I had an interesting conversation with a Brazilian while waiting for other Brazilians. My life is very full of waiting. Because, having grown up valuing time, I still feel guilty for showing up late, even when I know everyone else will be showing up late-ER.

Next week is voting in Brazil. It is a big year—not for electing the president, but for electing governors, mayors, and representatives. For those in poverty, this is the person who actually has the power to make a difference in their life—or acts like it. Voting is not optional in Brazil. You vote, or you pay a fine. This sounds absurd to my North American brain.

Brazil has more than enough recourses to become a first world country. But they are still stuck in such corruption that they continue to be a laughing stock instead. And every Brazilian knows this. And yet they elect the same people (or kind of people) back into office. Why?

“Culture determines more than we think.” My friend said. “Religious background, education, what has always been done in the past…” He values America’s strong foundation, and many of the principles that have come with capitalism. I can see their benefit. I also see that every system is corrupted by people through manipulation.

Perhaps they elect the same people into office because even if they are bad, it is what they have known: fear of change. Perhaps the elect the same kind of people because they are the only ones available to elect. Perhaps it is because they truly believe the speeches that they give that say NOW it will be different (I prefer to believe it is undying, yet misguided hope myself).

“Brazilians do not realize their personal power.” My friend added, “They have not been educated to see that the leaders are there to serve/represent the people. They have only seen this kind of leader, and so only know to expect that. Poor leadership results in a poor people.” They know change should happen, they complain that it doesn’t, but I don’t see any real action happening. I see people involved with surviving today with no energy left to think about tomorrow.

“Brazilians are the cleanest people I know,” I remarked. “But that ends the moment they step outside their door—as soon as they feel their responsibility ends, it is no man’s land.” It is true: personal cleanliness (how many showers a day?), clean house, kind, loving, welcoming…if you are in their circle. But step into the street and see the trash. The holes in the road. The street children. The stray dogs. When you are not a part of “mine,” heaven help you.

It makes me long for two things: one, to embrace and hold everything that has been abandoned. Every kitten that keeps meowing from hunger behind my apartment. Sweep away all the trash from my jogging path. Restore every broken down house. Every child, every beggar. Jesus came for these.

Second, to show Brazilians their power. Brazil is the most beautiful place I know. With more than enough resources and people to make things right. I don’t know enough about politics to start a political movement, but in know if the people in Brazil really wanted to, they could support the Living Stones programs themselves. They could reach their own people. They have that power.  

I had to register my visa at the airport in Recife, so spent the day in the city. Only rice and beans means finding new places off the grid—but Brazil hasn’t failed me yet. Since I was early, I sat under a tree because air conditioning in airports is too cold. A lady passed me by and rumbled in her purse—oh no! I thought—she thinks I am a beggar! But she whipped out a tract and walked on before I could say anything. So apparently I don’t look poor, but I do look lost.

Someone else thinks 30 day experiments are cool: http://www.ted.com/talks/matt_cutts_try_something_new_for_30_days.html

I’ve always wanted a large family. It happened when I was around 7 and only had one sister (and babies don’t count). No fun. Went to my friend’s house: 8 brothers and sisters. Always fun. What happened was I met them; the positive examples of good, large families.

So when I was 16 and I told people I wanted 10 kids (seven boys and three girls), they laughed, and it surprised me. First of all, I thought I was invincible and could do anything, and second, I hadn’t really thought through what all birth required of me. And after birth. Forever.

But beyond this, I couldn’t understand people’s general idea that large families were bad. And then I began to work in the ghetto. I began to see poverty. I went to Brazil, where I saw a man riding a bike with his wife and three children on the bike with him. I learned that they would live off of less than $2.50 a day. I saw what that looked like. I learned what life was like without washing machines and I figured four children would be a better estimate for me.

But I still treasure the idea of a large family. And if that is what ends up happening, then bring it. I am still invincible. But I also understand why so many people have a connection between large families, poor decisions, and poverty. It is true: statistics link these factors. In third world countries in general, if you have a large family, you are poor.

And when these same people have more education (especially females), and better living conditions of the people, family size goes down. (http://www.ted.com/talks/hans_rosling_reveals_new_insights_on_poverty.html) Part of that makes me sad. Because I like big families. But it is an underlying change of discipline and self-control rather than the idea that “kids are bad” that is making a difference in these families.

Not being crass, but I’ve come to see that we have many pleasures in life, sex being one of them. Most of the pleasures we have in life come with a price tag—such as going to the movies and eating delicious food. In poverty, those are all taken away. And that is beyond frustrating. What do you think is going to happen if you have nothing but you and him/her? A lot of kids.

Education is changing things because it is teaching about long term investment rather than short term pleasure. It is giving other options. It is teaching discipline. Perhaps not in the way that pleases my Christian upbringing, but it is a start. But I still like big families.

Some people thing you shouldn’t mix jogging with videos. I disagree.

My first (of many) videos to try to show a little bit of Brazil:)

Soak a bunch of beans, cook a bunch of rice, put it into Tupperware and eat it until it is gone. It has become pretty familiar now (HALF WAY HOME!). When I am lazy, I will eat cold beans with spreadable cheese and make a rice smoothie. When I have the energy, I have a whole list of ideas that I can make.

Most recent success story: ginger. I am pretty sure anything with fresh ginger is pretty great, but ginger, green onions, an egg, peas, rice, and soy sauce: yum. Not bragging; but I haven’t under or overcooked the beans or rice in quite a while. I take pride in this. Unexpected want: bubble gum. I don’t even chew it often, but I have been craving bubble gum lately. Something to just chew that is easy and flavorful and I can have RIGHT NOW.

My difficulty with the rice and beans experiment is not the lack of variety, or even getting tired of it: what makes it hard is time and motivation. When I put limits on myself (only food with rice and beans), it is harder to put together a tasty meal. Can it be done? Yes. Will I do it? About 40% of the time.

Time + Resources + Motivation + Creativity = Tasty Meal. How often do those four things line up for someone in poverty?

Let’s say it is because of the rice and beans—I don’t know, because I haven’t weighed myself since around Christmas—but I now weigh my ideal weight. (Like all girls,) I will have that “just 5 more pounds” thought, but I am very happy. I haven’t weighed this since before puberty and the inherited grand bosom appeared in my life.

Day 14

I can’t believe I am not even half way through this. I can’t even remember life before rice and beans. Everyone looked half dead in English class today, and the other half was grumpy. And those half dead/grumpy stares always rile my feathers and bring my “These kids don’t know nuttin” out.

I explained about 1.4 billion people on $1.25 a day to well-off 8^th and 9^th graders. They opened their eyes a little wider. I explained about my rice and beans experiment and said, “I can’t very well say this is something I am passionate about and then not let it affect my day-to-day life.” And then we learned more about English Grammar. I just…have to let it loose sometimes.

The bean pizza I made would have been better if I actually had regular crust. I made a wheat flour flatbread instead, and while good (anything with cheese is good), it wasn’t very pizza-ish: bean hummus, vegetables, and cheese all gooey together on top.

If the point of this is to rock what you got, I have succeeded. I just made myself one of the best meals I have ever eaten—so much so, I had to take a picture. When was the last time you took a picture of your food you were so proud of it? A moment to remember.

And it was all with cheap, easy to be gotten things in Brazil—even my kids could eat this: tortilla made out of tapioca flour with beans toasted, then mangos/lime juice/onion mixture put on top. Perfection. And then I wanted a tasty dessert? Rice, banana, sugar, milk, farinha lacta smoothie.

I went out with friends tonight. The smell of the pizza rose to my nose in seconds. And stayed there–while I was explaining my rice and beans experiment. I wanted to find some beans, put them on that pizza, and start chewing.  But that would have ruined the point I was making. And my friends listened and cheered me on and said, “So voce, Rachel (only you).”

I’ve been told that mother’s worry. It is part of their job description. I am not sure when it was that I became a ‘mother’ in my own way; perhaps it is when I started calling the kids I worked with “my kids.” It just slipped out. Truth often does that.

I worry for my kids. Matthew 6:25 spoke to me this morning: “Hey Rachel! Don’t worry about your life, about food, or about clothes.”

“But God—there are so many of them—them that don’t have! My kids that are hungry, that don’t have proper clothes, that can’t read or have any opportunities in life!”

Matthew 6:32: “Don’t you know I (God) already know that? That I know what you need, what they need? You are acting like someone who doesn’t know me.”

Ouch. “But I am just being realistic. What is see is LACK. What I see is that You are NOT providing and they are going hungry, they are living empty lives.”

Matthew 6:30, 26 “You of little faith. Look at the little things—you will SEE. Look at the birds: and I love you more than them—I love your kids more than them. Look at the flowers: and each one of those children is much more precious than anything in nature. I WILL take care of them.”

So it goes back to that? Looking at the little things and saying ‘thank you’?” That gratitude? That maybe my whole job is just to be thankful and to teach others how to see what God does and give thanks as well? But what about my fight against poverty? Illiteracy?

Matthew 6:27 “When has worry ever helped you? Hum? That is what I thought.”

Bottom line is Matthew 6:33 “Work to find God in everything, and put Him first. Learn to see Him working in families that have no food, no kitchen, no bathroom, no education. And everything else will be taken care of—God will take care of these children, all of whom He loves even more than you do.”

But I still struggle. I struggle when I read statistics. Children are still dying. I struggle when I run down the road with five children pulling me, and I see their house falling apart with a bucket of water in front that is their kitchen and bathroom. God stuck the last verse of the chapter in there for me:

Matthew 6:34 “So quit worrying about the future—because you can’t even handle today. Just work on finding ME in everything today.” (All Scripture was paraphrased by Rachel if you couldn’t tell).

This is the study on what the Bible says about the poor that I was too lazy to do, so I found it already on the internet: http://www.zompist.com/meetthepoor.html

Supercamp has made me exponentially a cooler person. Mainly by connecting me with amazing people who know amazing things. They told me about TED

I sum up TED as ”things done d*** good.” People have less than 20 minutes to share an idea that is worth listening to. Basically–take one thing–and do it well.

Here are my favs:

1.  Sarah Kay http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/en/sarah_kay_if_i_should_have_a_daughter.html and http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/en/sarah_kay_how_many_lives_can_you_live.html

2. Goose pimples: http://www.ted.com/talks/imogen_heap_wait.html 

3. Because he is rather immortal: http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/en/steve_jobs_how_to_live_before_you_die.html

4. Vulnerability: http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/en/brene_brown_on_vulnerability.html, http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/en/brene_brown_listening_to_shame.html

5. Because I have a crush on him and he is from Jamaica: http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/en/malcolm_gladwell_on_spaghetti_sauce.html

6. A good three minutes: http://www.ted.com/talks/richard_st_john_s_8_secrets_of_success.html and http://www.ted.com/talks/derek_sivers_how_to_start_a_movement.html

There are so many more. These are just the ones I remember off the top of my head. I like to go and search under “Beautiful.” Watching these not only inspires me, but makes me wonder what my “One thing” is.

I know my spiritual answer: To love God.

My professional answer: to give children opportunities.

My passionate answer: to find/tell stories.

Underneath it all I just want to be really, really d*** good at something. Anything, almost. I got a degree in general studies: a little bit of everything. A mile wide, an inch deep. I live for new projects, skills, hobbies that excite me until I realize that Malcolm Gladwell’s rule of 10,000 hours strikes again–and i don’t have 10,000 hours to invest to become great. And then I go back to finding my one thing–the one thing that really matters–that is worth investing my ONE life into.

And then I think about if I had my 20 minutes: what would I say? I’ve written a couple of “TED talks.” It is on my bucket list of things to do (#49). I dreamed I was invited to share about Living Stones. It sounded something like this:  

First everyone has to close their eyes and visualize South America: looks like me, with my hand on my hip. And that’s me, in Brazil, on the elbow. I love it. Why? I just do. That is how love works.

The problem: over 41% live in deep poverty: no band aids. No toilet paper. No kitchen sink.

The solution: connect them to lasting community change: local churches that open their doors to the children during the week. Weekends–hear the preaching. Weekdays: see what it looks like.

LEND a HAND

Love: “All you need is…” (www.wribrazil.com/10forthem)

Education: 28% graduate from public school in Brazil. One in three are illiterate or far behind their grade level. (www.wribrazil.com/literacy)

Nutrition: They can’t listen to your preaching if their tummy is rumbling. (www.wribrazil.com/5for5)

Direction: Give the training and opportunities to end the cycle of poverty (www.wribrazil.com/foundationbuilder)

*

Heart: Find your passion. Do it. Hopefully involving Living Stones.

Assist: Come to Brazil yourself (www.wribrazil.com)

Needs: Get to know them personally–the needs and the people (www.buildinglivingstones.blogspot.com)

Donate: visit any one of the above sites to do so. We try to make it easy.

My body is comfortable with rice and beans. The first week of detox had some ups and downs, but that was normal. The two times I didn’t feel well since that were when I put lemon Kool-Aid to flavor my tea (processed sugar), and when I ate the cake crumbles that were on the plate after we celebrated our birthday parties (day 8, I do confess. I cheated. I didn’t even mix in rice with the cake crumbles). My body didn’t like the processed sugar or flour, and told me so. And now I am sensitive enough to notice it.

Breakfast rice and beans omelet was fantastic. My dad taught me that just about everything tastes good in a good omelet. Even better were the little peppers (I am not sure what kind) that I found for sale at the open market—stir together for instant goodness!

I wanted fruit, any way possible. I tried mangos with rice and coconut milk. Not so great. But leftover coconut rice made into a smoothie with a banana and cinnamon? Score! That has great potential. Rice, blended. Hmmm. Other dessert ideas: brownies made with beans: http://www.5dollardinners.com/2010/04/pams-365-day-rice-beans-challenge.html. Too bad I don’t like chocolate.

(I don’t have a picture of Sylvia. But I did do more than just sit on the couch today…this was at the trashdump)

Sylvia. I wonder why it is me sitting on the couch watching a movie while she is cleaning the floor. We are both women. We both were born and live and breathe. We both have dreams and loved ones and people that irritate us.

Sylvia cooks for the International school. She is an artist with food. She sings like an angel while doing it. She married her Negao—tall, dark, and handsome. She had a beautiful baby boy. And everything she does is with grace.

She turned to go, after cleaning our apartment for six hours, and took out a tube of lipstick. “Where are you going with those pretty lips?” I asked. Just back home to her children, she says, but the lipstick gives her something extra. Something extra—that is Sylvia.

He left her for another. When she was pregnant with their second child. Without her job at the school she would have been homeless. She works hard all week, but ends are still short. She asks if we can please have her come clean our apartment on Saturday—the money is necessary. And I sit on the couch and watch a movie while she is cleaning the floor.

I wonder if she remembers the dreams she used to have, before survival and one day at a time became her life. She picks up the hair straightener that is in my trashcan (it died yesterday). She asks if she can have it—perhaps her friend can fix it. Of course I say. “But what about you?” I turn red as I confess that I will simply bring a new one back after Christmas. We both sigh. We are both women.

I think it is impossible to overdose on rice and beans. My body shuts down and just doesn’t eat anything at all before it will eat too much rice and beans. Now that I am adding food to go with rice and beans, the question isn’t about not having food, but about not having time. Time to be creative, time to plan and execute a complete meal.

It is hard to turn to rice and beans as comfort food. And when I come back from a long day and want to sit down and enjoy something, water and rice and beans don’t cut it, no matter what you add to it. And adding to it takes time and energy. Who has that?

But, I’ve found it: my go-to food when I am hungry and want something sweet, NOW. Cold rice with condensed milk on top. Interesting. Humans are so adaptable. Those who say otherwise make me want to do experiments on them.

I made a kick butt bean dip (it was called hummus, but it isn’t hummus unless there are chickpeas in it. To me.). Leftover black beans, olives, garlic, lemon juice, and whatever other seasonings were available: instant goodnessJ. This was the official recipe: http://allrecipes.com/recipe/black-bean-hummus/, but I really only use it to get a general idea of what to put in it and get inspired by the pretty pictures.

If you are looking for rice ideas, this was my favorite site so far: http://vegetarian.about.com/od/maindishentreerecipes/tp/leftoverrice.htm.