Diamonds, Poverty and Magic


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South America » Brazil » Minas Gerais
September 17th 2006
Published: September 17th 2006
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I left Diamantina headed toward a point on the map- the city name was in bold which meant that it was a muncipal, larger then a village, but smaller then a city. It appeared to be a short distance on the map, so needless to say, 3 hours later chugging along a dirt road, I realized it might be more then I bargained for.

After arriving I sought out the local pousada and wandered a bit around town. The place was dark and empty, and the people I passed on the street (some on foot, many on horseback)stared at me with curiousity until I greeted them. Eventually I found my way into a bar to get some food and thus began to meet the city.

The city of Inhaí is hard to explain. Many Latin American authors use the style of magical realism to tell their stories, wherein fact and fiction blend together in a indistinguishable mesh. But now I believe that this is not a literary device, but a reality in certain places. So I'll attempt to tell you what I know about Inhaí in such a manner.

Inhaí sits about 70km outside of the UNESCO site of Diamantina. The city is 40km down a dirt road, and is accessible by two other roads, however, only by motorcycle or horseback (only horseback on one as the bridge collapsed recently). The road is a winding path through mountains over a dusty red road, over the Rio Jequitinhonha and nestled between a few other rivers that don't appear on my map.

The city was founded some 300 years ago and is older than Diamantina. In fact, it was originally "founded" as a Portugese man had a large estate west of town and the town itself was the location of the slave quarters. As was the custom, many of the slaves escaped and formed "quilombos" in the surrounding area. All of the residents were born here (or born in Diamantina, as the village possesses no hospital and has no doctors), their parents were born here, their grandparents were born here. In fact, everyone I talked with could not recall a relative that was not of the city. Almost all of the residents are black and can tell me of a grandparent that was a slave (one of the white women in town's grandmother was a slave owner). The surrounding area still has evidence of the past. Close by is Morro do Veado which is named for the petroglyphs - a giant drawing of a deer painted onto a rock - that have been there as long as anyone can recall. There is a cross high up on Morro do Cruzeiro which is believed to have been put there by the slaves.

In a center of the city sits a church (there are three churches in town, the Catholic church, and two evangelic churches, although everyone in town is Catholic). The church was built for the Portuguese colonist who constructed it so it would be close to his residence. Estimates vary for the date of construction - some say 100 years, some say 300 years. It is even said that the painting inside the church was done by the famous Aleijandinho. For many years the church contained an ornate image of a Saint, ordaned with diamonds and gold, but this was stolen some 10 years ago, and now sits the current image. It is said that bodies are entombed beneath the body of the saint. The image of the Virgin Mary cries every Saints Day, and has residual markings from the tears. There is an abundance of antique objects inside the church - chests from Portugal filled with century old clothing used in processions. In the tower above of the church is a bell that must have forged in the 1700s, still used for services. However, it must never be rung three times in succession, or the ringer will turn into stone. Below sits a veranda - once a pastor fell during a service, bashing his head on the rocks below - the exact spot where he sits entombed in front of the church. The area around the church is full of graves, some still marked. A small wall sits in front of the church. In years past the wall was must taller. But a pastor of the church came to town who his disliked by everyone. Eventually, the people of Inhaí succeeded in sending him away. But before he left, he placed a curse on the town - the town would never move ahead and who would forever have bad luck. The wall would slowly sink into the ground. And today it sits at waist height.

Almost the entire population of Inhaí that remains works as galimpos (miners) as they have since colonial times. Today the work involves large machines (bombas) that extract that bottom silt of the river, that is then agitated with large metal balls that break apart everything excluding the diamonds. The work has completed devastated the river, which now extends over a wide area and posseses many deep lakes (that have already taken two lives). In addition, the machines pollute the river - kicking up dirt into the river, turning it into a muddy brown and dumping oil from the machines into the water. Months ago, the environmental agency, IBAMI, levied a R$30,000 fine against the owner of the land. Diamond mining may still be practiced, but under regulations in which the silt must be replaced, thus requiring a much larger overhead that makes it not worth the while. It is said that the era of the galimpo is at an end. Now many are turning to crystal extraction - men, woman, and children head up into the mountains and dig giant holes to pull crystals, of which varying quality are sold for different prices (R$45 per kilo) to a buyer from Japan who exports them around the world. As with diamonds, they are sold to the consumer for some 9 times of what the workers are paid (one woman who must have been sixty years old worked standing deep within a hole over her head, in the hot sun). Of course, this work is illegal too - only permited with reforestation of which there is none (when I was brought to the site, I was met with some suspicion that I was the police or from the agency). The crystals wont continue. Soon the demand will vanish or the government will prohibit the work. When asked what the town will do after this point everyone responds, "Only God knows."

Most of the work funnels money into the owner of the land, which is the most profitable position in the community. The town is largely controlled by one family - the father owns a large fazenda of some thousand cattle, and the river runs through it. His son, an imposing man with piercing green eyes, controls another section of the river. The man recieves a certain respect from the residents, even if he may be unliked, and he is always surrounding by a loyal group of workers. Not that he is some outsider. The family is also generations old in Inhaí and recieved their wealth in diamonds, but not without the work that weathers the hands and face. Now in a prime position, the family employs the majority of the city, paying out 30%!o(MISSING)f the diamonds found over a 30 day period (and if nothing is found, nothing is paid). Some I talked to work for 20 days straight, two days off, and then continue in this manner. The family also controls the supermarket in town (selling meat, eggs, from the fazendas), the prices being somewhat higher then that of Diamantina (which is already substantially high). If someone cannot afford to pay, they can borrow food from the market for 30 days. After this period, the interest begins to accumulate. Many in town help eachother to survive, but few here make more the minimum salary, and many make less - the poorer in town live in houses made of dirt and sticks.

Nearby the city sits Morro da Santa'Ana. One day someone was walking in the mountains and saw a brilliant light shining from a cave. Sitting in the cave was an image of a saint, no more then three feet high, christened Santa Ana. The image was brought down from the mountain location into the church. The next day it dissapear, only to reappear in the cave. This continued five times, until a priest retrived it and brought it to Rome.

During the period of 40 days after carnaval, the church prohibits many activities, such as eating meat or dancing. In Inhaí, the restrictions and consequences are more severe. For example, the eating of guavas is prohibited. If a man eats one during this time, he will turn into a Lobozombi or Werewolf. If a woman dances, she will turn into a pig. There is also a story of a woman who had a garden that was always being invaded by animals, and as a result she had an anger for all animals, and would always beat them about. On day, a curse was placed on her, and during the full moon she turns into a headless mule. If one encounters her, they need to stab her in the stomach with a fork. However, if a single drop of blood falls onto you, you too will continue in the curse. Other versions say this animal appears during the 40 days of lent.

Not everyone in town believes these stories, especially the younger. However, many of the older still believe strongly in these and others, and the younger obey the superstition (Renieverton, studying to be a priest, will not ring the bell three times). And everyone believes in the Voodoo that is practiced. In fact, many tell stories of the evidence they've found of this (candles and black chickens, dismembered dolls with figures drawn on cave walls in wine), and everyone has a story of being treated for some ailment by the Benzedanes, a type of Voodoo healer. Although I was told of at least five voodoo practicioners in town, I was not introduced for fear of the repurcussions (a name written on paper, placed in a frogs mouth, sewn shut and tossed into the river means certain death). Many of the practicioners of this type of Voodoo practice it in concordance with Catholicism (note that this is not Candomblé, another Afro-Brazilian religion - there are masses of different type of occult that are known in this area).

Many people have left Inhaí for the cities to gain work - they live in favelas working jobs, or leave for the university and to find a profession. Most here believe that the only thing that can save the town is tourism. But at this point, I was the first American anyone could ever remember coming to the region (many of the older people didn't know where or what the United States was). It must be understood that the city has no interenet, no cell phones, had no residential phone until 2001, no electricity until 1980. It has no industry to attract people, no hospital for treatment, one market and one, always empty, clothing store.

But I don't want to end without mentioning the people here. I only spent 3 days in Inhaí, but I could have easily spent months. I first arrived as a stranger, but after a short time I could not walk down the street without stopping to talk to everyone. I was invited into homes, sat and spent hours talking with strangers, while passing houses invited in for coffee, spent the evenings at the bars with the miners or playing with Caiqu, the son of Vera, dona of the pousada, brought to waterfalls and mountains by the highschool students. By the end, I was afraid they wouldn't let me leave or maybe afraid that I couldn't let myself go. A magical place with the warmest people I've met, I've been asked and invited to return (even to live there) by the locals. I worry about the future of this place. For the moment, the students at the school are working on recording the stories and sites of the town, in part to try and stimulate tourism. I don't know if they will succeed, as it sits so far away from anything. But the people there have conquered many obstacles, and I have faith that they will continue.

...

Now I'm in a city called Capelinha, some 30,000 habitants, not nearly with the same charm of the small villages - a five hour busride over dirt road passing over a grade that shook as though we were entering the atmospher left me sick and tired, but I've slept most of that off. The city is far off towards the Northeast corner of Minas Gerais, and most of the industry involves coffee growing and giant multinational Eucalyptus plantantions, miles wide and deep. The people here are just as shocked to see an American here - my Portuguese is intereperted as being from another region of Brazil, or just a moment ago, as that of Portugal. My hotel sits above a river that has been paved over, but every night bears hordes of Mosquitos, so I'm going to hop a bus shortly for a red point on the map (read: village) with the hope that they have somewhere to sleep. Até mais!

photos here

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18th September 2006

Great blog, man!
Hiya, Chris! Hey, i didn´t know you had a blog! Why didn´t you tell me that before? Man, you have great writing talent!! I strongly suggest that you save your travelling writings in paper, because they would make a greak book! I am dazzled about your comments, your personal thoughs, philosophies, observations... keep up that way, cara! And i would like to say that yes, we are always happy to receive foreign visitors and make them feel welcome here....but i´m pretty sure that a lot of us enjoyed your stay, your presence here not because you´re foreign....but because you´re Chris Kirkley, and that´s the reason all the world´s doors will be always opened to you, man. Have a great trip, i´ll check your blog everyday from now on! (as you can see, i write english a bit better than i speak...or not) É isso aí, cara!!! Abraços! Cristiano "Gaúcho"

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