My First Rotary Presentation

The Rotary Club that is sponsoring me here in Belo Horizonte meets for dinner every Wednesday evening from 7 to 8 in a downtown 16-story building whose construction the club paid for. At right is a view from above - as a Brazilian might say, borrowed from French, “Que chique!” (However, I should point out that though the building is indeed called the “Rotary Building”, that’s not to say that the club uses the entire building; for a return on its investment, the club rents out floors 2 through 15 to various businesses and only uses the top floor for its meetings). Last Wednesday, February 13th, was the first meeting I attended since arriving. Really, it was more of a party than a meeting. The new District Governor for Rotary District 4520 (which comprises most of the western portion of Minas Gerais up to the capital, Brasília), Aluízio Quintão, is a longtime member of the Rotary Club of Belo Horizonte. Last Wednesday was a 3-hour spectacle in his honor. I was lucky enough to be invited! After the meeting-party, Marco told me that from then on every Wednesday would be a regular meeting, and I could attend whenever I wanted. I asked him when I would be giving my first presentation, and he told me he would inform me of this when the club had a better grasp of its schedule.

On Tuesday evening, Marco called just to check in and see how I was doing. I told him how I played soccer with PUC classmates on Saturday and got more-or-less killed, but then redeemed myself by dominating in basketball just afterward (which is saying a lot about the skill level here – I’m terrible at basketball). I told him how I went to the theatre with Piedade, Ricardo, and our neighbor Dona Dirce, how I didn’t understand the words all that well but still enjoyed it very much. It was about a hypothetical meeting in which two of Brazil’s greatest troubadours for different generations—Noel Rosa, from the 1930s, and Chico Buarque, from the 60s to the present—traded philosophies and songs. Anyway, after reporting the events of my week to Marco, he reminded me about the meeting tomorrow, telling me once again that I wasn’t required to attend but that I would be welcome to if I wanted. I told him that I did, in fact, want to come to see what a “regular meeting” was like.

At 6pm yesterday I hopped on the 5401 bus just outside my apartment that follows the Rua Amazonas—one of the city’s main arteries—from my neighborhood into downtown. It was, of course, rush hour, and the going was slow. Even before we reached the heart of downtown the bus was beyond standing-room-only capacity. For those IC natives reading this, imagine being on a Red/Blue Route or Interdorm Cambus for 25 minutes. I got off at the street closest to the Rotary Building, Rua São Paulo, but I suddenly caught a bad taste of dyslexia and started going into the opposite direction of my intended target. It wasn’t til about half a mile later that I realized how off I was, and so I turned around and started powerwalking back in the direction from whence I had come. Marco had wanted me to get to the meeting around 6:45 so that it could start promptly at 7. I ended up getting there at 6:57. Marco, however, didn’t seem to mind—maybe it was because I arrived in perfect Brazilian time, when everything happens 10-15 minutes later than planned. I recognized faces from the last meeting-party and greeted them. I saw new faces and greeted them too. I was sweating profusely from the powerwalk and was a little embarrassed in the presence of such high society (one member of the club is a former ambassador to Uruguay, another a former chief Brazilian consul in Canada, among others). I tried my best to enter into their conversation about Brazilian law and politics, and was soon relieved when after a few minutes Marco called the meeting to order. I started toward one of the common circular tables positioned in front of the long rectangular table at which Marco and other esteemed guests sat. Yet as I was pulling out a chair to sit in and finally cool off, Marco beckoned to me, telling me that I was to sit next to him at the head table tonight. Cool! I thought. This should be fun! I got up to the table and sat next to him, beaming at the faces in front of me, honored to be in front of them, still wiping my forehead with a napkin. And then I heard these words from Marco: “I’d like to introduce to you all Brett Johnson, our Rotary Foundation Scholar. Brett will be with us until December studying Brazilian history and geography. Tonight’s meeting is dedicated to him, and in a little bit he will get up and say a few words about what brought him here to be with us.” Everyone clapped. I sat there stunned. The color that the tropical sun had been painting on my face had to have suddenly disappeared. My nearly dry forehead suddenly became a swamp. I barely made out what Marco said for the next ten minutes before it was time to go and grab dinner; my mind was racing as to what I was going to say, and how I was going to say it in Portuguese. I hadn’t prepared anything! What happened to the regular meeting that I was welcome to attend whenever I wanted? What happened to being informed of when I would actually have to get up and speak to the club?

After ten minutes of talking, Marco released the club to go and grab dinner from the buffet line prepared for us. I asked him how long he wanted me to speak. About ten minutes, he said. Ten minutes, cool, I could do that. I walked as slowly as I possibly could from the head table, trying to gain some composure and collect my thoughts, as well as my balance. I loaded my plate up with what looked good (I was starving!), and headed back to the table. Marco joined me a few minutes later and we shared some chit-chat about traveling and school and the food. Before I knew it, my plate was empty. My moment had come.

I walked over to the podium, and in my slowest Portuguese possible, thanked the club for their hospitality, and for being such gracious hosts. I told them that I came from Iowa, and that Rotary’s founder, Paul Harris, had graduated from the UI law school just after the turn of the century. This perked up their ears. I continued by telling them how traveling and Rotary had always been important pieces in my life, recounting the various trips I had taken and the various Rotary functions I had been involved with. I told them I was here to study Brazilian history and geography, focusing on the coffee industry as the foundation for my studies. I told them that I couldn’t wait to begin sharing the culture of my country with them, and I promised that I would take everything I learned from my time in Brazil and be an ambassador for them when I returned home. I thanked them again. They clapped. It was over. The ten minutes flew by faster than ten minutes ever had. I was grateful. I was relieved. I was left wondering where such composure came from, such an ability to improvise in a third language. Marco said a few more words about my being here, another member got up to say a few words about the District Conference that would be coming up on the first of May, and then Marco dismissed us. I shook hands with members, thanked them all again one by one, then hopped in the elevator, walked to a bus stop where I knew there’d be a bus to take me back home, and hopped on it when it came. I stared out the window at the bright city lights that flew by. One speech down, I thought. At least 9 more to go. After tonight, the next nine will be a piece of cake.

Thanks for reading! Next post: some insight into the Brazilian education system. Be well all!