Monthly Archives: February 2013

Friday Night “Happy Hour” in Brazil

24 Sunday Feb 2013

Posted by in Brazil, Leisure & Entertainment, Working Life

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Toast with Mugs of Beer

Toast with Mugs of Beer

Source: jangadeiroonline.com.br

 

Brazilians love cervejas (beer). Women are beer drinkers on a par with men. With the high demand for beer, the national production of 13 billion liters places Brazil in third place worldwide, after China and the United States (CervBrasil). Happy hour on Friday evenings after work was not only the time for friends to get together after a week of hard work, it was also time for enjoying your favorite beer and trying out new brands.

About a year after joining the staff at Ceará Importers,* the other three female department heads invited me to join them for a happy hour at their favorite barraca on the beach, Praia do Futuro, a fifteen-minute drive from our workplace. Fátima* was a widow with a fifteen-year-old daughter. Regina* was a young married woman with a toddler. Tatiana* was single, with a boyfriend who kept track of her movements by frequent calls to her cell phone. They encouraged me to try a beer.

Barraca - Praia do Futuro - CearaBarraca – Praia do Futuro – Ceará

As an adolescent, after witnessing the violent behavior and human degradation of rum drinkers in my native land, I had made an oath never to consume alcoholic beverages.

“You have to loosen up,” Fátima told me. “Life is tough. We have to take advantage of the good things at our disposal.”

They filled up on six rounds of beers that had to be ice-cold. Fearful of getting tipsy and not getting home safely, I nursed one bottle of beer. I enjoyed our time together and joined them on subsequent occasions when I was not working late.

The last time we spent a happy hour together took place in an upscale restaurant and bar in Fortaleza. We talked about work, life, and our dreams. Our laughter grew louder with each new round of beers. Our waiter surprised us with a free round of beers, compliments of a group of handsome young men at a table nearby. With my self-limit of three beers, I remained totally alert.

We celebrated Regina’s new home-based marmita business venture: hot meals in round aluminum containers delivered to her customers at their workplace. Given the success during her first three months in operation, she invited us to partner with her to cater to the growing demand for her marmitas. Raising our glasses above our heads, we toasted our future together as entrepreneurs.

Our plan for becoming entrepreneurs was short-lived. Shortly afterwards, Regina was fired for embezzling the firm. It was an unsettling time.

Through our happy hours together, I had forged a bond with my female colleagues and was accepted as one of them. I smile on remembering the Friday night we stood on the beach and howled at the full moon.

*Fictitious Name

LEARN ABOUT BRAZIL’S BEER MARKET:

My First Love: A Seminarian in a Fallible Church

17 Sunday Feb 2013

Posted by in Guyana, Religion

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Newly-ordained Catholic priest - Georgetown - Guyana - August 2010Guyana gets new priest after 15 years – August 2010

Source: http://www.catholicnews-tt.net

 

At thirteen years of age, I fell under the spell of a handsome seminarian. David Johnson (fictitious name), our landlord’s nineteen-year-old son, returned home on a month-long holiday from the Benedictine seminary in Trinidad. He captivated our young group of siblings and friends with Bible stories and spoke to us about treating each other with kindness and being respectful and obedient to our elders. On Sunday mornings, he took us to Mass at our parish church. Following his example, I became a devout Christian and began attending daily morning Mass.

When I blossomed into a fifteen-year-old, my admiration for the seminarian evolved into infatuation. I was in heaven the morning he took me to Church on his bicycle. Seated on the middle bar, his arms encircled me. Before Mass, while I sat in the pew, he knelt down in the pew behind me and whispered: “You have a beautiful neck.”

I was just an innocent teenager to him. He preferred chatting with my mother while she worked at her sewing machine. As the landlord’s son, my father welcomed him into our home.

After David’s ordination to the priesthood – when I then had to address him as Father Johnson – adolescent girls flocked to hear him say Mass. He became a magnet for attracting young people to the Church.

Years later while visiting my father, I could hear the heated discussion between our landlord and Father Johnson coming from their neighboring residence.

“You leaving the priesthood for a married woman?” The words of our landlord exploded with anguish.

Father Johnson left the priesthood; the woman left her husband and children. They got married and left Guyana. My first love left me with feelings of deception and betrayal. What had happened to his love for God and to serving Him? How could he choose a woman my mother’s age, and not me?

In hindsight, I realize that Father Johnson had made the right decision in leaving the priesthood to marry the woman he loved. He chose not to maintain a sexual relationship with her under a cloak of priestly celibacy.

Ordination does not bestow Catholic priests with immunity from desires of the flesh. But a chasm exists between adults engaging in illicit, consensual sexual intercourse and the sexual abuse of young boys and girls. Theirs is not simply a sin of lust; of fornication and adultery. Their sin defiles innocent young souls: a crime punishable by law.

Pope Benedict XVI has decided to step down as pontiff of the Roman Catholic Church at the end of February. As a Cardinal, cover-ups of pedophile and rapist priests occurred under his watch. (See synopsis of the documentary film, Mea Maxima Culpa: Silence in the House of God, released by HBO on February 4, 2013.)

With many other scandals plaguing the Catholic Church today, will the next pope have the courage and humility to do what is right in the sight of God and expose the criminals in their midst?

Navigating America’s Health Care System

10 Sunday Feb 2013

Posted by in Family Life, United States

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Venice Family Clinic - West Los Angeles - Southern California

Venice Family Clinic – West Los Angeles – Southern California

Source: http://www.palisadespost.com

 

Some years ago while waiting for a bus, I chatted with a white American woman, somewhere in her fifties, suffering from chronic back pain. I knew that kind of pain. Her four cats were her companions and solace.

“Can’t you get treatment,” I asked her.

She cringed. “It’s expensive.”

“What about health insurance?”

“None since I lost my job.” She shifted her weight.

When the bus arrived, she struggled to her feet and, with her body twisted to one side, hobbled with her walking stick towards the bus.

At the time, I was among 147.6 million people under 65 years of age who got health insurance through their employer (Health, United States, 2011). I knew nothing about America’s healthcare system to help the lady find relief from her pain.

For six months after leaving my job in retail to start my sole-proprietor service provider business, I continued to receive health insurance coverage through my former employer’s group plan. Under the COBRA program, my monthly premium also included my former employer’s share. What a shock to see my first COBRA invoice for over $300 a month!

During that period, I faced the challenge of people over fifty in obtaining individual health insurance coverage. Following the advice of a health insurance agent, I joined an association of self-employed and sole-proprietor business owners that offered, among other services, a group healthcare plan. In spite of my membership, which came with a monthly $150 fee, the health insurance company affiliated with the association rejected my health insurance application for “pre-existing conditions.”

The loss of health insurance coverage kept me awake at nights. I had fallen into a grave with 48.6 million other uninsured individuals (Health, United States, 2011). A neighbor working in healthcare advised me to apply for Medicaid – a health program for low-income individuals and families funded by state and federal governments. I rejected her advice: foolish pride.

Through an online search for affordable medical clinics, I found the Venice Family Clinic that provides free healthcare services, funded and operated by generous donors and volunteers. I rejoiced when I qualified to receive preventive healthcare at the clinic: lessons in humility. The kind and attentive female doctor, assigned to my care, calmed my fears.

In March 2010 when President Obama passed the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, known as Obamacare, I had renewed hopes of obtaining healthcare insurance coverage. The end of discrimination against or charging higher rates for pre-existing medical conditions – presently over $500 a month – does not go into effect until January 2014. Health Insurance Exchanges – government-regulated and standardized health care plans at affordable premiums for low-income workers – will only become operational in January 2014.

I have to wait. I cannot afford to get sick or injured. When Death comes, I ask the gods to take me quietly in the night.

Did the lady with the four cats find relief from her chronic back pain, I wonder.  Our paths never crossed again.

Brazil: Teaching My Sons to Cook

03 Sunday Feb 2013

Posted by in Brazil, Family Life

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Baiao de Dois - Typical Food of Ceara - Brazil

Baião de Dois – Rice with Beans and Cheese

Typical Food of Ceará – Northeast Brazil

Source: viajeaqui.abril.com.br

 

My sons were eleven and thirteen years of age when a medical examination revealed that my severe back pain was the result of a herniated disk – peril of a sedentary working life coupled with lack of physical exercise, according to my doctor.  The treatment prescribed by the neurosurgeon I consulted seemed worse than the pain that caused me to walk with a limp. Complete bed rest for fifteen days. Flat on my back with a pillow under my knees. I could only get up to use the toilet. He allowed me up to five days to make arrangements at work and at home for my hibernation.

At the time, I had two assistants working with me in the Import Department at Ceará Importers.* One of them, fluent in English, had recently joined us. During my absence from the office, I agreed to work by phone, as needed, throughout the work-day.

One of the medications the doctor prescribed required daily injections. My next-door neighbor gave me the name and apartment number of a retired nurse living in our condominium. We agreed to a time that would work for both of us – my sons had to be at home to let her in.

Getting help with washing our laundry and cooking was another concern. The laundry proved easy.  A family-owned lavanderia, operating within the condominium complex, provided washing and ironing services at an affordable rate. I arranged for pick-up and delivery during the time my sons would be home from school.

The cooking was another matter. Ordering meals for the three of us for fifteen days would burst my budget. My sons agreed to do the cooking. They already knew how to prepare breakfast. The main meal, for lunch and dinner, became their challenge. Cooking began when they got home from school around one o’clock. With my thirteen-year-old in charge, they followed my step-by-step instructions for preparation of the ingredients and cooking time. When in doubt and in order to determine if the food was fully-cooked, they brought the pot for me to see.

During those days immobilized, I realized the need to teach my sons to cook. On Sundays, following my recovery, I started teaching my older son to cook. Sunday cooking lessons with my younger son began when he turned thirteen. Today, my younger son is a better cook than I am and a “cook man” like my father.

Each one of us learned a lot during those fifteen days. Though fearful about not being able to walk again and my loss of income – my work contract did not include paid sick leave – I had to be strong for them. In spite of their own fears, my sons were there for me all the way. No acting up. No complaints. We grew stronger and more united as a family unit. What more could a working solo mom ask of her sons?

*Fictitious Name