View from the favelas: Developments in Rio masked the bleak reality

The Guardian
Thaís Cavalcante

Children play in the favela complex of Mare, where promised improvements include the municipal Schools of Tomorrow project, offering children a full day in school and better facilities. Photograph: Silvia Izquierdo/AP

In her diary entry from Maré after the Olympics in Rio, Thaís Cavalcante reports on improvements that have stalled since the city left the global spotlight

The impact of the Olympic Games on the lives of residents of the 16 favelas of the Maré complex has passed, but it has left its mark. The same goes for those who visited the city of Rio de Janeiro and came across shocking everyday scenes that are hard to forget. The past few months have flown by and little by little things are falling back into place – the TV programmes, the traffic and the city spaces have returned to normal, after we were forced to look at the false “marvellous city” that was being sold to the rest of the world. I saw this as a process of change – but one of deterioration instead of the growth we were promised. Like a mask for the rest of the world to see. What the Games brought to the city in concrete terms mainly involves public transport and security. After all, if a government wants to be remembered, it’s smarter to build new things instead of developing what already exists.

In Maré, the main changes have been in early education. Without any dialogue with residents, the city government launched the Schools of Tomorrow project, with 18 planned school units for full-time education. So far, only one unit is functioning, the Municipal School of Nova Holanda. The idea of the new project is to integrate children by increasing their time at school (also helping parents who work all day), and by offering new technologies, such as computers, in the classroom, which we don’t have in other municipal schools. The space also has recreational and sports areas, chessboards and pingpong tables. I have young neighbours who already go to this school and they told me that the water tastes bad, as does some of the food. In spite of this, the school – its windows already have bullet holes – is attracting families and promises to be the new model for municipal schools nationwide.

The Avenida Brasil expressway runs right past Maré, and here the authorities had an Olympic incentive for investing to keep the city moving – it has some of the worst congestion problems in the world. During the Olympics, construction of the TransBrasil BRT, an express lane for buses, was suspended, with the promise of starting again in September. Until now, nothing has happened. Promises to invest in transport such as the BRT – which has already been implemented in other parts of the city – never seem to get very far. The buses remain overcrowded, fares continue to rise and traffic doesn’t get any better.

We did have a necessary and symbolic victory in politics, in the 2016 elections. For the first time, a resident of Maré was elected to the position of city councillor. Marielle Franco is a black woman from the margins, a sociologist with a master’s degree in public administration, and ranked fifth in number of votes in Rio de Janeiro.

It’s hard enough for black women to graduate from university here in Rio, but even more difficult to see them getting ahead in politics. What Franco represents is empowering for many women and poor people. Many voted for better known politicians, but young activists here in Maré participated directly in her campaign, and voted for her. This is the hope we still hold dear: that every person from favelas is seen for their potential, as a part of this city. We deserve to have representatives in power who have lived our reality.

After a tranquil October, November brought a return of the usual events that are part of our daily lives. We experienced fear, insecurity, and sadness. A lot of gunfire. I was left without an internet and telephone connection. I didn’t leave the house for several days. Police operations, people dead, people shot. After that came the calm.

What has surprised me most in 2016 is that people continue to search for ways to push through the crises – and the mega-events that partly triggered them. The protests, cultural interventions, occupations, online petitions and debates on the streets show that the voice of the people is one weapon that doesn’t kill. As the band O Rappa sings, “Peace without voice isn’t peace, it’s fear.”