AMAZÔNIA - RONDÔNIA, BRASIL
100 kilometers south of the State Capital, Porto Velho
Aside the Brazilian Highway BR-364 - financed by The World Bank
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The large format camera cased.
It is night.

We are all together, in one small room.

It is hot, but there is a birthday cake and soda pop.

This day:  The Day for the Children - O Dia para as Crianças.

More children, and adults, then I can count, in this small room.

With dark thin walls of  rough sawn forest wood, a floor of lose brown dirt, and above - hanging down, tied to fresh arching white strings, pulled down by their airless weight and thin rubber walls - numerous and ethereal, bright white balloons.

It is night, special and, it is hot.

In this room is a plain wooden table with  some votive candles all lit and burning.  On the table is a single sheet of paper, with blue lines, with the names of the children, the children here now, and a few others who have the malaria and could not attend the party.

Before me I watch the oldest man, a few day's growth of gray beard, the youngest thing about him - a sun tanned face.  With serious eyes framed by salt and pepper eyebrows, all askew.  He is wearing his best white cotton shirt, with collar tips pointing various directions.  Carefully and slowly he removes an old and well worn leather bound Portuguese Family Bible, carried to this occasion in a small white and very wrinkled plastic shopping bag.

A propane lamp envelopes the room with it's hissing sound and bright white hot light.  We are here, gathered, at this house, because - they have that lamp.  It is the only one, around.

He turns the pages, by groups, slowly and then finding his page, pauses.  The room is silent, all are watching the old man.  Only the hissing of the lamp can be heard.  Then, he, the elder, begins to speak, reading from the book of ISAIAH.

Behind him, on the wall, is a pair of worn and well used chromed scissors hanging by a rusty nail, their blades hanging open.  And to the right of these and slightly below, a agricultural business promotional give-away calendar - with color photos of  bright and shiny-new red farm equipment all parked and stylishly photographed - surrounded by tall, lush rich green grass.  These things are the only things, on the thin wall of wood.

He reads, (FROM ISAIAH 32.9-10):  "You women who are so complacent, rise up and listen to me; you daughters who feel so secure, hear what I have to say!"

"In little more than a year you who feel secure will tremble; the grape harvest will fail, and the harvest of fruit will not come."

Various readings continue.  Later, a prayer.  The service is ended with the singing, accopello style, by all, of  Ave Maria.

The service is over -  the party can begin!

The room is now large with sound, conversation - music from a radio!

Later an accordion is uncased.  Three men take turns playing it, all excellent, each with his own style - the style of the area (Brazil), he immigrated from.

Earlier, we had made a few trips, I drove, as for most it was much to far to walk.  Over 30 immigrant farmers, each time, were picked up aside the highway - BR - 364, some having walked some way to gather there, aside this infamous road.  Then climbing into the back of the large Toyota Bandeirante truck, until it was filled, shouting: "senta, senta!", those that couldn't get on - made the next round.

These people, all immigrants - who have nothing - are cutting down and burning, everything, that was and is here.  And here dates from the dawn of Creation.  It will not come again, this not a rehearsal - it was created.  Now, The Creation Myth reversed.

There is a drought, now, in the Rainforest.
 

And. They are planting.  Again.
 

They are the heroes - (of the situation).  I love their hearts and have shared their coffee and prayers; cake and soda pop.
 

These photographs are for them.
 

Lee Clockman - Photographer
Ranchos de Taos, New Mexico