2006 Appeal Letter
November 12, 2006 | Bahia StreetNovember 12, 2006
Dear Friends,
Instead of writing you a letter myself at this end of the calendar year, I am sending this letter written by Chris Dawson, who just returned from Salvador. Over the years, as I have watched Bahia Street grow, I have been continually moved by the community that has grown with it. It has always been that I have learned from the voices and perspectives of others in this community. This letter from Chris is no exception. I think you will agree with me once you have read it.
My warmest thoughts and grandes abraços.
Margaret Willson
International Director
My name is Chris Dawson. Two years ago my brother and I donated money to purchase a building for Bahia Street in Salvador, Brazil.If you are like me, you see a lot of problems in this world. Crime, violence and immorality are all around us—and I am only talking about the politicians. It is a frustrating and sad world. For so long I felt I was battling windmills, yelling at the talking heads on television who were not addressing the real problems, or at the politicians in power who were not demanding positive change.
I now think, however, that I was wrong about that perception of things. I now believe that the only way to make change in the world is to make change in the world. In your hands right now, with this letter, you have an opportunity to make that change.
I just returned from Salvador, Bahia to visit the Bahia Street Center. This was my first time at the Center, and it was nothing short of amazing.
(Chris has published photos of his visit on the web at Flickr.)
I called Rita when I arrived. She beckoned me to come to the Center, so I wrote down the address after some difficulty. Talking in Portuguese on the phone is still very difficult for me; I rely on being able to see the person’s face to aid my comprehension. I wasn’t sure where it was, so I went down to the lobby to ask. One of the bellboys there lived in the area, but he had not heard of the street. However, he assured me a cab driver would know, so I hopped in a cab with the laptop that I had brought for Rita.
As we got closer and closer, my worries intensified, due more to my perceptions of where I was than to the actuality of life in that part of town. What I saw was that this was a busy neighborhood, and it looked to me like it was on the edge of a slum. My greatest fear, and I think I share this with a lot of Brazilians and tourists, is that I would mistakenly stumble into a slum with no sense of my bearings. Too many Brazilians have warned “don’t go into a favela, they will kill you there.” I know this is pure hyperbole, but at that moment, these words echoed in my head.
We had to stop and ask for directions once we arrived in the general area, which worried me even more: This would of course let everyone know that I did not know where I was going. We wound up a small hill, then rolled around a small road, which descended through a small alley paved with cobblestones. The buildings were dilapidated. After about a hundred feet we stopped at the address Rita had given me. I was relieved to see her appear immediately after I knocked. The door was open, but there was an iron gate in the way with a padlock on it. She let me in. I had arrived, and safely!
I quickly found out that I had not come on a normal day. This was the week of gincana, which as far as I could tell is a celebratory competition. The girls were broken into teams of four to compete for points that were tabulated over the course of the week. There were various forms of competition, judged by teachers and visitors like me.
One of the most amusing was when six opaque plastic jars filled with liquid and a surprise object were placed on the table. One girl from each team had to stick her hand into each jar while blindfolded and whisper what she thought it was to Juliana, one of the younger teachers there. (She was also the first student to come to Bahia Street ten years ago. She is teaching at the Center while also attending university.) Most of the girls stuck their hand in only for a second before yanking it out. Everyone was laughing, and the girls not involved in the competition were rapt at attention.
After everyone had tried each of the six jars, the items were removed and placed on the table. They were all plastic toys: A rat, a ladybug, a frog, a snake and a spider. It was hilarious to see the looks on the girls faces when they saw what they really felt: the rat was mistaken for a shrimp, the ladybug for an onion, and the spider for a plant. It was also fitting for me, as I noticed the connections and disconnections between what the girls felt and what was really there. I had experienced the same thing only moments before, in the cab, my own reality grazing up against the new reality in which I found myself.
On Thursday I returned to the Center. Rita showed me the upstairs, which is still under construction. She told me how when Margaret visited the new building for the first time a few years ago, she worried because the building was so derelict that she wondered how she would tell her board of directors in Seattle. I really laughed at this, because after spending a day there I was convinced this was the best money I had ever spent in my life. Being around the girls for even a moment makes you want to commit anything to them. It is obviously a place of safety and happiness for them, and I imagine that these qualities have not always been present in their lives.
On Friday, the girls had the last day of gincana. They had a competition to see which team could jump rope the longest. One of the teams never made it past one as the girls spun the rope too fast for the jumper to enter. She was very frustrated by that. Another competition involved skits where the girls had ten minutes to make a commercial for sunblock. In the last competition, the teams had to take a song, use the same lyrics, but change the genre, going from hip-hop to classical, for example.
The last team to compete had three of the younger girls in leotards and tutus while the oldest sang in a beautiful opera style voice. She truly was amazing, and to compose the song in a few minutes made it doubly so. As she sat down, the teachers asked if she sang in church, and she responded that she did. I was asked to be a judge again for the final competition, and the sight of those shy eight-year-olds in tutus dancing while their older mentor sang alone in front of sixty people made my heart melt. Needless to say, they had my vote.
Fio and Rita then tabulated the points. Over the course of the week, there had been various competitions, and different teams had succeeded in different ways. The winning team, in the end, was the one with the young girls in the tutus dancing to opera. They exploded when they won. Rita noticed that some of the other teams were disappointed and made an inspiring speech about teamwork. She said the team that won competed as a team, was not negative towards their teammates, and supported each other over the course of the week.
I really got the importance of the gincana right there, and it was inspiring to see Rita re-collect everyone at the end of the week for a common purpose. The winners took home gold medallions suspended around their necks by a ribbon; they all proceeded to bite on the metal as if to prove the consistency of the gold. Everyone got medals of some kind, even me—chocolate medallions made to look like Canadian currency. As the girls left with their mothers or caregivers, they clutched the medals and showed them to everyone around.
I had to leave for the airport mid-day Monday, so I did not get to say goodbye after school. I knew I was going to bawl when I left. It has meant so much to me to be around these brave and beautiful little girls.
As I look out and see the state of the world, with all the wars and conflict, I see these issues stemming from two major roots: lack of education and lack of connection. Wars are permitted only because people on both sides do not know the other side, and this comes from a lack of education regarding the world in which we live. Time and time again we see that nations wage war because both sides have never learned that their enemies could be their allies and friends.
I look at Bahia Street and see that these girls, who might have before never known about the world outside their neighborhood, are now learning English; they now know about my state of Oregon. They get at least one square meal per day at the Center. They can take showers in a clean and safe place. They have advocates for their well being and mental health from the same communities in which they live.
By expanding their world, they will expand the world for the people around them, like waves rippling across a lake. These girls have also given me an education, Bahia Street has expanded my world as well. Changing the world through education is the only sure way to peace.
With Bahia Street, we have an opportunity to make a direct difference and direct connection to these young women. We get to watch them grow. Rather than sending money to some large bureaucratic organization where only a small percentage is actually spent on positive change, we get to see these girls change in amazing ways.
In order to maintain its stability, complete work on the building and everything else it does, Bahia Street needs our help, a consistent and unwavering commitment. As we connect the world and these young women, we are changing the world.
Please consider giving generously this holiday season. Please consider making a monthly donation to Bahia Street. It is so easy to change the world and make it a better place. We can start today.
And thank you for your involvement in Bahia Street!
Best wishes,
Chris Dawson
