A Peaceful Time in Brazil
Rennie Loewenthal
Surrey England
From NEW BEGINNINGS, Vol. 17 No. 4, September-October 2000, p. 166
We provide articles from our publications from previous years for reference for our Leaders and members. Readers are cautioned to remember that research and medical information change over time.
My husband, Paul, had decided
a long time ago that he wanted to spend the millennium in Canoa Quebrada
(meaning Broken Canoe), a small fishing village in the northeast of
Brazil. We had been there together before we had children and its magic
had lingered with us for many years. Now with four children, it was
quite an organizational nightmare getting there. We rented out our house
in London, tied up all our responsibilities and just went for it. Traveling
with children throws such a different light on things.
It was late afternoon and
we had just wandered up from the beach to Jeova's house, a fisherman
whom we have known for many years. It was nearly sunset. At that end
of the village, the children ended each day by walking up the sand dunes
with their wooden boards and then sliding down the steep slopes to the
bottom.
We were sitting on the veranda
talking with Jeova and his sister Jandira when she gently pulled her
three-year-old son into the hammock where she was lying. She lifted
her top and began breastfeeding him. Paul asked her about breastfeeding
in Canoa and she casually replied that it was normal to feed children
for six or even seven years. Up until this moment, I had felt unsure
about the etiquette of how to feed my 14-month- old here in Brazil.
I like to know what is normal and acceptable before I feed comfortably
in public. What a glorious relief. A bit like the feeling when I arrived
at my first LLL meeting to find myself surrounded by other mothers who
were also nurturing their children through breastfeeding. I immediately
relaxed and knew that I was going to find Brazil an easy place to be
with my nursing toddler for the next five months.
Children seemed adored and
valued by the people we met. Babies were viewed as angels. I don't think
anything could have prepared me for the amount of attention that Sula-Mae
was going to attract. I could barely walk a few feet without someone
doting on her.
Although babies in the village
are generally breastfed for many years, in the time I was there, I didn't
often see any being breastfed. I rarely saw any bottles, but I also
rarely saw any babies at the breast. What I did see were lots of dummies
(pacifiers) so I came to the conclusion that babies were mainly fed
in the home.
Because the village is built
on the sand dunes, it's not a place for prams or strollers. The people
in the community didn't seem to use slings or any type of baby carrier—they simply carried babies in arms. Since they didn't seem to carry
babies for long distances, just from house to house or into the main
street for a bit of shopping or socializing, it seemed as though they
didn't need a baby carrier. I did see baby carriers commonly used in
the cities though.
Breastfeeding proved itself
to be obviously superior on this trip. Sula ate off our plates since
there were no high chairs to contain her in. She tried all the new tastes
but it was reassuring to know that she got most of her nutritional needs
met by my milk so there was no stress or inconvenience. She was very
healthy the whole time.
Our neighbor worked in the
telephone exchange and a young girl looked after her baby during the
day. When he needed to breastfeed she took him to the mother and then
brought him home again. If only the workplace could be so breastfeeding-friendly
in every country!
Everyone in Canoa seemed
related in some way, so there was never any shortage of aunts or sisters
to help out with the day-to-day care of babies. I saw many mothers of
young babies having time out for a swim or a dance in the evenings,
leaving the stresses of motherhood behind while at the same time the
babies were close at hand.
In the evenings when we went
out for a meal or a stroll we always had the option of having Sula with
us or, if she was awake and not able to sit in a restaurant, one of
the local girls would come and take her for a walk. Even better, once
she dozed off I could leave her in a hammock, in a friend's house in
the main street, just a few doors away from where we were eating.
In spite of the wonderful
ease Brazilians have with breastfeeding, all is not necessarily so idyllic.
When we were in Salvador, a woman sitting on the street begged us for
money to buy her baby some milk. The increasing rate of cesarean births
in both rich and poor communities is likely to affect breastfeeding,
since cesarean births often mean mothers and babies are more likely
to be separated at birth. There is also an increasing fashion not to
breastfeed in the hope of avoiding drooping breasts. They don't seem
to realize that breast changes are caused by pregnancy, not lactation.
It's a shame Western cultures seem able to export undue emphasis on
appearance all over the world.
One of my most treasured
memories, which for me sums up the acceptance of breastfeeding in Canoa
and also captures Paul's respect for it, happened one afternoon after
a long swim in the warm lagoons. Sula needed to sleep, but she always
refused to feed when I was in my bikini because she didn't like the
taste of salt on my nipple. So Paul went up to the owner of a beach
hut selling drinks and fish and asked if he could have some fresh water
so that his wife could clean her breast in order that the baby could
feed. Without a thought the man went to the kitchen and brought out
a jug of cool clean water for me to pour over myself. I try to imagine
a bar in England where I would be treated with the same understanding.
Sula-Mae then fed and fell asleep in my arms, neither of us having a
care in the world.
Last updated Thursday, October 12, 2006 by njb.
Page last edited Sun Oct 14 09:29:59 UTC 2007.
