The centre cannot hold

In the upscale neighbourhood of Pocitos, between the new apartment towers where residential space sells for $1500 US per square meter, there's a vacant Texaco station that served temporarily as an encampment for homeless people. In January, on our way to see a film at the Casablanca movie theatre, we noticed that the residents in Texaco town  had completely settled in.  Three men were sitting on an old couch that they had rescued from a dumpster, while another two were busy cooking sausages (no doubt salvaged from the same source) on a makeshift open grill.   There were foam mattresses set out on the asphalt of the former parking lot, and a few stray dogs - now pets - lying on the beds.   I wanted to take a photo of the improvised domestic scene, and vowed to bring my camera the next time we headed this way.

That opportunity came a week later and here's what I found.  The Texaco station and two historic houses adjacent to it had been totally enclosed by an impermeable grey metal hoarding, and were now in the process of being demolished.  The homeless had been forced to re-locate, a fact that likely prompted a collective sigh of relief from Pocitos residents whose expensive condos happen to overlook the corner.

Texaco station, now a building site

The house next door, a classic residence, is also coming down

Make way for high-rise urban living!

Where do the homeless go when the current wave of high-rise building projects forces them out of Ciudad Vieja, Parque Rodo and Pocitos?  The poor in Montevideo are feeling the pressure of rapid urban development and have become an army of nomads, constantly shifting from park to park, doorway to doorway, dumpster to dumpster, vacant lot to vacant lot, in an exhausting, demoralizing effort to survive.

Some have replaced down-and-out desperation with bold action aimed at creating their own place in the world.   As gentrification transforms the inner city, the poor are seeking refuge on the periphery in "cantegrils"  illegal settlements ironically named after the exclusive Cantegril Country Club in Punta del Este.  Homeless families band together and occupy en masse a vacant suburban field that has either been abandoned by an absentee owner, or is tied up in legal limbo, with no clear title.  These marginal properties are measured and sectioned off into individual plots by the squatters, who construct their own shacks, and in time, organize a neighbourhood commission to oversee the shanty town.   If they manage to stay put, without police intervention, they eventually earn squatters' rights and can take legal ownership of  the land.   Several of these grassroots groups have successfully lobbied municipal government for the extension of services such as water, sewer and electricity to their communities.  It is estimated that the growth of cantegrils near Montevideo is increasing at a rate of 10% a year.  

While the trend to move to the outskirts provides a chance for families to stabilize their immediate surroundings and lifestyle, it's not a perfect fix for the basic problem of poverty.  The more marginal poverty becomes, the more it hardens and continues in subsequent generations, as prospects for improvement are reduced by ghetto culture and isolation.  

The gap between rich and poor is becoming more and more evident in Montevideo, and as the city offers less and less resources for those living below the poverty line, the disadvantaged will be forced to move on and find their own places, on their own terms.  The hinterland slum is expanding on the horizon, establishing its presence as a permanent phenomenon; just as permanent as downtown luxury apartment buildings designed for the upper echelon of society.  

Carnaval!

 There's nothing like February in Uruguay - a whole month of parades, costumes, drumming, dancing and singing, a masked ball, and nightly stage shows at Teatro Verano featuring comedians, choirs and clowns. The Afro/Latino version of the feast before the lean days of fasting is an all-out celebration of colour, sound, movement and symbolism.   Here's a list of basic Carnaval vocabulary that I've picked up on the street.

desfile de Llamadas:  parade made up of various drum groups and performers.


comparsas:  drum and marching corps, groups of men and women who parade during Carnaval playing percussion instruments.


candombe: style of drumming originating in Africa, combining elements of jazz, tango and samba with Bantu rhythms.


estandartes: flagbearers who lead the parade


escobero: young man with a broom or baton who performs acrobatic tricks, while sweeping away negative energy.  This character represents the energy and vitality of youth.


gramillero: an old man dressed in a top hat and tails, carrying a cane as he dances through the street.  Although a senior, this character is still spry.  


Mama Vieja: an old woman with white apron, bright turban, a parasol or a fan, who dances with sensuality and grace.


vedette: the show girl, wearing bikini and high heels, adorned with feathers, rhinestones and sequins. Based on Josephine Baker and the French Revue Negre.


murga: a troupe of men who sing in a chorus, often dressed as clowns


Negros Lubolos: groups of white men with blackened faces.   In a weird role reversal,  they sing songs expressing nostalgia for their African homeland,  their unrequited love for white mistresses and the hardships of working to please white masters.

Evening show at Teatro Verano, with a huge cast of traditional characters

Estandartes lead the parade

Vedette, star of the show

Drummer in comparse

The rhythm resounds like a heartbeat

Elaborate costumes

Plumes and beads

Gramillero and Mama Vieja

Hip-hop and samba on stage

Murga chorus member

Glitter, facepaint, sequins and sweat

To give you an idea of the intensity of the event, here's a clip of the Desfile de Llamadas 2011,  filmed as the parade passed through the Barrio Sur in Montevideo. 

 

The Dazzle and the Aftermath

Instead of decorating their houses with strings of coloured lights, the Uruguayans choose a more dynamic way of celebrating  - FIREWORKS!  Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve and all of the eves in between are punctuated with the explosive sound and dazzle of petardos (commonly called bombas.)

Dramatic display

Fireworks vendors set up shop on street corners to sell a variety of products imported from Brazil and Germany.  In our Parque Rodo neighbourhood, there's a ten year-old boy who does  this in partnership with his younger brother, as a source of income during the school holidays.  Their grandmother tells us that they save every peso and re-invest their earnings in new stock for the following year.  They have become experts in pyrotechnics, and can describe the special effects inherent in each of the models they carry.   Grandma takes great pride in the boys' growing business acumen.  When we tell her that children are not allowed to buy - let alone sell -  fireworks in Canada, she is shocked.  "Your country must be very uptight," she says, casting an I-feel-sorry-for-you look in our direction.  

Held together with a shoelace, waiting for repair

From the 25th floor restaurant at the Radisson Hotel, we admired a spectacular display of fireworks over the skyline of Montevideo just after midnight on Christmas Eve.  There were bursts of red, green, gold, silver and blue exploding over the harbour, in the streets, and from every balcony in the city.  It was an amazing sight.  But the downside of this tradition was brought home to us very clearly the next morning, when we were jolted out of bed by an incredible BANG! and our power went out.   Shards of plastic blown from the electrical meter attached to the facade of our house were scattered all over the sidewalk.  Someone had apparently lit a firecracker, placed it inside the box, closed the door, waited for the boom, and then quickly dismantled the exposed, damaged guts of the equipment.  Why would anyone do such a stupid, dangerous thing?

Our friend Jorge, who owns the hardware store just around the corner, explained that the culprit's motive was to steal copper from the meter.  Copper can be traded for cash, and apparently it's common practice for drug addicts to engage in this activity as a means of financing their habit.  The availability of fireworks at this time of year makes the "copper harvest" easy.

So the adults and children who sell fireworks for fun and profit and seasonal excitement are partially responsible for a lot of damage to electrical meters in Montevideo, and a subsequent high annual repair expenditure that's added on to individual household bills.  I don't want to be a party-pooper, but I would suggest that some sensible government regulations prohibiting  the casual sale of fireworks on the street would help to cut down on this type of vandalism.  A word  of advice to Grandma: try to get the boys interested in selling strings of coloured lights next year.

The Day of the Dead - a photo essay

November 2nd is a national holiday in Uruguay, as the country celebrates "El Dia de los Difuntos."  It's not a morbid occasion at all, but a time of remembrance and togetherness as families visit the cemetery to tend the graves of their deceased relatives, reflect on their lives and pray for their souls.  We walked to the "Cementerio Central" and were pleasantly surprised by the orderly and well-maintained gardens that lie behind the high walls of the site, creating an oasis of quiet green space in the middle of a busy city.  In contrast to the rundown Recoleta cemetery in Buenos Aires, Montevideo's central graveyard offers a peaceful sanctuary that is neither eerie nor depressing.

An observance that is part Roman Catholic ritual, part African and part Aztec, the "Day of the Dead" is celebrated in Mexico, Guatemala, Brazil, Ecuador and Bolivia as well as Uruguay. In other parts of Latin America, the day is marked with picnics in the cemetery, and the Hallowe'en tradition of going door-to-door asking for treats.   In Montevideo, bouquets of flowers are placed on the graves and families gather at home to enjoy a meal in honour of the deceased.

The central tree-lined path leads to a sepulchre

Marble pieta inside the sepulchre, framed by ornate stained-glass windows

Family members bring flowers for the gravesite

A feline resident 

The high walls surrounding the cemetery contain niches for funerary urns

A ladder is provided for cleaning and decorating niches 

A yellow bird perches on a statue

A moment of quiet reflection

Birds of Paradise adorn a family tomb

The south gate of the cemetery provides a vista of Rio de la Plata