Três histórias da História do Brasil (Written by Moacyr Scliar and Published on April 23rd, 2000 in ZH Magazine)
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Over the course of its 500 years, Brazil has collected many stories: tragic, comical and curious. Here are three of them. Separated by long periods of time, they reflect a little of what we might call “the Brazilian condition”.
1 The man who didn't want to be king
The title comes from a story by Rudyard Kipling, but it could well be applied to an unusual episode in our history.
The year is 1641. Brazil is still a colony of Portugal which, in December 1640, had managed to free itself from Spanish rule.
About a month later, the news reached the city of Piratininga. The future capital of São Paulo would then have no more than a thousand inhabitants, divided between Portuguese and Brazilians.
The Portuguese were thrilled with the good news and immediately wanted to swear a public oath of loyalty to the new Portuguese king, Dom João IV.
Another idea occurred to the Brazilians: since Portugal had freed itself from Spain, why couldn't Brazil free itself from Portugal? A public demonstration was immediately organized, with enthusiastic participants calling for independence.
There was just one problem: Portugal had its king, Brazil did not. But soon a name came up from several throats: Amador Bueno da Ribeira.
Rich, intelligent, dignified, he had all the makings of a king. So everyone went to Amador Bueno's house to tell him that he was now the king of Brazil.
But Amador Bueno refused the invitation. Of course: he had no palace, no government and no troops to face Portugal. Being king was more than cold, it was freezing.
The crowd, however, didn't want to talk: either accept or die, they shouted.
With no other choice, Amador Bueno fled through the back door. He ran away so that he wouldn't be king. He went to seek asylum in the monastery of São Bento.
Today, when politicians cling to power tooth and nail, it's good to remember: there was once a Brazilian who didn't want to be king.
2 “Papa, you sold me out”
The year is 1840.
The city, Salvador of Bahia.
There lives a boy called Luís Gama. He's a happy boy, the son of an unusual marriage: his father is a Portuguese nobleman, his mother is a black woman who owns a greengrocer's shop.
The mother works. His father gambles. He gambles a lot. He loses fortunes. That doesn't stop him from being kind and loving to his son. He looks after him, takes him for walks.
One day - November 10, 1840 - the man comes home and announces that he is going to take little Louis to see a ship anchored in the port. The boy enthusiastically accepts.
They take a boat to the Saraiva. Little Luís Gama runs from one side to the other, dazzled. Suddenly, he stops.
Where is his father? He looks for him, he can't find him anywhere. He runs to the rail. There the man is, pulling away in the boat that had brought him, and assuring him that he'll be right back. The boy immediately realizes:
"Papa, you sold me out!"
It was true: in order to have money and keep gambling, his father had sold him into slavery. Luís Gama was taken to Rio de Janeiro and then to São Paulo.
Ensign Antonio Cardoso, who had bought him, was unable to resell him: Luís Gama was too young.
So he keeps the boy. He works in the house - and studies with a young man who is the ensign's guest. Later, he becomes a soldier and then a police clerk.
President Rodrigues Alves appoints Oswaldo Cruz as Director of Public Health, a position equivalent today to Minister of Health.
When he took over, he was given a decisive mission: to clean up Rio de Janeiro.
The then Federal Capital was plagued by various diseases: yellow fever, bubonic plague and smallpox. Foreign ships refused to dock there.
Coffee, the country's main source of foreign currency, could not be exported.
The foreign debt - even then! - was growing non-stop. To clean up Rio is to save Brazil.
Competent - he had just returned from an internship at the Pasteur Institute in Paris - dedicated, resolute, Oswaldo Cruz threw himself into the task with fierce determination.
He will attack disease by disease, through health campaigns.
The first, targeting yellow fever, is based on combating the mosquito which, as Carlos Finlay demonstrated in Cuba, is the transmitter of the disease.
An idea that many people, including doctors, ridiculed. But Oswaldo goes ahead and manages to substantially reduce the number of cases.
The next target is bubonic plague, transmitted by a rat flea. It is therefore a question of exterminating the rodents.
As has been done in other countries, Oswaldo offers a sum, 300 réis, for each rat caught. Again, mockery - and a good business.
A man called Amaral sets up a scheme to sell rats - many of which have been bred for this purpose - to the government.
Soon, he is owed almost 10 contos de réis (the equivalent of about 30,000 rats).
The amount arouses suspicion, Amaral is arrested and confesses: yes, he sold rats to the government, but rats bred in Rio - he didn't do it like others, who brought rats from neighboring states or even foreign ships. As a popular song of the time dedicated to rats put it:
“I'm going to prove to you how bad I am / My penny is guaranteed / I won't let you go, not even if I'm beat with a stick”.
