south side of the world

Today I was walking in Morumbi, strange newish neighborhood that brings together richest and poorest. When Bush was here he stayed in the Hilton Morumbi, with the above pictured view (yes, I have friends in high places) out on the highway and the favela alongside it. It was the first clear day in at least three, and there was a fingernail clip moon in sky. As I came up to the highway I saw a teenage kid in a baggy favela sweater standing by the red light where exit ramp cars make their first stop.

I had a sinking feeling, thinking I might have to share a long light on the same corner with him, have him ask me for something and see that I'm a gringo, here where you can't even carry a laptop type bag with peace of mind at any time of day. To my relief the light turned red as I came to the corner and the kid went out among the cars as I crossed. As he approached the nearest one he lifted up his sweater and twirled 360 in front of the hood before moving to the driver side window with his hand out. I made out the flour-white face of a grampa through the blue tinted glass, waving him off angrily.

Then the kid repeated the twirl in front of another car. I had first thought it was the beginning of a dance performance, as juggling is a common red light peddle technique among the young, but there was no show, only the twirl. Is he showing his shapely torso? offering his body to a more lecherous grampa? is he showing that he's hungry? Halfway down the block I realized what it was. He was showing that he didn't have a gun in his waistband.

Explicitly showing you don't have a gun is a good practice considering that in this same neighborhood last month a couple was shot to death in front of their 7 year old when they stopped at a red light . Unfortunately it doesn't have the intended effect. Just like the translation client of mine working in a skyscraper near there who made me suspicious when he assured me that I didn't have to worry about him paying me for my work.

I kept walking and there were some pink cumulous clouds low on the horizon, the five or six skyscrapers ahead of them in relief, it looked like a still of a hollywood-sized seismic event that was leveling the city, the stack of cloud a plume of dust, the buildings in the foreground the next to go. It looked so strange that I thought it might be the smoke from the plane that crashed here yesterday, but then I remembered the TV had showed that that specific end of the world event was down to embers and assigning the blame.