The Police Officer

We always gave advice to him, we told him to be careful.  He would reply, “No, my friends are cool, they have guns, they will protect me,” these sorts of things. It ended up that his friends provided him no protection at all. 

Introduction: Wandercy works at Belo Horizonte’s 22nd Military Police Battalion, which sits at the foot of favela Morro do Papagaio and next to middle-class Santa Lucia. Wandercy has beaten the odds, making it here under circumstances different than those of several of his peers in the slums. He’s here as a soldier in the police force rather than a perpetrator or a victim of crime. In fact, he has had to handcuff acquaintances from his own community, Taquaril, a favela in which he still lives but is trying to leave. If an “accident” happens, as he puts it, he could leave behind four young, fatherless kids.

Belo Horizonte, Brazil, 2006

Wandercy’s Parents

My parents always lived in Belo Horizonte, my father was born here. My father did a lot of things: he was a mason, he was a grave-digger at the Cemetery of Saudade, he was a security guard for a representative, he worked at the Prefeitura (1). He was always hard-working. My mother is from Governador Valadares. She came here as a teenager with an intention to grow, evolve, find a better job because the interior didn’t provide good opportunities for advancement (2). She came to Belo Horizonte to find work, to try her luck. She started to work in the house of a family. Later she found a job at the Prefeitura as a street sweeper. She worked for some thirty years, in 60% to 70% of the neighborhoods here, and now she is retired. It was the only work she found because my mother is illiterate. She doesn’t know how to read or write.

My parents were very strict. My mother was short and to the point. You had to be “na ponta da língua” with her (3). She would say, “Go do this!” It had to be done that instant, otherwise we would be spanked. But it was worth it, the way she acted, the way she took care of the family. If she protected us every time we did something wrong, today I would not be here, I would not be a police officer. I was closer to my father and preferred to stay with him when the two separated. My father was more affectionate with me. Despite the alcohol, he gave me more attention, conversed with me more. It’s for that reason. I don’t want to say that my mother was bad, I want to say that he was better. Understand? I like the two of them.

Banana Sandwiches

I endured hardships when I was a child, when I was a teenager. During this period of my life I was living in Vespasiano, some forty minutes from here by car. From the age of twelve until nineteen. Then I returned to Belo Horizonte again. What did we do? Me and my older left for the street to search for paper, aluminum… we collected these materials to sell to the recyclers. We would leave home early and go to a place that purchased scrap-metal and would grab a cart. We took one cart for the two of us. We were weak. We were small. If we took two carts, we wouldn’t be able to push them. We remained in the street collecting materials to sell so that in the afternoon we could pass by the supermarket and buy food. We got our money and, late in the afternoon, we would bring home a package of rice, a package of corn flour. My mother and father cursed the two of us because they felt humiliated by the fact that they were not working, did not have jobs at the time. There were days that I wasn’t able to eat lunch, I would look at people eating lunch in a restaurant… that wrenched my heart. I would think, “My God, what am I going to do?” I had money, but if I spent it, how would I buy rice in the afternoon? We would pass by an inexpensive bakery, buy some rolls, four bread rolls let’s say, and we would pass by a fruit stand, would buy some bananas, put the bananas inside the bread and would eat it. We would be satisfied with that for the entire day.

Selling Popsicles

I started to sell popsicles when I was a youngster, young kid, twelve, thirteen years old. My parents didn’t like this very much… I was small. What happened? During this period, there were many projects in Vespasiano. I passed by the construction sites and would sell popsicles to people there. My parents didn’t want this. I would arrive at home in the afternoon. I was spanked at first. But I said, “No, I was working,” and would give the money to them. The money that I kept, I bought candy, sweets, these things. The rest of the money I gave to them. They would go there to confirm this. I continued doing this for a long time, until I was fifteen or sixteen years old.

Selling Bread

So, when I was around sixteen years old, what happened? There was a new housing complex. As it was a new complex, it didn’t have any commerce. Complex Caieiras was a neighborhood inside the city of Vespasiano. There weren’t any stores inside this complex, it didn’t have bakeries, it had nothing. There was a young man there who started to make bread in his house… rolls, in his house.

I went there, asked him, “Could you give me an opportunity to work with you, to sell this bread?”

“But how are you going to sell it?”

“No, give me a box there, I’ll leave for the street and sell it.”

So, beautiful, he gave me a cardboard box, I filled the box with bread, real early in the morning, six in the morning, put the box on my head and left yelling throughout the complex, “Bakery boy, bakery boy!”

I started to sell bread as if it were gold, and started to gain many clients. There were apartments that I passed by in the morning, knocked on the doors and left the bread there for them. There were days that I didn’t even collect money, I told them I would pick up the money when I returned. So, he was producing, the guy was growing, so much so that today he has a bakery there. When I go there he says, “Come have some coffee, come on in, feel at home, you don’t need to pay for anything.” Why? Because I helped him expand until I was nineteen years old. Then I returned to Belo Horizonte.

My parents were people who did not have much fluency in financial matters, let’s say they did not look much to develop these things. The house that we had in Vespasiano was our house, a COHAB home (4). So then, what did my father do? He sold the house there and bought a cheaper one in a favela in Belo Horizonte, for half the price, and the rest of the money disappeared.

Alcohol and Lemon Juice

My father, unfortunately, there wasn’t any way to take care of him. He was an alcoholic for real. He was so dependent on alcohol that when he was without money, and we didn’t lend or give him anything, he left a bottle of pure alcohol at home. He drank alcohol with sugar and lemon juice. He took that and would be satisfied. You can see how difficult the situation was for him. We managed to admit him to Alcoholics Anonymous. He remained five years without drinking. Then, when he returned, he returned worse, returned dependent, totally dependent. After one week of drinking, he had already changed. When he was sober, when he hadn’t ingested a single alcoholic drink, then we talked with him; he managed to calm down, control himself, it was easy to avoid any type of argument. Principally with my mother! When he drank there were a lot of arguments between the two, fights. It was because of this she decided to separate from him. I want to say, they decided to separate.

Cachaça

He always drank a lot of alcohol, ingested in the range of two bottles of alcohol per day. What type of alcohol? Cachaça (5). He would drink around two liters of pinga per day (6). He had liver problems. I forgot the name of the sickness he had. It was only getting worse. The alcohol caused many bad things for him. He had hemorrhoids, ulcers, liver problems… and it was getting worse, getting worse, until one day… one day before, he was sitting in front of the house with friends, playing cards.

He went as far as to offer me, “Let’s drink one, son.”

I said, “What’s that? You know I don’t drink.”

“Ah, drink, drink one, it won’t hurt you, no. You can remove the taste with meat.”

I said, “Meat I’ll eat.”

I went there, took a piece of meat and left him there. It was the last memory. But it was a good memory, he was smiling… he was an excellent father.

We had gone to a party in another nearby city. That day he did not want to go, “No, I won’t go, my friends will be here in a little bit.” He was alone at home, became ill, there wasn’t anyway to save him. He passed away in the morning. A friend went there to call on him, saw that the door wasn’t locked, entered and went to the bed, shook him, but he was already dead. He died due to excess alcohol, beverages. He was drinking with friends. His friends left and he remained alone at home and died… fifty four years old.

Older Brother and a Night in Jail

I had an excellent relationship with my older brother. We had an excellent relationship. He was older, right? So then, how do you say, he was the boss. I am the second boy. I am thirty-three years old. Beneath him is my sister and, after that, me. There is another beneath me, who is twenty-seven years old now, another who is twenty-six, and one who is twenty-five. My brother discovered drugs with an acquaintance. I think it was in the neighborhood: Alto Vera Cruz. He messed around with drugs, only he used in the street, arrived at home high. He arrived at home a little strange, but we thought it was alcohol. When we discovered, it was already too late. One fine day, he was imprisoned for drugs. He was imprisoned when he was a minor, a child, fifteen years old, in this range. He was jailed together with other people who were using drugs, small stuff. He passed just one night there. After this moment, we began to suspect that he had participated in these things. My parents knew. Yes they knew. It was a huge argument. They as much as wanted to throw him out of the house. He said that he would stop, but he continued in secret, right? He pretended that he stopped to deceive everyone, but he was involved.

Two Brothers, Different Paths

Let’s say that it is a person’s own temperament, really, because it didn’t come from the family. Because we came from a family that, thank God, we had an excellent upbringing. We learned always to respect others so that we would be respected. I think this deviation came from his own character, let’s say, a thing of nature. Each animal has his own nature. It was his instinct. Because it wasn’t a lack of advice, absence of family orientation. I never messed with drugs.

Attempts to Admit Older Brother to a Clinic

When he was high on drugs he did not listen to anyone. He turned his back and left for the street and didn’t listen to anyone. We wanted, as a brother, as a father, we wanted his well-being, to do things to put him on the right path. We proposed as much as to help find a clinic. From what I understand, from what I see, the fact that people start with drugs, many are people who are disregarded by family, friends… others, no. We never held a bias against him. Sometimes, a person experiments, does it one time and continues, thinking that everything will continue well his entire life, but unfortunately one hour it goes wrong, it leads to prison… or death. So then, we tried to be his friends, “We want to help, we are going to find a clinic for you.” He said he didn’t need this, that it was a phase, that he was just a user (7). It didn’t help, we did not convince him. I think one has to have strong willpower. A person who uses drugs already is chemically dependent. If they remain much time without drugs, their organism starts to feel, the person starts to get the chills, feel sick… so then, it is very difficult to stop.

A Picnic

We always gave advice to him, we told him to be careful.  He would reply, “No, my friends are cool, they have guns, they will protect me,” these sorts of things. It ended up that his friends provided him no protection at all. One fine day, he left to have a picnic with friends in Sabará. He arrived there and was murdered. I saw that he died due to the false friends that he had. This is how I came to sign up for the police and saw that this side of his didn’t pay, it wasn’t worth it. He died shortly after my father. During that period, it seems to me my brother was twenty six. This happened due to his involvement with criminals who messed with drugs.

Last time Wandercy saw His Brother

It was a Saturday, in the morning. During this period I didn’t drink, as today. He met me in the street. He said to me, “Wandercy, come with me, come have a beer with me in the bar.”

“No, you know I don’t drink, I don’t want any beer.”

“No, no, it is the last time I am going to ask you, just one beer.”

I said, “Okay then, alright,” I drank a beer and left for home.

He stayed there drinking beer. Then he disappeared for five days. It was Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. We searched for him in hospitals, police stations, neighbors’ homes, relatives, but no news. Then, on Wednesday in the afternoon, I was listening to news on the radio, alerting that they had found a body of a person approximately twenty-five to thirty years old of black color. This person passed away and was found on the bank of a river. The body already was in a state of decay. So I went to identify the body, to do the IML (8). I arrived there and it really was him.

Later I found out that neighbors—criminals really—who lived in my area… he left to use drugs with them, an argument took place, and it was like that it happened. But the people who were with him, all of them have already died because of drugs, sickness, AIDS due to drug use, understand? Not one exists today. There isn’t anything more to do: they already have died due to drugs, one exchanging gunshots with police, one of AIDS… they have already passed away.

My God, my mother remained upset with this for a long time. When I saw his body, I remained a long time—the way I saw him there, in a state of decay—I remained a long time… my God! I remained in a deep depression, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t eat meat, I really missed him, it seemed like he was always close to me, calling me… When we lose a loved one, it is… Family is very important. I lost two people: my father and this older brother of mine. It’s not worth it, this life of drinking, drugs.

A Difficult Period

It was a difficult period after my father and brother died. My mother’s pension was very little: we lived on a minimum wage (9). I found some odd jobs, worked as a bricklayer, weeded some lots. God helped me because something always appeared. What happened? I started to study again. I started to work during the day at an automobile business. They polished cars, cleaned vehicles, these things. I started to work with them, changed my work card from general services to car polisher. My salary improved a little and I continued studying at night. So then, it was me, three other siblings and my mother. My older sister was already married. During this period, only I was working… For this reason I am saying, “Thank God we survived.”

Competitive Public Exam, Military Police Force

I already had passed the military police force’s competitive public exam in ’97, but was removed from the course because I hadn’t completed high school. High school is necessary. I was trying to finish high school… I continued studying because I was going to try again when another exam opened up. My luck, thank God, I received a letter from the military police saying that I would be fit to take the next public examination. I finished high school and in 2002 I once again took this exam, the CFST, which is the course for soldiers. I was approved and entered the military police force. During that period there were more than one thousand candidates just for CFST. I don’t remember how many spots they had available. I only know that I had to be outstanding, try to be one of the best. By luck, it was the last year I could try the competitive public exam. It’s only given to those up to twenty nine years old. I think I made it due to what I planted… human beings harvest what they plant.

Desire to be a Military Police Officer

I wanted to be a police officer, salary wasn’t important. I believed that the police had respect. So then, I always wanted to be a police officer, I wanted to give orders, I always wanted to give a mission to someone, “Ah, you erred, come here be quiet.” Later, when I was older, I started to see the police from another angle. With the passing of time I saw that it was due to the relationship that the military police has with society. I saw that I would improve my relationship with society, would be able to help someone. During this period, the military police was everything to me, it was as if it was “a mother” to me. Something happens: call the police. Someone fought: call the police. Someone disappeared: call the police. So then, with that, I would feel valued by society. I wanted someone to look at me with that happiness, with all of that stuff. The same way that I have admiration for a fireman who saves people, for a doctor who is always there helping people, for a professor who is always there educating… the military police is the same thing. So then, for me police are very important.

Salary, Military Police Officer

When I started what was my salary? When I started in 2002, the salary was R$880 (US$375 per month) (10). Today it is R$1,330 (US$565 per month), the salary of a soldier in my position. Fair? No one is satisfied with the salary they earn. I work twelve hours then take off twelve hours… 12 per 36. I arrive at 5:30 in the morning and work until six in the evening. We need an increase in salary. The risk of our work is very high. The only thing that we protect is the chest, because of the vest, but if you take a bullet in the head or shoulders… (11). There was a young man here that caught a bullet in his vest, fell down, remained a little short of breath, but returned to his feet again. From the height of the waist until the neck is protected. All of us, for sure, want to progress, want to advance, want to have a way to evolve at work, to improve our salaries. I started to perceive that, at the military police, who makes our salaries are us. I am a soldier. If I want a better salary, I have to take a course, I have to fight for it, I have to study my fair share. There are levels: soldier, then captain, sergeant, sub-lieutenant, lieutenant… The system works because it’s considered a business. Rather, it is a company where there is a boss and there are employees… it’s not exactly like this, but we talk as if it were.

Early Days in the Field

I spent nine months in the academy, studying. The first four months I stayed indoors, just training, studying, completing the soldier formation course. I studied various disciplines there: penal law, civil law, penal military code, shooting instruction… there are many subjects. From what I remember, back then there were fifty-four subjects. After those four months I started to go to the street, field service, but continued to study and complete the disciplines. Like an internship, working as a military police officer in the street for five months. On the weekends, I spent time working at the Mineirão (12). I remember that I always worked, me and one or two other police officers, in proximity of the Mineirão handling small disturbances, fan aggressions… that was my first experience.

An Accident

The only thing that shocks me is when a conflict happens. We always have incursions in favelas, we always come across armed individuals, understand (13)? A shot from a firearm in our direction… but thank God, until today, only one accident has happened to me. I was arriving in a nearby neighborhood, Esplanada, to visit a store of another police officer’s mother. I want to say: a monitoring visit. It was me, another patrol officer, a driver and this officer in command. The moment that we arrived at his mother’s store, two criminals had just finished robbing a Jogo do Bicho house next door (14). Coincidentally, we arrived at the same moment at the locale. The owner of a vehicle they were invading, at that instant, started to shout, “Please, help me, I am being robbed!”

We went after them. When we arrived more or less fifty meters behind their car, they began to shoot. Both of them, one on one side and the other on the other side shooting. They shot from there and we squatted down inside our car, waiting for them to stop firing a little so we could begin shooting. The moment that I put my arm outside to shoot, I saw something hit the left side here, as if I was hit by a stone here. But I did not notice anything, I had all that adrenaline, so I didn’t perceive anything. I only remember when my face began to burn, I felt a strong heat on my face. I placed my hand on my face and I was bleeding.

So then, I noticed that I had been shot. It only grazed me, thank God, and they as much as wanted to stop the pursuit. “No, let’s go! No, I’m fine, I’m cool,” with all that adrenaline we went after them. They continued shooting. So, at a certain time there, the criminals took a curve at a very excessive speed and hit the front of a wall. They hit the front of a wall and, I don’t know how, they managed to leave the car and take off. The guys didn’t want to go after them due to the fact that I was hurt. We found the guns there inside the car, two revolvers, there were several sacks of money… if I remember well, there were four sacks of money, various clothes that they had taken from a store next door. We managed to get back the stolen items and firearms, but the criminals escaped. At least we managed to seize two firearms, which in the wrong hands can be a terrible disaster… and the stolen things.

My God, today I thank God very much because if I was hit a little more in my face—I think some five, ten centimeters—I would have been fully hit. I would have died or would have been paralyzed. Ah, thank God… I believe a lot in God. Unfortunately, we have to initiate gunfire. If we don’t carry out gunfire on occasions like this, we could end up dying. If you can seize the citizen without using guns, for him to be judged and pay for what he did, fine. But, unfortunately, sometimes we have no choice.

Southern Region of Belo Horizonte

This is the southern region. It’s the battalion with the greatest contrasts. We have the richest neighborhoods of Belo Horizonte and we have the largest favelas. The 22nd Battalion covers many favelas. We have the favela of Cafezal, Taquaril, Alto Vera Cruz, Morro das Pedras, Papagaio and we even cover a little of Ventosa and Acaba-Mundo. Morro do Papagaio is here behind the battalion. It is Santa Lucia. There is the neighborhood Santa Lucia and the favela Santa Lucia. The favela Santa Lucia is lower class and the neighborhood Santa Lucia is middle class. My God! Every neighborhood has this inequality, this social difference: the poorest people live next to those with the best financial conditions. Inequality exists, only I believe that each person harvests what he plants. Here to my left is the neighborhood Santa Lucia, where people are from the middle class. For sure there, the parents, the grandparents are lawyers, are engineers… they are people who fought for this. I am certain that, one way or the other, they have done something to be where they are, living in a better apartment like this.

On my other side, in the favela Santa Lucia there are people who are fighting, who are studying. These people for sure one day are going to leave the favela, are going to complete a good course, are going to leave there. On the other hand, there are others who are already settled, as is the case with many teenagers there. While mommy and daddy are working they only think about dating, drinking beer, going to friends’ barbecues on the weekends. They don’t think about tomorrow, when their parents are no longer around. So then, we have to start early, start firmly studying… an inexpensive course appears, save money, go there and take it. Later on this course will be worth it. If a person studies early and starts to work early, then he will be in good financial condition early. I think that many give up. I think that many give up due to the fact they can’t find work, so they leave for the streets to steal, to use drugs. Also some have become accustomed to an easy life and don’t want to change.

Wandercy’s Neighborhood and the Commute

I myself unfortunately live inside a favela, the favela of Taquaril. It’s a good place, understand? But for a police officer to live, it’s not a good place. I have lived there for many years, I know that good people live there. But unfortunately there are many criminals and, during this time that I have worked with the police, I have already imprisoned criminals in favelas, have already participated in the imprisonment of many. I have already received threats in my neighborhood. Understand? By telephone, personal threats. Unfortunately the guy evaded me; I wasn’t able to catch him… a complicated situation. For a normal citizen to live, there are many good people, but for a police officer it’s not good. Without mentioning that the police who patrol there don’t manage to feel relaxed, I myself don’t manage.

Today I started at 5:30 in the morning… until 6:00 PM. I return home dressed in uniform. When I leave for home, I ride public transport, I don’t sit. I stand on foot, observing the front door and the back door, everyone who enters and everyone who leaves. It’s already happened that I’m on foot at the bus door, a criminal sees me like this, is shocked, turns and leaves. I want to say: maybe he was armed or was planning a mugging, saw me and left. So then, sometimes just the fact that I am there in uniform, prevents criminal activity. It is a little risky for me to go home in a police uniform. If a citizen is going to get into an altercation with me and I am not able to identify him first, what’s going to happen? His reaction, for sure, if he’s armed, he’s going to fire a shot. So then it’s good if I went home without the uniform, like a civilian in street clothes, because it would be easier: whatever the infracting citizen does, it’s easier to catch him by surprise. But, it’s my decision. It’s really to save on bus fares, because they are heavy. Every day I take four routes on two buses (15). I have lived in the favela many years. Generally the relatives of drug dealers look at me like this, knowing that if the guy errs, I’m going to imprison him as normal. If there is a young man who is a drug user or something like that, he keeps quiet because he knows that I am a police officer. He knows if something happens there that I see is abnormal, I am going to take measures.

Colleague from School

I have already imprisoned acquaintances who grew up with me in the favela where I live. Many don’t understand this. They think, due to the fact of friendship, you can’t arrest them, you have to go light on them. No! A friend is someone who does not create problems. If the guy erred, broke the law, the military police has to be there. A young man who I studied with, a school colleague, at the time of a body check, he disrespected a police officer who was working with me, a corporal, who was the commander of the garrison. When he said to the young man that he was arrested, he told me to secure the young man.

I took out the handcuffs and said, “You are arrested.”

“What’s this Wandercy? You are my friend.”

I said, “You are arrested. The only thing I can do for you, which is the right thing, is transport you to a competent authority.”

A function of the military police is to carry out the imprisonment of citizens and transport them to the competent authority, which is the civil police. The civil police will judge what will be done. So, beautiful, I handcuffed him, took him to the delegacy, we ran a complaint.

The next day, he turned to me, “You were a cool guy. If it was another, he would have beaten me and everything.”

“No, I took you to the delegacy. Wasn’t this the right thing to do?”

Use of Force by the Police

A police officer, he uses moderated force to contain the action of an infracting citizen. If a young man much stronger than me tries to resist arrest, for sure I am going to have to call a colleague to help me carry out the arrest. If I grab his arm, he won’t want to go. So then, I have to use greater force, but moderated, to be able to control the citizen. Sometimes there is a dominating action when a person resists, and the family is revolted by what happens. Many don’t like the police for this reason. It’s already happened that some people fall, hurt themselves, and start to hate the police because they don’t see it from the right angle.

Tactical Actions

Tactical Actions is a specialized course within the military police, for a police officer to learn how to enter in areas of risk, dangerous areas, abandoned buildings, favelas. Tactical Actions is community support, let’s say this. I work in a mobile tactical group, a mobile tactical company, a company that supports the battalion. It passes through all of the battalion’s areas.Let’s say that there is a vehicle, a simple vehicle, with two police officers. They are patrolling normally, preventative patrol there in the streets. Then, all of a sudden, near them there is a robbery that moment. It will be announced by radio, “To the 22nd Battalion, there is a Caixa Economica Bank on Arthur Bernardes Avenue, number 1000, there are three subjects armed with revolvers carrying out a robbery at the moment.” So what happens? All of the mobile tactic groups know about it from the radio. If you have five mobile tactics vehicles patrolling in the neighborhoods here, let’s says within one kilometer, all of them will move to the scene and do what’s needed to imprison the citizens.

Supremacy of Force

Another example: someone calls 190 and says, “There is a house, several people inside are using drugs, four of them are armed” (16). There are four armed individuals. A single tactical mobile vehicle has four police officers. So then, two or three vehicles will go to the house. Always at least double the number of people who are there. We call this “supremacy of force.” The police always work with supremacy of force, never alone. If there is one person to approach, then two police officers go there. If there are ten people, twenty or thirty police officers go there to approach those people. Never alone.

Guns at a Party in Cascalho

At a party in the favela of Cascalho, which is here in Morro das Pedras, someone called, saying that a residence was having a party, a barbecue, and at this party there were many armed individuals and the music was very loud… someone was using drugs, marijuana or something like this. So we went to this address. This house did not have a door, it was an open entryway. When we arrived, I was the second man. I was giving cover for the first officer who was in front. At the moment we arrived to overpower the people, “Everyone stop! Nobody move! Hands on your head! Hands on your head! Everybody against the wall!” I just saw guns falling to the floor. Everybody began to throw guns to the floor and lean against the wall. And that’s the truth. Imagine if it was a single vehicle with just one police officer, or with two, doing a routine patrol: they would have been killed!

Minors

The maximum that minors remain in prison is 120 days. I think this law should be changed. If a teenager is capable of picking up a firearm and shooting someone, or if he has the courage to pick up a knife and stab someone, he has to pay for his acts. He is responsible for his acts. He knows what is bad and he knows what is good. Just yesterday I saw an armed eleven year old, more or less thirty meters from me. I saw him seated, he was with two others, they were using drugs. He was seated holding a revolver, looked like a .38, I don’t know… I know it was a small chromed gun. He was there with two other kids and remembering that the police need to have supremacy of force, I didn’t approach them. I could have approached them, only I would have been killed if I had done this: three people versus me alone. So I didn’t go, I picked up my cellular and called 190 and passed the situation on to other police. In five minutes they arrived, but when the vehicle appeared, the kids ran inside the favela into the alleys there and there wasn’t any way to catch them. Eleven years old!

Importance of Work

With the police it’s already difficult to control all of crime that exists. Imagine without them? Understand? We are not able to control everything! But I think that more than half we are able to control. I believe that what most influences crime in a favela is the excess selling of drugs. Many people sell and many want to take the points of others. Let’s say that there are two “bocas de fumo” next to one another (17). Whoever is selling more, the other for sure will try to eliminate him, kill him, to take his trafficking point. The military police always is observing where the most critical points are, always observing where the greatest number of assaults are, these things. Through these observations the police works in these areas to reduce the number of homicides. Thank God, I feel valued by society. I think that we are important because we work in all areas. The military police does not just provide security to society, it also handles various other needs of society. In the case where someone becomes ill, if a vehicle arrives at the location first, for sure they will take the person to the hospital. Even an infracting citizen. It’s already happened several times, a criminal from a favela is shot and we have to give him assistance until the hospital. But this does not please us!

Birth of Wandercy’s First Daughter

Thirteen years ago my daughter was born, her name is Juliene. Thirteen years ago, I was in Hospital Santa Casa, waiting… I was how old? I was twenty-one years old! I didn’t have this physical stature that I do now. I was really skinny. I didn’t have a hair on my face, I was really just a boy. I remember that the mother of my daughter was in this hospital. When my daughter was born, the doctor came with her in his arms walking down the hallway, “You are the father of this child?” He showed me like this, he had just taken her from her mother’s womb. I continued looking for some seconds, never again will that moment leave my head. Never again! My God, even tears dripped from my eyes, tears of happiness. I never had seen the birth of a child, and I had just finished seeing one. I thought, “My God! I am a father! What great happiness!”

Children and Difficulties Saving Money

I have an eleven year child who lives with me. I am responsible for him, this eleven year old. I live with him, my mother and two siblings in Taquaril. All of us in one house. My other three children I had with a different woman. We were dating, we were living together and she became pregnant. It’s been two and a half years since we separated. I think of saving money. I pay child support every month, 20% of my salary. At home, there, I pay the electricity and telephone bills. I buy things for my son, he says to me, “I need a shirt, there’s going to be an outing with friends from school.” So, what’s left for me, even if it’s just peanuts leftover, I put it in the bank. Even if it’s just R$20 per month (US$9 per month). Do I see my other three children? Constantly. They seek me more than I seek them. At least two or three times per week they are at my house. Like holidays, always when there is a holiday. They come to my house, sleep there and return before class begins again. They study! Thank God they have this! They are inspired a lot by me. They have a great admiration for me, for my work. The oldest wants to be a police officer, only she wants to take a nursing course and work at the military hospital.

A Dream

My dream is to leave Taquaril and I am going to achieve it. I want to move up, understand? Professionally, at work. To take more courses and have a better rank, develop the professional side to be able to improve my salary and in the future buy a larger house, outside the favela… outside of where I live. One thing that people who live in a favela need to be aware of: we all help others evolve, physically and psychologically. I came from a humble family, a simple family. Today I circulate throughout society. I show a citizen who is in the favela, thinking that he is nobody… that today I am a police officer. Many think, “because I am black, because I am poorly dressed.” No! Life provides opportunities for everyone… I thank God for giving me this opportunity to be useful, to provide service for the good of society.

« end »

Please feel free to comment on Wandercy’s story.

Footnotes:
(1) Prefeitura = municipality of Belo Horizonte.
(2) Interior = the countryside, or smaller cities, outside of Brazil’s larger metropolises.
(3) Na ponta da língua = “on the tip of the tongue”; always ready with a response.
(4) COHAB, Companhia de Habitação. The state government created COHAB to address a lack of housing options for the poor and the urbanization of favelas in Minas Gerais.
(5) Cachaça is a popular alcoholic drink in Brazil; it is obtained from the distillation of sugar-cane sap, and it is very high in alcohol.
(6) Pinga is a common name for cachaça.
(7) Was only a user, not a trafficker of drugs.
(8) Instituto Medical Legal, handles autopsies and identification.
(9) Approximately US$1,784 per year based on exchange rates at the time.
(10) All US dollar figures are based on exchange rates at the time.
(11) Vest = bullet proof vest.
(12) Mineirão = the city’s soccer stadium.
(13) Wandercy uses the word “agglomerados” to refer to favelas, or the slums.
(14) Jogo do Bicho = small gambling house.
(15) Police don’t pay fares as long as they are uniformed.
(16) Dialing 190 in Belo Horizonte is similar to calling 911 in the United States.
(17) Bocas de fumo = locales where traffickers sell product to drug users.