Friday, June 12, 2009

The Girls (As Meninas)


For some reason, there are stories that like to linger in our minds, waiting for the appropriate time to be written. I have been thinking about a few stories, trying to decide which one I should write first. In the end, it turns out that it is not for me to decide. The right story just jumps from my mind to the paper, begging to be born.

Celia, Cibele, Rose, Maria da Gloria…. Today I am thinking about them and so many others. How did they appear and where have they gone? I have only a vague recollection …

When I was growing up, it was very common for people in Brazil to have maids. In my parents’ house, there was a cook, a housekeeper, a man who came to tend the garden from time to time, and a girl who was supposed to do all sort of small services. The girl wasn’t paid. She usually came from a farm, or from a family in our hometown that didn’t have money, and it was assumed that she would be glad to get housing and clothes for free.

Celia was one of these girls who lived in my parents’ house for a while. Celia’s mother used to visit her from time to time. I remember she coming to our house holding an umbrella to protect herself against the sun, sitting at the veranda with my mother and drinking lemonade. My mother would ask Celia to come and join them. For a few minutes, Celia would be there, visiting with her mother as a stranger would do. “Are you being good?” Her mother always wanted to know. Celia had sisters, but her sisters didn’t come to our house. We never thought about asking her if she missed her family. She was in her teens, a little older than my sisters and I.

Cibele was young, probably not older than 12, very thin, and with a propensity to move very slowly. My mother would send her to buy groceries and she would take hours to come back. When she was supposed to sweep the patio, she would be found sitting by the pool, her legs in the water, just singing.

Rose was also very young when she went with my sister to Sao Paulo where she babysat my sister’s children for a long time. She came back to our hometown one day and got married. She still visits my sister from time to time and my niece sometimes sends her money.

Maria da Gloria went to Rio de Janeiro with my grandmother. I remember her being upset when my grandmother scolded her but not saying one single word. I am not sure of what became of her. My aunts probably know.

These are the girls that I remember, but there were others as well. I wonder why we never concerned ourselves with their happiness, just assuming that they were there to serve us and they should be glad with that. Why did we never understand that they were just kids, like us? Did Celia like to eat oranges? Which was Cibele’s favorite color? How did Rose feel when we had a big birthday party and she never got one? Did Maria da Gloria dream about going to a store and choosing a brand new dress for herself? We never thought about asking. We didn’t mistreat the girls, but we also didn’t care very much about them.

I wish I could remember these girls better, but they appear in very few pictures. They didn’t have a central role in our lives. They were always close by, helping us and at the same time getting our leftovers... Those were other times, and I am glad they are gone.

AS MENINAS

Por alguma razão, há histórias que ficam na nossa cabeça, esperando o momento oportuno para serem escritas. Nos últimos dias tenho pensado a respeito de algumas histórias, tentando decidir qual deveria escrever primeiro. No final, a decisão acaba não sendo minha. A história certa salta da minha mente para o papel, implorando para nascer…

Célia, Cibele, Rose, Maria da Glória .... Hoje estou pensando sobre essas e tantas outras meninas. De onde é que elas apareceram e para onde foram? Tenho só uma vaga idéia ...

Quando eu era pequena, era muito comum no Brasil as pessoas terem empregados. Na casa dos meus pais, havia uma cozinheira, uma moça que limpava a casa e cuidava das nossas roupas, um homem que vinha de vez em quando pra tomar conta do jardim, e uma menina que fazia todo tipo de serviço. A menina não tinha um salário. Ela geralmente vinha de uma fazenda, ou de uma família da cidade que não tinha dinheiro, e decidia-se que deveria se sentir feliz por ter casa e roupa de graça.

Célia era uma dessas meninas que viveram na casa dos meus pais por um tempo. A mãe de Célia costumava visitá-la de vez em quando. Eu me lembro dela chegando na nossa casa segurando um guarda-chuva para se proteger do sol, sentando na varanda com a minha mãe e tomando limonada. Minha mãe então chamava Célia. E por alguns minutos Célia ficava lá, na frente da mãe, meio constrangida, como se fosse uma estranha. "Você está se comportando bem?" A mãe dela sempre queria saber. Célia tinha irmãs, mas suas irmãs não iam à nossa casa. Nós nunca pensamos em lhe perguntar se ela sentia falta da sua família. Célia era só um pouco mais velha do que eu e minhas irmãs.

Cibele provavelmente não tinha mais do que 12 anos, era magrinha e tinha uma tendência pra fazer tudo devagar. Minha mãe mandava Cibele ao mercadinho pra comprar comida e ela demorava horas para voltar. Quando Cibele deveria estar varrendo o pátio, ela estava com certeza sentada à beira da piscina, com as pernas na água, cantando.

Rose também era muito jovem quando foi com minha irmã para São Paulo. Ela tomou conta das minhas sobrinhas por muito tempo. Um dia Rose voltou para a nossa cidade e se casou. Ela ainda visita a minha irmã e minha sobrinha faz questão de lhe mandar dinheiro de vez em quando.

Maria da Glória foi para o Rio de Janeiro com minha avó. Eu me lembro dela com a cara meio emburrada quando minha avó zangava com ela. Maria da Glória ficava quieta, não respondia nada. Não sei o que aconteceu com ela, mas minhas tias na certa sabem.

Eu só me lembro dessas meninas, mas havia outras. Por que será que nós nunca nos preocupamos com a felicidade delas, sempre certos de que estavam ali para nos servir e deveriam ser felizes com isso? Por que nunca nos demos conta de que elas eram apenas crianças, como nós? Será que Célia gostava de comer laranjas? Qual seria a cor favorita de Cibele? Como será que Rose se sentia quando tínhamos nossas festas de aniversário, sabendo que ela nunca teria uma? Será que Maria da Glória sonhava em ir a uma loja e escolher um vestido novinho para ela? Nós nunca pensamos em perguntar. Nós não maltratávamos as meninas, mas também não nos incomodávamos muito com elas.

Gostaria de poder lembrar melhor dessas meninas, mas elas aparecem em poucas fotos. Não tinham um papel central na nossa vida. No entanto, estavam sempre por perto, ajudando-nos, enquanto só ganhavam as nossas coisas velhas ... Os tempos eram outros. Estou contente por eles terem mudado.

5 comments:

  1. Well, I'm completely touched by this post. I just have two things to comment: firstly, you haven't mentioned Inês, a girl that lived in your house and was so nice; secondly, when I think about these girls I feel very guilty and sorry because although I was a little girl like them (Maria da Gloria and I were born in the same year) I was conscious that it was not fair to treat them like this (they had to work in order to pay for housing, food, clothes, as you said) and I haven't done anything to stop this situation.
    By the way, Maria da Gloria lives in Salvador, Bahia, she got married and she keeps in touch with my sister, Jandira.

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  5. Those times are gone and I am glad too, but I can't think about these girls without feeling guilty.
    Sometimes I talk to Maria da Glória by phone, sometimes I send her some money, but what can I do about her lost childhood?

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