Second view from Brazil: Mr Ray, the Godfather, and his friend, Prince Charles

I’ve decided there is absolutely no reason to persevere with the Portuguese. It’s not just that I’ve already lost the tutor guide to the audio I bought. ‘In flight Portuguese: learn by the time you land’ was the promise on the tin. But they hadn’t counted on my language skills. When the aircraft landed I was still muddling my ‘obrigados’ with my ‘obrigadas’. The first is the male 'thank you’ and the second the female? So as I’m a male, do I use the male or female version when speaking to a female? More importantly, why do we make life so complicated for ourselves!

But the real reason is that I have two beautiful ladies to interpret everything for me, everywhere I go. And, of course, it means I’m looked after superbly well. I love it. So where’s the incentive? Would I really want to risk losing their wonderful company? I can’t think of a better reason for ignorance.

Except….something tells me I’m setting a bad example. Two other UK heads have already become quite proficient, one advanced, in the language. So I may need to copy them and book some intensive language tuition over here. No expense spared- I’m worth it. It reminds me how difficult languages are for some of us and what a great job language teachers do. The learner is so dependent. Three cheers at this point for the South Dartmoor language teachers.


Portuguese would be useful just to know what I’m eating. I’ve been introduced by my Brazilian hosts to a new dessert: ‘cartola’, which is a truly fantastic mix of fried banana covered in a local cheese and grilled with a mix of cinnamon and sugar. Sadly, because we don’t have an equivalent cheese in the UK, I won’t be able to make it. Manioc, a root vegetable is a delicious alternative to potato. Then there are the lovely juices: mango today and guava. I also had my first goat sausage-delicious.

The shocking news came through this morning that a school night watchman had been murdered by three youths, two of them students from the school and one of those a minor. Apparently, he’d refused to let them into school to take more drugs. They beat him to death by throwing stones at him. It’s not one of my schools, but the ministry official with us had to leave us to calm things at the school. Lynch mobs might be a possibility in revenge.


I’ve been to three schools this week. There are such warm welcomes. It’s really quite overwhelming. Autograph requests, for example. Many of the students just want to shake hands, practice saying hello or hug. One asks, perfectly innocently, how often I see Prince Charles. So if any South Dartmoor students are bothering to read this, let’s have a little more of this awe and respect when I get back.

The head teacher of one school tells me that every day she works from 7.30 am until 10.00 pm. She has to be there to supervise the three four hour shifts that all the schools run. The younger children come for the morning (with some older ones who are still re-taking!), the senior students in the afternoon and the adults or more senior ones who have to work during the day, in the evening. Rooms are intensely hot with fans whirring away. Yet a history lesson at 4.30 pm on a hot afternoon was keeping the forty children in the class occupied.
Large external posters send out the message ‘Eight Ways to Change the World.’ Each represents an ambitious project in health, environmental education, relationships, and literacy. These and newly tree-lined street- holes dug by the community, trees planted by the students- represent massive progress, even since I was here last.
They share plans and I try to be constructive in my suggestions. They are doing so much already that is beyond the call of duty. Such are teachers the world over. The staff in one of the schools spend an afternoon discussing ways to raise standards, improve their teaching and help the students. The evaluation sheets that the students fill out on their teachers would be controversial here but are natural and accepted in Brazil. The students score their teachers’ punctuality, for example, and satisfaction with the teaching they are receiving.
We see colourful and energetic cultural dances, watch a play, address assemblies and have regular breaks for Brazilian snacks. Photo opportunities abound and a record of the visit will be displayed.

I’m called back after taking assemblies and going in classrooms by a class about to graduate this year. Many hope to go into higher education and perhaps become teachers. They ask me to be their Godfather- quite an honour, I’m told. How could I refuse? I explained that I would probably not be able to make it for their graduation but would a video do? They seemed happy with the suggestion- meanwhile I must find out what other responsibilities I’ve taken on.


Walking on the beach at the end of Saturday, I’m shocked by the amount of litter left. How can we be so contemptuous of the beautiful beach. There are no seagulls to eat the food, but a team of red-coated litter pickers is moving along the sand to scoop up the debris. Dave Morgan and team- you are not alone.

In fact, the children keep their schools beautifully clean. As is so often the case, it’s the adults who are at fault. So what is the Portuguese for ‘Don’t leave that litter’ and dare I use it? Now where have my translators gone?