I worked in
the city of
Rio de
Janeiro for
many years
and in
different
periods.
There, I
completed my
two
university
courses. In
fact, I love
the so
called
“Marvelous
City”,
despite all
its
troubles.
In one of
these
periods,
from 1983 to
1993, I
acted as a
foreign
trade
adviser for
a
multinational
company that
imported and
exported
paper and
pulp. It was
a great
company, by
the way.
Good
atmosphere,
excellent
colleagues
and salary.
It was at
the time of
the
inflation in
Brazil; I do
not even
remember
which
currency was
then in
force. But
the salary
was enough
and there
was still
left over.
It was a
Friday of
April or May
of 1988.
Work ended
at 5:00
p.m., but I
stayed a
little
longer to
solve some
issues. It
was raining.
I left the
company
around 6:30
p.m. and
went to C &
A department
store.
Winter was
approaching
and there
were
pullovers at
C & A of an
Italian
stylist
named Angelo
Litrico.
Everything
of this
fashion
stylist was
very good
and I was in
need of warm
clothes. I
went to the
store on the
corner of
Rua do
Ouvidor and
Largo de S.
Francisco
and bought
two sweaters
and a pair
of pants. I
left there a
little
before eight
o'clock. In
addition to
the C & A
bag, I
carried my
briefcase
and an
umbrella. It
was still
raining.
I walked
down the Rua
do Ouvidor
to Rua
Primeiro de
Março, where
I would take
a bus that
would drop
me at the
Main Bus
Station Novo
Rio. At that
time, the
last bus
leaving from
Terminal
Meneses
Côrtes
(Center of
Rio) to
Petrópolis,
where I
live, was
the 7:30
p.m. one.
There was
hardly
anyone else
in those
streets with
commercial
buildings in
its
majority.
I was in the
section of
Rua do
Ouvidor that
is between
Rio Branco
Avenue and
the Primeiro
de Março.
Everything
was closed.
Suddenly, I
noticed a
man across
the street
(the Ouvidor
is a very
narrow
street)
paired with
me and
looking
insistently
at me. He
was a black
man, about
40 years
old, with a
mustache. He
wore pants
and a
t-shirt. He
was as tall
as I am
(1.86m) and
a strong
built man.
He crossed
the street,
came towards
me and
approached
me. He asked
for money
for a snack.
I went with
him up to a
setback of
one of those
buildings,
closed the
umbrella,
asked him to
hold the bag
and my
briefcase,
put my hand
in my
pocket, took
my wallet,
got a note
(I cannot
remember how
much) and I
gave it to
him as we
chatted
normally. At
no point was
I afraid or
anything
like that. I
treated him
with warmth
and
sympathy.
He was very
grateful and
touched. You
have no idea
how much! He
was so happy
that he
accompanied
me to Rua
Primeiro de
Março. It
looks like
as if I am
lying, but
he even held
me by the
arm to help
me cross the
street. And
I was in my
20s while he
was about
40!
Because of
the rain, I
accompanied
him to a
snack bar -
on Primeiro
de Março
Street - a
busy street
where the
shops are
open until
late.
The man was
enchanted
with me, and
I do not
know why. In
my opinion,
I had done
nothing but
the
Christian
duty to help
others and
treated him
with
sympathy. He
said I
deserved a
kiss! He
said his
name was
Jorge, but I
could call
him Negão
(big black
man).
We started
to talk. He
said he was
part of a
cleanup team
and he was
in charge of
leaving one
of those
commercial
buildings
shining from
Friday to
Saturday. A
bank branch,
if I'm not
mistaken.
They swept,
waxed the
floor,
washed the
windows, the
bathrooms,
and so on.
Big Black
Man was
going to
work all
night. Since
he had not
yet been
paid, he was
out of money
for his
lunch. So he
went to the
streets to
ask for
money, but
he knew that
it would be
difficult
because he
was black,
because the
streets were
deserted,
and so on.
Some people
had already
walked away
from him in
a hurry or
given a few
rude
denials.
Until the
moment we
came across.
Then he told
me about his
wife,
children,
and
football. We
talked for a
long time
about
several
things. I
clearly
realized
that the man
was
delighted
because he
was being
treated as
an equal,
because I
had not
shown fear
or any kind
of
prejudice,
because I
asked him to
hold my bags
while I took
the money
out of my
wallet...
Anyway, he
had been
treated like
a normal
person, and
probably due
to his
social
position,
racial
prejudice,
and the work
he did, he
was not used
to being
treated like
this.
As it was
getting
late, I told
him that I
had to take
a bus to the
Central Bus
Station and
then to
Petrópolis.
We embraced.
He again
thanked me,
praised me.
I was
embarrassed
and thanked
him too.
I signaled
for the bus
- it was the
172,
Gavea-Bus
Station, I
remember
this very
well. At the
time, in the
“Marvelous
City”, the
boarding
gate was at
the rear of
the bus.
When I was
going
towards it,
Jorge took
me by the
arm, put me
on the bus
through the
front door
and told the
driver to
take
Marcelinho
(little
Marcelo)
free to the
bus station
because
Marcelinho
was a very
good person.
There he
waved at me
gratefully
and walked
away. The
bus was
full,
everyone
kept looking
at me, and I
was very
embarrassed.
What were
those people
thinking?
When the bus
left, I told
the driver
that, when I
got to my
destiny, I
would pass
the bus
roulette and
pay my
ticket. He
said that it
would not be
necessary.
The
Spiritist
Doctrine
clarifies
that Heaven
and Hell are
not
geographic
locations
but states
of
consciousness.
In the book
"Heaven and
Hell", Allan
Kardec, in
item 18 of
Chapter III
- first
part, states
that Heaven
is
everywhere
and that
there are no
limits for
it. The most
advanced
worlds,
according to
the Encoder
are the last
stations
that lead to
the state of
total
communion
with God.
This state
we call
Heaven. Then
the book
says that
virtues open
the door to
these Higher
Worlds.
Therefore,
although we
are in a
world still
far from
perfect,
where there
are souls
(incarnate
or
disincarnated)
willing to
sow good in
their
multiple
expressions,
there will
be Heaven
widening the
understanding
of us all.
It had all
had done me
good. I was
surprised
and amazed
at
everything I
had managed
to do to
that man,
and with a
simple,
modest
gesture!
That sense
of
well-being
accompanied
me up the
mountain and
through the
weekend.
Yes, dear
readers. I
was in
Heaven! A
Heaven
"where true
sympathies
and noble
affections
are
perpetuated
and
consolidated
by the
purification
and
continuity
of
relationships,"
as item 15
says in the
same chapter
already
quoted from
"Heaven and
Hell".
I never
heard from
Big Black
Man again.
I'd like to
know his
whereabouts,
I admit. He
was the kind
of person
who marks
our lives
and we lose
sight of
them. I
would be
delighted to
hear from
him; today
he should be
in his 70s.
Had this
happened
today and I
would have
recorded his
Whatsapp.
But I
believe that
we will meet
again and
God will
schedule
this meeting
in this or
in another
life. Jorge
Negão is a
friendly
Spirit that
I confess
would like
to meet
again.
I had
forgotten
this story,
which took
place on a
distant
rainy day in
the fall of
1988. I hope
that Jorge
is well and
that he has
met other
people who
treated him
as he
deserves. He
is a very
fine man! To
him I owe a
trip to the
Heaven of
fullness, of
good done in
a simple and
detached way
and of the
certainty
that, as a
Spiritist
song says,
"When we do
good to
someone, how
much good
this good
brings us”.
I do not
know if my
words
succeeded in
passing the
spiritual
joy I felt.
I don’t
think so.
Words cannot
always
translate
what happens
to us. So I
refer to
question
number three
of "The Book
of Spirits".
In it,
Kardec asks
if God is
the
infinite.
Spiritual
instructors
then answer
that the
definition
is
incomplete
because
human
language is
poor and
insufficient
to determine
what is far
above our
limitations.
That's when
I understood
the content
of that
question.
What I felt
had no words
to describe
it! There
were no
words that
could
accurately
express such
ecstasy.
After all, I
was in
Heaven. And
when you go
to Heaven,
you feel God
intensely.
Any attempt
by me to
define what
I felt was -
and still is
- a way to
limit my
feeling to
our
vocabulary.
And there
was no word
that could
fit within
the
spiritual
fullness
that I
experienced!
But I
reiterate
that it was
a high
emotion that
took me to
Heaven and
left me
there a long
time!
I will never
forget the
joy and
commotion of
that man!
Negão (Big
Black Man)
spoke
loudly,
gestured a
lot, and was
happy with
life! He is
marked in my
life!
Translation:
Eleni
Frangatos - eleni.moreira@uol.com.br
