.
Rousseff, who’s seeking a second term in October, can at least boast that the
event came off without a hitch, contrary to what many expected. “People will be
in a bad mood for a few days, but the Cup won’t decide the elections,” says
João Augusto de Castro Neves, an analyst with Eurasia Group, a political
consulting firm that gives Rousseff a 70 percent chance of winning.
I consider
María, sitting in front of me: she’s not sleeping well, she’s not eating well,
she’s depressed and anxious and worrying about what will happen in Puerto Rico.
The effect of the economic crisis is beginning to be felt: the
electric company has until the end of the month to figure out a scheme to
restructure its debt, and if it doesn’t? Will they start selected
blackouts, as rumored? Cut payroll, as feared? Who doesn’t have a relative working
for the government? She talks about her fears, and soon is in tears; I get up
to get a napkin. Later, in gratitude, she’ll bring me coffee.
I consider
the people of Maré, who are getting used to the police bursting into houses and
shooting anybody who might be a drug dealer. The people who have been displaced
in order to have the stadia for these games built. Oh, and was there a report
that stray dogs had been killed because it would be unsightly for the tourists?
Think I remember seeing that….
Being an
adult gives you experience, so I can trot out the speech that my mother once
gave, about seeing so much progress in her life. Especially in civil rights,
and rights for LGBT people, we’ve made real progress, if looked at over the
decades. So I tell María that, and she looks unconvinced.
I’m not
convinced, either. Both of the young women who spoke with me today had the same
desire: to change the world. That’s good—I felt that way too, and most days
still do. Everybody should want to change the world, especially at age twenty.
I did.
The
difference?
I believed
I could do it….
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