My funny little girl

"School bag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning..."  I sing this song to Rafaela way too often.  She is a huge Abba fan :)

Back in October I wrote a blog all about Rafaela, my funny little girl.  Even though I mention her a lot in my blogs & letters and you've seen a thousand pictures of her, I thought I'd tell you a little more about her, since next to Jesus she is the center of my life here.

So she's 11 right.  Just about "that age."  Caroline and I had to have "the talk" with her.  I was thinking "what the...?  I have to have this talk?  Already?  I haven't even given birth yet--usually moms have a decade or so to think about it.  And I have to do in in Portuguese?  Lord have mercy..."  Anyways, it was fairly painless.  And now I'm teaching her to tell time.  Seems a bit backwards, no?  Usually kids learn how to tell time long before they learn about things like maxi pads.  Not in this school system.  Also the time has come for her to start wearing a bra.  I asked Lucia to buy her one.  (What we don't get in donations she buys at a sort of park-n-swap.)  She bought her a red one.  Great.  Thanks Lucia--a red bra for her to wear with her white school shirts.  How very Brazilian.  Now she has 4 bras, not one of them is subtle and she is thrilled to make a fashion statement with her noticeably lacy, frilly undergarments.  Oh well, she is Brazilian after all.  No one else sees a problem with this. 

She is a very creative cook.  She's just started cooking in the past 6 months, but of course, she claimed she already knew how before--some sort of instinct.  I tried to explain to her how to cook pasta, but of course she already knew so brushed me off.   She dumped dry pasta in a pot, filled it with water, put it on the stove and walked away for 20 minutes.  It was like glue.  So I explained a few more times and now she's kinda getting the hang of it.  When we have ketchup it goes in everything.  And sweetened condensed milk goes in all desserts--oh, and on popcorn!  She made a dessert last week: it was cream mixed with sweetened condensed milk, sprinkled with sweetened coconut, with little dollops of jam.  I tried it because I'm nice like that.  We have a myriad of spices that my parents brought and she puts at least 5 different spices in every dish.  She tosses them into the pot one by one with a little flourish as if she's on some French cooking show. (she did not learn this from me!)  It's very endearing that she likes to cook, sometimes she listens to my suggestions, but usually we end up eating something completely new and different. 

On Mother's Day we were expecting her parents to come to the Fazenda, but they didn't show.  They don't have a phone and who knows why they didn't come, maybe they didn't have money for the bus, maybe her mom was too sick.  So after lunch we decided to pay them a surprise visit.  Mateus, Diego, Rafa, & caught a ride into Salvador and they led me through the winding treacherous streets of their favela.  Actually I can't call them streets--they were narrow paths up and down crumbling concrete steps.  We met their dad outside a tiny bar (a counter with a few concrete blocks for bar stools) drinking with a few friends.  He was overjoyed to see us and took us down the path to their house.  Their house: a 10' x 15' block room with bricks holding down the tin roof.  My bedroom back home is bigger.   A curtain sectioned off the bathroom and there was no kitchen sink.  I don't know where they would get water--maybe there was a spigot outside.  A twin mattress was propped up against one wall, two chairs and a small amoire against the other, clothes hanging on a rope suspended from the roof.  They did have a fairly new, small stove and oven and a stereo someone had given them recently.  Their father was very proud of the stereo and spent about 20 minutes trying to get it to work.  The place was spotless.  Not a spec of dirt on the concrete floor, no spiderwebs  in the corners or dust on the chairs.  (Can't say that for my house!)  Their mother was inside with the door and window closed, alone in the dark stifling heat.   She came alive at the sight of her children.  We propped open the door to let the sun and breeze fill the house and the kids gave her presents: a white satin blouse (what is it with Rafa and white satiny clothing???  honestly?), some costume jewelry, two perfumes, a body spray, and scented body lotion.  She was positively giddy.  She sprayed, misted, and rubbed good-smelling stuff all over her and laughed laughed laughed.  She even agreed to leave the house (apparently this is rare) and go with us to visit their aunt and cousins who live nearby.  The afternoon was lovely getting to know their family, watching soccer, eating popcorn.  Rafa got to play with her cousins (her aunt has 7 or 8 kids at home) and cheer for Bahia, her favorite team.  We had to leave too soon.