November 18, 2012
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Drop of Oil
I was invited to a birthday party on Sunday. A well-off lady knew a family in Cajueiro Claro with 4 boys who all had their birthday around October. So she decided to throw them an official Brazilian birthday party.
Official birthday parties in Brazil include huge amounts of decoration, a cake half my size, four or five types of miniature food and drinks, and lembrancinhas for each person to take home. This one also included the Brazilian version of a piñata, which is a clay pot (slightly uncreative, if you ask me).
It was interesting to go into the community on Sunday, their one day off. Everything that needs to get done gets done on this day, especially the socializing. Everyone was out and about; all were dressed in their nicest clothing. But I didn’t feel underdressed in my shorts and t-shirt.
A group of adults were in front of Gustavo’s falling down house, a plastic table drooping under the weight of all of the different kind of alcoholic drinks. They waved, albeit, a little embarrassed. A couple of houses down, the youngest children ran to me enthusiastically, grabbing my knees and waiting for me to kiss them on the top of their heads before they would let go. Milena only lets go when I balance my bag on one arm and scoop her up.
The older children come slower, and the mothers who know me wave shyly, but do not leave their seats. There are only enough seats for 20% of the guests, and they want to keep theirs. There are two grown men at the party: the man who is taking pictures, and Vitor’s dad. The father of the family celebrating their birthday is nowhere to be seen. I scrape my leg on the barbed wire that surrounds their house as I go to get a piece of cake.
I watch the interactions, I see the children who are excluded from the party, watching from a couple of houses down. I listen to the women gossip and I am glad I do not recognize the names. I come and go as I want. I take pictures and hug and kiss and then I am off. Like Junior said, I am a drop of oil in the water, and I like it that way. Then I can’t hurt anyone when I leave. Is that what I am afraid of?
