The Death-Road-Pilgrimage (Sao Paulo – Registro)
Posted on | June 9, 2009 | 3 Comments
The second week in Sao Paulo I had the honor to live in the biggest University of south-America (USP) which is really as big as a small city. Again I lived in a flat with 3 other students. Kiwia, a journalist hosted me there. I´ve visited a lecture, went to some students-partys and learned really a lot about a journalists-life. Indeed most of my thoughtsandattitudes about journalism changed (in a positive way).
After 4 days I continued my journey. I started walking from the USP and reached Angelica´s place, where she received and hosted me for one night. The next day we walked together to Itapecerica. It was very peaceful and nice. Itapecerica is a small but nice and cosy city. I liked the idea to work there for some weeks but the language schools told me the same as usual: At least 6 months. At the moment I can´t imagine myself 6 moths without walking. Angelika said goodbye at the end of this nice day and I kept on walking on the BR 116 or “pista da morte” (death-road) how the people call it. I walked until Sao Lourenço da Serra. It was quite hard. Not physically but mentally. All you see is highway and trucks. For hours and hours. Almost no civilisation, bar, gas-station, etc. I reached Sao Lourenço and staid at the police-station. One of the officers wrote a letter which I should show to all the other police-stations in the Sao Paulo State. This little text had an enormous value because it was the ticket to safe places to sleep on my way! I chat with the officers and went so sleep.
The next day I started walking before sunrise. 6 am. So I had a lot of time and could make many pauses on my way. And I really needed them. At the end of the day I note that this road starts driving me crazy. I got angry and disbalanced. I hated every truck passing me. I passed Juquitiba and walked 12 more kilometers. I stopped in a little village, went to a bar, told people who I am and asked if there is any safe place to sleep.
“You can sleep at my place”, said the guy with the Cap on his head, a glass of Cachaça in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth. He looked like a gangster but his eyes told me he wasn´t. We smoked a cigarette together and went to his place. And once more I slept in a favela. Xandre was really an unlucky guy. 3 Weeks ago his wife disappeared, 2 weeks ago he lost his job, one week ago his little house was burgled. They stole his tvand shot his dog. And still he was so kind a received a foreigner in his house and gave him food. We prayed. I was looking forward to sleep because I really needed rest from the truck-noises of the BR116. “Let´s go to sleep”, he said and I laid down, covered in my sleeping bag and closed my eyes. Suddenly I heard a terrible noise… It was the radio. “I hope it doesn´t bother you. I need the radio to sleep”.
After hours I fell asleep and woke up with a headache. Not really rested I continued my pilgrimage on this lovely highway…
To give you an idea about the road (Picture: Google)
I asked for food in a bar and got some. Then… Nothing for about 25 kilometers. Nothing but trucks of course. I got very surprised when I saw other pilgrims walking along the street. Most of them had old clothes, long beards, some had big bags, some had small bags. Some of them greet me some stare with a scary look at me. For sure they were not walking, because they liked it. Most of them were already like zombies. I was afraid of becoming like them after 400 km on this highway. I wondered where they were going. It was getting dark. I saw some people at the side of the road drinking a cofé and making a little fire. It was really cold. I asked them if I can rest a bit. I needed conversation not to get depressed. I got a cofé and sat down at the fire. But there was not much to talk about with the people. They were very simple habitants who were just interested in surviving the next day. I kept on walking and reached little bar. Again I asked for a place to sleep. The woman, who had very nice eyes but a terrible laughter which almost made my head explode, told me not to go to the next village. ”You are at the most dangerous place of this road, because here you have 40 km without police in any direction. Go and hide behind this bar”.
There was half a building behind the bar. I climbed through the holes of the old walls and hide in this building. I put my tent inside and went to the bar to have a cofé. Some of the people were friendly, some weren´t. After half an hour the bar was full. The lady with the friendly eyes but terrible laughter came to me and said: “Go to sleep, now”.
It was midnight. I climbed through the holes into the old building to my tent when I heared a voice: “Have you seen the German guy?” I looked outside. I was curiouse and wanted to know who was looking for me. One of the guys who was staring at me in the bar was standing outside, turning his head around, very busy searching for me. He ran into the forest. I jumped out of my hiding and started to run after him. He ran fast and disappeared in the darkness. I was just lucky that he didn´t notice me and that he ran too fast, so that I lost him. On my way back I realized that my curiosity almost killed me. ´Cause probably he didn´t want to play cards with me or something like that… I climbed into my tent and slept until the sunrise.
I woke up, took my things and kept on walking. I wanted to reach Miracatu at that day. I knew there was a police-station which means a safe place to sleep. I walked for 2 or 3 hours and saw some frames covered with lots of bananas at the side of the road. People standing or sitting there, washing the bananas, hanging the green ones onto the frames, taking the yellow ones from the frames and throwing them into boxes. I stopped at one of this frames and watched the people working. “Oi!”, an old man greeted me. “Oi!”, I answered. “Cafesinho?”, he asked. “Sim, por favor!” I answered. We drank a cofe together and talked a bit. Things like that save me from losing my mind on this road. He gave me some bananas for my way. I walked and walked. My feet hurt like hell. I paused and had a look at them. They were bleeding a bit but I didn´t have the time to make a long rest. I had to reach Miracatu before sunset. After some hours it became cold, the bananas were eaten, the water-bottle was empty, my stomach as well. No bars or gas-stations. Only trucks…
It was about 4´o clock and I stopped. I was tired and couldn´t walk anymore. I laid down at the side of the road and fell asleep… I woke up when the sun set. It was colder now but at least I was able to walk again. I observed my thoughts which were verydisballanced and aggresive. Some of them shocked me. I arrived at a bar. I drank a cofe which was really necesarry. I watched myself sitting on the chair like a zombie and starting to talk loke a zombie. I didn´t smile anymore. I felt dirty inside and outside. I was like one of the death-road-pilgrims. I had to wash my body and my clothes… and my mind.
Three more kilometers on the highway. I reached the outskirts at 9 pm and went into the first bar I saw. People there were friendly and asked me who I am. I said I´m looking for the police-station to have a shower and to sleep. The bar-keeper: ”It´s in the city, but if you don´t want to get robbed or killed on your way to the police, you should stay here. You can have a shower here and sleep in the bar when I close”.
I rushed into the bathroom and had a shower. I felt revived. I walked around in front of the bar and thought about this “road of death”. Suddenly: “BAM!”
Many people running to the road. There was a crowd standing there looking at the road with flashlights. Some of them were screaming. I joined. “What´s going on?”.
There was a dead horse lying on the road. It was hit by one of the trucks. A woman told to the crowd what she have seen. I didn´t understand a word but she gesticulated with her hands very well so that you had a picture of the horse, running on the road, then hit by the truck and flying across the whole road, landing on the ground and hit by another truck again… Unlucky animal.
After a while the bar was full. This time I felt safe. The people seemed to be okay. Dada, the bar-tender, who was 41, but looked like 29, tried to explain me what he is doing besides the bar-job. I didn´t understand till he showed me some pictures. He was a clown! Working with children in hospitals to make them smile and laugh. I really didn´t expect that because in his bar-tender-role sometimes he seemed a little bit like a gangster.
At 2´o clock in the night he closed the bar (from inside). “You can sleep here”, he pointed to a corner.
“You´re going home?” I asked. “I am home”, he said and put a mattress onto the floor behind the counter. I was lying in my sleeping bag and closed my eyes, thankful that I can finaly sleep, now.
Dada turned off the light… and turned on the radio (really loud) to sleep…
The headache I had the next day last until midday. I had a breakfest in Miracatu. One man who was sitting at the table next to me stared at me and after a while he shouted: “Hey you are that guy from the newspaper! The walker!”, “Yes, I am” I said. He was quite excited and we talked a bit. Another man joined the discussion: “I saw you walking in Sao Lourenço da Serra. May I pay the cofé for you?”
When I left the bar I was cheered up and had some motivation again. Anyway, it didn´t make the road disappear. The way was as hard and depressing as at the days before. I arrived in Registro (at night as usual). The police told me to go to the “Albergue”. I asked if this is one of the Albergues for homeless people. “No, no, it´s an Albergue especially for walkers”. I went there and had a look. Indeed, it was a kind of “Albergue dos peregrinos da pista da morte”. The owner was very nice. We talked about half an hour and he gave me really good food. “So this albergue is for walkers who pass by?” I asked him. “Yes”, he answered. “Where are they going?”. He laughed: “They don´t have a target. They don´t have a home, they don´t have an ID. They don´t have a future. They just walk around, trying to survive anyhow… They are dead from the inside. But you don´t look like one of them”… “Yet”, I thought.
I went to the room where I was supposed to sleep. 8 beds. One was occupated. He was awake. Maybe 24 years old. Empty eyes. He was dirty and smelled. Though there was a bathroom, he didn´t seem to be interested in washing himself. I had a shower and went to sleep. He woke me in the night to ask me for a lighter. I gave him the lighter. He smoked a joint, staring at the wall. Finaly he fell asleep.
The next day he kept on walking to the direction Sao Paulo. Me, Curitiba.
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3 Responses to “The Death-Road-Pilgrimage (Sao Paulo – Registro)”
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June 9th, 2009 @ %H:%M
Awesome your trip! I would love to do something like this.
I’ve been thinking about to go to Amazonas this July, to work and learn about their culture and food, that’s so different from Santos and Sao Paulo, where I live.
Good Luck on the road!
June 10th, 2009 @ %H:%M
Since you are going to Curitiba, you should come to Florianópolis (300km south). It’s a beautiful city, lots of beaches, nice people, and the road that leads to it isn’t as bad as the one you are on hehe
Good luck on your journey!
June 13th, 2009 @ %H:%M
OLÁ QUERIDO SAUDADES BJUS SE CUIDA DEUS TE ACOMPANHE