Rocinha is the largest favela in Rio, with over 300,000 residents. It's a slum, but it's not what you'd expect - a lot of the residents have televisions, cars and even credit cards.
Our guide's name is Luiza. She's grown up in Rocinha and she lives here still. She knows the streets of the favela like the back of her hand and she can lead us through the complicated tangle of alleys without once checking where we are.
"A lot of people are afraid of the favelas", she tells us. "The government pretends we don't exist. Other people see movies like City of God and think it's all guns and violence. There is some of that, like everywhere, but we are actually very safe. Everybody looks out for each other".
A guy with a AK-47 comes running up to us and says something to Luiza.
"He thinks one of you took a photo of him" she says. Claire had taken a photo of a motorbike in the alley and this guy happened to be standing behind it. She immediately deletes the photo. Luiza shows him and he smiles and gives us the thumbs up. Luiza explains that the gang members are paranoid about photos, because cops sometimes come in pretending to be tourists. They take a photo of a Rocinha gang member then come back later to arrest them.
The favela is governed by the Rocinha gang. As a result, it's a lot safer than some of the wealthier areas of Rio. Everybody leaves their houses unlocked. Nobody steals. Luiza gave us an example of how it works.
"If somebody steals my handbag", she says, "I tell this boy over here. I would have it back in five minutes, with everything inside. But the thief will be punished, and the gang is very cruel. Both arms, both legs, broken".
Luiza puts her fists together and indicates the snapping of joints. "It's cruel" she repeats, "but we prefer this way to the police. The police will still come in and take the thief, but they don't care about giving the handbag back". The police cause problems for people living in the favela; the gangs solve problems.
"This is our biggest problem", Luiza tells us as she leads us around the corner and points to the large sewerage drain in the middle of the street. It's completely open.
"When it rains", she says, "this drain overflows, and the street becomes a river.
"People here are ashamed of the open drain. They say, "Luiza! Don't show the tourists this, it's embarrassing". But I'm showing you, because every time there is an election the politians come here and they say, "Ah, yes, I will fix this for you, if you vote for me". But look, it's still open." She shrugs. "They never fix it. After the election, we cease to exist again".
It seems that the government turns a blind eye to the favelas, except when there's an election on. Recently they paid for a brand new hospital in the centre of Rocinha. Unfortunately, it's completely empty. There's no equipment, no doctors or nurses. Staff demand higher wages to work in a favela because they claim it's more dangerous, but the government won't pay them more. A handful of doctors work privately instead, and the hospital goes unused.
It's the same with the teachers. There are four intermediate schools in Rocinha but the teachers are always on strike, and the school is often closed. In Brazil it's a law to send your children to school from age six to twelve, punishable by imprisonment.
"But what can the parents do?" Luisa asks.
"If the government won't provide teachers, the kids can't go to school. Education is a big issue. If you don't have education, you can't get a job. Some kids join the gang because they can earn a lot of money. They get a flash car, gold chains, a cellphone. They live for the moment.
"They join the gang young, and they die young".
We spent three hours walking around the favela. I asked Luiza a lot of development and education -related questions, which I won't bore you with, but I will say that it was all very fascinating to learn about the rights of the slum residents. We visited one of the six free childcare centres, the free community samba school and the local swimming pool. We saw a sushi restaurant, a gym, internet cafes, banks and hair salons. We saw a twelve-year old boy sitting on the doorstep with a gun in his hand and we saw an American guy, now a resident, covered from head to toe in tattoos of Rocinha. I asked him why he chose to live in the slum, instead of in the U.S.
"This is my home now", he said to me. "I never felt that in the U.S., but I feel it here".
Nicola
