Respect is Enough

A quick soccer update before bed. The USA lost to Brazil 3-2 in the final of the Confederation Cup. 

Yup, we lost. 

I just hung my head, heaved out a sigh, and pushed an "urg" sound through my clenched teeth after I wrote "we lost". I 'urg' not because we got smacked with another 3-0 embarrassement. I 'urg' because we should have won...we played like a world class team (for the first 45 minutes anyway).

Scoring/Celebration Recap. 

Goal #1 - Dempsey for the old USofA. 

The U.S. Scored the first goal early in the game. I was still playing in our weekly Sunday pickup soccer game outside. I heard the burst of cheering and clapping from the living room, and I assumed Brazil had struck first... and this was going to a very long game for the U.S and me. Even the other 11 Brazilian men on the soccer field cheered for the assumption that Brazil had scored. (Note that these men didn't really care about finishing our pickup game to watch Brazil play. Why you ask? The didn't need to watch. They all just knew Brazil would easily beat the USA) So when word floated down from the upstairs balcony that the US had scored - and not Brazil - there was moment of pained confusion like the law of gravity had just been broken  and the soccer ball was floating in front of our eyes. Eventually, everyone's gawking stares found their way to me and my shocked, wide-eyed smile. 

At first I didn't even celebrate. In disbelief, I just ran off the field. Without a word, I just ran up the windy staircase, through the sliding doors, and jumped over two kids so I could see the score for myself. There it was...the replay, the celebration, the score 1-0 for the USofA.  I spun around to face the living room full of Brazil fans and just stood silently with my arms straight up in the air for what felt like a minute and then ended my gloating with a dashing bow. As I lifted my head, I was hit with at least three pillows, a blanket, and the death stares of 15-20 people. 

Goal #2 - Donovan for the old USofA. 

After the first goal, the atmosphere in the living room was all giggles, teasing, and fun. After all, what is a 1-0 deficit to a Brazillian team? Then, the 26th minute happened... Landon Donovan happened...and the best US goal I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing happened. 

Watch This Now: Landon's Donovan's Goal in the Confederation Cup Final

Notice the goal starts with a Brazillian player making a bad pass to lose the ball. Notice that the U.S. countered with quick, precise passing. Notice that the goal was setup by Landon Donovan's deadly accurate and inspired first touch on the ball. Notice that Landon wears the #10, which was made famous by guy who scored alot of goals like that...a brazillian man...named Pele. After watching Donovan's goal legitimize the U.S. lead at 2-0, you had to ask yourself "Which of one of these teams is the creative, fun-to-watch, world-class power again? 

A few minutes after Donovan's goal, Geovone stated in disgust "Estados Unidos ten nao bom jogadors!"(translation: United States has no good players!) I tapped him the shoulder, pointed at the score, and said "Pergunta su goalairo se Estados Unidos ten bom jodadors." (translation: Ask your Goal Keeper if the United States has good players). This was a good and slightly scary moment to be an American living in Brazil. 

When the ball hit the back of the net, the mood in the living room turned ugly. It was silent...funeral silent. I danced around the couch and then ran outside and shouted to the heavens (and to the pickup game players) "Dois e Zero Estados Unidos!" For the rest of the first half, rage and frustration was manifested in pillow throwing, door slamming, Portuguese ranting, and (my favorite) blank, disbelieving sad faces. 

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Goal #3,#4,#5 - Not for the old USofA. 

The second half was a blur of Brazilian possession, poor defending, explosive celebration (but not from me) and pillows hitting the back of my head, which mostly shook side to side silently crying "Noooooooo!". Even Mike and Mary shed their American Flag t-shirts and showed their true colors - yellow, green, and blue - the colors of Brazil jerseys. As sad of a second half as it was for U.S. soccer, I actually enjoyed it. Unlike our emotionally volatile, fanatic kids, I can accept my team being scored on again, and again, and again. I loved watching the kids dance and sing and jump and run after every Brazillian goal. I loved them teasing me with a thumbs pointed down and tongues stuck out. I loved the boys beaming, mischievous/victorious smiles my direction. I loved all 45 minutes of that dreadful second half...

Check out this great commentary on the USA's loss to Brazil.

The above article about the game declares  - Respect on the international stage is not enough for the US anymore. we want/need to win. However, from my perspective as an American living in the world's greatest soccer playing country - the respect is enough (until the 2010 world cup anyway). 

Bia Niote Gerbs

The Highlight 'Real' of My Week

Brazil v USA

Fight to the Futbol Death 
Mars and Jupiter and Pluto (you're still a planet in my book, pluto) have all aligned and thus caused the most unlikely of series of events to unfold- The U.S. Men's National Soccer Team has made it to the final of the Confederations Cup... and to boot (pun intended) we play none other than the soccer super-power and my home country away from home - Brazil. Da Daaa Daaaaaa! 

It was a fantastic week of soccer and it was made even better living in a soccer loving country. In a house where people swarm in non-stop circles like worker bees and the shouts of tiny voices echo off the walls 14 hours a day, the only thing that can bring complete silence to the Sala (Living Room) is a Brazilian soccer game. The lil kids, the older girls, and the teenage boys all sit silently enthrawed by the neon glow of the TV. They clench pillows with fierce, white-knuckled intensity. They seem incapable of articulating their thoughts/emotions because the only word waiting behind their lips is...Goal...Goal...Goal. 

For all you non-soccer people, let me brake down the facts of the tournament and how these facts directly effect me. Early in the tournament, The US lost to Brazil in a 3-0 beat down. That was a bad day to be an American living in Brazil. I was teased and harassed by all 31 kids - even our most closed-mouth, depressed teenagers beamed smiles of pride my direction. But then on Thursday REDEMPTION...The (14th ranked) U.S.A beat #1 ranked Spain in a beautiful 2-0 upset -  Our goals came from our 19 year-old, man-child Jose Altidore and our  legit world class midfielder Clint Dempsey.  After every goal,  I wiggled and bounced with exuberant joy, kicking pillows and blankets into the air and hugging whoever (non-exuberant kid) was closet to me. Again, the kids watched the whole game in silence - but this silence was not the silence of intense devotion - this was the silence of the annoyed. Thursday was a good day to be an American living in Brazil. 

So the stage has been set...Sunday Brazil and the U.S. meet again and this time its for an international cup, as well as bragging rights (quite literally for me). So far I  have 2 bets on the game... The first is with Geovone - we agreed last night in a flurry of Portuguese trash talk that the loser will wear a Jersey or T-shirt of the other country and the loser must also say three times "I love 'other country' futbol". My other bet has some high stakes...Given our actual odds of winning, I should have just walked away and not made the bet, but my patriotic side got the best of me. If I lose we (we = The USofA) I have to buy Lobo a Brazil jersey and if we win Lobo has to be me a USA jersey. 

Aside from all the actual bets, there is the WMD level ammunition for trash talking that goes to the victor. I am not sure I can survive another month if the US loses 3-0 again. However, I am not sure I can survive another month (maybe literally) if the US bets Brazil. This is more than a game...in a very tangible way Brazilians have attached their national identity to their soccer team. In many ways, Brazil has a fascination with the US - our music, our movies, our cities, our Obama. In many ways, Brazil wants to have what the United States has...but Futbol is the one thing they have that the United States and everyone else wants to have...if the US beats Brazil on Sunday...I shudder to think about the death grips around the couch pillows because those white knuckled death grips might find their way around my American neck.  

How Jazz Discovered Me. 
I have discovered the most unlikely sound track for my time in Brazil -  Jazz. I already possessed the obligatory Best of Miles Davis album in my itunes library before coming to Brazil. I (sadly) admit that I may have downloaded the album merely as a jewel to put atop my music snob, crown...However, a few weeks ago Itunes shuffled its way into "It never entered my mind" while I  worked in the wood shop on a damp fall morning. Ironically, this song never did enter my mind as a befitting theme song for CLM - but then I switched off the grinding metallic whirl of the plainer machine, and I slipped away into the floating melancholy. I just watched the freshly cut saw dust float on the hazy, yellow sunlight that streamed in through the window. Outside the window, I melted into the yellow and orange leaves blanketed below the empty, swaying branches of the our tire-swing tree.  The delicate piano melody and the thoughtful trumpet filled my mind with a sense of tranquil bliss that can rarely be found among the screaming, giggling, crying, chatter of Portuguese...This is how Jazz discovered me. 

Flickr - I hardly know her. 
I finally downloaded the up-loader for Flickr (I love saying that - internet is a universal language) and now -  you can all visit My Photostream to get a better feel for the setting of my Brazilian adventures. I sipped coffee and watch the slide show of my pictures yesterday, and I began noticing changes in the tiny faces in the photos compared to the same tiny faces I see everyday. Is it possible that our kids have grown since my arriving here? Have I really only been here three months - or is this a Narnia thing where time here isn't time at home? I think these photos speak volumes about the personalities and atmosphere I am experiencing at CLM - I hope the multi-media experience of Jazz music, pictures, and rambling blog posts gives you sense of the dirty, beautiful, gritty, divine, grueling, joyful LIFE that has discovered me here.  

Wii -  Take that Wobbly First Step. 
Last night, Mike and Mary introduced the Nintendo Wii for the boys. I thought William was going to fall over when Mike pulled the box out of the cabinet. Unlike myself, these are not kids from a computer, video game generation. In fact, I don't think that most of them had ever played any video game system before...Watching them bowl was literally like watching a toddler take their first steps - awkward and heartwarming and wobbly. 

For the first two frames, William gawked the TV as he walked towards the screen (holding the controller perfectly still) expecting that his Wii Bowler to start walking too. He would then jump and dance - kicking his legs wildly to the sides (still holding the controller perfectly upright as the picture on the screen instructed). Finally, he turned to Mike with a look of utter confusion on his face and exclaim, "Mikey, Por que?". 

Some of the boys picked up on the games quickly and some threw the bowling ball backwards 90% of the time, but all of them bounced and glowed with the excitement of Christmas morning every time it was theier turn. "Geewiz adorable" is the only way to describe the boys as they bit their bottom lips in concentration before bowling, and then as they swung their wide smiles around the room, beaming with pride and delight because they knocked over 3 pins. 

New Kid on the Block. 
As I scanned the dinner table two days ago making sure all the kids had a plate, I did a literal double take (like a rubbery necked, carton character) because their was a new little face sitting at the table, staring at me. I blinked. He smiled. I waved and said "Oi". He giggled. And then I went looking for an adult, who spoke English... 

Below is the explanation I heard, which our director, Mary Gibson, later wrote in the weekly newsletter. A Note about Mary: Mary's catch phrase is 'no empty beds'. She is a special person...She welcomes every new, tiny face with bottomless love and open arms.  She has mothered countless children for 30 years - and shows no sign of stopping. 

We had a big surprise today.  An official from the Judge and a Social Worker pulled up with a 6 year old boy in the car.  It was Alex, Aline and Alison's younger brother.  He had been at the government orphanage and was attending a daycare.  Some family members went to the daycare and took him.  Because of the violence in the family, the officials were having difficulties retrieving him again.  The Social Worker had talked about him to me today, but never said that they were going to try to get him today.  Both Aline and Allison were in the shower when Alex arrived.  Aline cried when she saw him and realized they were together again.

These are the kind of happy - but overwhelming -  surprises that lurk around every half hour at CLM. Kids come and go with the tides of the child care system in brazil - and we all scramble to keep our heads above the water line. 

One thing I love about the modern day childcare system is the goal of keeping sibling groups together. Allison and Aline have been incredibly helpful and happy as they stand by Alex in his adjustment to CLM... It is real love and family and devotion on display. After all the short termers go home and the missionaries move on - these brothers and sister will have each other. Alex reminds of a hyper, new-born puppy that prances and bounces behind his mother - but in Alex's case he bounces behind his older siblings.

Yesterday, I played with Alex on swingset for the first time. I pulled him highup, next to my shoulder, and teased "Alex you're stuck! What's the magic word?" He glanced at this older sister on the swing next him, who mouthed the magic work for him.  He slowly turned towards me, shyly smiled, and sweaked "Por favor?". I released the swing and off he flew. As he swung back and forth, I walked around the front of the swing set and inquired "Voce gosta, Alex?". He glanced up at me and then turned to his sister with a big smile and big, puppy dog eyes, as if to say "Yeah, I like it here. This could be home."   

grace.peace.pat

Close Your Eyes and Exist

Close your eyes (after reading this paragraph) and ponder if the world around you... the computer screen, your coffee cup, and even your body...still exists. Unless the world around you consists of illegal substances, open permanent markers, or hallucinogenic toads, I think the answer you will find is YES... the world continues to exist even with eyes lids shut. 

The reason this tidbit from my first semester of philosophy comes back to me is because this week has inspired me to make a technological tweak to the idea. If Facebook, blogs, email, ichat, AOL, and Skype are our online selves - our means of seeing others and our means of being seen - and we stop facebooking, blogging, emailing, ichatting, IMing, or skyping, do we then cease to exist to the world? Has our Ethernet connected, collective consciousness somehow become more real to us than the world we find behind our eye lids? I think the answer might be YES - if you don't believe me just turn off you cell phone and stop email for the next 24 hours. I think you'll find you might actually feel invisible. No longer is the question "Does the world exist if i close my eyes?"...The question is now "Will I exist if i close my online eye?" My absence from the blog for the past 2 weeks has caused some of you to wonder if I have indeed vanished from existence. Thankfully, I have not...living in a place where the internet is a 10 minute a day luxury I have discovered that you will continue living even if you unplug. However, you will experience symptoms of withdraw. For example, I have absolutely no memory of how to write in cursive, and I am bewildered by the encyclopedias here in Brazil...I look at them and see a shelf-full of stone tablets covered with pictures of cavemen. 

So the problem with actively blogging life here in Brazil...turns out to be life here in Brazil. The thought of posting a blog post has fleetingly flashed through my mind the last few weeks, but every time the thought arises Everton jumps on my back or Gisi starts crying - or both (x15)

Here are some antidotes and updates from the past few weeks...

The Machines Are Taking Over. 

In one 4 day period, it seemed that all of the machines around me were staging a cue. 

Two weekends ago, I was dropping the workers off in the poorer section of the colony, and I ran out of gas right in the middle of a one lane dirt road. It was a sunny Saturday and the whole neighborhood was out to watch the Americano's stupidity. I pushed the van to the side of the dirty road (into a dirt yard), and began considering my options. Walk a mile home or walk a mile to the gas station...then a passing car stopped. A tall German man with a belly almost larger than his belt buckle moseyed my direction. Luckily, love actually is all around. Before I could even sputter, "Des-cupe, Eu somente falo un poc portuguese", the man started syphoning gas from is tank into a two liter. Afterwards, I shook his hand like a fool and shoved 5 reals at him. The next day, I drove Romalo to a party and got a flat tire in Mary's car. (important life lessons - car jack's are different here, but kicking a tire out of frustration has the same effect)

After the cars attacked, then the computers took up the fight. I have become the Go-To computer guy for CLM  (when Jack isn't around) because I mentioned I used to work with computers. Most of the time, I just restart the routers or wiggle the ethernet wires, but to the kids I am like the computer whisperer. This reputation feels great until a real problem arises...we were mysteriously without internet for about a week and nothing in my bag of tricks could bring the internet back. In about an hour, I knew the problem was beyond me (and i admitted as much to everyone) but ever passing day, 35 anxious faces would stare at me and ask, "Internech Bom hoje, Pat-reek-e?". I would shrug and watch their hopeful faces contort into disgust. Even the adults seemed convinced that the router just wanted more attention from me...like it was my pissed off girlfriend. In the end, professional help arrived. They whispered some voodoo into the router and poof - internet. 

I have more machine horror stories...but I leave you with this last one as the climax of a bad week. I am currently in the process of cutting and plaining boards of a new swing set at Turvo. Our plainer is beast of a machine that can slice a quarter-of-an-inch right off the top of a board. However, the plainer is all muscle - not user-friendly. Every board requires, teeth clenched grunts of manual strength to force it through. One day, after several frustrating stuck boards, I went to move this 400 pound box of metal. Instead of wiggling the machine slowly, I shoved quickly -tipping the machine over - where it landed, motor first, on top of my left foot. I did two laps around the shop before I stopped to assess the damage - my foot was bruised, along with my work ethic - and the stupid machine wasn't even scratched.   

Movies like Terminator, the Matrix, and War Games make us believe that machines will eventually destroy humanity in an explosive revolt. However if the super computers of the future are really smart, they won't create killer robots to destroy mankind. They will simply stop working and watch us wither way like pants without water. Can you imagine if all machines went on strike? Hmmm - the whole world would get to sleep in - but after that it would suck. 

Goodbye, Fair Well, I hate to say Tchau.

A lot of good byes have been said (and not said) the past few weeks. Mike and Mary have been on vacation in the States - thankfully they return tomorrow. Altair ran away and he has not been heard from since. A week later Elaine, our oldest girl at 19, was asked to leave CLM. She has had problems with violent outbursts, lying, and disrespect. I am not clear on the details of the straw the finally broke the CLM back - but it had something to do with lying and seeking out to a party. She was gone before I even made to the house for breakfast...Sneaking out to a party made me think about myself at 19 and all the parties I lied about not going to...it made me appreciate and marvel at the exhausting amount of grace my parents endured for me. Some of use learn the hard way...I think Elaine - like me - is one of those people.

Today, I learned that Marcello is being adapted and will be leaving on Friday. His new Mom (or Moms) are here today in a very strange and fast transition period. They sorta lottery around the house like people looking at animals in a zoo. Marcello is shutdown around them...shy is not the word of it...its more like the emotional fetal position. Mary does most the talking for him and he just nods when prompted. This is how the system the works...the courts make the ruling and 72 hours later the package is delivered to the new owners. The most interesting thing about Marcello's adaption is the reaction of all the other kids. They stare at these women just like the women stare at them - bewildered. I can't tell if they are secretly wishing it was them being adapted...or if they are afraid it might be them next...or if it a whole tornado of emotions are manifesting in blank stares, giggling stares, defensive stares, and longing stares. 

Next week, my Hungarian counterpart, David, returns home. This will be a sad day because David has a great "big furry bear" personality and set of grand facial expressions that render language unnecessary. The day after David leaves will be an even sadder day because all of the work that we now share will be unshared back to me. Driving in the morning, driving the workers, driving the kids, dishes, repairs, picking corn, boys' showers, preparing dinner, and helping with bed time...I am tired just thinking about it. 

A few weeks after David returns home, Edit(our nurse) and her husband Fabio will be leaving for Hungary also.  At the end of this month, Juan and Bethany and baby Caleb are taking their vacation in the States. Of all the things I anticipated being challenged by at CLM, people (other than me) leaving is not one of them. I find myself feeling more and more entrenched here as I see people come and go. Ever time, some one leaves (child or adult) the whole houses flexes and adjusts with the work and the emotion - eventually, we settle into a happy routine but I am beginning to feel like our kids must feel...that the normal routine is people leaving...people staying in their lives (and now mine) is abnormal. This feeling eventually leads me to picture my own departure and the flexing and adjusting that I will cause in the house and in the lives of each of these kids. I am looking forward to watching how David handles his last week here and how the kids handle the week after he leaves...perhaps I can learn some lesson in his departure to soften the blow of my own. 

David Beckham going to pick corn with a kiss on the cheek. 

Life here the past few weeks has not been as heavy and depressing as my blogs may read. I have had so many happy moments, silly moments, perfect memories, and wonderful gifts that I forget most of them now that I want to document their wonder. The thing is... imagine that the cutest kid you know - child, grandchild, niece, whoever - imagine that child does or says something heart-meltingly cute...now imagine that happening 20 times a day. I am like a cute addict....I started shooting up with a normal dose when i arrived, but now I need 12 needles full of cute just to get my daily fix. 

I have come to love the custom of kissing on the cheek when meeting or leaving a friend. Really only a few of the girls do this...the boys express their affection through karate kicks and punches to the shoulder in stead. The older girls would be mortified to greet with kiss - me too actually. However, Rita(10), Luana(7), and Marione(4) have started giving me a daily little pecks on the cheek when ever i have to leave them. Rita is our 10 year old know-it-all...She is a tough girl, and I like her strong willed nature - even if it can be annoying. One morning, I had to shout Rita into her seat as I drove the kids to school. I never yell and it scared me as much as it scared them. Rita sat solemnly in the back seat of the van for the rest of the drive. I watched her from the rear view mirror as she fought tears back.  She waited in the van till all the other kids exited and then Rita climbed over the backs of the seats just so she could kiss me on the cheek and I could give her my normal morning pep talk - "Apprendar Muito" (learn alot). So much was communicated in this simple gesture...her tears were gone - on the way home, I reflected on my yelling and her kiss and now as i reflect again i realize I am the one learning a lot. 

A few weekends ago, we celebrated the anniversary of the church with a BBQ and a huge soccer game - the biggest we have had yet. There were a lot of good players at the house and the game very quickly became a spectacle for everyone to watch. I have been a novelty around the colony since arriving - like a sideshow freak "Come one. come all. and see the amazing futebol playing american!" However, on this day - I happened to play extremely well. The key to soccer here in Brazil is not trying to score goals, but trying to be spectacular. I did my best Cristino Ronaldo imitation in the corner right in-front of the crowd, which earned me roar of "Ole". After the game, everyone including the pastor of the church started referring to me as David Beckham. This is probably because I am the only player with blonde hair and blue eyes - but either way being compared to Beckham isn't a bad thing - better than Americano Punto, which is my other nickname here on the pitch. 

My last joyful adventure involves the adolescent joy of picking corn and throwing it at other people. The past two week the boys and I have been taking the tractor into the fields and picking corn by hand to use as feed on the farm. The view out the endless fields is breath taking...The yellows of the fields compliment the blue sky and although it is cold - i feel warm. The best part of this boring job is watch 8 adolescent boys launch cornels and ears of corn at each other in full on trench warfare. It takes me back to fall weekends in high school and the corning warefar of Dover/Phila week. I don't know why - but throwing corn at people is an international joy. Unfortunently, I am normally the main the target...but I know the boys throwing corn at my head is their kiss on the cheek. 

grace and peace to you all. good night. gerbs.