Go North,
Young Man

After agonizing about how many men to send at the end of September to participate in the recent Australian-led multinational military mission to guarantee peace in East Timor—a former Portugal colony—the Fernando Henrique Cardoso administration decided to dispatch 51 volunteers including officers, sergeants and privates, all of them trained in street patrol.

The small number of troops was ridiculed by the Brazilian media, whose members did not embark as planned on the same military plane that took the soldiers to East Timor. The government found out that there would be more reporters than military men in the aircraft and canceled plans to carry the press. The initial proposal was to send 800 men from the São Leopoldo (Rio Grande do Sul state) Infantry Battalion who are trained for foreign missions. The plan was soon dropped, however, when it became clear that the undertaking was dangerous and there was risk of several casualties.

It was in 1956—during the Suez Canal crisis—that Brazil last sent troops to participate in an international force to impose peace. The 18 international missions in which the country participated in the following 43 years offered little danger. According to Army officials this is the most dangerous Brazilian military mission since 1944 when the country participated on the side of the allies in World War II in Italy. Twenty five thousand troops were sent, 430 soldiers died with 13 Army and 8 Navy officers. They had a victorious campaign, winning the Castelnuovo battle, helping to take the town of Montese, and taking over Monte Castelo.

This latest troop episode is in a way the story of Brazilian emigration, the uneasiness Brazilians feel about leaving their country. Brazilians traditionally have preferred to stay home even when times get rough, dreaming that things will get better soon. They have been for the most part incorrigible optimists. This has already been noted by renowned Brazilianist Thomas Skidmore observing a recent change in the national mood: "Emigration is a bad sign because Brazilians are famous for their optimism about the country. Even during the military regime [which lasted from 1964 to 1985], people who went into exile came back as soon as they could."

Despite this laissez-faire and we-can-wait attitude, in the last 15 years Brazil has turned from importer of people and brain into an exporter. The 2000 census is expected to give a clearer picture of how many Brazilians have left the country in the last ten years in search of better economic opportunities. Experts estimate that at least 1 percent of the 165,000 million population have done just that. From those 1.6 million, 1 million chose the United States. The largest contingent (around 600,000) stayed in or around New York/New Jersey. Compared to other countries Brazilian emigration to the United States is small. Brazil didn't make the list of the 30 top exporters of people to the U.S.

It's curious that most Brazilian immigrants prefer the American Northeast, an area completely different from the tropical and subtropical regions they come from. What would make them endure inclement winters, discrimination—being called cucaracha (cockroach) is one of the insults hurled at them—interminable hours of hard work, jobs to which they would never subject themselves in Brazil? Economic hardship does not explain it all. Myth, dreams, fantasized stories of those who came first and "made it in America" help us understand.

The typical portrait of the immigrant is that of the young man who, accompanied or not by his family, comes to the US to work hard, get some money, and go back to Brazil where he might be able to buy a home, maybe start his own business, or both. The events do not always follow the script, however. Some never save enough, many never go back.

Why
They
Left

According to the 1997 Second Census of Brazilians Overseas compiled by Brazil's Foreign Ministry (based on not-very-reliable information from 29 Brazilian foreign consulates) there are 1,560,162 Brazilian expatriates in the world. The majority of these emigrants (600,000 of them) are in the US, followed by Paraguay (350,000) and Japan (200,000).

New York ranks first among the foreign cities with the largest concentration of Brazilians. It has 200,013 Brazilians, followed by Ciudade del Este in Paraguay (180,100), Boston (150,000), Miami (140,000), Nagoya in Japan (120,500), Asuncion in Paraguay (107.035), Tokyo (80,639), Salto del Guaíra in Paraguay (60,000), Washington, D.C. (48,000), Milan in Italy (30,100), Lisbon in Portugal (22,052), and London (19.510).

According to the 1980 US Census, there were 44,000 Brazilians living in the States at that time, 60% of them in the states of New York, New Jersey, Florida, Massachusetts and California. Two thirds had arrived after 1965.

The migratory influx increased dramatically during the '80s when stratospheric inflation—up to 80 percent a month—and high unemployment convinced many Brazilians to try their luck overseas. After having decreased in the early years of the Fernando Henrique Cardoso administration, which started on January 1^st, 1995, the exodus has gained momentum again, while the country was able to contain its inflation at a cost too high for many: zero economic growth and growing joblessness.

For São Paulo historian José Carlos Sebe Bom Meihy, who soon will be publishing the book O Brasil Fora de Si (Brazil Out of Itself), a study on Brazilian living in New York, Brazilian immigrants have a tougher time in the US than other Latin Americans. He reveals that most of them live in ghettos, survive in menial jobs, and never learn to speak English properly.

Meihy, who teaches at USP (Universidade de São Paulo), backed by a scholarship form Columbia University, spent a year interviewing over 300 Brazilian immigrants most of whom live in the Queens area of New York. In an article published recently in the bilingual New York-based monthly The Brasilians, Meihy divides the Brazilian emigration to the US in three phases, while reminding us that he was unable to establish precise numbers and data. The first phase began in the '70s, after the Brazilian "economic miracle" had run its course. About these pioneers he concludes: "This was a group, in general, formed by people who were fluent in English, had some capital to apply in businesses and intended to be continuously moving between Brazil and the United States."

The so-called "lost decade", the '80s, saw a second wave of Brazilians. Most of them left Brazil because they were unemployed or didn't see any future in what they were doing there. "This generation, as the one before," observes the historian, "maintained the tacit goal of 'returning one day.'"

The third and current phase, is comprised of poorer people with less formal education than previous emigrants. Writes Meihy, "While it is still common to hear that 'all want to go back,' it's also known that many of the new—some of them already born on North American soil—start to adapt themselves in order to assume a North American identity or at least minimize their original identity."

Rarer are the success stories of Brazilians who 'made it in America,' who started from nothing and built a fortune or at least started a prosperous business. According to reports (or legends) those Brazilian pioneers who moved north in the '60s and '70s were able to open their own shops—most of them on 46^th Street in New York—in the area known as Little Brazil. Those were different times, though. Those businessmen were middle-class citizens who had jobs in Brazil and could have chosen to remain there. And they already had their nest egg. For most of them it was this money that they used to open their businesses.

In an interview with daily O Estado de S. Paulo, Meihy explained the title Brazil Out of Itself: "I chose it because one of my conclusions is that the community formed by Brazilians in the New York area is a recreation of Brazil, including the same vices, such as exclusion, social disputes and racial problems."

One of his conclusions: all 300 Brazilians he talked to have a better life now than they would have if they had remained in Brazil: "As they get paid by the hour, at the end of the week they have enough money to buy a television, for example, something they would not be able to do in Brazil."

One of his interviewees, a woman lawyer who graduated from USP (Universidade de São Paulo, the best Brazilian college) is making $1,200 a month working in a lawyer's office, but only after everybody leaves. She is the cleaning lady.

Meihy divides Brazilians in New York—80 percent of them are undocumented—according to their activities. One of the more traditional groups are shoe shiners—Brazilians seem to have a monopoly in this sector—some 600 of them. They work in subway stations, around the World Trade Center and on Fifth Avenue. For young women, the work as Go-Go Girls is widespread. Often Go-Go Girl is synonymous with prostitute. Close to 40 percent of the nightclub dancers in the area are Brazilians. People from Minas Gerais state represent 51% of the Brazilian population in the area followed by 30% of Paranaenses (from Paraná).

Start
Spreading
the News

New York has several stories of Brazilians who have made it. One prime example is businessman João de Mattos, who has a virtual monopoly on everything that's Brazilian in the city. For 15 years Mattos has been organizing the very successful Brazilian Day in New York, which takes place on a weekend around Brazilian Independence Day, September 7. In his monthly newspaper The Brasilians—the bilingual paper strong in economic activity was created in 1972 by Jota Alves—there is page after page of ads for his companies. Curiously we never find ads from competing travel agencies.

One page—they were three full pages in the September issue—is generally dedicated to BACC Travel, which sells round-trip tickets from New York to Rio or São Paulo for as little as $375, according to the advertisement. But there are also tempting offers from dozens of other cities in the US. Another full page presents Churrascaria Plataforma, "acclaimed by the American Press". Antenna Global Inc. gets another page, announcing the arrival of TV Globo to the US and the sale of a satellite dish to receive it.

Emporium Brasil Café and Restaurant gets another page, and Viva Brasil Restaurante, "authentically Brazilian" gets still another. There is also one page for Transfast Remittance, a company that sends money overseas, with seven branches on the American East Coast from New York City to Miami. Finally more than 500 names fill another page. The names are topped with the message: Happy Birthday! BACC members _ September 1999. Another 12 full pages of the 48-page September issue are used to show and tell of the success of the latest Brazilian Day celebration.

There are other success stories even though none so spectacularly successful as Mattos's. There is, for example, Yes, the biggest radio-taxi fleet from Astoria, New York, which belongs to a Brazilian. Aécio Silva, who started his business 14 years ago, is from Governador Valadares. The service, which includes limousines, has 68 cars and among its drivers 22 are Brazilians (half of them from Governador Valadares). Brazilians also represent 25 percent of Yes's clients.

Another example of success in New York is that of the J sisters from the state of Espírito Santo. There are seven: Janea, Jocely, Jonice, Joyce, Judséia, Juracy, and Jussara. Their beauty salon is frequented by the likes of Sophia Loren and top models Naomi Campbell and Kate Moss. They earned $1.5 million last year in their salon. They have become famous in part due to their pubic hair trimming for women using honeybee wax or the "Brazilian bikini wax" as their clients call it.

This success story started in 1980 when Jocely Padilha, then 28 with no high school diploma, decided to visit New York. She had no plans to stay and only $500 to spend on her planned two-week trip. Instead she found a job in a beauty salon. In 1987 she started her opened her own shop. Now she can charge as much as she wants. A haircut is never less than $100, but men can pay as little as $60. For a manicure you pay $30 and for a pedicure $55. A mere eyebrow trimming will set you back $25.

Now they are hoping to take over the world with plans to open branches in Miami and Madrid (Spain). They also have just launched in Brazil a line of cosmetics bearing their brand with the same high prices as the best-known name brands.

Out of sight

Despite its size—and some American interest in Brazil—the Brazilian community in New York and around the country is practically invisible. Brazilians are still confused with all other Latin Americans and still speak Spanish for the great majority of Americans. Between October 1^st and 11, the New York MoMA (Museum of Modern Art) (the museum presented recently a comprehensive retrospective of the Brazilian cinema) will be exhibiting the work of multimedia artist Arthur Omar. There will be a retrospective including seminal works like Triste Trópico (Sad Tropic) from 1973 and this year experiments with abstractionism. That's just one more sign of American interest in Brazilian art and culture besides the continuous awareness of Brazilian music and Tropicalismo.

Omar, who has no false or any other kind of modesty, doesn't hide his enthusiasm: "I feel honored for having been selected. They have carefully chosen the date so it would be the last exhibit of the century. It is as though my work was a synthesis of the millennium, because I shatter the frontiers between languages, genera, and technologies."

The artist was invited for this show in 1996 by Larry Laurence Kardish, MoMA's curator for movies and video. In the retrospective's catalogue Omar is presented as "perhaps, the most provocative and prolific artist of Latin America." At MoMA there is somebody who knows Omar very well. He is Paulo Hernkenhoff, the adjunct-curator of the painting and sculpture department. Hernkenhoff was the curator for the last São Paulo Bienal. He also happens to be Brazilian.

Among Omar's best-known movies is Sonhos e Histórias de Fantasmas (Dreams and Stories of Ghosts), a juxtaposition of two black communities originally made for the German TV: in one community their members are old and tired descendants of the Quilombos (communities of runaway slaves). In the other there is the vitality of young funkers from Rio's Morro do Borel, a shantytown.

In Inferno (Hell) again he juxtaposes: this time he puts side by side family pictures taken by his grandfather in the '20s and '30s, Carnaval scenes and cattle being slaughtered. Ressurreição (Resurrection)—you could never guess—uses newspapers pictures of massacres as raw material. Ursinho de Pelúcia (Teddy Bear), on the other hand, is the real story of a cat trying to rape a teddy bear. As the artist told Jornal do Brasil: "It's a hardcore movie, but the cat never fulfills his desire because the teddy is an impenetrable object. This is quite symbolic."

Making
a Difference

Different from Brazilians in New York, who have a hold on shoe shining and go-go girl dancing, many of those who came to Boston seem to be on the fast track to riches. They were even celebrated as "aristocratic Boston's new social climbers" by weekly magazine Época in a recent cover story. It's in Framingham—Fremingun as most Brazilians seem to pronounce it—a small town (65,000 residents) 30 miles from Boston that the Brazilian presence has been more conspicuous. Official numbers talk about 150,000 Brazilians in the state of Massachusetts, where Framingham is located, but other estimates put that number at 600,000 including documented and undocumented immigrants. In Framingham Brazilians have spurred a revitalization of downtown, which had become downtrodden and over-run by prostitution and drugs.

Commenting on the energy and brain-drain that the emigration has become, professor Teresa Sales from Unicamp's (Universidade de Campinas) sociology department told weekly magazine Época: "The country exports today the most precious thing it has, its population. They are young men and women, who at the peak of their productivity, leave for faraway places, lowering their professional status to find stability in life. Contrary to previous studies, I notice that Brazilians in Boston are not an invisible population. They come, they multiply, build an ethnic identity and don't go unnoticed." Sales should know. For more than seven years she has been observing and studying Brazilian expatriates who live in the Greater Boston area.

Sales, who has just released Cenas do Brasil Migrante (Scenes of Migrant Brazil), a book she co-authored, sees a change of behavior in the latest wave of Brazilian exiles: "We have a redefinition about the expectations of Brazilians who move to the United States. They leave due to crisis, but what keeps them longer and longer are the ties created there."

Governador Valadares, a city in the state of Minas Gerais, has 300,000 residents in its own territory. Another 44,000 live in the United States and the economy thrives as a result of the money these Brazucas (Brazilians living in the US) send home. Every large and small business seems to accept payment in dollars. The more than 70 travel agencies in town also operate as exchange outlets and there are around two dozen schools specializing in teaching English.

Curiously, Americans discovered Governador Valadares before the town citizens started flocking North. It was during World War II and afterwards that the Yankees started to hang around the region looking for mica, an insulating material used in radio transmitters. The first Valadarenses to go North were lured by the tales and stories of these US citizens.

Today, for those who live in Governador Valadares, getting a visa to the US is like winning the lottery and is almost as rare. Consulate authorities do a double-take when examining passports from people from that region of Minas Gerais. More than 300 Valadarenses travel to the American Consulate in Rio every month. Less than 30 percent of them get the expected stamp in their passport, however. Valadarenses have developed several tactics to divert the consulate's sniffing dogs off their tracks. One of them is to get their passport—and if possible other documentation—issued out of the state of Minas Gerais.

Touching Stories
Horror Stories

Although there are the success stories, for many going to America the trip will be closer to a nightmare than the fulfillment of a dream. They know that almost invariably they will end up doing menial work they would have refused to do in Brazil. They know, but probably don't believe it. Men often get a job in construction or cleaning offices, while women generally find a house to clean or a family where they work as baby sitters or as caretakers for the elderly and sick.

Época talked to some Brazilians who made it the United States, people like Mineiro (from Minas Gerais) Ronaldo de Souza, 39, who told his story: "I came here with the idea of working as a corpse washer. In Brazil I was told that the Boston mortuaries paid $200 per body. To my dismay, however, I was informed that to enter the profession, I would have to complete a college course! Dead here are cool: they go to the grave all dressed up, sparkling, smiling. I gave up and went back to being a house painter. Today I have my own company and have more customers that I can handle. My youngest daughter is American. Her name is Stephanie Mary Ann de Souza, she is seven and speaks English like an adult."

As it happens in other regions, Brazilians in Boston with college diplomas are taking jobs they would never have accepted in Brazil. A study by Teresa Sales, a sociology professor at Unicamp (Universidade de Campinas), revealed that while 47% of the Brazilians in the Boston area have a college diploma, 55% of them work in jobs that require little or no qualification. For men, dishwashing in restaurants is common. Women who used to have one or more servants in Brazil are now servants themselves. Época told the story of Fátima Miguel, a 39-year-old lawyer, who boasts of her ability to clean three houses in a single day. "I clean it the Brazilian way," she said. "I'm not lazy and I really scrub."

The magazine also published the dramatic testimonial of Mário Dantas Laranjeira, 30, who was born in Bahia and who became a prosperous businessman in Boston: "The day I was barred from taking a test at school for lack of payment I decided to leave Brazil. It was too much humiliation. With $7000 in debts I left for the United States when I was 19. I entered through Mexico with 15 other Brazilians. My adventure started in Tijuana, on the frontier. We walked for hours, oriented by a coyote, the guide. At night, we suffered a suspicious theft when they took what little we had. We crossed a river and arrived at a sewer line. It was painful to go across the dark and fetid pipes. We walked bowing, sometimes we had to crawl. This hell was one kilometer and lasted three hours—an eternity. I stepped in American soil barefooted. I lost the only shoes I had during that depressing crossing."

Brazilians in exile seem to ease the pain and the humiliation with the thought that one day they will be back in Brazil. It also helps when they have enough money to send some back to the relatives they left. In many cases, however, they don't tell their parents or relatives how they are making this money. The Brazilian Foreign Ministry estimates that Brazilians overseas are sending $4 billion a year to their country.

For those whose longing for Brazil is too painful things have become a tad easier these days. Those who wanted to keep watching their novelas (TV soap operas) for years were able to buy or rent weekly tapes. Now Globo, the main TV network, can be seen throughout the US via satellite. People in Europe and Japan can also see programs at the same time Brazilians are watching them. While the West Coast is under-served, Brazilians on the East Coast are able to buy CDs, books, magazines, food and beverages imported from Brazil. The last product included in the exiles' menu is Kibon ice cream.

All the talk about the Governador Valadares made it easier for another regional group, the people from Criciúma, in the southern state of Santa Catarina, to move north and sneak in great numbers. Only recently the American consulate in São Paulo, under whose jurisdiction Criciúma falls, found a disproportionate number from that city and neighboring regions applying for visas.

It is estimated that since 1990, 25,000 Criciumenses moved to the US, most of them to the Boston area, and most of them have remained illegally in the country. Hundreds of them, it was revealed recently, paid up to $7000 to arrange fake deeds, job information and bank statements, all used to convince US authorities they had enough resources to go back to Brazil when their tourist visas expired.

Some Brazilian companies have taken advantage of those interested in entering the US charging exorbitant prices for this type of service. M/Brazil - Cursos & Intercâmbios from Jundiaí, in the interior of São Paulo, for example, charges as much as $8,000 to arrange a job as an au-pair in the US. This price does not include plane tickets. The firm even has the chutzpah to charge $2,000 to submit the name of a candidate to the Green Card lottery offered by the American government to qualified foreigners.

Applying to this free lottery does not take more than a few lines on a piece of white paper and regular postage, since the INS does not accept applications sent via registered or certified mail. There is no fee charged to apply and since the winners are selected randomly by computer no one can improve the chances of someone winning.

The Miami
Connection

If the Brazilian middle class enters into a crisis expect downtown Miami to feel the punch and pain quickly. It's happening right now. Data from Miami's tourism authority show that there was a 40 percent decrease of Brazilian tourists during this summer vacation when compared to the same period last year. With those who are still coming spending less (50 percent of what they used to), Miami will have to say goodbye to $400 million it was expecting to make from Brazilians this year. For Rent signs have been sprouting up all over on doors that a few weeks ago exhibited the green and yellow Brazilian flag. Around 30 businesses catering to Brazilian tourists have already closed their doors since the Brazilian Real was devalued in January.

Brazil is Florida's number one trade partner, buying fertilizer, machinery and manufactured goods and selling shoes, rubber and coffee. They love to visit Disneyland, to buy time-shares on beaches, to fill bags and crates with all kinds of electronics they will resell—or at least used to—for double the price at home, and they used to do this two or three times a year.

Data from US company Strategy Research Corporation show that Brazil has been demoted from 2^nd to 7^th place among the countries that send tourists to Miami. While there were 478,000 Brazilian tourists in Miami in 1998—535,000 at its peak in 1996—only losing to Canada with 580,000, this number has fallen to 285,000, which places Brazil between England (305,000) and France (188,000). And Brazilians are the top spenders with an average of $172 per person per day.

The economic relation between Florida and Brazil is a solid one. Statistics compiled by American Tourism Industries show that in the last five years 34 percent of all Brazilian tourists coming to the US stayed in Miami. New York came in a close second with 30 percent of these vacationers.

There are more than 30 Brazilian multinationals operating in Florida. Companies like engineering firm Odebrecht, which has built the new Miami Arena. Odebrecht, which also has contracts in California, has already earned more than $1.3 billion from projects developed in the US. Another famous (or infamous depending on your point of view) Brazilian company doing business in America and manufacturing guns in Florida is Taurus, whose weapon of the same name has won several awards in the US.

"The year of 1999 was the decade's worst," said Oscar Fasano, CD and video store Kau's manager, in an interview with Jornal do Brasil. Brasília Internacional, an electronic products shop had an 80 percent sales decrease in February, soon after the Real devaluation. Wilson Zanon, general manager of Victor's, another store specializing in electronics, estimates that they will make 40 percent less in 1999 than they did in 1998. In 1998 there was already a 30 percent fall compared to 1997. Zanon says he was forced to lay off 12 of their 60 employees to deal with the lost income.

In Orlando, the losses for Brazilian businesses were even more dramatic. There was a 90 percent fall in tourist-related earnings during the summer vacation compared to the same period last year. Electronics stores that used to bring in $90,000 in one day, now need 12 days to make the same money. In years past, up to 200,000 Brazilians came to Orlando. Tour operators don't expect the number to reach 25,000 until the end of 1999. For tourists that are still coming there is a big reduction in the time they have to wait in line to enjoy their favorite attractions. They wait 10 minutes for a ride which in the year before they had to wait one hour or more.

For the Brazilian business community in New York the situation is also very difficult. While last year tour agency Soletur alone was bringing up to 10,000 Brazilians every month to New York, this number has dwindled to around 2000. Some electronic and computer businesses in the area of 46^th Street known as Little Brazil have closed their doors and others might do the same soon. Companies that depended heavily on the Brazilian tourist like Aqui Brasil, Brasil Computer and Che Brazil were not able to survive the crisis and went belly up.

Doing
Their
Job

US consulates in Brazil have been accused of and reported in the press for racism and adoption of code letters to discriminate against applicants. One infamous case of racism happened in 1997 when Carlos Alexandre, 6, was denied a visa, while all of his classmates who were going on the same tour got their entry permit without a problem. Little detail: all the other students were white. Carlos was black.

It was also in 1997 that Robert Olsen, a former deputy consul at São Paulo's American Consulate General filed a suit for what he called unfair dismissal. He claimed he had rebelled against some discriminatory practices to give visas and was fired. Olsen told a story that would make Big Brother proud or green with envy. Interviewers were supposed to use some odd two-letter abbreviations on the applications to help them with a final decision. Here are some of the gems: RK was for 'rich kid,' TC for 'take care,' TP for 'talks poorly,' LR for 'looks rough' and LP for 'looks poor'.

The São Paulo consulate admitted recently that it has become even more rigorous when screening candidates who might be likely to overstay their tourist visas in the States. Since last year the number of rejected applications for tourist visas has increased from 6 to 20 percent. While 11,626 visas were denied in 1997, this number had skyrocketed to 37,669 by mid-September. At this rate, around 50,000 visas will be refused this year in the São Paulo area alone, or close to 200 denials every working day.

Letters from Brazilian exiles as reported by daily O Estado de S. Paulo "The truth is that after two years you lose the energy to work two jobs at the same time. This happens to almost everyone here. Or they go back to Brazil or stay here with only one job and then they are not able to save any money." (José Carlos, in a letter to his mother, in June 1992) "My family knows, except for my father and my mother. It's a very tiring job. One day, a guy ripped in two a $100 bill, placed it on me and told me that I would have the other half when I went to bed with him. He is still waiting. Some women have sex, others are married and have children. This is only another way to get some fast cash. Since I want to go back soon I do it." (Dancer I, field diary) "Dear Mom, I saw the tape of your birthday and I cried a lot, longing for you and everybody, for my kids, grandchildren, nephews, in-laws. I don't even know whether I'm going to see you again, God only knows." (Dulcinéia in a letter from April 1990) "Everyone who travels to Brazil almost kills us with longing and sadness. It's very tough. Another day I found a map, looked at it, placed my finger over Governador Valadares, my heart beat fast, very fast. I can't live without you. I want at least to smell your scent." (José Antônio in a letter to his wife in May 1986)

A New Interest
in Exiles

There've been several studies about Brazilian emigration. Elisa Massae Sasaki and Adriana Capuano de Oliveira, both from Unicamp, are studying the saga of the dekaseguis, the Japanese descendants who are going back to the land of their ancestors to work. Ana Cristina Braga Martes, also from Unicamp, analyses the importance of religion for Brazilians who moved to Massachusetts. Gláucia de Oliveira Assis, from Universidade do Estado de Santa Catarina, uses letters, pictures and videos sent home by exiles to tell their stories.

Weber Soares from Universidade Federal do Rio de Janeiro and Valéria Cristina Scudeler from Unicamp, in different studies show how the dollars sent back to Governador Valadares have impacted the development of that city. And Gustavo Lins Ribeiro, from the Department of Anthropology of Universidade de Brasília (UNB), chose to study Brazilians who live in San Francisco, a city dominated by Goianos (from Goiás state).

Brazilians in Japan According to Japan's Justice Ministry there are 222,217 Brazilians living and working in Japan. They are the third largest group of Brazilian exiles after the United States and Paraguay (350,000). At the peak of the Brazilian emigration to Japan there were more than 230,000. They are the dekaseguis, the sons and grandsons of the Japanese who moved to Brazil as early as 1908 when the Kasatu Maru ship took the first immigrants. As with most of the migrants, the dekaseguis—a term which means to leave to make money was originally used to designate those Japanese from the north of Japan who moved to the south in search of opportunities—moved to improve their economic lot. The Brazilian dekasegui phenomenon started at the end of the '80s. With the deteriorating Japanese economy, many dekaseguis returned to Brazil. In the last few weeks, though, a new cycle seems to have started as the Japanese economy again picks up steam. Ads asking for niseis and sanseis (second and third generation Japanese) to work in Japan are once again common in Japanese newspapers published in Brazil. Monthly salaries are around $3,500 for men and $3,000 for women. Brazilian exiles all over the world used to say that their immigrant condition was only transitory and that they were going back to Brazil one of these days, as soon as they put their house in order. More and more they are not going back even though they continue spreading rumors that they are almost ready to pack. When dekaseguis say they are just passing through, though, they generally mean business, although the average number of years they stay in Japan has increased from one and a half to three or more years.

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