COPACABANA PALACE is the best-known hotel in Rio de Janeiro, a majestic white palace on what must be the most famous beach in the world. But it is also the name of a dilapidated estate on the western edge of Rio, in the Campo Grande district. More than 1 000 people – ‘sem teto, sem terra’ – without roof or land – live here in very difficult circumstances and in extreme poverty, threatened by violence and disease. Hardly anyone in Brazil knows this Copacabana Palace. I only came across it via a detour. In the course of work on the Avenida Brasil, a sheer endless radial highway into Rio de Janeiro, I noticed it almost accidentally. It is situated some 60 kilometres from the heavenly beaches of the metropolis, close enough, one might think, for it to take a share of the social welfare of the Olympic city, yet far enough away to be forgotten in the periphery. Anyone who goes there first notices the stench, a mix of sewer, swamp and burnt rubbish. Between the six buildings you come across dead animals, bags of faeces, discarded plastic toys and, every so often, heaps of old rubbish. A toxic and depressing environment. The handful of visitors only stay briefly, wrap their shoes in plastic bags and pose in front of pigs wallowing in the mud and children stomping through rubbish. My pictures were taken over a period of eight months. They document the everyday life of the people in Copacabana Palace and reflect their hardships, fears, dramas and threats – but also their joy, strength, passion, hopes and their solidarity. In some ways they symbolize the fight for survival of millions of Brazilians. It was tough at first. What does this gringo want, the inhabitants wondered. It got better once I had gained the trust of the block leaders, who accompanied me into every nook and cranny of the residential buildings. At some point I became part of Copacabana Palace, or Jambalaya, the name many inhabitants have given the place, after a popular Brazilian TV show, or Carandiru, after the infamous state prison in São Paulo. Originally conceived for a middle-class clientele, an ongoing series of crises in the construction industry and speculation gone wrong meant that these blocks of flats were never completed and abandoned 30 years ago. Turbulent times followed, when drug dealers from the nearby favela Dos Barbantes took over power here. Then the first homeless people came as squatters. By now more than 300 families call Copacabana Palace their true home. Nobody is borne a squatter or becomes one voluntarily. It is mainly the economic crisis of recent years that has driven many Brazilians to such places. First people lose their jobs, they can no longer afford the rent, they start to live in the street or run away from the favelas for fear of drug gangs. And eventually they land here. Knowing full well that squatting is a criminal offence, these families still try to make a home in the rooms of these abandoned shells. They live in constant fear of eviction, infighting and the collapse of the dilapidated buildings. It is estimated that some 30 million Brazilians have to live in similarly precarious conditions of poverty and social exclusion. Life in Copacabana Palace is hard. There is a lack of drinking water, sanitation, solid power supply, hygiene and medical help. Security is not guaranteed by the police but by a kind of militia, an association of former policemen, firefighters and soldiers, who make a living by running a protection racket. But this security, far removed from any state power, is deceptive. Any resident who does not obey the rules of the militia risks merciless retribution. What impressed me most is the residents’ will to survive. Most of them rise before dawn, work as rubbish collectors and day labourers, only returning late in the evening to their women and children, who are frequently left to their own devices. And yet they hope. No one gives up, everyone struggles anew each day – and still there is often not enough to eat. Copacabana Palace reflects this small but significant section of Brazil’s social reality, a land of sheer endless resources, billion dollar sports events, as well as severe financial and political crises. When you ask the people about their dreams, most will promptly name “a flat of my own”. But the paths towards this small prosperity are often a question of luck and remain an impossible dream for many. In Copacabana Palace they have a home at least.
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