Community Development: Its Name May Be Mud

Sooner or later someone is certain to puzzle out a formal definition of urban community development. Out of his garret and into the sun he'll come bandying his sheet of convoluted prose only to be greeted with a recent erasure in Webster's New Collegiate. Exactly what he'll find where urban community development once stood is hard to say -- perhaps something like "better burg breeding" or "coached community commotion" or any one of a thousand possible locutions which would shed an aura of respectability on an undertaking whose very nature suggests a lurking, sleight-of-hand presence.

In short, to define a phrase which expresses the workings of an idea in the hands of hundreds or perhaps thousands of people is to ignore one of its most salient features -- mysterious happenings -- and commit it to an orthodox fate.

Brasilia Teimosa is a barrio of Recife in the northeast of Brazil with a population of about 10,000.

One of its perennial problems is the ruin of its roads during the four-month rainy season. During this period from May to August the rain becomes a way of life, often falling continuously for several days. Fishing becomes sporadic, and all but indoor workers are forced to sit and do little but watch the steady downpour turn the sand and dirt roads into rivers of mud which settle in low spots and are churned into black muck by traffic.

Jim Lail (Lexington, Ky.) and I talked with many of the local citizens about the roads and found a real desire to get something done. Several informal meetings were held to discuss the problem, and it was decided to see what a group of residents could do working in conjunction with the city government. The people were willing to perform necessary labor if the government would supply the equipment needed.

The planning took about six weeks, and what started as a small group of 10 men turned into a nebulous affair involving suddenly revived organizations dedicated to desenvolviment das ruas (street development), an unlimited supply of idea men, well-wishers, and skeptics, and the prompt attention of an incumbent councilman running for re-election who arrived with trucks and work crews and began spreading sand with a flourish.

This latter measure worked well on the less-travelled streets where the sand wasn't pushed out of the holes and off the street by traffic, but the more widely used streets and intersections remained impassable. The situation worsened daily as the families living on these streets shovelled away the few remaining high spots to build dams to keep mud out of their homes.

Somehow the mud had to be drained and the particular stretch of road leveled and then covered with a packed layer of sand. We worked with some of the families concerned and suggested that they petition the city for a small bulldozer which could work in the narrow streets. The city didn't have one.

There were, of course, a number of firms in the city which sold just the machine needed. Money was no object; there wasn't any. So maybe we could borrow a bulldozer and advertise some company's product. We thought it was a good idea. Most of the firms didn't.

After a series of conversations with incredulous salesmen which usually ended in helpful directions to the offices of nearby competitors, we finally got a machine and a driver who would come out to Brasilia on the first rainless Sunday. The men lived on the job site, so getting them together was no problem. But it always rained on Sunday. One Sunday in mid-June, however, Brasilia Teimosa reposed under clear skies; it was not raining. It was urban community development time.

First: drain the mud before the arrival of the bulldozer. There was one family which had a front yard large enough to dig a drainage pit in. The dona da casa (woman of the house) thought it would be all right.

The hole was dug along with a trench to the mud; the trench was opened and the mud began to flow. Enter don da casa: "What is going on here?" It was obvious. His yard was being filled with black mud. He had been away, out of touch; and thus the logic of urban-community development was a complete mystery to him. The ensuing confusion ended the moment the mud ceased to flow; what can one say to a yardful of mud?

The project proceeded and was eventually completed as the dozer came to level the road, and the councilman came to dump two truckloads of sand for the workers to spread and tamp. The drained mud dried in the sun and was covered with sand and urban community development gained another adherent. Sunday came to a close. The workers congratulated themselves on a job well done, the councilman busily shook hands, and the Peace Corps Volunteers went for a beer.

The following Sunday, we would tackle the next stretch of road, rain permitting. It didn't.

William Krohley, Huntington Station, N. Y., received a B. A. in philosophy from the University of Rochester in June, 1964.