Latin

America
Latin America

What is Latin America?

What country does it include?
Latin America
What is Latin America?
Latin America is the area of the
Americas where Romance dialects
especially Spanish and Portuguese,
just as French-are principally spoken.

What country does it include?

Latin America
What country does it include?
It incorporates 20 countries such as Mexico in North
America; Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, Nicaragua,
Costa Rica and Panama in Central America; Colombia,
Venezuela, Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, Chile, French Guiana,
Paraguay, Brazil, Argentina and Uruguay in South
America; Cuba, the Dominican Republic, Haiti, and
Puerto Rico in the Caribbean--in synopsis, Hispanic
America, Brazil, and Haiti.
 Latin
America
 Columbia
• Bogota D.C. the official name of Colombia’s capital city.
• The National Sport Of Colombia Is Tejo
• Colombia is the world’s leading source of it
emeralds
• Columbia is the Second Most Biodiverse Country in the
World
• The country has coastlines on two oceans: the Pacific
Ocean and the Caribbean Sea which is part of the Atlantic
Ocean. 
Columbia
Columbia produced one of the richest
literatures of Latin America, as much for its
abundance as for its variety and innovation
during the 19th and 20th centuries. Colombian
intellectuals who forged the literature of this
period also contributed decisively to the
consolidation of Latin American literature.
Columbia
• a Colombian novelist, short-story
writer, screenwriter, and journalist
• known affectionately as Gabo or
Gabito throughout Latin America.
• Considered one of the most significant
authors of the 20th century, particularly
Gabriel
in the Spanish language.
García • He was awarded the 1972 Neustadt
Márquez International Prize for Literature and the
1982 Nobel Prize in Literature.
“The Trail of Your Blood in the Snow” by Gabriel García Márquez

Billy Sanchez and Nena Daconte, children of two wealthy

Colombian families, fly to Europe to celebrate their
honeymoon. Although married only three days, Nena is
already two months pregnant. After she scrapes her ring
finger on a rose thorn, the nearly imperceptible cut starts
bleeding profusely. Nena is admitted to the intensive care unit
of a Paris hospital. Visitation is permitted only one day a
week so Billy must wait six days before he can see his wife
again. He spends most of his time alone in a nearby hotel.
Billy tries to visit Nena sooner but is thrown out of the
hospital by a security guard. Billy’s attempt to enlist the aid
of the foreign embassy is equally unsuccessful. When
Tuesday’s visiting hours finally arrive, Billy cannot locate
his wife. He spots the physician who first evaluated Nena.
The doctor regretfully announces that Nena bled to death
sixty hours after hospital admission. No one could find Billy
to apprise him of the situation so Nena’s parents have
already arranged the funeral and transported the body
home for burial. Billy exits the hospital with thoughts of
violence and revenge for his calamity.
Processing Questions:
• Does this story remind you of anything
happening in the real world?
• What is the main idea of the story?
• What message was the author trying to
convey?
• Who are the important characters?
• What is the conflict or problem the
characters must resolve? How did they do
this?
 Latin
America
 Argentina
• Argentina produced the world’s first animated feature film in
1917 
• The capital of Argentina Buenos Aires translates to the ‘good
airs’ or ‘fair winds’
• The Argentinian flag is blue and white triband, with a yellow
sun  in the centre
• Government officials banned parents from naming their
children Messi in the football star’s hometown
• Pato is the national sport of Argentina
Argentina
• Argentinean literature is more than poetry, fictions,
or experimentations with writing; it is a political
practice that involves writers, intellectuals,
audiences, and the culture industry.
• Narratives on national identity played a key role in
Argentinian history alongside with innovations.
Argentina

• Pablo Ramos was born in 1966

in Avellaneda, province of Buenos
Aires, Argentina.
• He has published the book of
poems
Pablo • His work has been translated into
Ramos French and German.
“Because the Sky is Blue” by Pablo Ramos
It was just an ordinary day when Teresa’s old friend came to
her house to pay her a visit. While she was rinsing her hair
she got embarrassed for being caught in the middle of
washing her hair. As soon as she finishes it, they are talking
about something from their past. Teresa sat down as her
friend assumed that she was searching for the kid who he
was 15 years ago. Teresa’s friend was very curious about
what she thinks about him and he still can't figure it out on
how he ended up in Teresa’s house. He only told Teresa that
he dropped by for a few mates.
Teresa was wearing a loose floral dress. She was nervous. Sitting
on the other side of the table, Teresa didn't stop talking for an
instant, and then leaned forward and picked out a pastry from
the unwrapped package. Her friend saw the shape of her breasts
because the light from the window turned her dress transparent.
Teresa’s friend called him “mother”, because he once wished
Teresa to be his mom. Teresa was very curious about his friend's
life lately, and Teresa realized how time flies so fast. Then her
friend told her that he got married, had a son named Alejandrino,
and got separated. Then Teresa hands the kettle to her friend to
do the pouring.
She rubbed her head with the towel, shook her blonde hair from
side to side, and then brushed it with her hand.
Teresa did these things excessively because these helped her think
better. Teresa asked her friend about his son. After he answered
all of Teresa’s questions about his son, he just answered “He’s just
like his mother.” Teresa complimented her friend and after that
Teresa came up behind his friend, put her arms around his neck
and stroked his chest and leaned against his back, pressing her
body. Then Teresa moved away and started unbuttoning her dress
and her hands moved up to her waist and opened her dress. He
let him see her bare breast, her tight, black panties, and her
beautiful legs.
But his friend remained seated and avoided it, after that
Teresa finally looked away and buttoned her dress already.
She then asked about the record her friend gave her, and her
friend responded that he still has it. Teresa went to her room
and pulled herself together so she can look her friend in the
eyes when she returns. After that she went out already with
the record in its sleeve. Teresa said that the record was all
about somebody crying over something stupid, it made them
feel relief when they remembered about it and because the
sky was blue, it made both of them cry.
Processing Questions:
• Does this story remind you of anything
happening in the real world?
• What is the main idea of the story?
• What message was the author trying to
convey?
• Who are the important characters?
• What is the conflict or problem the
characters must resolve? How did they do
this?
 Latin
America
 Brazil
• Brazil has 4 time zones
• The Capital City is Brasilia
• Around 60% of the Amazon Rainforest is in Brazil
• In Brazil people speak Portuguese
• The Brazilian flag has 27 stars on it
Brazil
Brazilian literature, the body of written works
produced in the Portuguese language in Brazil.
Throughout its early years, literature from Brazil
followed the literary trends of Portugal, whereas
gradually shifting to a different and authentic
writing style in the course of the 19th and 20th
centuries, in the search for truly Brazilian themes
and use of Brazilian forms.
Brazil

• Alex Andrade is a writer and art

educator. He was born in Rio de
Janeiro in 1971 and began to write
stories as a child. 
• In 2001, he published his first book
of short stories, A suspeita da
Alex
imperfeição [The Suspicion of
Andrade
Imperfection], to great acclaim.
“The Naked Girl”
by Alex Andrade
“The Naked Girl” by Alex Andrade
One night he told me to quit school. “Why?” I asked, embarrassed. He
said not to tell anyone what we were doing. “Is it a sin?” I asked again.
The path through the scrub to my house, if that hut of mud and sticks
could be called a house, was dark. He told me to walk in front. “I’m
afraid.” “Go on!” He seemed different now. Halfway along the path, he
turned around and left me there. I stopped to count the coins. I had no
idea how much they were worth. Further on, I crouched through the
bushes and grasped the basket of candies I had left there. Such a pity. I
hadn’t sold any. Such a pity. I was, too. I went back and looked at the
cars waiting at the stoplight. I still had to sell the candies, one by one, or
else my mother would beat me.
The next day he stopped the car and honked. I came running like mad.
Inside the car I was happier than lying in my own bed, hard as a rock. I
bounced around like a child. “Stop being such a fool, girl. You act like
you’ve never been in a car before.” He had eyes that were just like the
moon, hair that seemed like a cloud, hands full of wrinkles. He would
touch me and then give me coins to put in my piggy bank. “When you
grow up, that piggy bank will be full of coins from your old man,” he
would say. “I’m going to buy a house for Momma and I’m going to get
married wearing a bridal garland and veil, just like the girls on T.V.” He
laughed at me because he liked hearing about my dreams. I asked him if
one day he wanted to be someone’s husband, but it was already time to
leave. I had to get out of the car and walk through the scrub by myself.
Another day I asked him to take me to see the ocean. I’d never seen the
ocean close up, only on T.V.
“It’s dangerous. The ocean is immense.” “Will it swallow me up?” He called me a silly girl and
said that I should get rid of such crazy ideas, that it was better for me to keep on selling candy
in traffic than to imagine such nonsense. Then he made a mean face. It made me want to burst
out crying. But I still had to go through the scrub and fetch the basket I’d hidden between a
rock and a mound. I wanted nothing more than to see the ocean. At night, in bed, when the
moon would shine through the window with the kind of light that lit up the whole house, I kept
dreaming of another world, different than this one, far from everything, without candies to sell
in traffic jams, without that deserted scrub to trudge through. “So, you don’t want to take me
to see the beach? I’ll do anything to get near the ocean. And I won’t even tell anyone. When I
get near the water, I’m going to dive in like a fish, take off my clothes and swim around just like
in a stream.” He started laughing. “Go away, leave me alone, I’m sick of your chatter! Your
place in life is here in the middle of nowhere, selling candies to buy some beans and rice.”
Hearing that made me nearly vomit, almost spoiling his pants with the remains of mush and
beans I ate the day before. Repulsive old man. “Get out, go on! And see that you don’t show up
again tomorrow with these lunatic ideas!” And off I went, as miserable as a tree with no fruit.
Isolated, like something less than human.
Happiness was so hard to find in this life. All night long I imagined the sound of the ocean, a
sort of droning like a ghost makes, and remembered that half-dead old man, who only
wanted to take advantage of how young I was. Oh, God, if Momma found out where I was
earning those coins, she’d tan my hide. The next day a car stopped on the corner, asked me
for a bag of candies, and asked if I wanted to go for a ride around the block. I said no. “I’m
saving up money to go see the ocean,” I said proudly. The man laughed and asked if it was
the ocean in the northeast or in the southeast. I answered that the ocean was the ocean, it
didn’t matter if it was in one place or another. All I wanted to see was the ocean. And he
laughed again. Some pretty music was playing on the radio in his car, so I started singing
along: “Poor dark man / who waits in the calm of the night / for the moon to shine on his
plot of land / with only a yard to keep him company...” Wide-eyed, the nasty man stared at
me and said, “Where the hell did a little girl like you learn to sing that?” “I’m not a little girl,
sir. I’ve got the soul of a grown-up woman, one who’s seen life. One who’s getting worn
down by life.” “Come inside, young lady,” he said, opening the door. “I want to bring you to
see the world. There’s more than just the ocean in the world; it has stars, it has the moon, it
has rivers, and it has dreams.
And it has a nasty man with no shame, I thought. I stood there glued to the pavement,
looking at the car door wide open for me to come in. I didn’t get in. I wanted to see the
ocean with the other man. The old man with hair like a cloud, with eyes like the moon.
The one who would make an ugly face that I liked so much. “Nope, I can’t, boy.” And I
left, weaving my way between the cars with my basket. “Get in! Get in, you pathetic
thing! Bitch!” The old man with the hair like a cloud screamed at me as he flung open the
door of his car in the middle of the street. He was fuming, his body sweating, the sun
gone from his face. “No, I can’t,” I answered. “I’ll come after you, you cow!” the old man
said. “Get in now or I’ll drag you in!” I stood pale and cringing in the midst of horns
honking, the candies rustling, the song echoing as it faded away. Momma, I lied to you,
forgive me! I was afraid. I was ashamed. The old man’s moon eyes were now shooting
fire, like some kind of demon. He pulled me in by the neck and pressed it against the
back of the car seat. It was suffocating. “Don’t kill me!” I stammered. “You want to see
the ocean, don’t you? Isn’t that why you go around offering yourself to any man who
goes by?” He climbed on top of me with his whole weight, like someone in charge, like
someone wounded, moving forcefully, angrily, with a broken heart, with hatred.
When he was done, he sucked my lips into his mouth and bit hard with his sharp teeth, like
someone chewing a piece of chicken. “You want to see the ocean? You want to see the
ocean?” He got back in the driver’s seat, grabbed the steering wheel, and took off like a
whistling rocket between the cars, tires singing, praying, praying, Our Father who art in
heaven, hallowed be Thy name, oh Lord, I forgot the rest, I missed mass, I had to sell candies
at the stoplight. So now what do I say? The car sped along, crossing highways and bridges,
flowing like a river toward the ocean. Before I could get out, the old man grabbed me by the
arm as if he were my master, saying, “And all that money I gave you, all the times you lay
down with me, you just forgot it all for the sake of a bizarre wish to see this stinking ocean?
Answer me!” A cold night wind whipping along the beach silenced everything. It was time.
“Go on! There’s your ocean!” I got out of the car, frightened but expressionless, not sure if
the ocean was really an ocean. I walked through the sand without looking back, without
looking forward, through the darkness overtaken by the noise of the waves, feeling my way
with my feet that led me to the pounding surf. I never imagined the encounter would be so
painful. Only music could express my dreams. “If God only knew / of the sadness on top of
the hill / He would send up / all the love there is on earth...” I took off my blouse first, then
my sandals, slowly taking off the rest of my clothes piece by piece, like someone saying a
prayer.
“Virgin Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee…” Naked. Without anything left
for life to clothe me in dignity. Alone. I fell into the ocean, entering the waters
like someone entering a new world, like someone transported, with a clenched
heart ready to open for love. I dove and dove again. Smiling. And laughing out
loud. I’d left the old man behind, the master of agony, master of unending
disappointments. As for him, he got the world he deserved. That hell that
appeared day after day. As for me, this victory! Even if it might look like pain.
“Will it swallow me up?”
Thank You!