“Oi!! Lutadora!”
He called out to me as I absentmindedly weaved my way through the labyrinth-like passageways
that comprise the Cantagalo favela on my way to open up Tererê Kids Project.
I pulled the headphones from my ears and turned around to confront my interlocutor. I was met
by a circle of faces ranging from semi-familiar “corner boys” to completely unknown faces that
I could only assume were in the upper echelons of the local drug trade. I had no idea who this
particular person was, but then again, I´m not unused to complete strangers approaching me in
search of money, kimonos, or competition fees.
It was too early for my caffeine cocktail of coffee, thermogenic, and pre-training to have fully
infiltrated my system, so it took a few seconds for his words to seep in and find meaning. As verb
conjugations and direct objects began to fall into place to form intelligible sentences in my head,
he began to approach me.
“Ey ai”, I replied, eying him curiously as he juggled two cell phones, an early morning joint,
and what appeared to be a Glock 9 in his hands.
“Birrinho? Did he win?”
Pronounced Beh Hin Yo is Terere’s cousin, legally known as Fabricio Silva. With a gun in hand
and joint in-the-making, this seemingly ominous drug dealer had left his perch to inquire about
his childhood friend, who happened to be my teacher and legendary Terere’s cousin.
That day, almost 3 years ago, had the verbs not conjugated and the direct objects not fallen
correctly into place, could have been a terrifying experience, you know, the kind that most
foreigners expect to encounter when traipsing about the favela. In actuality, they were only
asking about Terere’s cousin who was in Sao Paulo for a competition.
It was just an innocuous question, posed by a friend of a friend…who happened to be holding a
firearm.
With my attention fully captured, the guy that stopped me and his friends started recounting their
own stories of when they were orange belts… of Terere, when he was just a green belt getting
his first taste at stardom. Terere, whose house was only 30 feet behind us, laid the foundation for
so many kids from the favela to get a small taste of a normal life, even if it was just for a
competition or two before they had to return to the suffocating financial restraints that drove
young boys to abandon school and extracurricular activities in order to feed their families.
Throughout the 3 years that I lived in the favela I learned to reconcile my perception of the world
should be with their harsh reality. Fightland vice gave me the first opportunity to share their
stories in the first Favela Jiu-Jitsu series back in 2013 and that’s what I’ve been doing ever since.
Training, traveling, and collecting stories from Rio’s favelas, a place where most people are too
scared to venture.
It’s a constant struggle. Day in and day out they are searching for opportunities that aren’t
available. Jobs that don’t exist, housing that was never built, and political promises that will
never be fulfilled. Small social projects run and managed by the piecemeal efforts of the
community are often the only saving grace in areas plagued by violence and neglect.
Their capacity to face adversity (with a positive attitude, no sleep, little pay) is inspiring. It is
what inspired this t-shirt.
1 shirt is the equivalent of 1 competition for 1 child…
It only takes 1 person to make a difference.
Shop or Share
www.FavelaJiuJitsu.org
Autor Nico Ball Manager of the Nonprofit Terere Kids Project
