Recife & Olinda - Family and Tradition

I know that NP is a news site, so you have to post here something new, actual, ready to make the headlines, going up and up, maybe hitting the global press, the famous media, Reuters, New York Times, everywhere, and elsewhere.  I am not good doing that, I just like to write about life, and life is not always popular.

There are many polemic themes on debate on NP, actually I was very impressed seeing that some historical tyrannosaurus are keep still in debate, some old stuff, very updated and cold, cold like a dead corpus, cold like a cold war.

Many times I found myself asking for what reason do I still writing to NP, I have announced and withdraw my retirement earlier last year, and shockingly, my Porn Filipino article is the most viewed piece I have ever published, actually, in this case, I have only highlighted. That may proof to me what I already knew, I don’t have the real gift to be a writer, not a very popular one at least. Sixteen thousand people read the Porn Filipino story; I bet that not even a hundred will hit this page tonight.

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Recife: A typical house from a typical family

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uploaded by Luiz Castro

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It’s always boring to me read news about Jewish and Arabs fighting over a piece of desert, these are new old news, that is a really tiny piece of land, minor than Sergipe State, Sergipe is the smallest State in Brazil, but Sergipe is not a desert, and nobody would spend a dime fighting for Sergipe, but with Israel and the Palestine the story is different, is a big stake, and people is passionate for the subject.

I am an immigrant, I left Brazil six years ago with my wife and two children to live in the United States, my son was only 9 years old when we came, nowadays he feels, thinks, speaks, behaviors and is actually an American citizen.  Looking to the Jewish, I have to admit, they are admirable, and how could them hold their culture, language, traditions and religion for so long living on so many different countries around the world? One of the possible answerers maybe because they did not chose Brazil to live, if so, they would be transformed, like few ones who had tried and now are just Brazilians. My mother family came to Brazil originally from north Italy and south Austria, I have actually figured out a year ago, visiting my ancestors city that the area located in the border between both countries have changed so many times it possession, that maybe depending when you born, you could be Austrian but your parent Italian (or vice-versa) and that made me understand a little bit about my origins.

We also have recently figured out that my mom’s family is Jewish, but like I said, they moved to Brazil, and in Brazil even the toughest Jewish is absorbed by the environment, so we had no clue about that particular Jewish connection means.

My dad’s family has a different history; his mom was from south Brazil, and his dad from Pernambuco, at the northeast coast. I have never met my blood grandma; she died before I was born. My paternal grandparents have always been Lafayette and Maria, my grandpa second wife.

My grandpa was in the military, as well as my dad, my first recall of my paternal grandparents were over a vacation trip to their beach house at the delta of the Rio Doce (Sweet River) in Pernambuco.

I remember a great backyard finishing at the beach and walking with my mom at the delta on the low tide, she pick one of the islands formed by the tide and settle as our dominium, our “own island”. I remember the second morning returning to “our island” and not finding it, but discovering that many others had been formed and picking a new one to hold as ours. The sand banks moved with the current forming a new geography every single day, I got so excited with this tides variation and the islands that many years later I still drawn maps with the mysterious islands showing up and disappearing from one day to other.

Later we moved to Pernambuco, my grandpa had retired and moved to his own house, coincidentally we moved into his military house, the same where my parents had met many years ago, the one that has been destroyed to become a parking lot for a shopping mall.

I was not an easy kid, nowadays I regret about that, I think in many ways I made my parents to have a lot of worries; but the good thing is that I am in the category hated by the psychologists, the loved ones. I have always had a sense of being loved by my parents, my siblings, my grandparents and friends. Family has a very special signification to Brazilians, in a very confusing country; the sense of belonging to a strong and structured family was a wonderful safe harbor to me.

Going back to Recife this year was mix of feelings, I don’t have my dad and my grandpa anymore, my grandma Maria has Alzheimer and is unable to recognize anyone, but I went to her house, I saw she sleeping and I felt the same good sensation I experimented when I was a kid, the great taste of being part of a big family, a family who cares about you, the feeling of belonging.

My grandparents’ house is a typical Pernambucan house, with a big kitchen in ceramic tiles, a great living room, a huge dining table, a veranda with comfortable chairs, an altar with catholic saints, and old family pictures. Miraculously everything in the house was in perfect shape, all at the same place, exactly on the way I had on my memories.

When I was 12 I was biking nonstop on my neighborhood and my mom was calling me for the lunch, I ignored her call for more than one hour, just because I don’t want to stop playing. When I finally got home, she was waiting for me with her sandals on her hands and that was not a good sign, I dropped my bike and run away.

I crossed Recife walking, heading my grandma house, few hours late I knocked her door and she open surprised, my grandma’s house is 10 miles away from where I lived, I told her the story, but beg for not say nothing to my mom. She called to my mother, telling her that she was driving on our neighborhood and she saw me crying, she gave me a ride, we stop for some shop and now she was calling to let her know, my grandma lied to protect me.

My mom came to pick me up later that day and did nothing about the case, I have a wonderful mom, that is why I am so regretful , days later I told the truth, mom so called my grandma and made jokes about the fraud, and we all laughed about that story then and several years later when remembering that.

My grandma now cannot even commit to memory I am her grandchildren.

During her entire life she helped many families in need in Recife, serving them with many of their necessities. Grandma Maria had also the same maid, Josefa ,  for quite a lot of years, a single mom with a wonderful daughter, Riselda, that my grandma raised and paid for education until she finished the college. Nowadays Josefa and Riselda are still living with my grandma, and kindly are caring for her needs as I could witness.

I think that my relatives are not different than any other in Recife; we are just a family people.

My brother made a great party to welcome us, we got reunited with my uncles, aunts and cousins, all that with typical Pernambucan traditional dishes, music and beverages,  and my children were very surprised how warm the reception was. They never imagine and experienced that before.

In the plane, way back home, my daughter told me: Dad, I am feeling so well; I am finally feeling that I belong. That trip was amazing; I am feeling like I have history, I feel like we are family.

Seventy years ago, the Pernambucan poet Manuel Bandeira also wrote about his childhood memories in Recife, and of course he did much better than me, like I said before, I wish I have the gift of writing, but if I don’t, at least I can provide you with a true good sample of Brazilian literature: