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Trapped in a Favela during a Battle
Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. A military tank was making its way up the hill to the favela…
The classroom
The two teenage girls knew what was going on before I did. I’d sent them to pick something up. I forget what it is now, probably some stationary, and they ran back into the classroom excited and nervous. I couldn’t make out through their breathless yet excited chatter what they were trying to tell me. My Portuguese was still a little rusty. But then I heard the sounds. At first, I thought they were fireworks, but when I saw the girls make gun shapes with their hands, I knew the noises were gunshots. Instinctively I ran over to the windows and closed the wooden shutters over them. They all automatically stopped and looked at me.
In front of me were twelve Brazilian teenagers aged from eleven to sixteen from the surrounding favela communities. They had all chosen to be here. This was an after school voluntary English program. I was told that the wars between gangs and the police would never happen around the school. It was an unwritten rule. Not only because there were students at the school that were likely to be connected to the gang members, but also the school was positioned on the periphery of the favela close to…
