This will be an
experiment for me. I've often filmed in the favelas,
Brazil's poor urban neighborhoods. This time I'm moving in — into
Rio's biggest favela for a few days. Let's see what it's like to live
here, even if only for a few days What will I learn of everyday
life, the drugs, violence, crime? Camera down! Now we’re off to the streets
where the drugs are sold. We really must
respect the rules: Cameras down, otherwise
they could lose it with us. How does this violence
really affect people's lives? For me, Rio’s the most
beautiful city in the world I've been living here for almost 5
years as a correspondent for the ARD. What struck me
on the very first day is the massive divide
between rich and poor. The inequality
is so visible. Especially in
the favelas. We've often
filmed in favelas. I’ve seen how the residents
live, but only in a superficial way. You go in,
film, and leave. Now I’d like to know what it’s really
like and how it feels to live there. Rocinha — Rio's largest favela. My home for the next few days. One thing is clear: we can't
just go out and film on our own. I need company, someone
who knows the rules. I know Vagner and Marcelo
from previous shoots. They've got the OK from the
drug gangs who are in charge here and explain to me what
I need to watch out for. Will there be times we
have to switch off the camera because we're
not allowed to film? Like in every poor neighbourhood
in the world, there are restrictions. But I can assure you,
we’ll be free to shoot here. Vagner and Marcelo are
my life insurance from now on. Statistically, one in five
people in Rio live in a favela often right next door
to the drug gangs. An estimated 200,000 people
live here in Rocinha alone. Nobody knows
exactly how many. What's striking here is that it
smells different everywhere. Over there like chip fat,
here like barbecued meat and back there like untreated
sewage — its grim in this heat. And over and again
the smell of weed. I notice a man in the crowd:
Adauto Aparecido Santana. He’s doing some
serious lifting. Adauto does removals,
transports building materials, everything that’s
needed, he tells me. And I’ve just burst into the
middle of his outdoor office on the main
street of Rocinha. I call this my office,
where I wait for work. Here on the Rua Um. Next to the
flower shop. It’s where I get the transport
jobs that I do on the inside, in the alleys
of the favela. We want to
accompany him but his route also takes him to
where a gang is selling drugs. Before we can set
off — a security briefing. Listen up, boys! We're about to go up
the narrow stairway. I'll run up front and give
the drug gang the heads up that you're coming
with the camera. If they have a problem
with it, I'll talk to them. The drug gang’s scouts
have us on their radar. The lookouts are observing everything
that's going on here and reporting back, so they know
who's coming in. Security is ...
taken care of here. And who are they? They're the ones
standing round watching, keeping an eye on things,
leaning against the posts. The Olheiros the scouts, keep watch
for police and other unwanted guests. Just a few meters further, we have to
turn off the camera, it’s too dangerous. We pass the checkpoint of
the Red Commando drug gang. I see a group of
heavily armed men and a table with small bags
containing white powder — cocaine. For me it feels oppressive; for
Adauto, it's his daily commute. And then
suddenly: this view. Adauto, you're carrying all
these bags of cement up here. The Rocinha’s growing
every day, isn't it? Every day, yes. Because the Rocinha
is very central. Everyone wants
to build here. A lot of people want to settle
here near the wealthy districts. Bakers, waiters — they all want
to live here close to their work. If you’re living in
the outer suburbs, you have to take three or four
buses a day to get to this area. Do you
like it here? Or do you sometimes think:
there are a lot of guns here that could be bad
for me and my family? I'll tell you what I think:
the gangs live their lives, and we live ours,
you understand? As long as I do my thing
and look straight ahead, I won’t get
in their way. Is it that simple? I'd like to talk
to the gangsters. But first we have to get
to our accommodation. It's not so easy to
find a place to sleep. Very few people here have enough space
to accommodate an entire camera crew. Our contact Vagner finds a solution
— and it's underneath this bar. Vagner's mother rents out apartments.
She vacates her apartment for us. Hello, good
afternoon, Ah, the
bathroom, Perfect. This is where
we’ll be staying. In the thick
of it all. It seems peaceful - but I know things
can escalate quickly in the favela. Especially where Rio's police decide
to crack down on the drug gangs. I've been in Brazil for four years
now, and in this time the police have carried out the most
lethal operations to date, resulting in
multiple deaths. But there’s been
no nationwide outcry. Most recently in July 2022:
19 dead in a police raid in the Complexo
Alemão favela. In total, 1327 people were
killed by police violence in the state of Rio
de Janeiro in 2022. There were also
shootings in Rocinha. Is death part of
everyday life here? Living in a favela means
taking each day as it comes. You don't know if tomorrow
will be good or bad. While we’re speaking, someone
could be dying from a bullet-wound. A neighbour died
hanging up a towel. Boom, dead. The elite police force
‘Bope’ kills the most. I sense a great
mistrust of the police. And wonder: what
about security at night? Marcelo and Vagner
take me with them. Rocinha’s party zone, the Via
Apia is right below us at night. Let's see. Marcelo's wife Adriana
has come along too. As a woman here,
do you feel safe? Yes, there are much
more dangerous places. Where? In the city centre. Of Rio? Of Rio. When I'm on Copacabana
beach at night, I don't feel safe. Why? There are a lot
of thieves there. Here, on the other
hand, I'm safe. I don't get robbed,
raped or attacked here. Really? Even though we’re
here in the favela, I feel safer from
rape or mugging. I thought it’d be the
other way around! There are now even trendy bars
which attract people from all over Rio including the wealthy
neighbourhoods. After a few minutes, Marcelo
and Adriana are in the thick of it. But how can you party just a
few meters from the gangsters? As a German, I somehow
can't get my head round it: You’re living here next door
to criminals, drug pushers... ... you're
provoking me No, no, we really
want to understand this! It's hard to
talk about it. We can always talk about the
good sides that this favela has. And 99.9% of the people who
live here are really good people who work hard and
hope for a better future. I invite the Germans: come to
Rocinha and see it with your own eyes: We are a community with open
arms that welcomes everyone. I would also like to talk to
those who have the power here. But it's not easy
to get to them Vagner brings me
right to the front door. Let's see if there’s
any chance of sleeping Well, once the club music
was over at some point, I have to say
it’s really quiet. Much quieter
than I thought. Right now. Absolutely ideal
for sleeping. The word
of the Lord! Excuse me? Outside — you can hear
the word of the Lord. Do you want
to come? Okay. Give me 30 seconds! Good morning,
welcome! Half the neighborhood is praying
- including Vagner and his mom. I'm hungover — and kind of impressed
by this pious street service. I’ve heard of the
exponential growth of the evangelical free churches in
Brazil due to this kind of missionizing. Rocinha a city
within a city. Much is improvised. Most of the
houses are illegal and yet somehow connected
to the public utilities. They build wherever
there’s space. Marcelo tells me that 3 to 4 families
often live under the same roof. With a view of one of Rio de Janeiro's
richest districts right next door. What do you think when you see
those luxury houses over there? While there’s 200,000
people crammed in here? It's a huge contrast: the people over
there have gigantic purchasing power. Yes, there’s a terrible
rift dividing Brazil. But why? I wonder why, too. Unfortunately, there’s corruption
which leads to social inequality. A few have a lot, and
many have nothing. Just look at how
underfunded everything is here: the water supply,
education, infrastructure. In Rocinha, one in four families
24% lives in extreme poverty. That’s less than ?18
per person per month. In the rich neighbourhoods nextdoor,
many residents are millionaires. The inequality becomes even clearer
when you look at mortality rates. On average, people in
Rocinha live to the age of 52. Right next door, in the upscale
neighborhood of São Conrado, the average
life-span is 75 years. Back with Adauto. He’s got a new job. A move. From far down below
up to the main road. Adauto comes from
Brazil's hinterland. He came to Rocinha when he
was 19 and has worked his way up to become the favela's most
important transport company. He earns the equivalent
of 700 euros a month, almost three times the minimum wage that many people in
Rocinha subsist on. How many kilometers
do you walk a day? A lot! Maybe 50. Sometimes I have to carry
a load of bags from A to B. With 13 bags and a one kilometre
stretch, that's 26 kilometers. Are you proud
of your work? Of course I am! Everything I own
is thanks to this job. A small house
with a small store. And I rent out
three apartments. A backbreaking job His wife Josiane is more
into the delicate side of things. She runs a mobile
beauty salon. You can always make
money in this field. No matter what kind of crisis the
world’s in beauty’s always in demand. We want
to be pretty. Exactly! Just like Fabiana. She is very vain, does
her hair, her eyebrows. Yes, beauty’s
fundamental. All the women at
Rocinha are very vain. They love going to the salon and
getting their hair and nails done. Yes, we’re
very vain here! It's the beginning
of the month. Like many others, Bianca Ferreira has set off to collect
her social benefits. The payout at
the lottery kiosk. She receives 600 reais a
month, the equivalent of 110 euros. Could you manage
without this money? How important is
social welfare for you? It helps a lot. For many of us. It’s not enough for the
whole month, but it helps. I can buy some stuff
bit by bit, not everything. Because prices
are going up and up. Social welfare was increased
during the 2022 election campaign. But the money still only lasts
till the middle of the month. I walk round everywhere
and compare prices. I look to see
where it's cheapest. Here, for instance,
flip-flops cost ten reais, so I go where
they cost only five. You walk a little
further and it's cheaper. Bianca lives here with her two
children João-Miguel and Maria-Eduarda. Kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, children's
room all in 15 square meters. They rarely
eat meat. The rent eats up half
of the social welfare. I ask people if I can do them
a favour, clean or something. They know how
it is, how I live. One gives me five reais, the other
ten, and I can buy something with that. Fortunately, the children
get lunch at school. So I only have to
worry about their dinner. I put all my
energy into that. And you? I often don't
eat anything. If I don't have
anything, I don't eat. I’m often very
sad, and I cry. How many times have I cried when
my kids come home from school and say, mom do you have
a yogurt for me? I cry because I
don't have any. I talk to God, say:
Don't let me down! Ah, I've been
through a lot. I'm not ashamed to say it;
I've been down many times. And each time
I’ve stood up again. Thanks be to God. Bianca's daughter Maria
Eduarda takes me to her school. Every day, the bus drives through one
of Rio's wealthiest neighbourhoods. The children of the rich go
to expensive private schools the favela-children
to state schools. These have a bad
reputation in Brazil. They’re considered
underfunded. There are good things: The
friends, the teachers, the subjects. What bothers me is the low
level of education and organization. What's missing
televisions and materials? Exactly. In music, for example,
the teacher has nothing. No instruments? Exactly. Just
a book, that's it. Hardly any state schools
have televisions or computers. Staff are poorly paid and
mostly it’s a case of one teacher facing a room of
over forty pupils. For pupils from the
favelas, it's a vicious circle. At the top of society,
the elite close ranks thanks to their expensive
private education. The favela kids are kind of destined
for subordination, working for others. Since the
education is poor, they’ll probably never be
able to work their way up. I've rarely heard it expressed so
clearly that those who live here, like Bianca and her children, have
less chance of social advancement. And that's also due
to the structures. No wonder gangs and
criminals seem so attractive. Various clans compete
for dominance in Rio. The two most important are the Red
Commando and the Third Commando. This is how they present
themselves on the internet. What makes
the bosses tick? We've
received a call. It looks like we can meet
a member of a drug gang. Not in Rocinha. But in another favela
— in Rio's North Zone. We’re on our way
to meet a contact who’s said we can meet
up with a drug gang member. We don't know
if it’ll work out. It was very
spontaneous. We'll have to see; there was a
shoot-out there a few days ago. So the question is: Is it
safe and will it stay that way? It's always
difficult to predict. We meet our
contacts on a highway. We know them from previous filming. They don't want to be recognized. We continue
together. We're not allowed to
show the exact location. That would put
us all in danger. Now we're going in, so camera
down, camera down please! Sit down!
Come in. Carlos is what
we should call him. He's a member of Rio's biggest
gang, the Red Commando, who are currently
in charge in Rocinha. Can we talk a
bit about your life how did you get
into the drug gang? Out of necessity,
as a teenager? I wanted to
support my mother. She was a
single parent. My younger brothers and I
had nothing to eat at home. I had to support her, and I
could make money in the gang. So that people in Germany
can understand this what is your everyday life like
as a soldier in the drug gang? It's quiet at five
in the morning. I have to see if there’s
any sign of the police. They usually come around the
same time as the normal workers leave for
their jobs. If they come in the dark in
the morning, we confront them. Do you have fixed
hours, a fixed wage? My shift’s from seven in the
morning until seven in the evening. If we guard the favela well, then
we’re in the boss’s good books. He's always there for us
when we need something. For example, he procures
medicines or other important things for us favela
residents. That's what the
media never show. They only talk
about the bad things. The violence. But never about the good
things, the help for the residents. In the past two years, there’ve
been three brutal police operations with multiple
deaths. In Complexo Alemão,
Jacarezinho and Vila Cruzeiro. It was brutal. Can you comment? It only increases
the hatred. One gangster dies,
another takes his place. A few days ago, a couple of
my colleagues were killed here. Now their friends are
demanding revenge. It's always
the same. People join our gang to
get revenge for loved ones. How do you carry on after a fatal
shooting like the one a few days ago? That must be hard. It sucks. Are you scared
sometimes? I lost my fear
a long time ago. I've got nothing
left to lose anyway. This is just
everyday life. Carlos is 22: He started out as an
olheiro, a scout, when he was 15. When people say you're a
criminal, do you feel like one? We’re not
criminals. No, not criminals. For the people in my
neighbourhood, I'm a hero. Because we
guarantee their safety. There's no theft
here in the favela. But if you go to the famous beaches
of Rio, you see thieves everywhere. In here, only the
crazy people steal. Have you ever
killed someone? No. Others do that. A strange
situation somehow. How do you say
goodbye to a criminal? We drove 200
meters into the favela, and suddenly someone in front of
us pulled a huge two-meter long rail, out of the ground
so we could pass. It was a barrier for the police,
to stop them going in there. Immediately; we were surrounded
by armed men and we had to get out. It was in the middle of the
intersection, there were vendors, Cars Suddenly we were the
focus of everyone's attention, especially the gangsters, and
we had to justify our presence. It was very tense. At that moment, I didn't
know how it would turn out, whether we’d come
out in one piece. So does anyone try to deter young
people and children from joining gangs? The state is hardly
present in the favela. I'm out with
Maria-Eduarda again. On the way
to the beach. Do you have a dream
for when you’re grown up? I want to
be a doctor. And maybe open
my own clinic. What kind? I want to operate on
people who need it. I wish you luck! Almost all the surfing
students come from Rocinha. The lessons are free
several times a week. Funded by donations from
individuals, NGOs and companies. That's difficult. It looks so
easy on TV. You need a lot of
strength and concentration. And the water? Cold! Surf instructor Ricardo Bocão wants to
give the children a meaningful outlet. And to give them a break
from the noisy hectic alleyways. When you get into the sea,
it's like diving into a new life. You leave everyday life
and your problems on land. Ricardo has been giving
surfing lessons to children in the favela since 1989. As a teenager, he got into
a lot of trouble, he tells me. He was constantly getting
into trouble with the police. Do you know what
changed my life? Surfing. Let's pay attention and
be quiet for two seconds Do you hear?! The sound of the sea gives us some
of that gigantic energy of the ocean. Mother Nature. Whoever gets in
comes out differently. This power of
the sea saved me. And that's exactly what I'm now
passing on to the younger generations. What else gives
people stability? A church service in the
farthest corner of Rocinha, streamed live to
the whole world. Adauto has
invited me here. On the way, I’m confronted
with the brutal reality again: we have to pass the
drug gang checkpoint. Your pulse
starts racing. It’s absurd: children playing ball
in the alley and five meters away six or eight gangsters sitting there
armed to the teeth with war machines. I still can't get my
head round the contrast: children playing next to
armoured drug dealers. Adauto's wife Josiane and two of
their three children are also here. I'm not particularly religious, but I'm impressed by
how dedicated everyone is. When I was seven years old, I
went to church with my grandmother. That's when God planted
the seed to save me. Because at 17,
I’d hit rock bottom, was living on the streets
and drinking cachaça. And taking all the drugs
I could get my hands on. Sometime later, the seed
of God sprouted within me. When I could sink no
further and saw no way out. The charismatic
evangelical free churches are growing rapidly
throughout Brazil. They’ll soon have replaced the
Catholics as the largest denomination. They’re becoming
increasingly powerful. Some pastors have built
up veritable church empires with excellent
political connections. Thanks to God, I have
true believers in my church, workers who’ve sinned
and been converted. They’ve responded to the
Gospel, the word of the lord, and turned to the faith as
servants of God, just like Adauto. Thanks to God, miracles are
still happening in Rocinha today. God is true and has saved
many lost souls and set them on the right path
as his servants. We save many creatures,
just as the Bible demands. Among the saved
are often dealers. Here they
are forgiven. For those who pay homage to God
will be rewarded in the here and now. Every evening, Bianca's
one-room apartment becomes the bedroom
for the whole family. Sometimes the rain
leaks in, she tells me. I don't think my children
want the same life I had. They’re always telling
me: Mom, when I grow up, I'm gonna work and buy
you a house so you can retire. That hurts me, but somehow
it also gives me new strength to fight for them —
you understand? for them to be better
people with a future. Is that possible? They can do it, unlike me; I’ve
had very poor eyesight since birth and grew up alone because my mother
and grandmother died very young. My time at Rocinha is
slowly coming to an end. On the last evening a small
party in the neighborhood. I won't be able to get the everyday
life with violence out of my mind. It doesn't always show itself,
but you can always sense it. But I won’t forget the
community spirit either this power and lightness
with which they live their lives. I’ve learned a
lot about life here. Met lots of really great people,
some working from dawn till dusk. And yes, it's hectic,
but it's alright. The fact that people treat each
other with respect in everyday life makes it all
seem okay. But what it would be like
to live here for a few years? I have no idea.
