Fiction by Mackenzie Kuenz
It was 4am and the birds were just barely chirping, Dona Paula stretched her body trying to wake up her tired muscles and bones. She got out of bed and lit a candle for her Orixá, Oxum, the Afro-Brazilian goddess of the waterfalls and fresh water and whispered her prayer. She was heading to work for the middle upper class white family that had hired her 15 years ago as their maid. She lived in the suburban favela in the outskirts of Salvador, the Blackest city outside of Africa. The distance to work was short but it would take her approximately 2 hours by bus. The bus was yellow indicating the neighborhood it served and lack of air conditioning, it was basically a rattling tin can, the trek hurt her stiff joints. The bus line started in the favela at the top of the hill and spiraled down picking up people along the way, soon it was packed. Everyone looked out for each other, those who got a seat held onto other people’s bags so those standing didn’t have to.
Dona Paula took a deep breath before getting off the bus, the sky was getting darker, the rain was coming. She couldn’t remember if she put out a bucket to collect the water that would drip through the roof when the rain started, it was too late to do anything now. Her kids were already at school. She started the 15-minute walk from the bus stop to the Almeda’s house mentally preparing herself and bracing herself for the microaggressions she would face. The rain started and she pulled out her flimsy umbrella and lengthened her steps. She entered the apartment and spoke for a minute with the doorman Seu Guará, who also expressed worry about the rain that would fall saying, “last year when it rained like this my house flooded and my neighbors who lived higher up lost their house, it slid down the cliff”. Seu Guará shuddered remembering those times and Dona Paula felt a shiver go up her spine, her guides were warning her, today was going to be different, the rain that was coming was dangerous.
Dona Paula opened the door to the Almeda’s just as Sr. Alameda was leaving, he stopped and looked Dona Paula up and down and winked at her, Dona Paula looked down disgusted and greeted him good morning through her clenched teeth. Sr. Alameda exclaimed, “such a rainy day to go to the office”, Dona Paula offered a meek smile and murmured “uh huh”.
In her head she cursed him, if only he cared about what this rain meant for her family and community, what it meant for a huge part of the city that was victim to environmental racism and poor infrastructure. She started preparing breakfast for the kids of the family while Sra. Alameda worked out at some chic spin studio up the street. Sra. Alameda was obsessed with being fit and her body image, Sr. Alameda always made snarky comments about her weight. Dona Paula felt some empathy towards Sra. Alameda, but that didn’t mean she was a pleasure to work with.
The Alameda’s had two kids, Leticia was 12 and Raul was 15, they were getting ready to go to school, private school that is. Dona Paula’s kids 11 and 16, Rodrigo and Julia would be at their public school by now. It hurt Dona Paula to have to leave so early and not make her own kids’ breakfast, she felt guilty to have to pass that responsibility onto her daughter Julia. Leticia and Raul walked up to the dining table complaining to Dona Paula, “it’s so rainy, I just want to stay home and curl up and watch TV”.
These kids did not realize how privileged they were to get driven to school even though it was raining, her kids would likely get stuck in the rain on the way home. Sometimes the bus could not make it back up the hill of the community because the rain rushed down like a waterfall, taking everything in its path. She wondered if she should give Leticia and Raul a taste of reality from outside their bubble, but she kept quiet and served them breakfast.
Sra. Alameda arrived from her workout complaining that her hair got wet and now she would have to straighten it again. Dona Paula understood that struggle, the rain ruined her hair too, but she had bigger problems to worry about. Sra. Alameda drank her smoothie with imported fruits despite having so many tropical fruits easily accessible. Dona Paula could barely afford local fresh fruit at this point, inflation and increasingly hostile politicians were making her life and the life for the majority of Soteropolitanos (people from Salvador) difficult. The bus prices kept going up, the price of everything was going up, and her salary stayed the same. She had tried to bring this up to Sra. Alameda, who said that she could help Dona Paula come up with a budget, Dona Paula scoffed; she was already cutting as many expenses as possible, and her family was eating the worst they had in years.
The rain continued to fall, and Dona Paula’s anxiety mounted, she could only imagine what her neighborhood looked like at this point. It was 3pm and her kids should have been home by now, but she had not heard from them yet. She decided to ask Sra. Alameda if she could leave early to be able to make it home and take care of her kids. She approached Sra. Alameda, who was on Pinterest planning her 2023 vision board, there were pictures of faraway places, fancy foods, and quotes like “good vibes only”. Dona Paula let out a quiet cynical laugh, asked her guides for strength, and started.
“Hello Sra. Alameda, do you think I could go home a bit early because the rain has not stopped, and I am worried about my children getting home”.
Sra. Alameda looked up at her over her designer glasses with a skeptical look and responded, “It’s just a little rain it’s not a big deal”.
Dona Paula took a deep breath and tried to explain fighting back tears “my community does not have the infrastructure that yours does, when it rains like this the staircases become waterfalls, and everything is taken, often buses cannot make it up the hill, some people’s houses slide down the hill, it really is dangerous and my kids are alone, my mom is alone, I need to be there”.
Sra. Alameda listened surprisingly attentively and pondered for a moment saying, “if you want to leave early, but tomorrow I expect you to come early to make up the time”.
Dona Paula trekked to the stop and stood with her fellow workers who had finished work for the day. People exchanged worried murmurs about the rain. Dona Paula checked her WhatsApp again and saw a message in the family group chat from Leticia. Leticia had sent “mum, we have made it home, but the buses can’t make it up the hill anymore, there is too much water coming down”. Dona Paula was relieved her children had made it home, but they were still not safe, and neither was she.
She responded, “my daughter, unplug what you can, get the squeegee ready to push the water back out, and keep updating me. Light a candle for your Orixá Iansã and pray for her to protect you and your brother. I am going to try to do everything I can to come home now but I don’t know if I will make it, please forgive me”.
Pictures by ivotavaress