Are there limits to growth?

(This is the story of a seven-year old boy living in one of the poorest areas of Brazil. Miguel Santos is from Nova Olinda, Ceará. This state is located in the Northeast and its hinterland “the sertão” -- also known as “the backlands” -- is the driest area and historically hosts the most deprived citizens in the country. I lived and worked with children like Miguelito in the summer of 2003 and share with you this kid’s concern over “the limits to growth”).

My name is Miguelito. I am the youngest. My dad and my mom had seven kids before me. Because my siblings are grown ups and my parents are too old I play with my cousins as well as my friends on the streets. After school, we like to play soccer, fly kites, and tease the girls.

My favorite hobby is playing on computers. I love games. There is only one boy in my classroom who has a video game. He said that it was her aunt from the city who sent it to him. I wish my uncle living in the city could also send me one.
Nova Olinda is a very hot place. I only wear shoes when I go to church on Sundays. I don’t like wearing them because they are too small and hurt my feet. My dream is to have those shiny cleats that I always watch on TV. If I had a pair of Nike, I would play like Neymar.

I am a small skinny boy. My friends call me “toothpick” and others Somália. I really don’t care how they call me. I can be the shortest in class but am still faster and score more goals than those clumsy moron trouble-makers.

I wish I could travel and learn funny languages. Once, a tall guy with a pink nose sticking out of his white face showed up around here. Nobody could really tell what he was saying except for the cutest girl in town who used to walk hand in hand with him. I think this girl is a liar because the only word she could say to him was “ciao”.

In Nova Olinda it hardly ever rains. People call here “the desert”. It is scorching all year round. Our winter is the rainy season. I love when it rains because then I can play in the mud and my mother always brings new food to the table.
I am trying to behave well. If I get good grades and do not yell at anyone, the foundation here -- that people call “The Big House” -- will let me go the room with plenty of comics. I love those colorful drawings even though I cannot read the words yet.

I want to grow up fast to ride my father’s motorbike. People say that in the city there are a lot of sweets and a roller coaster. I dream every day that I am riding one of those giants. I can’t wait to see the entire city at night eating cotton candy from all the way up there.

There is only one person that I feel like kicking the ass every time I see. I don’t like the bald old man that forces my dad to give all the money he has saved in the month. My dad tells us that he has to pay otherwise the whole family will be leaving on the streets.

I think I should start working to help my dad. I know that it is important to go to school but I want to help my dad make money and give my mother a beautiful kitchen she never had. If I only had those TV cleats, I know I would score more goals, be famous, and help my family.

(Until I keep listening to stories like Miguelzinho’s I simply refuse to reflect upon “the limits of growth” in terms of demographics and economic control. After all, are we poor because we are many? Because we are voracious consumers? Because we destroy our surroundings? Because we do not have the means to produce more? Or does Miguelzinho have not the right to ride a roller coaster, visit the Coliseum, and dream of buying a house for his parents? “Limits to growth” questions are pure nonsense for millions of people living in areas like the backlands. If anyone is interested in visiting this amazing region and learn in loco what I am saying, I will be happy to introduce the director of “Fundação Casa Grande”, an educational foundation sponsored by UNESCO)