FUEGO!

I remember that day well.  August 23^rd 2010 the day there was a fuego in the Providencia (fire).  As I was idly sipping cafezina (little coffee, but it should be called tiny cup of sugar) and relaxing in preparation for the last couple of hours of work, I smelled something peculiar.  My nose quickly identified the smell as smoke, but how and from where was it coming.

I ran outside and followed my nose up the favella, and remember the feeling of helplessness as I saw the flames coming down from the piles of liter on the mountain side.  In Brasil it is common practice to dump all garbage in any unoccupied area in sight.  The closer the better, as you would not want to excerpt much effort to do anything in Rio.  As a matter of fact most locals only put forth effort when a) going to the beach, b) going to eat, or 3) cheering on their favorite soccer (futbal) team.  So despite the greatest efforts on the part of the mission workers to keep the hillside clean and liter free, within a matter of months it is completely covered with unwanted boxes, plastics, wrappers, and the pigs who wander through for food. 

To my surprise everyone was hustling and bustling in an all out attempt to put out a raging fire that had broken out amongst the refuse and was quickly making it’s way down the hill toward our little mission.  We were well armed for the war on fire however (note sarcasm), our arsenal included: 2 one gallon buckets, and a water hose with no water pressure.  I joined the futile efforts and even took the front line of the assault on the flame that would soon engulf the orphanage and nurseries.  The fire dept. had been called, but what could they do, we were too high up the favella to be reached from the street, and the streets above were far too narrow and winding for the fire to be fought from the top.  Yes, I feared this would certainly be a devastating blow.

I abandoned my attempts to use the dripping hose to saturate the foliage and began axing down ever stick of underbrush and pulling it away from the buildings in order to create a dead space that couldn’t be jumped because of lack of fuel.  When I looked up I realized that time was nearly up, the flames had crept eerily close and were gaining speed.  I saw the fire truck in the street.  We had all heard the siren for the last half hour at least, we were all relieved to know that professional help had finally arrived if to offer nothing more than advice and a break.

To my surprise however the fire crew came actually prepared and the truck was loaded with a tank of water (having its own water supply allowed the truck to come half way up the mountain) and at least 1,000 feet of hose.  We cleared a line and ran the hose straight up the mountain and held the flame from advancing another foot.  Soon it was completely expelled. 

As I type out the story I realize how cliché it sounds.  Trust me I realized the cliché even as I was participating in this drama, but it certainly happened.  I helped save little orphans in the slums of Rio from a raging fire (I know it sounds like a bad hallmark movie).  Immediately after, I began reflecting on the incident and tried to realize what I could learn.  I was not sure but I was excited about the next day.  It was Friday and I had big plans—unfortunately the lesson I was to learn was not from the fire.  My lesson would be learned the very next day in a test that would be much more difficult, that was a different fire, but a fire that would have to be fought and expelled none the less.