GORDON PARKS

The son of deeplyreligioustenantfarmers,GordonParksOqn- ) grew up in

Kansasknowingboth the comfortsof familiallove and the tormentsof povertyand
racism.A seriesof oddjobswhen he wasa teenager gaveParksthe meansto buy his
first camera.So evocativewere his photographicstudiesthat both Li,fe and Vogue
broughthim on staff,the first blackphotographer to be hiredby the two magazines.
Parks's prodigiouscreativityhasfoundexpression in filmmaking(Sha,ftin 1971), musi-
calcomposition (bothclassicalandjazz),fiction,nonfiction,andpoetry(titlesinclude
Th.eLearning Tree,A Choice of Weapons,To Smite in Autumn, Arias in Silence, and
GlimpsesTowardInfirtity,published,respectively, in l gB6, lgBT, 1gBB,1994,and
1996).In the followingessay, takenfromhis 1990autobiography, Voicesin theMirron
Parkstellsthe storybehindoneof his mostmemorable photographicworks-that of a
twelve-year-oldboyandhis family,livingin the slumsof RiodeJaneiro.

Pre-Readingjournal Entry
T h e p rv i l [l e m tl f povert\r has prcl vokecja n,i de array oi prop-rosecl sol trti or r s.
One cclntroversialprroposalargLrers that Lhegt)\,emri're.nt shotilcl pav pr)or \,\,on1el-r
i i n a n c i a l i trc e tu ti v esto ttse bi rth corrtrol . W hat cl o you thi nk.-:l f tfl r
frrofresal?
Wh f i s s trc h a p o l i cv cotttroversi al ?{Js€.\' ol rr j otrrrralto expl ore 116111f thi nking
on this issue.

FLAVIO'S HOME
I've never lost my fierce grudgeagainstpoverfy.It is the most savageof all human
' ,a ffl i c ti o n sc,l a i mi n gvi cti msw ho can' t mobi l i zethei r effortsagai nsti t, w ho often lack
s'trengthto digestwhat little food they scroungeup to survive. It keepsgrowing, mul.
ti p l y i n g ,s p re a d i n gl i ke a cancer.In my w anderi ngsI attacki t w herever I can-i n bar -
ri o s ,s l u m sa n d fa v e l as.
C a ta c u m b aw a s the name of the favel arw here Ifound Fl avi oda S i l va.It w as w ick-
e d l y h o t. T h e n o o n sun baked the mud-rot of the w et mountai nsi de.Garbageand
human excrementcloggedthe open sewerssnakingdown the slopes.Jos€Ga[o, a Lrrfe
reporter,and I resledin the shadeof a jacarandatree halfway up Rio de Janeiro'smost
infamousdeathtrap.Below and above us were a mazeof shacks,but in the distance
alongsidethe beachstood [he gleamingwhite homes of the rich.
Breathinghard, balancinga tin of water on his head,a smallboy climbed toward us.
He was miserablythin, nakedbut for filthy denim shorts.His leesresembledstickscov-',
ered with skin and screwed into his feet:,Deffiwas-arlbnef-fii!:t, in his sunken eyes,
cheeksand jaundicedcoloring.He stoppedfor breath,coughilf, his chest heavingas
water sloppedover his bony shoulders.Then jerking sidewayslike a mechanicaltoy,
h e s m i l e da s m i l e I w i l l never forget.Turni ng,he r,r?ent on up the mountai nsi de.
-
' . ' l i r n, I
n li, \J
' i ' . . i , i - l\ ' , , ' !
{ : i'J,'
\i
'Slums
o n t h e o u t s k i r t s o f l l i o c l e J a r r e i r o BraziI,
, irrhabitetl Ar. r.r'.,,.' hr-rrrdr-cc-i
thousancl
f-eople(eclitors' note).
 The detailedLi,feassignmentin my back pocketwas to find an impoverishedfather
wit h a fa mi l y ,to e x a mi n eh i s e a rn i n gs,pol i ti call eani ngs,rel i gi on,fri ends,dreamsand
frustrations.I had been sent to do an essayon poverty.This frail boy bent under his
load said more to me about poverty than a dozen poor fa[hers.I touchedGallo,and we
got up and followed the boy to where he entered a shack near the [op of the moun-
F$5lqg_lt was a leaningcrumpled placeof old plankingswith a rusted tin roof. From
insidewe-heardthe babblingsof severalchildren.Joseknocked.The door openedand
the boy stood smiling with a bawling naked baby in his arms.
S t i l l s m i l i n g ,h e w h a c k e dl h e b a b y' srump, i nvi ted us i n and offeredus a box to si t
on. The only other recognizablefurniture was a saggingbed and a brokeh baby'scrib.
Flavio was twelve, and with Gallo acting as int€rpreter,he introduced his younger
br ot h e rsa n d s i s te rs ": Ma ri o , th e b a d one; B apti sta,the goodone; A Jbi a,Isabeland the
baby Z a c a ri a s ."T w o o th e r g i rl s b u rst i nto the shack,smeami ngand poundi ngon one
anot h e r.F l a v i oj u m p e d i n a n d p a rt ed them. " S hut up, you [w o." H e poi nted at the
older g i rl . " T h a t' s M a ri a , th e n a s fy one." S he spi t i n hi s face. H e smackedher and
point e dto th e s m a l l e rs i s te r." T h a t'sL,uzi a.S he thi nks she' spretry."
Ha v i n g[i n i s h e dth e i n tro d u c [i o n s,he w ent to bui l d a fi re under the stove-a rust-
ed, be n t to p o f a n o l d g a sra n g ere s t i ngon severalbri cl < s.B eneathi t w as a pi eceof ti n
t hat c a u g h tth e h o t c o a l s .T h e s h a ckw as aboutsi x by ten feet. Its gri my w al l s w ere a
p_atchylo_1k g! mlsqflapen-beards with largegapsbetween them, revealingother shacks
below s ti l te d a g a i n s tth e s l o p e s .T he fl oor, rotti ng under l ayersof greaseand di rt,
c aug h ts h a ftso f l i g h t s l a n ti n gd o w n throughspacesi n the roof.A l argehol e i n the far
c or ne r s e rv e da s a to i l e t. Be n e a thth at hol e w as the sl opi ngmountai nsi de.P ocketsof
pov e rtyi n N e w Y o rk ' sH a rl e m,o n Chi cago' ssouth si de, i n P uertoR i co' si nfamousE i
Fungitoseem=e.q[p.q]9..!.y__c_--qmpjrison. None of them had preparedme for this one in the
f a v e l ao [ C a t a c u m b a .
F la v i oWa s h e dri c e i n a l a rg ed i s h pan,then w ashedZacari as'feet s i n the samew ater.
B ut e v e n th a t d i rty w a te r w a s n ' t to be w asted.H e tossedi n a chunk of l ye soapand
or dere de a c h c h i l d [o w a s h u p . Wh en they w ere fi ni shedhe spl ashedthe w ater over
t he di rty fl o o r,a n d , d ro p p i n gto h i s k nees,he scrubbedthe pl anksunti l the bl acksuds
s anki n . J u s t b e fo res u n d o w nh e p u t beanson the stoveto w arm, then l eft, sayi nghe
w o u l d b e b a c k s h o r t l y ." D o n ' [ l e t t h e m b u r n , " h e c a u t i o n e dM a r i a . " l f t h e y d o a n d
P opp ab e a tsme , y o u ' 1 1g e t i t l a te r."Mari a, happyto get at the l i cki ngspoon,sw i tched
ov er a n d b e g a nto s ti r th e b e a n s .T h en sl yl y she di ppedout a spoonfuland sw al l ow ed
t hem . L u z i ae y e d h e r. " I s e ey o u . I' m goi ng to tel l on you for steal i ngoursupper."
M a ri a ' se y e sfi a s h e da n g e r." Y o u do and I' l l beatyou, you l i ttl e bi tch." Luzi athrew
a s t ic ka t M a ri a a n d fl e d o u t th e d o o r.Zacari as droppedofl to sl eep.Mari o, the bad one,
s louc h e di n a c o rn e r a n d s u c k e dh i s thumb. Isabeland A l bi a sa[ on the fl oor cl i ngi ng
t o ea c h o th e r w i th a s tra n g ete n derness.Isabel hel d onto A l bi a' s hai r and A l bi a
. c lut ch e da t l s a b e l ' sn e c k .T h e y a p p e aredfrozeni n an act of qui et vi oi ence.
" F la v i ore tu rn e dw i th w o o d , d u m ped i t besi dethe stove and sat dow n to rest for a
few minules, then went down the mountain for more water. It was dark when he final-
ly c am e b a c k ,h i s F p d y s a g g i n gfro m exhausti on.N o l ongersmi l i ng,he suddenl yhad
the look ot.an-btd.fri-an and by now we could see that he kept the family going. In the
c los e dto rm e n t o f th a t p i ti fu l s h a c k ,h e w as w agi nga hopel essbal tl eagai nststarvati on.
' T he
d a Si l v ac h i l d re nw e re l i v i n g i n a coffi n.
When at last the parentscame in, Gallo and I s,eeT9{.!q}S*pg_I! of the family. Flavio
herl alra:riy fnlat thorn \rto t^roro fhoro "Cnrrlrrnn Amarinannl" [-rrzie ceid nnintincr 2t mp
Josti,the father,viewed us with skepticism.Nail his pregnantwife, seetnedti,iedbeyond
speaking.Hardlyackn,-rwledging our presence,she pickedup Zacarias, place{rhimon her
shoulderand gently patted his behind. Flavioscurriedabout like a frightenedrat, his
silenceplainlyexpressingthe fear he held of his father.lmpa[iently,Joseda Silvawaited
for Flavioto servedinner. He sat in the center of the bed with his legs uossed beneath
him, frowning, waiting. There were only three tin plates.Flavio filled them with black
beansand rice, then placedthem beforehis father.Jos€da Silvatastedthem, chewed for
severalmoments,then noddedhis approvalfor the others to start. Only he and Nair hacl
spoons;the children ate with their fingers.Flavioate off the top of a coffeecan. Afraid to
offer us food, he edgedhis rice and beanstoward us, gesturingfor us [o lake some.We
refused.He smiled,knowing we understood.
Later,when we got down to the difficult businessof obtainingpermissionfrom Jose
da Silva to photographhis family, he hemmed and hawed, wallowing in the pleasant
authority of the decision maker. He finally gave in, but his manner told us thal he
expectedsomethingin return. As we were sayinggood night Flavio began to cough
violently. For a few moments his lungs seemed to be tearing apart. I wanted to get
away as quickly as possible.It was cowardly of me, but the bluish cast of his skin
beneaththe swea[,the choking and spitting were suddenlyunbearable.
Gallo and I moved cautiouslydown through the darlcnesstrying not lo appearas
strangers.The Catacumbawas no placefor strangersafter sundown. Desperatecrimi-
nals hid out there. To hunt them out, the police came in packs,but only in daylight.
Gallo cautionedme. "lf you get caught up here after dark it's best to stay at the da
Silvas'until morning." As we drove toward the city the large white buildings of the
rich loomed up. The world behind us seemedlike a bad dream. I had alreadydecided
to get the boy Flavioto a doctor,and as quickly as possible.
The plush lobby of my hotel on the Copacabana waterfront was crammedwith people
-in-formalattire. With the stink of the favelain my clothes,I hurried to tiie elevatorhop-
ing no passengers would be aboard.But as the door was closinga beautifulgirl in a white
lace gown steppedin. I moved as far away as possible.Her escort entered behind her,
swept her into his arms and they indulged in a kiss that lasteduntil they exited on the
next floor. Neither of them seemedto realize that I was there. The room I returned to
seemedto be oversized;the da Silva shackwould have fitted into one corner of it. The
steakdinner I had would have fed the da Silvasfor three davs.

Billowing clouds blanketed Mount Corcovado as we approachedthe favela the

following morning. Suddenlythe sun burst through, silhouettingCristo Redentor,the
toweringsculptureof Christ with arms extended,its back turned againstthe slopesof
Catacumba.The squareat the entrarce to the favelabustledwith hundredsof favelados.
Long lineswaited at the solewater spigot.Otherswailed at the only toilet on the entire
mountainside. Women,unableto pay for soap,beal dirt from their wash at launcirytubs.
Men, burdenedwith lurnber,picks and shovelsand tools importanl to their existence
threaded their way through the . noisy throngs. Dogs snarled, barked and fought.
Woodsmqke mixed-wjlh the stenchoi rotting things.[n the'mist curling over the higher
'paths,
columnsof favelados climbedlike antswith wood and water canson their heads.''
W e c a me u p o n N a i r b e n t over her l ub of w ash. S he w i ped aw ay sw eat w i th her
a p ro na n d ma n a g e da s mi l e .We askedfor her husbandand she poi ntedto a ti ny shack
o ff to h e r ri g h t. T h i s w a s J o s ri ' sstore,w here he sol d keroseneand bl each.H e w as si l -
ti n g o n a b o x , d o z i n g .Se n s i n gour presence,he aw oke and commencedcompl ai ni ng
a b o u th i s b a c k ." l t k i l l s m e . T he doctorsdon' t hel p becauseI have no money.A l w ays
lalk and a l i ttl e p i n k p i l l th a t d o e sn o good.A h, w ha[ i s to becomeof me?" A w oman
c am e t o b u y b l e a c h .H e fi l l e d h e r b o tt l e.S he droppeda few coi ns and as she w al ked
away his e y e ss ta y e do n h e r b a c k s i d eunti l she w as out of si ght. Then he w as com-
plaininga b o u th i s b a c k a g a i n .
" How m u c h d o y o u e a rn a d a y ? "G al l oasked.
"Seventy-fivecenls. On a good day maybe a dollar."
" W hy a re n ' t th e k i d s i n s c h o o l ? "
" l don ' t h a v e mo n e y fo r th e c l o th e sthey need to go l o school ."
" Has F l a v i os e e na d o c to r? "
He po i n te d to a o n e -s to ryw o o d e n b ui l di ng. " That' sthe cl i ni c ri ght there. They' re
m ad beca u s eI b u i l t m y s to rei n fro n t o f thei r pi ace.I w on' t tear i t dow n so they w on' t
help m y k i d s . T a l k ,ta l k , ta l k a n d p i n k pi l l s." W e bi d hi m good-byeand s[artedcl i mb-
ing, f ollo w i n gm u d tra i l s ,j u tti n g ro c k , sl i me-fi l l edhoi esand shackaftershackpropped
agains t h e s l o p e so n s h a k yp i i i n g s .We si destepped a deadcat coveredw i th maggots.
I held m y b re a th fo r a n i n s [a n t,o n l y to i nhal e the stench of human excrementand
gar bageBa . refe e t a n d l e g sw i th o p e n sorescl i mbedaboveus-evi l s of the terri bl esoi l
they trod every day,and there were seven hundred thousandor more afflictedpeople
in f av ela sa ro u n dR i o a l o n e .T o u c h i n gme, Gal l opoi ntedto Fl avi ocl i mbi ngaheadof us
carryingfirewood.He stoppedto glanceat a man descendingwith a small coffin on his
shoulder.A woman and a small child followed him. When I lifted my camera,grum-
bling er u p te dfro m a g ro u p o f m e n s h a ri ngbeer beneatha tree.
" T hey ' reth re a te n i n g ,"Ga i l os a i d ." K eep movi ng.They fearcameras.Thi nk they' re
ev il ey e sb ri n g i n gb a d l u c k ." T u rn i n g to w atch the funeralprocessi on,Fl avi ocaught
sight of us and waited. When we look the wood from him he protested,sayinghe was
used to carryingit. He gave in when I hung my cameraaround his neck. Then, beam-
ing, he cl i mb e do n a h e a do f u s .
The fog had lifted and in the crisp morning light the shack looked more squalid.
lns ide th e k i d s s e e m e de v e n n o i s i e r . Fl avi o smi l ed and spoke above thei r racket.
"SomedayI wan[ to live in a real house on a real streetwith good pots and pans and
a bed wi th s h e e ts ."H e l i t th e fi re to warm l eftoversfrom [he ni ght before.S tal eri ce
and beans-fqr breaKastand supper.No lunch; middayeatingwas out of the question.
S m ok er o s e a n d c u rl e d u p th ro u g h th e cei l i ng' scracks.A n ai r current forcedi t back,
f illing t h e p l a c e a n d F l a v i o ' sl u n g s w i th fumes. A coughi ngspasmdoubl ed hi m up,
turned his skin blue under viscoussweat. I handed him a cup of water, but he waved
it away.His stomachtightened as he dropped to his knees. His veins throbbed as if
they would burst. Frustrated,we could only watch; there was nothing we could do to
help. S t ra n g e l yn, o n e o f h i s b ro th e rs or si stersappearedto noti ce. N one of them
s t oppedd o i n gw h a te v e rth e y w e re d o i ng.P erhapsthey had seeni t l oo often.A fter fi ve
int er m in a b l em i n u te s i t w a s o v e r,a n d he got to hi s feet, smi l i ng as though i t had al l
b e e na j o k e ." M a r i a ,i t ' s t i m e f o r Z a c a r i atso b e w a s h e d ! "
" B u t t h e r e ' sr i c e i n t h e p a n ! "
" D u m p i t i n a n o t h e rp a n - a n d d o n ' t s p i l lw a [ e r ! "
M ar ia p i c l < e du p Z a c a ri a sw , h o s c reamed,nol w anti ng to be w ashed. Irri tated,
M ar ia ga v eh i m a s o l i ds m a c ko n h i s b a rebottom.Fl avi osteppedover and gaveher the
s am e, t h e n a fre e -fo r-a lsl ta rte dw i th Fl avi o,Mari a and Mari o sl i ngi ng fi sts at one
anot her.Ma ri o g o t o n e i n th e e y ea n d fl ed the shackcal l i ngFl avi oa di rty son-of-a-bi tch.
Z ac ar iaw s o u n d u p o n th e fl o o r s u c k i n ghi s thumb and escapi nghi s w ashi ng.The bl ack
bean an d ri c e b re a k fa s h t e l p e dto g e t thi ngs back to normal . N ow i t w as ti me to get
Flavioto the doctor.
 The clinic was crowded with patients-mothers and children coveredwith open sores, 27
a paralytic teenager,a man with an ear in a state of decay,an aged btnd couple holding
handsin doubleddarkness.Throughout the placecamewailings of hunger and hurt. Flavio
sat nervously between Gallo and me. "What will the doctor do to me?" he kept asking.
"We'll see.We'll wait and see." 2g
In all, there were over fifty people. Finally,after two hours, it was Flavio'sturn and he ze
broke out in a sweat,though he smiled at the nurse as he passedthrough the door to the
doctor'soffice.The nurse ignored it; in this placeof misery smileswere unexpected.
The doctor, a large, beady-eyedman with a crew cut, had an air of impatience. 30
Hardly acknowledging our presence, he began to examine the frightened Flavio.
"Open your mouth. Say'Ah.'Jump up and down. Breatheout. Take off those pants.
Bend over. Standup. Cough. Cough louder.Louder." He did it all with such cold effi-
ciency.Then he spoke to us in English so Flaviowouldn't understand."This little chap
has just about had it." My heart sank. Flavio was smiling, happy to be over with the
examination.He was handeda bottle of cough medicine and a small box of pink pills,
then asked to step outside and wait.
"This the da Silvakid?" 31
" Ye s ." 32
"What's your interestin him?" 33 ,
"We want to help in some way." 34
"l'm afraidyou're too late. He's wasted with bronchialasthma,malnutrition and, I :s
suspect,tuberculosis.His heart, lungs and teeth are all bad." He pausedand Wgly
rubbed his forehead."All that at the ripe old age of twelve. And these hills are packed
with other kids just as bad off. Last year ten thousanddied from dysentery alone. But
what can we do? You saw what's waiting outside. It's like this every day. There's hard-
ly enough money to buy aspirin.A few wealthy peoplewho care help keep us going."
He was quiet for a moment. "Maybe the right climate, the right diet, and constant
medical Caremight. . . ." He stoppedand shook his head. "Naw. That poor lad's fin-
ished. He might last another year-maybe not." We thanked him and left.
"What did he say?" Flavio askedas we scaledthe hill. 36
"Everything'sgoing to be all right, Flav.There's nothing to worry about." 3,
It had clouded over again by the time we reachedthe top. Tlrg taig:sgeip! i!], cle3ring 38
the_mquntar_n qf_lgrgovado.The huge Christ figure loomed up afain with cloudsswirling)"--'
around it. And to it I said a quick prayer for the boy walking besideus. He smiled as i{
he had read my thoughts."Papasays'El Cristo' has turned his back on the favela."
"You're going to be all right, Flavio." 39
"l'm not scaredof death. It's mv brothers and sistersI worry about. What would 40
t h e yd o ? "
"You'll be all right, Flavio."' +t
t 1

'Parks's
photo-essavon Flavio gencrated an unprecedcrrtetlresponse from l.ry'rreaders.
Incieccl,thel. sent so much nrone\, to therr-laSilvas that the family lt'as able to leave thc
'lr,cln for bettcr living cc-rrrditior.rs.
l'arks brought Flavio trr the Unitecl States ior merdical
reatrnent, anc-lthe bor"s health r,l,asrestored. Hou'ever, Fltrvic-r'sstorv dic-ln't have ar-I
nqualifiecl happy errding.Althotrgl-rhe overcame his illness ancl late.rmarried anrl had a
mil\,, Flavio continuously farrt;,rsized ;ibotrt rcturning to the LJnited Sttrtcs,convincecl
at onlv by retuming to Arnerica cotrlrl he. improve his life. His obsessiou eventually
tded the promise of his life in Brazil (editors' rrote).