The Woman on the Beach

by Maria Catarina Gestinari (Brazil)

I didn't expect to find Brazil

The sun didn’t shine as usual for that season. Instead, grayish clouds spread evenly across the January sky. Still, the air was hot. It was a Saturday afternoon on the coast of São Paulo, more specifically on a beach named Guaratuba; a privileged place, right next to a gated condominium of houses. Hundreds of people, including me, were there to enjoy the Brazilian Summer, far from the chaos of the big cities around. Despites the gloomy day, the beach was full. On my right side, a group of young people played soccer and laughed out loud. A little further on, a big family talked and rested under colorful beach umbrellas, while a blond little girl used her delicate fingers to draw in the plane sand. Soft songs, quite typical from the country, came from stall selling coconut water behind me, and filled the atmosphere of comfort and familiarity. I was alone, sitting on the firm, slightly damp sand. My eyes roamed lovingly every inch of the beach, which has always been a refugee for me. And so, observing, I came across, on my left side, a scene that caught my attention. A black woman, very tall, and thin — so thin as to see the bones — staring at the sea, motionless. I watched her closely. From her bare feet, to her very curly hair, arranged in a tiny ponytail. Her clothes looked like uniforms of housekeepers or nannies; those one only sees in movies or wealthy houses. Black pants stuck to her skinny legs, while a white, short-sleeved shirt, hid under an apron, plaid on dark blue with white ruffles all around it. Her figure was at odds with the rest of the people on the beach, who seemed much more comfortable with light clothes or bikinis. Soon, I realized that besides her, there were only two other black people at the beach, and one of them was working, selling handicrafts. But what really got me was her expression. She was utterly serious, looking at the endless sea, thoughtfully, and deep. Her eyes suggested sadness, and at the same time, fascinated admiration of nature. Ahead of her, at the seaside, three young children played, throwing water at each other and laughing like only kids do. However, the woman’s gaze, which I deduced to be that of a caregiver, was serious and traveled away, looking at the horizon, far ahead of the children. Her arms were crossed unexceptionally, and her body weight was supported all by her left leg, while the right one was loose, slightly stretched to the side. For some time that I couldn’t count, she didn’t leave that position. What was she thinking about? What depths did her eyes reflect, blurred like the landscape she was looking at? What was her story? I got distracted by an ice cream vendor, who pulled a cart between the woman and me, and when I looked away to the sea, I realized that the children who were playing in front of the woman had been dragged by the current, and were now about 100 meters away. Nothing changed. Nothing around was perceived by the woman. At the same moment, I noticed that very close to her there was a cart load, filled with garbage, and old objects like TVs, radios, and a big yellowish mattress. Looking at that only made me more confused about the woman and who she was. The music coming from the stall had already stopped. The sky was changing its color, slowly becoming darker. Birds soared in tune. The beach was gradually emptying, and the silence took over, except for the pleasant and constant sound of the waves breaking in the distance and dragging themselves to the edge. The air was still hot, and the woman was still motionless. I went home. Questions and thoughts about life, nature, equality, race, happiness — and about that woman specifically — surrounded me that night. But If I tell you I came up with any answer or conclusion I will be lying. I guess this part of the story, is up to you.