My Father's Archives #9

This is perhaps the most iconic photograph I found in my father's archives. It shows a group of sertanejos (inhabitants of the Brazilian Northeast) carrying firewood.
Brazilian culture (and specially its literature and, more recently, TV) tends to romanticize the life of the sertanejo, emphasizing his wit and humor in dealing with the hardships of life. The sertanejo certainly has these qualities that fill their houses with laughter and transform the marketplaces in pitfalls for any stranger not familiar with their negotiating skills.
But there is also a tragic side to life in this poor and destitute region of our country.
I was about four years old when I heard a commotion on the street in front of our house. My parents hadn't talked a lot during that morning and their faces had been somber. I had no idea what was going on, so when the crowd approached our house, my first reaction was to run outside and see what was happening. But my father held me back and told me to stay at home and not leave the house until he and mum returned.
Obviously I didn't obey and decided to follow the crowd that was now moving to the outskirts of town. Suddenly I found myself in a neighborhood I wasn't familiar with and - fearing that I might get lost - I began working my way through the crowd in search of my parents. When I got to the head of the crowd I finally saw them: My mother was holding a weeping woman and comforting her. My father, with tears in his eyes, was walking by the side of a man carrying a small white coffin about my own size on his shoulders.   
That image stuck with me. Later I learned that burials were frequent and that death was ever present in the lives of these people.
Maybe that is why the sertanejo celebrates life so intensely and with such joy and humor every time they outwit death. Though death is not a stranger to these people, it still underestimates their wit and negotiating skills in the marketplace of life.

Or, as they would say: The drought makes finding firewood very easy.