Back in 1986 I spent six weeks in Brazil leading a Rotary Group Study Exchange team. We were billeted by locals in the Amazon area adjacent to the vast rain forest. Before we left on our intrepid journey we were given some instruction in the language - Portuguese - by the honorary consul and we were emphatically told that the embroidered pockets on our team blazers must have Brazil spelt correctly, which as far as the Brazilians are concerned is Brasil. Apparently it infuriates them that the rest of the world spells it Brazil.
This will have come home to those of you who are watching the Fifa World Cup.
Brazil was discovered by the Portuguese and the sailors encountered a beautiful tree which had red-coloured wood which they named “Pau-brasil” which means brasil wood. The name came from the word “brasa” which translates as “hot coal, ember” in Portuguese.
Much of this wood was cut down and sent back to Portugal.
The reason we call it Brazil is because the Portuguese say the S more softly that we do. It’s not quite a Z, but almost. Hence when anyone heard the Portuguese talk about Brasil it sounded more like Brazil than Brasil.
End of history lesson.
Well not quite if you think going back to 1986 is history. Brazil, back then anyway, was a classic example of the gap that can occur between rich and poor. We were told that 95 per cent of the populous was poor and the majority of the wealth was in the hands of the remaining 5 per cent. We were billeted by Rotarians, most of who seemed to be in the top 5 per cent, but in some of the smaller centres we were living amongst the 95 per cent. The poor live in appalling hovels called favelas generally made of previously-used corrugated iron. It rained a lot up there; it was near the equator so it was incredibly hot, but it was overcast the whole time. Halley’s Comet was making one of its rare visits to Earth at the time, but there was no chance that we would ever see it.
I recall talking to an ex-pat Englishman who was a senior manager in a jute factory. We were having lunch with the staff in the company dining room and on the wall there was a large sign saying: “Brasil - the country of tomorrow.” This is Brasil’s national slogan: “The country of tomorrow.” The Englishman, who had lived in Brasil for 16 years, said he reckoned this slogan was holding them back. “Tomorrow never comes,” he said “And so the Brasilians continue to reluctantly accept their station in life.”
I asked a well-to-do lawyer I met how come the population didn’t revolt given the appalling gap in living standards. He said revolution is triggered by two conditions, hunger and cold. It certainly wasn’t cold and he said there were plenty of exotic tropical fruits in the jungle so no one went hungry.
The only city we visited which features in the Football World Cup was Manaus. Manaus had two claims to fame; it is home to a magnificent opera house and was known as the murder capital of the world. On a per head basis more people are murdered in Manaus than anywhere else on the planet. We were warned to stay alert as the Brasilians despised Americans - “Americanos Gringos” - and we looked like Americans. We came away unscathed, but I suppose we could have been murdered by the Phantom of the Opera.
And so we are stuck with the conundrum: is it Brasil or Brazil?
Well we managed the switch from Peking to Beijing without too much angst. Beijing apparently aligns more with the true Chinese way of pronouncing their capital city. I’ve often wondered if we shouldn’t anglicise some of our Maori place names to be more commensurate with the way we (mis)pronounce these. It would certainly be a great aid to our increasing numbers of overseas visitors.
We could have Wirewrapper, the Roomarhunger and the Whypoor rivers, Pieartooer, Fenooerpie and even Ayertayerrower.
Before the commencement of a rugby test the All Blacks could do the harker.
All of this provided the bulk of our Maury population agreed.
Mmm…I can just see my old mate Nelson Rangi crossing me off his Christmas card list; even as I write.
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