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The ‘Favela Climate Memory’ exhibition returned to the Favela Museum (MUF) during Brazil’s 24th Annual National Museum Week, now presented in its complete form. Organized by eleven museums and memory project members of Rio’s Sustainable Favela Network (SFN)*, the installation, featuring 60 timeline panels, 13 banners and other objects, opened to the public in the heart of Rio de Janeiro’s South Zone on May 19 after spending three months in Santa Cruz, in the city’s West Zone. It will remain open through July 30, Tuesday through Saturday, from 10am to 5pm, at the museum’s headquarters, located at Rua Alberto de Campos, 12, 4th floor, in Ipanema. Schedule a visit here.

Márcia Souza, co-founder of the Favela Museum in the Pavão-Pavãozinho and Cantagalo favelas (known by the acronym PPG), spoke about the importance of hosting the exhibition once again at MUF and about the process behind the climate memory circles that informed the exhibition, held in ten favelas across Rio de Janeiro.

“I’ve been part of building the Sustainable Favela Network and the climate memory circles, and of this integration with all the other favelas across Rio de Janeiro. Bringing this exhibition back here, now, this time in its complete form, is very important to me because it was built collectively. It comes from deep within us, from that intimate place where we spoke about everything we went through in the past and everything we learned from those experiences. And today, this whole issue of climate is out there—something we don’t control and can’t prevent, but something we can prepare for. These issues [climate change] are here; how are we going to deal with them? And all of this is grounded in the experiences of several generations: young people listening to their elders [and elders listening to the young]… It’s wonderful to be part of this!”

During the opening of the exhibition at MUF, “dialogues on the network for the protection of women, support pathways and protective leadership” took place, organized by the Operational Support Center for the Prosecutors’ Offices of Domestic and Family Violence Against Women (CAOVD) of the Rio de Janeiro State Public Prosecutor’s Office (MPRJ). Public prosecutor and deputy coordinator of CAOVD/MPRJ, Eyleen Marenco, alongside social workers Rosangela Pereira and Jaqueline de Souza, brought together a group of women residents and community leaders for a discussion on their work fighting gender-based violence. Elizabete Pereira, second director of the current MUF administration, spoke about the importance of the event and the opening of the exhibition:

“It was a really interesting exchange, especially because it took place at the same time as the opening, right when we were welcoming the Favela Climate Memory exhibition back. I was able to take part in setting it up, and it’s incredible to see everything that has been added to the favelas’ memories and how different, and yet so alike we all are. And there are so many solutions. So I’m looking forward to continuing to explore the exhibition, and I’m very happy about this partnership, with this work alongside MUF.”

After the discussion circle, participants took part in a guided tour of the exhibition led by Souza in the newly renovated Favela Museum space. Souza described how the exhibition came together:

“This exhibition was created through discussion circles. We held ten of them—five at first (in 2023), then another five (in 2024). We talked about what climate is and how it has affected us over time. Everyone talked about the tragedies and about how people found ways to deal with them. There are people from different places who went through the same things, but in different ways. And we ended up realizing that we were united, you know? [Both within each favela and among the favelas that participated] we’ve lived through all kinds of situations and learned how to survive so that today we can tell others how we survived and what we can do. So, to me, climate memory is this: living and feeling what was experienced in the past and recounted through our elders, while younger generations create new solutions instead of simply waiting for the government.”

Larissa Itaboraí, a journalist and MUF volunteer, said she was impressed by the exhibition’s content:

“Today, we took part in a very interesting discussion and now we’re being introduced to this exhibition. I have to admit I was impressed by the amount of information contained in these panels. The way Márcia [guided us] also really moved me. She’s someone from here, one of MUF’s founders. We talk a lot about climate change in terms of forests and water. But when we move from the macro to the micro and look at how favelas are affected, we can see environmental racism and climate racism.”

On the same day, the exhibition was visited by 20 third-grade students from President João Goulart Municipal School, also located in PPG. Accompanied by their teacher, the young visitors were guided by Márcia Souza through the installation. At the end of the tour, they left messages on the interactive map that is part of the set up. Souza commented on the importance of children visiting the exhibition:

“When we bring this information for them to look at, touch, hear and see, it’s incredibly important. They engage with it and understand that they, too, can take part in building a solution. So when a child sees the exhibition and understands what surrounds them, they interpret it in their own way, without any interference—it’s just them and their perspective.”

The ‘Favela Climate Memory’ exhibition is on display at the Favela Museum, located at Rua Alberto de Campos, 12, 4th floor, in Ipanema, Rio de Janeiro, through July 30. Visitors are welcome Tuesday through Saturday, with entry permitted between 10am and 5pm.

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*The Sustainable Favela Network (SFN) and RioOnWatch are projects of Catalytic Communities (CatComm).

About the author: Bárbara Dias was born and raised in Bangu, in Rio’s West Zone. She has a degree in Biological Sciences, a master’s in Environmental Education, and has been a public school teacher since 2006. She is a photojournalist and also works with documentary photography. She is a popular communicator for Núcleo Piratininga de Comunicação (NPC) and co-founder of Coletivo Fotoguerrilha.

Support RioOnWatch’s tireless, critical and cutting-edge hyperlocal journalism, online community organizing meetings, and direct support to favelas by clicking here.

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This article is part of our series reflecting on the impacts of mega-events on Rio de Janeiro 10 years after the 2016 Olympic Games.

This Museum Month, Vila Autódromo marked ten years since resisting the violent forced evictions that Rio de Janeiro’s City Hall justified as necessary for the 2016 Olympic Games, when only 3% of residents managed to stay. A favela in the city’s speculative Southwest Zone, residents recently celebrated the tenth anniversary of their Evictions Museum and the victory of those 20 families who remained. The event brought together residents, artists, activists and supporters for a day of memory, culture and a reaffirmation of the right to the city.

The program began with the monthly gathering of Rio’s Social Museology Network (REMUS), which brought together representatives from community-based museum initiatives to discuss approaches to preserving collective memory from within their own territories. Mario Chagas, professor and director at the School of Museology of the Federal University of the State of Rio de Janeiro (UNIRIO), delivered a powerful message during the gathering:

“This year marks the tenth anniversary of the Museum of Tomorrow [Rio’s most-visited museum] and the Evictions Museum, and twentieth of the Maré Museum. I’m happy to be here and not at the Museum of Tomorrow, because tomorrow is actually here [in the community museum movement]. The possibility of transforming the world of museums is here, not there. That one is the Spectacle Museum. Is there space for the Museum of Tomorrow? Sure, there is. But what we want to guarantee is our place: we want this space to have a place.”

Rapper Jef Rodriguez then took the stage with a performance that moved the crowd with lyrics full of protest and defiance, invoking the resistance of Vila Autódromo. The high energy carried into the afternoon with Skabloco, that energized the crowd with a ska-infused brass-and-percussion fanfare, blending rhythms and drawing residents and visitors into the celebration.

Sandra Maria, a thirty-year resident of Vila Autódromo, active participant in the resistance against evictions and co-founder of the Evictions Museum, spoke about the importance of the museum’s tenth anniversary:

“We are celebrating ten years of the Evictions Museum, which was born out of the fight against Vila Autódromo’s forced eviction. The Evictions Museum was founded as an instrument of resistance, a real tool for us to fight against the evictions that were happening at the time and against the threat of forced evictions in other communities. Today, we’re also celebrating ten years of Vila Autódromo’s victory [in keeping some residents here and the community alive]. Around 700 families were removed, but 20 managed to stay. That was enormously important. The permanence of these 20 families means that this area, this land, this community, continues to be a Special Zone of Social Interest, which is land designated for low-income housing. So this is very important in the fight for the right to housing, for the right to the city, for the right of low-income people to live in serviced portions of the city and to put an end to this pattern where, whenever speculation arrives, the area gets upgraded, the region’s property values increase, and the first thing [City Hall] does is take away the poor. So, Vila Autódromo’s survival is a major, fundamental reference point in the fight for the right to housing, for the right to a home, for the right to the city. And the Evictions Museum is yet another tool in that fight.”

Maria da Penha, a key figure in the fight against Vila Autódromo’s forced evictions and co-founder of the Evictions Museum, also reflected on the struggle and highlighted the joy of having remained in her community:

“It’s turning out to be a wonderful day, full of hope and with so much love in our hearts—when you do the right thing, when you fight for your rights, may those rights always be respected. And this is a day of celebration… It’s a privilege to be here today with so many friends, with so many wonderful people and with the residents who once lived here. I feel very privileged to have stayed and to be continuing this fight, because it never ends. You never know what tomorrow will bring, but as long as we’re here, we’ll live with joy, and I’m very happy because I’m in the place I love. And happiness can’t be bought!”

The exhibition ‘Memory and Struggle’ by Luiz Claudio and Ana Priscila was on display at Vila Autódromo’s Cultural Center, which residents had long demanded and thanks to their pressure City Hall finally delivered. The exhibition featured photographs and objects that reconstruct the history of the community’s eviction. Luiz Claudio, a resident since 1994, reflected on the importance of the Evictions Museum as a response to City Hall’s violence, and its transformation into something beyond a museum—an instrument of popular struggle.

“It’s a museum that emerged in the midst of a violent attack by the State against what was a legalized community, which is why we’re still here today, and managed to stand up to an oppressive system. We carried that struggle all the way to the eve of the Olympics, when they had to give in and respect the rights [of those of us who were still here resisting]. So, for us, the celebration of these ten years means a great deal, because we waged a fight that no one believed we could win. It was unprecedented, you know? We had supporters who strengthened us at every difficult moment. The Evictions Museum is deeply significant not only for Vila Autódromo; it holds great importance in the broader popular struggle: there are many communities facing the threat of eviction when major development projects come in.”

The theatrical dimension of the event carried a sharp political edge, with activities like a peteca workshop, led by Elihas di Jorge, that brought together children and adults to make the traditional Indigenous toy from simple materials. Afterwards, Maria Madeira performed a storytelling piece accompanied by animated puppet theater. And lastly, João Maturo’s performance ‘Evictions’ artistically recreated the memories of the violence experienced by residents, giving form to pain through art. In one moment during his performance, Maturo raised a megaphone to the crowd and declared:

“This is why we must resist, so that what happened here never happens again. More than resisting, we must occupy! The fight is not yet won… We must resist! So that attacks like this may never repeat themselves. Memory cannot be evicted!”

The history of Vila Autódromo bears the scars of the arbitrary forced eviction of approximately 700 families. It was an attempt by City Hall to destroy an entire community and its memories. The permanence of the 20 remaining families and the tenth anniversary of the Evictions Museum speak for themselves: without struggle there is no victory, and memory cannot be evicted.

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About the author: Bárbara Dias was born and raised in Bangu, in Rio’s West Zone. She has a degree in Biological Sciences, a master’s in Environmental Education, and has been a public school teacher since 2006. She is a photojournalist and also works with documentary photography. She is a popular communicator for Núcleo Piratininga de Comunicação (NPC) and co-founder of Coletivo Fotoguerrilha.

Support RioOnWatch’s tireless, critical and cutting-edge hyperlocal journalism, online community organizing meetings, and direct support to favelas by clicking here.

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This article is part of a series created in partnership with the Behner Stiefel Center for Brazilian Studies at San Diego State University, to produce articles for the Digital Brazil Project on environmental justice in the favelas through RioOnWatch.

Ary Barroso Park is an important green recreational space and the only park dedicated to serving the Leopoldina region in Rio de Janeiro’s North Zone. However, due to a lack of government attention, the park risks disappearing completely, which would further worsen the intense heat affecting the region.

Inaugurated on December 13, 1964, in the Penha Circular neighborhood in the North Zone, Ary Barroso Park was built on the former grounds of Chácara das Palmeiras, which at the time belonged to Francisco Lobo Júnior, an influential Portuguese entrepreneur.

Penha, then occupied by upper-middle-class homes, was chosen to receive what was considered a “replica” of Quinta da Boa Vista, which until then had been the city’s most widely visited green leisure space.

It is worth noting that Penha sits within the Leopoldina region, which in the past was an important industrial and residential hub precisely because it was crossed by the former Leopoldina Railway, currently the Gramacho Branch of the city’s train system. After opening to the public, Ary Barroso Park became the first and largest park in the Leopoldina suburban area and was listed as a historic landmark of the state of Rio de Janeiro on October 8, 1965.

Ary Barroso Park’s Golden Years

The park was designed with a lake at its center, surrounded by two small waterfalls, a playground, three sports courts and other structures linked to Lobo Júnior’s former home, all laid out over a sloping 50,000-square-meter plot. To give a sense of scale, city government data equates the area to seven official soccer fields.

Ary Barroso Park was conceived to resemble a woodland, a green space defined by shade-giving trees. Its original green reserve held over 300 plant species, including purple and pink quaresmeiras, purple, yellow and white ipê trees, mulungu trees, African tulip trees, red flamboyants and yellow and purple cassias.

Its artificial waterfalls were powered by pumps that supplied a ten-centimeter-deep flow of water over a three-meter stretch. Water was pumped up to the source from a pump house at the highest point of the park, from where it flowed down in the form of a waterfall over two lakes before being collected and recirculated.

In the sports area, three courts were used for soccer, basketball and other sports and physical activities, such as capoeira and tai chi. They featured bleachers and a locker room that once served as the home base for Portinho Futebol Clube. The playground was also popular with both local residents and people from across the city.

The park’s name honors Brazilian singer and composer Ary Barroso, who died in February of the same year it opened. Barroso was chosen because he was a devoted attendee of the Penha Festival, a traditional religious celebration honoring the neighborhood’s patron saint, and even composed a song that mentions the area.

The park’s heyday was short-lived, however, undermined by a series of factors including exclusionary housing policies and deep social inequalities.

From Oasis to Abandonment: A Timeline of Environmental Racism at Ary Barroso Park

As early as the 1960s, the city of Rio de Janeiro underwent major demographic and urban changes, among them the forced removal of favela residents from the South Zone to areas in the North and West Zones. In this traumatic chapter of the city’s history, an estimated 140,000 people were forcibly displaced. That number today would be equivalent to the entire population of Complexo da Maré.

The Penha area, like the entire Leopoldina region, which had previously been home to the elite, became home to low-income residents displaced from other areas through housing projects, becoming a site of intense and unplanned urban expansion. During this same period, Rio de Janeiro ceased to be the federal capital, contributing to the economic decline of both the city and its industrial complex. The Leopoldina region felt those effects as well. Land was subdivided and sold to middle-class buyers, with no provision for green or recreational areas, only residential units.

This drove even greater urban expansion into an area that already had little tree cover, turning the Leopoldina region into a heat island. Neglect became part of daily life at Ary Barroso Park, which entered a long and painful process of deterioration.

By 1979, for example, the park’s facilities were already obsolete due to abandonment, with water that was no longer very clean and little security. Just five years earlier, in 1974, the situation had been different: the park had served as an important source of water security for the area during a severe water shortage in the city. It was Ary Barroso Park’s lake that allowed Penha residents to meet basic hygiene needs, such as bathing and washing clothes.

Despite this, neglect became routine, and the park became defined by the loss of its original character and precarious conditions. In July 2024, the park was left without a manager, and since then, day after day, residents have worried about the possibility that the area’s only park could disappear entirely.

Ary Barroso Park Today

According to a survey conducted by the Society of Friends of Ary Barroso Park (SAMPAB) in 2019, the park, which once had around 3,000 trees, now has only 500, with no care, maintenance or replacement of what has been lost. And there are other problems. The lakes, for example, have been dry for years, full of water and life only in memory.

The former pump house stands vandalized and abandoned, with large amounts of garbage inside.

Large amounts of dead and overgrown vegetation cover the park throughout, even blocking pedestrian pathways.

Trees also require pruning to keep their health.

The park has become a site of drug use, with the frequent presence of people struggling with addiction, increasing visitors’ sense of insecurity.

The accumulation of waste and the park’s state of degradation have also been the subject of scientific research. In an article titled “Accumulation and Improper Disposal of Urban Solid Waste: A Case Study of Ary Barroso Park (RJ),” Pammela Primo de Oliveira Silva, a doctoral researcher in Environmental Engineering at the State University of Rio de Janeiro (UERJ) and a local resident, analyzes the park’s situation. Examining the relationship between accumulation and improper disposal of solid waste, racism and environmental injustice in the Leopoldina region, the study identifies a higher concentration of improperly discarded waste in the upper portion of the park, near the entrance to the Caixa d’Água favela, including plastic, construction debris, sharp objects, consumer electronics, wood and organic waste, highlighting gaps in waste management, urban cleaning and environmental oversight systems.

Areas where rainwater puddled were noted to contain larvae, creating favorable conditions for the proliferation of Aedes aegypti mosquitoes. Furthermore, the study highlighted the deteriorating condition of the archaeological areas within the park, which have been suffering from a lack of conservation, the recurring dumping of waste and the risk of losing historical materials, all of which point to impacts on the site’s archaeological heritage.

Ary Barroso Park faces the difficult task of being the only green space serving the suburban population of the Leopoldina region, made up of dozens of neighborhoods totaling approximately half a million people. According to geographer Hugo Costa:

“When Rio City Hall developed the Sustainable Development and Climate Action Plan (PDS), it concluded that the Leopoldina region is the area of the city with the fewest green spaces. At one point during the 2024 mayoral campaign, Eduardo Paes declared himself the ‘Park Mayor’ because of the attention he says he gives to the issue. Since the construction of Madureira Park, located along the main suburban train lines that leave from Central Station, other parks have been built in neighborhoods across the North and West Zones, but with the exception of Pavuna Park, no other park has been built where the PDS or the Heat Map indicated it was most needed.”

As if all of this were not enough, community groups and neighbors are also fighting to relocate the Penha Emergency Care Unit (UPA) and the Parque Proletário Pacifying Police Unit (UPP), both installed on park grounds in 2008 and 2012, respectively.

Built during the administration of then-governor Sérgio Cabral and promised as temporary installations, the UPA and UPP were authorized by the State Institute of Cultural Heritage (INEPAC) precisely because they were meant to be temporary.

The space where the UPA now stands was previously the playground. The UPP was set up where the three sports courts once stood. The promise was that the UPA would be transferred to the adjacent block, occupying the site of the former Getúlio Vargas State Hospital laundry, and that the UPP would be relocated to a space designated by Rio City Hall, which did not happen.

Due to these impasses, community leaders and movements organized on behalf of the park, and the situation became the subject of proceedings by the Public Prosecutor’s Office following a lawsuit filed by the Society of Friends of Ary Barroso Park in 2012, which only resulted in a brief agreement in 2019. Through an official letter, the Rio de Janeiro State Government finally recognized the park’s historical significance and established the transfer of the UPA and UPP to other locations, in addition to the park’s revitalization.

However, despite brief improvements afterward, such as cleaning efforts by municipal waste collection utility Comlurb, nothing was done regarding the UPA and UPP transfers, as Arthur Lucena, a leader of the Free Ary Barroso Park Movement, explained:

“Talking to the UPP commander [at the time], he mentioned that [they were] offered a space there… but the police didn’t accept it because the place was in terrible shape. So they waited for City Hall to provide a new spot [which never happened]. In one of the press reports about the park, the city said that there was absolutely nothing wrong with the park, that everything was accessible and clean and [that the neglect] wasn’t true. The state government [argued] that the Military Police and the UPA were important for the area [for security and health reasons]. But how can you put those structures in a public park? There are other spaces for that. Otherwise, every time there is a public need, you’re going to end up [serving the population by] taking over a space [replacing its previous, equally necessary, use]?”

Only in 2026 did the 4th Public Prosecutor’s Office for the Collective Protection of the Environment and Cultural Heritage of the Capital request that the defendants (the state and municipal governments) be required to demolish all structures installed irregularly, including the Social Assistance Reference Center (CRAS), the UPA and the UPP.

The Public Prosecutor’s Office also requested the development and implementation of a restoration and revitalization project that respects the site’s original landscape, architectural and urban design features.

In March of this year, the courts ordered that the state and municipal governments adopt emergency measures regarding Ary Barroso Park within 60 days to ensure that it is adequate and sanitary for public use. Among the required measures are the removal of trees or vegetation at imminent risk of falling and the suspension of unauthorized construction work taking place within the listed heritage site.

According to the Rio de Janeiro Public Prosecutor’s Office, the park, a historical and recreational landmark for local residents, is currently in a state of degradation. Its gardens have been turned into parking lots, its former lakes have dried up, its internal pathways have deteriorated and the grounds are filled with unauthorized occupations.

In its ruling, the 13th Public Finance Court established a daily fine of R$1,000 (~US$200) for noncompliance, initially capped at R$100,000 (~US$20,000). Despite the Public Civil Action (January) and the court ruling (March), the long-awaited revitalization has yet to begin, increasing the anguish and concern of local movements and residents who continue to witness the park’s progressive loss of character without knowing what its future will hold, as explained by lawyer Andréa Neves, a member of the Leopoldina Poets Society:

“Those of us who use the space don’t know to what extent the ruling really [covers] what we’re demanding for residents, or whether it only means keeping the space clean. This place was heavily used by families from the area. We used to spread our picnic blankets [here]. Unfortunately, [the park] was completely neglected, and not just over the last 20 years. It’s been much longer than that. The whole situation has only been [visible to the public] for 20 years. It’s not just about cleaning. We need to restore the lakes, get control over how the space is used, because it’s become one huge parking lot. If you want to use the restroom and Arena Dicró [a cultural space within the grounds] is closed, there’s nowhere to go. We’re not asking for anything special. Just what’s necessary. It’s not only about cleaning [the park], or planting [new] trees. We also need the park to be [a place] for leisure and a public amenity.”

According to Arthur Lucena, the lack of communication and effective support is another problem:

“The Municipal Secretariat of Environment and Climate (SMAC) said that the renovations of Ary Barroso Park had already gone out to tender and that work was set to begin in March. So, where’s this work? In an election year there’s always this: ‘Oh, we’re going to do it’… The one thing we’ve got to have here is a park manager, which we’ve been without since July 2024. That person should be the mediator. We should have someone here to help.”

Free Ary Barroso Park: Standing Up for Nature in the Leopoldina Region

In response, the Leopoldina Poets Society and the Free Ary Barroso Park Movement, both made up of local residents, have been carrying out a series of activities in the space, seeking to reconnect the park with the community in the true “by us for us” spirit. Through these groups, over 20 events have already been held, including collective cleanups and artistic and cultural initiatives.

Allan Melo, a martial arts instructor and Penha native who participated in the mobilization, has taught classes in the park for ten years and shared his hope that the space will be for the next generation what it was for him in childhood.

“My first memory of the park is coming here with my mom for a picnic [in the early 2000s]. The lake already had some sludge, but there were giant water lilies. There were marmosets here. I’ve heard people say there were even sloths here once. This is an open-air space for the community, for individual or group activities, and to enjoy nature. What we are increasingly trying to do is bring quality activities here and also push for improvements in the park. We live very busy lives, and here in the North Zone, we don’t have a space as good as Ary Barroso Park.”

The groups also organized events marking the park’s 61st anniversary (December 13, 2025) and a school holiday gathering for children (January 17, 2026), featuring a variety of activities for all ages including poetry, environmental education, Indigenous dance, Kung Fu classes, musical performances and painting workshops using recycled materials. Through these initiatives, the project has so far attracted around 500 people to Ary Barroso Park.

Lucena emphasized that, even amid the difficulties, holding on to hope is an act of resistance for the park and for Penha:

“Most of the people who signed the petition for the park’s recovery are from this area. [Beyond that], the environmental movement as a whole has grown in popularity [helping our work]. 15 years later, many people no longer believe [that the situation will change], because if nothing happened before, why now, right? But we have to keep pushing and keep hoping.”

Check Out the List of Demands from the Free Ary Barroso Park Movement:

1. Return of a park management team.
2. Effective visual communication: signage in front of the park and at its original main entrances indicating access points. Improved communication with the surrounding area through the reopening of the main gates (following urgent repairs), as well as the reopening of side entrances and the construction of a new access point in the upper section of the park, all with visible signage. Without signage, many people believe the park now belongs exclusively to the UPA and the UPP. There is a local disconnect: many residents, practically neighbors of the park, are unaware of its existence.
3. Restoration of the historical plaque: re-establishment of signage that recounted the park’s history, along with a QR code to connect new generations to the history of the “Green Lung of the Leopoldina Region.”
4. Complete and regular cleaning: removal of garbage and excessive vegetation, including in the upper section of the park, where garbage bins placed against the wall encourage all kinds of illegal dumping.
5. Outreach to people struggling with drug addiction by multidisciplinary health and social work teams, so they receive adequate support, shelter and opportunities to cease experiencing homelessness, thereby reducing drug use in the park.
6. Park security and surveillance, with the 24-hour presence of the Municipal Guard and Military Police to prevent nighttime trespassing and other crimes, ensuring the safety of visitors.
7. Full accessibility: construction of pathways that allow wheelchair users, older adults and others with mobility limitations to move throughout the park.
8. Reactivation of the pump house, fountains, waterfalls and lakes.
9. Restoration of original spaces: transfer of the UPA to the former laundry site at Getúlio Vargas State Hospital, relocation of the UPP to locations designated by City Hall, and renovation of the sports courts and children’s playground.
10. Renovation of the entrance in the upper section of the park, where gates and railings have been destroyed and torn out.
11. Bathrooms, locker rooms and night-time lighting.
12. Encouraging positive use of the park: activities for residents, with weekly schedules of sports and cultural workshops, concerts, events and other local programming.
13. Evening hours until 10pm, allowing greater leisure use at night, given that this is when most residents are free.

To support the movement, you can sign the petition and follow the project on social media on Instagram, Facebook, TikTok and X.

Support RioOnWatch’s tireless, critical and cutting-edge hyperlocal journalism, online community organizing meetings, and direct support to favelas by clicking here.

In April 2026, Barbudan environmentalist, community leader and activist John Mussington visited Rio de Janeiro for the 2026 Global Community Land Trust Peer Exchange organized by Brazil’s Favela Community Land Trust Project,* invited to host the event by Minnesota’s Rondo Community Land Trust and the International Center for Community Land Trusts, with support from the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. The week-long event brought together community leaders from across the globe to exchange ideas on collective land stewardship and strategies for confronting real estate speculation and displacement. Throughout the exchange, participants visited favelas, urban occupations, housing cooperatives and communities resisting eviction.

Mussington, of the Barbuda Land Rights and Resources Committee, has spent decades defending Barbuda’s communal land system, a centuries-old system that keeps land collectively held and protected from private sale. A marine biologist by training, Mussington became an activist through his work conducting environmental impact assessments across Antigua and Barbuda, where he witnessed the environmental destruction tied to tourism and luxury development projects.

Since Hurricane Irma hit Barbuda in 2017, Mussington has spoken widely against efforts to privatize Barbudan land and transform the island into a luxury real estate market. 

Sitting down for the below interview with John Mussington after several days of his visiting Rio’s favelas and participating in discussions on collective land stewardship, he moved fluidly between childhood memories of sailing between Antigua and Barbuda, explanations of traditional agricultural practices and reflections on how Barbudans developed a strong culture of self-reliance over generations.

Thoughtfully and in deep reflection, he often paused to connect local histories in Barbuda to broader questions about colonialism and humanity’s connection to the Earth. Over the course of this interview, Mussington drew parallels between Barbuda’s struggles and those he saw in favela communities in Rio de Janeiro and returned to one central idea:

“We belong to the land. The land belongs to us.”

Below we share excerpts from our interview with John Mussington, as well as the unmissable full 13-minute video above of his presentation during an exchange between Rio leaders and global land rights and CLT practitioners at Raízes do Brasil on April 14, 2026.

RioOnWatch: Where were you born? Can you tell us about the village or the location? 

Mussington: I always begin by saying that I am Barbudan, because that, in itself, is a statement that has certain significance. I’m from Barbuda, the twin-island State of Antigua and Barbuda. In the context of the wider world, some people consider them to be small islands, tiny dots in the ocean. But, for me as a Barbudan, our experience in terms of living on that small island has a lot of lessons that can be shared with regard to how you can actually sustain yourself under trying circumstances.

My father was a shipwright. He actually built boats. So I grew up around that environment, around the sea, around tools, around boats. One of the first lessons he taught us was how to swim. He put a life jacket on us, went to the deepest part of the dock, and tossed us over. You learn very quickly to adjust to life. As human beings, we are coded for survival.

Every school break, especially in summers, we would sail over to Barbuda on my father’s wooden skiff sailboat. We would leave around three or four o’clock in the morning, and by sunrise we would reach Barbuda.

Barbuda, compared to Antigua, was totally different. Antigua was more built up, city and business. Barbuda was more rural. Open spaces, beaches, wilderness. So, very early, I got an appreciation for the sea, for the wilderness and for a lifestyle that is closely linked to the land.

RioOnWatch: What is your origin story as an activist?

Mussington: I can vividly remember the first time I put a mask on my face and dipped my head underwater. What that did was expose me to a totally different universe. That sparked me. I went on to focus on biology, marine biology specifically. Even before I completed my degree, one of my first jobs was as an intern doing environmental impact assessments (EIA).

The whole concept of environmental assessments was supposed to be informing development. Making sure the area selected for development was suitable, looking at the impacts on the environment and figuring out how to avoid those impacts. 

But what I found was that many governments were just doing EIAs to fulfill an obligation. You would do all the work, make recommendations and then the reports would just get tucked away in some drawer. 

We were losing beaches. Wetlands were being destroyed. Things were becoming really drastic! That opened my eyes in terms of the awareness that a lot of [harmful] things were happening environmentally-wise. 

I remember one time in Barbuda where the lead consultant was misrepresenting the dangers of a project during a public consultation. I got up in that public session and spoke out. I said: “Look, this is a mistake. These are the reasons why you cannot do this.”

My boss got very mad and didn’t pay me, but I didn’t care. My reputation was more valuable than committing this sort of fraud. 

I think that was around the time I became very determined not to allow the concept of environmental impact assessments to be abused. So, I began speaking out against the things that were happening.

RioOnWatch: Could you explain how Barbuda’s communal land system works and where that system comes from historically speaking?

Mussington: As a Barbudan, once you reach 18, you are entitled to land by right. You don’t need a bank. You’re entitled to land for three purposes: residential, agriculture and commercial. 

When you get land to build your house, it becomes yours and you can pass it on to your children and children’s children. Agricultural land works differently. As long as you are utilizing it, you can have it. When you’re finished, it goes back into the communal pool. 

This is because Barbuda was operated not as a plantation, but as a supply station for other plantations. Barbudans were allowed to maintain family structures, they had their own homes and provision grounds. Because they were not fed by the slave masters, they had to sustain themselves.

With our African ancestry, like many Indigenous peoples, we did not have this concept that you own land as a commodity to buy and sell. The concept that we have is [that] we are part of the land. We use the land to sustain ourselves. We belong to the land. The land belongs to us. So, parting with it by selling it was just not something that was done [in our belief system].

Barbuda was never a plantation for the simple reason that intensive sugarcane or tobacco cultivation could not happen there. It was just too dry, very thin soil and so it was not feasible. So, during the period of enslavement, we had people living on Barbuda to supply the rest of the Codrington plantations in Antigua, as well as throughout the Caribbean. Barbuda was a haven for livestock and we supplied the plantations with fresh meat and provisions. In terms of growing produce, we used a technique called ‘slash and burn’ and incorporated biochar, which was very similar to the food production systems used in other civilizations in the Amazon basin, especially bringing that knowledge from Africa in terms of our origins and being able to sustain ourselves.

If you had to look at it from the perspective of the European mindset, this system of communal land ownership would be considered unique. But from the perspective of Indigenous and tribal peoples, it is the most logical system. The Europeans brought this concept of land being a commodity that you can buy and sell. But throughout Latin America and the Caribbean, Indigenous people and maroon communities practiced and continue to practice common ownership.

The Kalinago in Dominica still use that system. The Maroons in Jamaica use that system. The Saramaka people in Suriname use that system. Wherever you find Indigenous people, that is what they practice. We saw land not as something to exploit for personal enrichment, but as something that sustains life.

This whole notion of real estate and buying and selling properties is a Western construct, spread throughout colonialism.

RioOnWatch: Could you explain what the current situation is in Barbuda? 

Mussington: Since the 2017 hurricane disaster, Barbudans began to realize that there was a concerted effort by the central government administration [in Antigua] to abolish our land system.

After the hurricane, we were evacuated off the island with the excuse that another storm was coming. While we were away, the Prime Minister began saying publicly that communal land ownership was a myth. But we know that to be nonsense because communal land ownership is widespread throughout the world.

The disaster provided an opportunity for the government to repeal the Barbuda Land Act and embark on a process of redeveloping Barbuda into a private island serving primarily the lifestyles of millionaires. The Prime Minister of Antigua and Barbuda, Gaston Browne, publicly admitted that he was going to create a luxury real estate market in Barbuda. He said Barbuda would become “a Jumby Bay on steroids.” Jumby Bay happens to be one of the offshore islands in Antigua owned by millionaires. No one goes there unless you are a homeowner and in that millionaire class.

What happened after the hurricane was disaster capitalism. We realized there were wealthy people in the world who believe they are entitled to the remaining unspoiled parts of the Earth and can use money to buy their way into those places.

We strongly believe that without equitable access to resources and without our communal land system, we cannot continue to exist as Barbudans. The reason we were able to survive the 2017 hurricane with only one casualty was the resilience of our island. Our houses were strongly built since resources were put into superior building materials rather than mortgage payments. Our mangrove wetlands were intact and healthy and so too were our beaches and coral reefs. These systems provided protection. We had these systems in place because we collectively owned them and we shared a strong responsibility to ensure they remained that way. That is a valuable lesson about the advantages of a communal land ownership system.

So the fight continues.

RioOnWatch: What would you say to the youth of Barbuda who feel disillusioned?

Mussington: One of the things we say to young people is this: think about what you eat and how you survive. Can you get any of those things without land? The other thing we explain is how real estate works in the real world.

If you are a young person coming out of school elsewhere in the world, you may need a 25- or 30-year mortgage to own a home. If you fall into difficulty after years of payments, the bank can repossess your property. As Barbudans, you are entitled to land by right. You don’t need a bank. You are actually among the wealthiest young people in the world because you have the land.

Many of our young people travel. They experience the outside world. But at the end of the day, they appreciate what Barbuda offers: being able to spend days on the beach fishing, swimming, hunting, just living in fresh air. For the Barbudan young person, that is paradise.

And that is something that we consciously teach them. There’s a difference between this and the fast world out there, which you’re free to navigate and enjoy. But then when you get tired and you need to come back to paradise, we’re here and you are part of ensuring that paradise remains because you’re part owner of that land. 

RioOnWatch: What do you think Barbuda brings to the world?

Mussington: One of the positive outcomes of the 2017 disaster was the realization that there were other communities going through the exact same thing and we began speaking to each other. We realized we had a common story.

What together we realized is that disaster capitalism is real. The same company that was redeveloping islands in the Bahamas ended up in Barbuda attempting to do the same thing. It is the same company, Discovery Land Company, involved in Scotland, California and Puerto Rico.

That is how we eventually formed the network Stronger Caribbean Together, bringing together community organizations from Jamaica, Grenada, Saint Lucia, Belize, Providencia in Colombia and other places throughout the Caribbean and Latin America.

There is a group of wealthy people in the world who believe they are entitled to the remaining unspoiled parts of the Earth and they can use money to buy their way into obtaining those areas.

If communities don’t recognize the strategies being used against them, then they are going to lose those places. The climate crisis is the result of that sort of abuse.

So by uniting together, spreading our stories, we began to realize that what we suffered in Barbuda was the exact same thing that the Raizal people in New Providence Colombia suffered two years later. Grenadians also suffered that recently and the same thing happened in Jamaica in terms of the mining of bauxite, as well as in Guyana and Belize.

If we are going to survive on planet Earth, we need to seriously rethink who the true stewards of the Earth are.

We have seen success in the way our communities live and in our ability to withstand what is happening in the world. We need to spread that message far and wide so people can understand that another way of living is possible.

RioOnWatch: Was there anything you found inspiring in Rio’s favelas that you would take back to Barbuda?

Mussington: Yes, very much so. While I was listening to the discussion and walking through the favelas, I became very aware that land rights are actually human rights. Right now, communities are struggling just to have land in order to survive.

If we sit back and allow what is happening to take its full trajectory, where you have to be fighting to buy land and control land, how soon is it going to be before we have to buy water? In Barbuda, we harvest rainwater, but increasingly elsewhere we have to buy water. You have to buy food. Where does food come from? The land. And if you don’t have land, you can’t produce your own food. You’re held ransom to someone else who you have to get that food from.

And while I was sitting there, the thought came across my mind. When will we reach that stage where we have to buy air to breathe?

So we’re heading down a trajectory that if we’re not careful, it’s not going to be a place that we want to live at all.

I feel our communities have the answer as to where we need to go and we need to really lobby hard to let the rest of the world realize that the only way we’re going to be able to continue to live on this planet Earth is if we practice the kinds of things that we’ve got in these favela communities.

One of the things that really impacted me is seeing the children and despite the conditions of the favelas, you’re still hearing laughter. Children having fun. From the outside, you would think: how can people live under these conditions? But personally, from what I’ve seen and how we live in Barbuda and visiting other communities like the one I visited in the Guyana rainforest you realize that connectedness to the land and the Earth, that’s what humanity is all about.

And so there’s hope. You cannot be too demotivated because of what is happening. And that’s what drives me every single day, especially going through what we have gone through in Barbuda.

*The Favela Community Land Trust and RioOnWatch are both projects managed by Rio de Janeiro-based NGO Catalytic Communities (CatComm).

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This article is part of our series reflecting on the impacts of mega-events on Rio de Janeiro 10 years after the 2016 Olympic Games, republished with permission and in collaboration with the International Center for Community Land Trusts.

From LA to Toronto, Community Land Trusts in World Cup host cities are protecting neighborhoods from real estate speculation. The month before FIFA 2026 kicks off, they’re asking: who benefits from this tournament?

May 26, 2026 — Weeks before the 2026 FIFA World Cup kicks off across 16 North American cities, something predictable is happening in the host communities: rents are climbing, investors are circling and longtime residents are watching their neighborhoods get repriced for someone else’s celebration.

Hotel rates are projected to spike by as much as 300% around opening matches. Airbnb nightly rates in some host city neighborhoods are topping US$6,000. An estimated 6.5 million visitors are expected across North America over the six-week tournament—a windfall for property speculators and a stark warning for everyone else.

But in city after city on the host list, communities aren’t just watching. From Los Angeles to Toronto, Community Land Trusts in World Cup host cities are showing what it looks like when neighborhoods take the land question off the table entirely—permanently and collectively.

What Is a Community Land Trust?

A Community Land Trust (CLT) is a not-for-profit, community-governed organization that acquires land and holds it in trust—permanently. Homes on that land can be bought and sold, but the land beneath them stays in community hands, keeping homes affordable through long-term ground leases. The result is no investment surge, no speculative buyout, no displacement. The model was born in 1969 out of the US Civil Rights Movement by New Communities, Inc. in Albany, Georgia—a single organization, founded by Black farmers and organizers, that needed land no one could take away. Today, there are over 600 CLTs operating across the globe, according to the International Center for Community Land Trusts’ Global CLT Map and Directory. The four organizations featured in this release are among them: each rooted in a World Cup host city, each doing this work long before the cameras arrived.

Houston: Houston Community Land Trust

Houston’s relationship with the World Cup has been complicated from the start. While the city embraced the tournament with genuine enthusiasm—soccer is deeply woven into Houston’s culture and their home team the Dynamo have a passionate local following—the reality of hosting is now coming into focus. Public and philanthropic dollars have flowed toward major infrastructure and commercial development in preparation for the games, but much of that investment is concentrated in areas where gentrification and displacement were already underway. For Houston’s most vulnerable residents, who are already cost-burdened by housing, those developments will contribute to rising costs long after the final whistle blows. Meanwhile, many low-income homeowners who had hoped to benefit financially by renting their homes during the tournament found themselves unable to manage the cost and complexity of listing their homes, leaving the windfall largely to investors.

“Houston Community Land Trust homeowners are in a good position. Their home costs are stabilized, so they’re fairly protected against displacement from World Cup-driven development. But a single home or homeowner does not make a community. If others are at risk of being pushed out of their neighborhood for a short-term event, we have to ask: is it really worth it for anyone?” — Ashley Allen, Executive Director, Houston Community Land Trust

Los Angeles: LA Community Land Trust Coalition

Communities across Los Angeles neighborhoods, long-shaped by redlining, disinvestment and exclusion, are now on the frontlines of displacement driven by speculation tied to the World Cup and the 2028 Olympics. For decades, Community Land Trusts in LA have worked to acquire land, develop permanently affordable housing and protect tenants from displacement, anchoring community stability in places like South LA, Boyle Heights and beyond. In response to intensifying market pressures that have pushed rents and homeownership out of reach for many Angelenos, the coalition is building a broader social housing and community ownership ecosystem rooted in collective stewardship and long-term affordability. Following the recent wildfires, they have also advanced policies to curb speculative buying during recovery, including advocating for TOPA/COPA, a public land bank and restrictions on corporate home purchases to keep land in community hands. These efforts reflect a proactive strategy to ensure that disaster recovery and global investment do not come at the expense of the very communities that have sustained Los Angeles through generations.

“Permanent affordability means that no matter how many mega-events come to Los Angeles, our communities are not pushed out to make way for profit—it means residents can stay, build and pass on stability, even as global investment reshapes our city.”  — LA CLT Coalition

Toronto: Kensington Market Community Land Trust

Toronto is among the most unaffordable housing markets in North America, and the arrival of the World Cup has accelerated short-term rental speculation in neighborhoods already under severe pressure—like Kensington Market, an eclectic, mixed neighborhood that has long been a landing place for new immigrants. A vibrant community of renters, an entrepreneurship incubator, a destination for creatives and tourists, Kensington Market is exactly the kind of place that speculation threatens to hollow out. In the midst of ever-increasing displacement of working-class tenants, Kensington Market Community Land Trust is giving residents and small businesses an anchor: the CLT collectively owns three mixed-use buildings with 40 residential and 17 commercial rental spaces, and is currently constructing 78 units of deeply affordable housing.

“KMCLT has fought against unregulated ghost hotels for years. A special place like Kensington Market is a delicate balance between destination and community. While unregulated short-term rentals and mega-events threaten to tip the balance, KMCLT stands firm for community.” — Dominique Russell, Co-Director, Kensington Market Community Land Trust

Vancouver: Hogan’s Alley Society

Hogan’s Alley Society is a dynamic, Black-led nonprofit named after Vancouver’s first Black neighborhood, “Hogan’s Alley”—which was destroyed in the 1970s through urban renewal and the construction of the Georgia and Dunsmuir viaducts. HAS leads efforts to advance the well-being of people of African descent through inclusive housing, culturally informed programming and community-driven development—guided by a heart-centered commitment to reviving Hogan’s Alley and connecting with other communities working toward collective justice.

While the Hogan’s Alley Block remains its flagship project, HAS is expanding this work through the Hogan’s Alley Society Community Land Trust (HASCLT), an initiative focused on creating culturally-rooted housing and community spaces with long-term affordability across Metro Vancouver. Through public education, walking tours and community care initiatives such as its housing support program, HAS works to ensure Black communities have a lasting place within the city’s future. In a city where strict short-term rental regulations have already pushed accommodation prices sharply upward ahead of the World Cup—compounding a housing affordability crisis years in the making—these efforts have never been more urgent.

“At HAS, efforts against further displacement go far beyond fighting the loss of physical structures alone. When communities are pushed out, we lose gathering places, relationships, cultural memory and the social fabric that allows people to feel rooted and supported. In a city like Vancouver, especially in moments of rapid development tied to global events like the World Cup, community land stewardship is essential because it creates pathways for communities to remain present, connected and self-determined for generations to come. The Hogan’s Alley Society Community Land Trust is one way we move from temporary survival towards building long-term belonging.” — Djaka Blais, Hogan’s Alley Society, Vancouver

This Is Not the First Time

The cities featured in this release are not the first to face this pressure. When Rio de Janeiro hosted the 2014 FIFA World Cup—followed just two years later by the 2016 Summer Olympics—communities in the city’s favelas faced intense displacement as real estate speculation accelerated ahead of both events. In the years that followed, NGO Catalytic Communities (CatComm) worked alongside favela residents to adapt the CLT model to Brazil’s informal settlement context, helping launch the country’s first CLT initiative. That experience is now a touchstone for CLT practitioners worldwide. Mega-events provide speculators with a unique opportunity that in some cases generate and in others exacerbate housing crises.

“80,000 people were evicted from their homes due to the ‘state of exception’ that was created by Rio’s hosting the World Cup finals and Olympic Games, even in communities with 99-year leases provided by the state government. This in addition to those with titles that experienced Rio’s first-ever processes of favela gentrification. In both cases, established, consolidated and well-functioning favela neighborhoods were denied their land rights and ability to remain in the communities they built themselves. After witnessing this alongside our favela partners, we began the Favela Community Land Trust Project. Today, five Brazilian cities recommend CLTs in their Master Plans. We hope to launch the nation’s first CLT in the coming years. ” — Theresa Williamson, urban planner and Executive Director, Catalytic Communities

A Movement 57 Years in the Making

What began with one organization in Albany, Georgia in 1969 now spans over 600 CLTs across dozens of countries—and new ones are forming every month, particularly in cities facing rapid gentrification and climate vulnerability. On May 15, the global CLT community celebrated its fifth annual World CLT Day, a global moment dedicated to celebrating Community Land Trusts, connecting communities across the movement and raising visibility for the work happening in neighborhoods like the ones featured here.

World CLT Day this year was anchored by the first-ever 2026 Global CLT Virtual Summit, a free six-week series now taking place of online events running from May 5 to June 10. Conceived to reclaim and honor the Black and Indigenous leadership traditions that gave rise to the CLT model, the Summit brings together practitioners, residents, organizers, researchers and allies from across the movement to share experiences, reflect on practice and advance community land stewardship globally. Co-hosted by the International Center for Community Land Trusts and Rondo Community Land Trust, with support from the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, the Summit is free and open to all. Join events of the six-week series here.

The International Center for Community Land Trusts, which maintains the Global CLT directory and supports CLT development worldwide, connects practitioners across regions and coordinates the movement’s growing global infrastructure. The organizations featured here did not wait for the World Cup to start doing this work and they will not stop when it is over.

Learn more about Community Land Trusts

This release may be republished freely. We encourage media to reach out directly to CLT contacts in their city for local angles, additional quotes and resident stories

Press Contacts:

Houston: Ashley Allen, Houston Community Land Trust | Email: ashley@houstonclt.org | Phone: +1 (832) 638-6763

Los Angeles: Jessica Melendez, T.R.U.S.T. South LA | Email: jessica@trustsouthla.org | Phone: +1 (323) 233-4118

Toronto: Dominique Russell, Kensington Market Community Land Trust | Email: dominique@kmclt.ca

Vancouver: Djaka Blais, Hogan’s Alley Society | Email: djaka@hogansalleysociety.org| Phone: +1 (778) 200-1003

Brazil context: Theresa Williamson, Catalytic Communities — press@catcomm.org | WhatsApp: +55-21-991976444

International context: Ben Harris, International Center for Community Land Trusts — ben@communitylandtrust.net | Phone: +1 (706) 536-8603

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Residents of the Cândido Mendes Mansion in Santa Teresa, a neighborhood in central Rio de Janeiro, received a distinguished visitor on May 7, Her Royal Highness Princess Abze Djigma of Burkina Faso.

The visit took place so she could meet residents and learn about the history behind the occupation. During her time in Rio, the princess also visited Rocinha in Rio’s South Zone, and gave a lecture inaugurating the Sustainability and Urban Resilience in Engineering Hub (SURE), in partnership with the United Nations University (UNU), at the Pontifical Catholic University of Rio de Janeiro (PUC-Rio).

 

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Abze Djigma is internationally known for her work on climate justice and social inclusion. She has visited Brazil before, including in 2025 at COP30 in Belém. She is a leading figure in advancing solutions for countries in the Global South, particularly around sustainable development, energy and climate.

A descendant of Princess Yennenga, a historical figure central to the founding of the Mossi people, Djigma carries within her ancestry the strength of this great warrior. Through her work, she founded the H.R.H. Princess Abze Djigma Foundation, whose primary mission is to improve the lives of women and youth.

Accompanied by professors from PUC-Rio, the princess arrived at the Cândido Mendes Mansion on the afternoon of Thursday, May 7, to learn about the residents’ history and struggle. Most have lived in the building for over 30 years and are seeking recognition of the property as social interest housing by Brazil’s Secretary of Federal Patrimony (SPU), as recently reported by RioOnWatch.

Present during the visit to the Cândido Mendes Mansion, professor Daniel Cardoso, from PUC-Rio’s Department of Civil and Environmental Engineering, emphasized that the technical allies supporting the occupation take an interdisciplinary approach in assisting residents with legal, social, environmental and structural issues. He believes the Princess’s visit to the occupation could “help draw attention to the mansion’s challenges within the context of the recently signed and launched United Nations University initiative and the Sustainability and Urban Resilience in Engineering Hub, with the support and engagement of the Princess, who serves as an advisor and has a close relationship with the UNU and the UN itself.”

Upon arriving at the Cândido Mendes Mansion, Abze Djigma was welcomed by a delegation of residents who highlighted the historical and social dimensions of their struggle for housing. The building’s structural issues, as well as ongoing difficulties in communicating with the government and the SPU were also discussed.

One of the residents to open his home to the Princess was Joel Antunes, who speaks French. He showed her his apartment and the view from the rooftop terrace.

International Solidarity as a Fighting Tool

Lucinalva de Sousa Santos, a resident since 1997 and member of the Cândido Mendes Mansion Residents’ Association Council, viewed Princess Abze Djigma’s visit as an important contribution to the group’s fight to remain in the building:

“What can I say about the privilege of having Her Royal Highness Princess Abze Djigma in our mansion? It’s an enormous form of representation and deeply important to our fight. She is an icon for Black people, who make up the vast majority [of residents] here. We are deeply grateful for her visit and thankful to the people who made it possible. I hope Princess Abze’s visit can help carry our story forward and that it can become a cause she chooses to champion. And may NGOs and other partners come to support us in this fight, which has grown so large.”

Andreia Brasil, an entrepreneur, ambassador for Black Brazilian Mothers—an online platform that promotes the economic support, training and empowerment of Black mothers—and daughter of Cândido Mendes Mansion resident Dona Valquíria Brasil, with whom she runs Afrokiry, an African-themed jewelry workshop, wanted to give Princess Abze Djigma a hug and a gift as soon as she learned of her visit.

“I felt deeply honored to know that a princess from Africa, from my ancestral homeland, was visiting my country and the mansion, home to families in great need of support. I decided to gift her a necklace handmade by me. I gave it to her and she immediately took off hers and put on mine. She was very open. Even though she didn’t speak my language and I didn’t speak hers, we still managed to communicate incredibly well. She was very polite and very kind.” — Andreia Brasil

Maíra Martins, professor in PUC-Rio’s Department of Architecture and coordinator of the Interdisciplinary Research and Extension Center for Collaborative Social Interest Projects and Practices (COLABIS), believes the visit has implications that go beyond raising awareness about the situation at the Cândido Mendes Mansion.

“Princess Abze Djigma’s remarks are important not only for bringing visibility to the struggle of the residents of the Hotel Moderno Mansion, but also for drawing attention to the discussion around the human dynamics of socio-spatial segregation in Rio de Janeiro. What she is pointing to is a historical process that has been reproduced in the city for a long time. It’s also a process that can be observed in other capitals around the world: the appreciation of certain areas and the resulting displacement of more vulnerable residents once those areas begin to increase in [market] value.” — Maíra Martins

At the end of the visit, on the rooftop terrace overlooking Guanabara Bay and Sugarloaf Mountain, Princess Abze Djigma spoke about the importance of resisting gentrification and real estate speculation in major cities.

“We’re here in an area that attracts the interest of investors. This is the former Hotel Moderno, an old hotel that was abandoned. Residents occupied the space and want the city government to take action to ensure they can stay here. We cannot allow cities to be emptied of their true citizens, as is the case in so many capitals. When residents leave, the soul of the city leaves with them. What makes Rio Rio is the carioca people, samba, dance and its vitality. But if we don’t take care of them, all of the energy that draws people to Rio will disappear.” — Princess Abze Djigma

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About the author: Bárbara Dias was born and raised in Bangu, in Rio’s West Zone. She has a degree in Biological Sciences, a master’s in Environmental Education, and has been a public school teacher since 2006. She is a photojournalist and also works with documentary photography. She is a popular communicator for Núcleo Piratininga de Comunicação (NPC) and co-founder of Coletivo Fotoguerrilha.

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For the original article by Preto Zezé published in O Globo, click here. 

In the year Milton Santos would have turned 100, perhaps the best tribute to the Bahian geographer is not to simply repeat his concepts in universities, but to return his ideas to the ground he taught us to observe: territory as a lived experience. He showed that space is not a neutral landscape but, rather, participates in inequality, struggle, coexistence and invention.

When I look at Brazilian favelas, I see more than low-income housing, the absence of the State or statistics. I see a geography of their own—complex, intelligent and little understood by official Brazil.

Favelas are usually explained by what they lack: sanitation, security, schools, credit and transportation. All of this is true and must be tackled. But this reading is incomplete. If the favela were defined only by absence, it would have already ceased to exist. What keeps these places alive rarely shows up in official diagnoses: networks of care, commerce, culture, the strength of women, creative youth and the ability to produce solutions in a context of scarcity.

Milton Santos used to speak of lived territory. Not the one from cold maps or spreadsheets, but the territory lived by real people. In this sense, the favela is one of the country’s greatest geography lessons. The alleyway, the rooftop, the bar, the school, the soccer pitch, the mom-and-pop shop, the mototaxi stand, the funk ball and the small business form a daily engineering of survival, income, affection and creation.

The country still insists on relegating the favela to the margins, when it is the center of many answers. Anyone who wants to understand cities, youth, the popular economy, culture, violence, racism, mobility, communication and the future needs to deal with the favela not as an object of pity, but as a place of knowledge.

Milton Santos also spoke of mutilated citizenship. The expression explains the lives of millions. Citizenship is fractured for those who live in favelas. Residents are recognized as consumers, workers, voters and bill payers, but not always as individuals fully entitled to rights. They can buy, but deal with unfair credit. They can work, but lose hours on transportation. They can produce culture, but often see their aesthetics fill someone else’s pockets.

This mutilation is not an accident. It is the result of a history that distributed the city unequally. The country built centers with infrastructure and protection, while pushing part of the population into areas where rights arrive late, insufficiently or halfway. And later on, it still saw fit to label these places as problems.

But favelas are not the absence of city. They are the city built with less investment and more collective intelligence. Where Brazil lays bare its debt, but also its potential.

In Toward an Other Globalization: From the Single Thought to Universal Conscience, Milton Santos described globalization as fable, perversity and possibility. The favela knows all three well. The fable promises inclusion, while leaving millions without decent internet access, credit, training and infrastructure. Perversity turns the favela into a consumer market and an aesthetic resource without paying it back in the same proportion. Possibility emerges when these places create networks, businesses, leadership and life technologies.

The favela’s geography does not fit within the narrow lens of prejudice. It requires method, listening and respect. It requires its recognition as a place of thought and not just suffering; of strategy and not just improvisation; of economics and not just informality.

If Milton Santos taught us to read territories, the favela teaches us to rewrite Brazil through them.

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Residents of the Cândido Mendes Mansion in Santa Teresa, a neighborhood in central Rio de Janeiro, are at imminent risk of repossession proceedings leading to eviction after a construction project contracted out by Brazil’s Secretariat of Federal Patrimony (SPU) caused damage to one of the building’s pillars. Built in 1914 as a luxury hotel, the structure has also served as a convent. Since the 1990s it has been occupied as social housing, mostly as a home for former convent and informal workers.

A coalition of residents, technical allies including lawyers, architects and professors from the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro (UFRJ), Fluminense Federal University (UFF), and the Pontifical Catholic University of Rio de Janeiro (PUC-Rio), as well as the Rio de Janeiro State Public Defender’s Office and the Federal Prosecutor’s Office, however, disputes the need for expulsion. According to technical reports, emergency repairs to the building are needed to ensure that residing families can remain safely in their homes.

Reparations: A Historic Building Now Serves as Social Housing

The Cândido Mendes Mansion has had various uses throughout its history. Initially built as Hotel Moderno, an international luxury hotel in the 1940s, it was later incorporated into the SPU’s assets due to the former owners’ debts. In 1952, it was ceded to the Order of Our Lady of the Most Holy Trinity. When the Order left the property, use rights to the building were transferred to the Order’s former live-in workers.

Dona Francisquinha is the occupation’s oldest resident. At 95, she has lived there for 37 years, since 1989, and is one of the workers from the building’s convent era.

“I’ve lived here for 37 years, back when this was a convent, when it belonged to nuns. They lived here since the time of [President] Getúlio Vargas. Then, when they were founding the Order, Dom Jaime de Barros Câmara was the one who spoke with Vargas and got this building for them. It used to be a famous hotel. [The owners] were in debt with the government and gave up the building. That’s how they helped found the Order of Our Lady of the Most Holy Trinity. The nuns lived here for almost 50 years. Around that time, they called me to work here because I was a receptionist. So I came and stayed. Over the years, [the Order] left and I stayed on. I’m still here because I need to be, you know? And that’s why I’m still here, even today.”

Another long-time resident, Maria da Conceição Vicente, 69, has lived in the Mansion since 1995, for 31 years now:

“I first came here in 1980, when I brought my brother-in-law lunch—he had a room here. I got here and Sister Terezinha told me [I was unemployed at the time] she needed someone to clean the rooms of the ladies who couldn’t do it themselves, who were much older… So, I accepted [the offer] and started working here. Later, I started working in other places, but on Saturdays, I’d come here to do laundry for the ladies and clean for them… In 1995, I came to live here and I’m still here; [at the time] my youngest daughter was three and my oldest was twelve.”

Nathanael José Pereira, 71, has lived in the building for 36 years. Now retired, he also worked for the Order:

“I came to live here through my partner, who already knew the place and worked [here] back when the nuns were still around. Then, when a spot opened up, she spoke with the administrator, Sister Cinila. We came here with my whole family, to live and work.”

Aside from workers from the time of the Order who remained in the building, other informal workers also live in the Mansion. This is also an important issue: living in the city center means having better work opportunities. Ivo Manuel dos Santos Faria Júnior, known as ‘Júnior,’ 37, is a street vendor and has lived in the mansion since 2020:

“I’ve lived here since 2020. I work in the street [as a vendor], taking advantage of the [opportunities in the] area, which is well located. I also managed to bring my family here, who used to live in Santa Cruz, a neighborhood [in the extreme West Zone of the city] where it’s hard to find work. Here, through informal street work, they were also able to buy their own home, where they like living… this is also their home base. Every carnival, they come here to work. It’s very important for us to be here and remain because, besides housing, this place was a starting point for improving our lives. Not just mine, but my mother’s too—a 64-year-old woman who came here at 50, never had a formal job and always worked informally. She has a [vendor] cart to work samba events and other events. And all of this is possible because we live here.”

The mansion is also an alternative for people seeking more affordable housing amid the reality of high rents in the city center. As Maria da Penha dos Santos, 68, who has lived in the building for 19 years, explains:

“I came here with my four children and four grandchildren through a recommendation. I was living in a place where the rent was very expensive, and I couldn’t afford it anymore. I lived on Ladeira de Santa Teresa, very close to the Lapa Arches. So I came here. I worked in two different places, so this place is great for me. And my children also studied and worked around here. My children and I love living here.”

Maíra Martins, a professor in the Architecture Department at the Pontifical Catholic University of Rio de Janeiro who also coordinates the Interdisciplinary Research and Extension Center for Collaborative Social Interest Projects and Practices (COLABIS), emphasizes that residents’ presence plays an important role in preserving the Cândido Mendes Mansion. Residents make improvements to their units, maintaining the building as best they can and preventing it from being completely abandoned, along with all the effects that come with that.

According to Martins, the mere fact that the building is occupied prevents further structural degradation, pest infestation and garbage accumulation, among other issues. In this sense, occupations serving as social housing also end up playing an important urban role by giving use to structures that would otherwise be subject to rapid deterioration. Martins emphasizes that residents have kept the Cândido Mendes Mansion functional for at least 30 years through renovation work:

“As much as they can, [the residents] make improvements to the building. They renovated the roof lining due to leaks. They also repaired walls and removed tree roots and frequently remove crumbling plaster from the façade, specifically to prevent falls or accidents. So, they take a series of precautions, a kind of ‘soft’ maintenance, which is all they can do. For deeper maintenance, they need more funding… The issue with an empty building—an unoccupied one—is that it presents a much higher risk of structural problems than an occupied building, due to the [lack of] attention and maintenance. This is very important for the surrounding area, because every abandoned property generates a process of deterioration around it. This means the area does not become unsafe, poorly lit or frequented by fewer people. So, the simple fact that [the building] is occupied is already a way for this property to bring life to the area around it.”

A Series of Mistakes Made by the Secretariat of Federal Patrimony

Attorney Mariana Trotta serves as the key legal council on the Cândido Mendes Mansion case. After the occupation’s case was referred to the Land Solutions Commission of the 2nd Region Regional Federal Court (TRF2), the property’s residents’ association requested support from Trotta, a law professor at UFRJ and coordinator of the Luiza Mahin Popular University Legal Assistance Center (Najup). According to her, the mansion has been the target of a repossession action filed by the SPU since 2020. However, in December 2025, even with the case under review by the TRF2 commission, which aims to mediate conflicts and prevent forced evictions, the trial court ordered the building’s immediate evacuation without a deadline for the eviction or any alternative housing. This sparked intense concern among residents, whose work and income are closely tied to the economic flows of the region where they live. Most have nowhere to go if the eviction moves forward. They would be left without work and without a home.

According to Trotta, the SPU justifies the forced eviction based on the building’s structural risk. However, expert reports—prepared with technical assistance from UFF/OPPHUS-EAU and PUC Rio/COLABIS in collaboration with the occupation—indicate that there is no such imminent risk requiring families to leave:

“We know that the building needs structural repairs from the federal government. It’s a property that these families have lived in since the 1990s, one that needs maintenance. But there are reports by UFF and PUC that prove there is no imminent risk requiring the families to leave. In fact, [the same reports say] it would be feasible to carry out repairs on the building while allowing families to remain there, simply by relocating them within the building.”

Trotta also points out that the SPU is responsible for the building’s structural damage following interventions carried out by the agency itself. Therefore, the secretariat should resolve the problem it caused instead of evicting residents.

Amid fears of eviction, negotiations remain in process—proposals to transfer families to a housing complex in Guadalupe, in Rio de Janeiro’s North Zone, have been rejected by residents. They are demanding to remain where they are while the necessary renovations are carried out and have been awaiting a solution from the SPU since January 2026.

Sandra Kokudai, an architect and urban planner who works as a parliamentary assistant with a focus on housing policy, says that the Cândido Mendes Mansion has long been the site of a struggle for land regularization. According to Kokudai, the building came to be designated for social housing and included in proposals under the Minha Casa Minha Vida-Entidades federal public housing program for self-built housing, whose project was recently approved with support from the Oscar Niemeyer Social Institute for Projects and Research.

Kokudai explains how the problem was caused by negligent roof works carried out by a company hired by the SPU for renovations. According to the architect, the improper accumulation of construction debris caused one of the building’s pillars to give way. Despite this, expert reports indicate there is no imminent risk of collapse, although emergency work is necessary—such as proper shoring and correcting leaks aggravated by flaws in the execution of recent interventions, including the installation of metal support pillars.

“SPU hired out the roofing project, which was a long-standing demand, even pursued in court by the residents themselves in an effort to preserve the building. Finally, this request was granted last year. Residents repeatedly stressed that the rooftop terrace could not take on too much weight… The contractor accumulated rubble from the work on the rooftop, then it rained and it was chaos. A pillar from the metal structure gave way and opened a crack in a wall.

The building is [like] an elderly lady who needs care, but she’s standing, she’s walking, she’s still strong. If you look at the building’s structure, the walls are very thick. The question was whether the building’s internal metal structure would hold up after the pillar gave way. There were several reports, the city’s Civil Defense came here, the SPU hired a company to prepare a report and the families, through partnerships with UFF and PUC, also conducted analyses to determine whether the building was truly safe. All the reports indicate that there is no imminent risk. So, the building is safe, although emergency repairs are needed.” — Sandra Kokudai

Matilde Guilhermina de Alexandre, 67, has lived in the occupation since 2010 and actively participates in the fight to improve the building’s conditions. She was a key figure in negotiations with Light and CEDAE—respectively Rio’s private electric utility and public water utility—which cut off services to the ocupation during the pandemic. De Alexandre also closely monitors the situation with the company contracted by the SPU to carry out the renovations that caused one of the building’s pillars to give way:

“[The contractor] presented about seven timelines at the time, and we were skeptical… We had meetings with the SPU [and despite our complaints,] they hired the company [anyway]. They started working on the roof in October. [Out of nowher] they handed the project over to the SPU [as if it were finished,] but not to us. [The contractor] handed over a project that wasn’t finished. And, when the first rain came, the whole roof came down. Everything they had done collapsed, and water kept pouring into the homes. There are videos of people desperate as water came gushing in.”

De Alexandre explains that from then onwards, there were a series of building inspections. Reports from PUC and UFF confirmed that the building was not at risk of imminent collapse although repairs were needed to guarantee the residents’ safety. However, on December 15—just before Christmas—she says an officer of the court knocked on the Mansion’s door:

“The process server arrived here at around six or seven o’clock in the evening and said, ‘Look, this is a legal action against you, it’s a repossession order, you’re going to have to leave and five residents need to sign here.’ But before that, on August 22, 2025, the SPU nominated our building to participate in the Minha Casa Minha Vida-Entidades federal housing program. It was published in the Official Gazette and they told us: ‘You’ve all been here for many years, I think it’s your turn to participate in the program.’”

In an interview, Daniel Cardoso, a professor in PUC-Rio’s Civil and Environmental Engineering Department who authored the structural assessment report and recommendations regarding the Cândido Mendes Mansion, explained that despite the building’s fragilities resulting from its age, lack of maintenance and additional structural load over time, the structure demonstrates good overall stability:

“The structure has redundancy and the ability to redistribute structural forces, which explains why the damage observed in the pillar did not spread. The external structural masonry is robust and contributes to the building’s overall stability, while the internal metal structure, although more slender, also has sufficient redundancy. With the adoption of shoring, loads can be adequately redirected, even with the localized loss of capacity [due to the pillar’s collapse]. There is therefore no evidence of an imminent risk of global collapse, but it is essential to adopt measures such as load reduction, shoring the primary beams and carrying out localized repairs, especially given the building’s ongoing deterioration.”

Residents Risk Being Evicted and Forcibly Relocated to Guadalupe

A major concern was the roof work, which caused structural damage to one of the building’s pillars and water seepage into the walls following the installation of metal beams, apparently due to technical incompetence by the contractors hired by the SPU to carry out the work. This is what fuels fears of relocation to an army residential complex in the neighborhood of Guadalupe, 31 kilometers from the city center.

Lucinalva de Sousa Santos, a resident of the mansion since 1997, explains how the struggle for housing rights and improvements to the building has been a longstanding one:

“Here, we have a very high demand for maintenance and papers proving this place is ours. We’re not invaders; most of us came here back when there were still priests and nuns, because this was a hotel that housed priests and nuns from abroad who came here to study. We’re still fighting. Now, we’ve managed to be included in the Minha Casa Minha Vida-Entidades program and we’re fighting for land regularization. But we still don’t have the land use concession we need. They were going to send us to Guadalupe, which is very far from here and completely different from what we have here. We’ve lived here for 30 or 40 years. We have our whole lives here—work, school, health clinics… So, I believe [taking us away] is not fair, because they said there’s an imminent risk [of the building collapsing], but nobody has been able to prove it.”

The feeling regarding an impending eviction was palpable among all residents interviewed, because they believe that if they were to be evicted, they would lose their connection to the community, to their support network and have a hard time accessing basic services, work and income. Resident Maria da Conceição Vicente explains their concerns:

“I was born here, I was baptized here, I grew up here, my doctor is here. I mean, if I go [to Guadalupe], I’ll be lost. I told them this, but I don’t know if it will make any difference, because nowadays we don’t get to decide where we go, right? They’re the ones who decide where they’re going to throw us. My dream is to be able to stay and live here. These are our roots. We continue to live in what is practically our birthplace, because I was born and raised in Santa Teresa, so this is where my life began.”

Marian Silva, 36, has lived in the occupation for 31 years. Raised in the mansion herself, Silva explains that she has an asthmatic daughter and depends on the nearby healthcare network for her daughter’s care. She has no idea what she will do without the local healthcare network.

“I have a child with asthma; she’s five years old… How am I supposed to manage in Guadalupe? Commuting from Guadalupe so she can get treatment here in Flamengo, at the Fernandes Figueira Institute, won’t work. Am I supposed to leave [Guadalupe] in the middle of the night to work here, at Rua Benjamin Constant? How can I leave Guadalupe in the middle of the night to take her to the hospital? For me, staying here is essential, not only for me, but also for her.”

Moreover, the residential complex in Guadalupe, where families are at risk of being relocated, is itself riddled with structural damage, as confirmed during an inspection conducted by Ronaldo Brilhante, an architect and urban planner and adjunct professor at UFF/EAU’s Housing and Social Urbanization Project and Research Group (OPPHUS), one of the technical allies providing support to the occupation. During a visit to the residential complex in Guadalupe, Professor Brilhante assessed:

“A significant portion of the [Guadalupe complex’s] pillars have compromised reinforcement due to water seepage. There are also several areas of concrete spalling, in addition to exposed rebar. There is a chronic problem with the plumbing system because the original piping is made of iron. In other words, all of this is much more expensive to repair than the shoring we intend to carry out at the Cândido Mendes Mansion.”

Professor Brilhante is one of the authors of the Technical Inspection Report on the mansion, which emphasizes that there are no risks to residents’ physical safety, provided that ongoing technical monitoring is carried out to assess the occurrence of new structural deformations. He also states that there is no need to remove families due to the damage caused by the construction work. He recalls the case of Ferreira Diniz Urban Quilombo, whose structural problems were more serious than those at the Cândido Mendes Mansion, but where it was still possible to carry out emergency repairs while families remained in the building after being internally relocated.

The most recent meeting between residents and the SPU took place on February 27, 2026, when the agency promised to urgently install shoring, resolve a serious leak above one of the pillars and adopt broader measures to address the problems identified. However, none of these measures have been carried out so far. De Alexandre summarizes residents’ concerns regarding the SPU’s delays and the outstanding repossession order:

“The case is ongoing, the repossession order is still pending, and at any moment the judge could say: ‘Okay, go ahead and throw them out’…”

What the Agencies Involved Say

RioOnWatch requested comment from Federal Prosecutor Julio Araujo, who has been following the case since it reached the Rio de Janeiro Land Solutions Commission. Their main recommendation was that the families should not be removed, since expert reports did not prove an imminent structural risk to the property. According to Araujo, although repair work is necessary and falls under the federal government’s responsibility, the building’s designation as social housing through the Minha Casa Minha Vida-Entidades program is also necessary. The prosecutor hopes that a solution can be reached that combines the repairs with the families’ permanence on site:

“I think today’s greatest challenge is to prevent the courts from carrying out any kind of immediate eviction. We need to ensure a more accurate and specific analysis in light of the discrepancies in expert reports and the fact that none of them indicates an imminent risk requiring families to leave. Thus, we must ensure that the property will be designated for social housing and that emergency repairs are planned and carried out, including assessing the possibility of doing so while residents, even if not all of them, remain there. And even if they must be relocated, there must be a [legal] provision [guaranteeing] their return.”

Public Defender Thales Arcoverde Treiger believes the current situation is positive for the families, because of the dialogue with the SPU and ongoing efforts to carry out renovations through the Minha Casa Minha Vida-Entidades program. According to Treiger, there is no risk of imminent eviction, despite the formal repossession order, because he believes the federal government has not shown a real interest in evicting the families. Treiger expressed concern about the inadequacy of the emergency repairs carried out so far, but affirms that the approach taken has been one of institutional negotiation.

In an email sent to SPU, RioOnWatch inquired about the process of designating Cândido Mendes as social housing, about the incomplete repairs and structural damage observed after SPU’s roof work. Despite residents’ reports to the contrary, SPU responded that the emergency repairs were in fact completed. SPU’s full response is below:

“The Ministry of Management and Innovation in Public Services (MGI) states that the Government of Brazil, through the Secretariat of Federal Patrimony (SPU), is developing a permanent housing solution for the families currently occupying the federal building known as the Cândido Mendes Mansion/Hotel dos Ingleses in Rio de Janeiro, ensuring greater safety for residents in coordination with the Minha Casa Minha Vida-Entidades program.

As far as SPU’s jurisdictional reach is concerned, the building has been reserved and designated for this purpose, although the project is still contingent on being selected by the Ministry of Cities and Caixa Econômica Federal [Brazilian Federal Savings Bank].

Moreover, it highlights that successive reports from technical authorities and from the Rio de Janeiro Municipal Civil Defense attest to the building’s poor structural conditions.

Maintenance work on the roof of the Cândido Mendes Mansion/Hotel building began in March 2025 and was completed in October of the same year. A final acceptance certificate was issued on November 21, 2025.

During the execution of work on the roof of the four-story building, movement was observed in a small metal pillar located on the second floor, causing part of the adjacent masonry and plaster to detach.

After being alerted, the city’s Civil Defense inspected the site and recommended the immediate installation of shoring to reinforce the structure in the area affected by the buckling of the metal structure. This intervention was contracted and carried out on an emergency basis by the Secretary of Shared Services (SSC) of the MGI in support of the SPU.”

A Mansion Full of Dreams

Despite all the concerns surrounding the SPU’s elusiveness, residents of the Cândido Mendes Mansion still dream about the future: a renovated and safe building for their families that guarantees the right to dignified housing in the city center.

Marian Silva dreams of staying: “Everything is close by here.” Her dream is similar to that of Maria da Conceição Vicente: “I hope they take pity on us and help us rebuild this home. That’s what I wish for.” Similarly, Júnior not only hopes to continue living in the mansion, but also wants to see it repurposed as a cultural hub for the area:

“Our dream is for this project to happen. We deserve to live in a good place and, since there are many workers here, to have a beautiful hall where we can bring culture through samba circles, music and other forms of art. We want this place to involve culture in a way that allows everyone to work and use it to support both their livelihood and housing.”

Lucinalva dos Santos envisions a future where the mansion becomes part of the Minha Casa Minha Vida-Entidades program, in partnership with the Oscar Niemeyer Institute, which proposes not only renovations but also the creation of an arts and trades school:

“So, the Oscar Niemeyer Institute wants to invest here to create this [arts and trades] school, where people from here and from other communities can learn the craft [of restoration]. And we believe in that, we really want that.”

Adriano Queiroz, advisor to the Oscar Niemeyer Institute—the organization that, together with the Mansion, is applying to lead this initiative through the Minha Casa Minha Vida-Entidades program—says that the project to create an Arts and Trades Workshop School is based on Municipal Law 8,454 of June 26, 2024, authored by City Councilor Edson Santos. Queiroz was the one who brought the idea to Rio based on highly successful experiences in other Brazilian states.

This proposed vocational school program aims to train youth in the craft of restoring historic buildings. By restoring historic buildings across the city through a process that combines theory and practice, youth are trained for the job market, all while helping guarantee the right to housing in spaces like the Cândido Mendes Mansion.

Paulo César Ribeiro, resident and president of the Cândido Mendes Residents’ Association, explains how their struggle for permanence is unfolding on several fronts. Despite all odds, he remains hopeful about staying:

“SPU keeps saying that it doesn’t have the money to make this building habitable. This building is over a century old and really needs structural work—that’s undeniable. The work was estimated at R$33 million (~US$6.7 million), and of course SPU wasn’t going to be able to cover that amount. So, SPU proposed relocating residents. [But] through this new Minha Casa Minha Vida-Entidades partnership, which was submitted to [the federal government in] Brasília by the Oscar Niemeyer Institute, [we may be able to] bring in the necessary funding to carry out the work.

“I don’t think it will be a complete retrofit, but rather bringing this building up to the standards required by the Minha Casa Minha Vida-Entidades program. Under the program, all units must have a bathroom and a kitchen, which some units here currently lack. We also have a project estimated at R$14 million (~US$2.9 million), which would also be funded by Caixa Econômica Federal, because SPU claims it doesn’t have the funds. That’s why [SPU] insists on relocating [us]. But we’re seeking resources with our partners and will continue pursuing this goal. Our strategy is to show that there are other paths, other partners, so that SPU can’t say we’re not working toward a solution.”

For More Photos, View the Full Album Here:

About the author: Bárbara Dias was born and raised in Bangu, in Rio’s West Zone. She has a degree in Biological Sciences, a master’s in Environmental Education, and has been a public school teacher since 2006. She is a photojournalist and also works with documentary photography. She is a popular communicator for Núcleo Piratininga de Comunicação (NPC) and co-founder of Coletivo Fotoguerrilha.

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This article is part of our series reflecting on the impacts of mega-events on Rio de Janeiro 10 years after the 2016 Olympic Games.

Ten years after the end of the traumatic Olympic-era forced evictions in Rio de Janeiro, which affected 80,000 people across the city, the Vila Autódromo favela, in the city’s recently renamed Southwest Zone, next to the Olympic Park, remains a symbol of resistance. Of the 600-700 families who lived in the community before the 2016 Olympics, only 3%, or 20 families, remain. Over 80% of the original area is now covered by grass and trees, whose maintenance is left to the remaining residents.

On the morning of Saturday, April 11, a collective action of care—a long-standing tradition in Vila Autódromo—was carried out in a local green space, highlighting ongoing mobilization in support of the area and the Evictions Museum. The action represents reverence for the community’s memory and serves as a response to the lack of attention shown by the city government. Residents, volunteers and partners gathered to ensure, with their own hands, the upkeep of the Evictions Museum exhibition path. The activity was part of the Sustainable Favela Network’s (SFN)* Collective Calendar.

“This May we celebrate ten years since we managed to stay. Ten years since Vila Autódromo’s victory! We also have the ten-year anniversary of the Evictions Museum and a memory route we developed, which won an award from the National Institute of Historic and Artistic Heritage (IPHAN), visited by people from around the world. But the exhibition path was covered by brush due to a lack of maintenance by [waste collection utility] Comlurb, creating a sense of abandonment and insecurity. [That’s why we are here today clearing the vegetation and cleaning, so that we can hold the celebration!]” — Sandra Maria

Nathalia Macena, born and raised in Vila Autódromo, led the mostly-female group. The distribution of tools, coordination of tasks and walk to the area in need of intervention began at 9am, marking the start of the workday. Despite the invasive grasses and other vegetation, the collective effort accompanied by smiles on sweaty faces made evident the group’s sense of accomplishment.

With hoes and machetes in hand, participants began cutting through the toughest growth to open paths in areas that were still hard to access. Strength, repetition and precision were evident in the weeding, soil turning and manual removal of organic material. Gradually, what had been a field overtaken by brush, covering the Museum’s plaques, began to reveal the earth beneath and once again became a usable space of memory.

Biodiversity has always been a hallmark of Vila Autódromo, as have the challenges and neglect characteristic of its relationship with public authorities. Among the fruit trees are avocado, mango, star fruit, seriguela (a close relative of the hog plum), tangerine, Malabar plum, guava, jambo, persimmon, jenipapo, soursop and tamarind, including several that survived from the gardens of demolished houses. With its growing fruit cultivation, Vila Autódromo now supplies both residents and visitors. In addition, capybara families—and their preservation—have always been part of community actions over the years.

“During the forced evictions, the city government cut down 500 to 600 trees, many of them protected by environmental laws. Our entrance street was entirely lined with fruit trees. In two days, they cut down 200 trees. Suddenly, you went from living in a green neighborhood to stifling, gray, hot, suffocating surroundings, with no shade. In the end, we were left with a deforested area and began a process of replanting. Today, in my backyard, I have a lime tree, a soursop tree, an orange tree, Surinam cherry, Barbados cherry, guava, jabuticaba, avocado, mango, aloe vera, chia, saffron, tomatoes and arrowleaf elephant ear. In other backyards, there is sugarcane, lemongrass and lemon balm.” — Sandra Maria

Among the initiatives by Vila Autódromo residents concerning the preservation of local biodiversity, the Evictions Museum installed two signs at the entrances warning drivers, cyclists and pedestrians to be mindful of animals, especially capybaras, so they are not run over, fed or hunted in the community.

Luiz Claudio Silva, key to the planting of recent seedlings in the neighborhood, emphasized that it should be up to the sub-prefecture to install warning signs, as it does in neighboring residential complexes. The authorities’ absence forces residents to act. Even when the city government does meet local demands, it takes far too long.

“Vila Autódromo has always been a place with many trees, both in the backyards of the homes that were removed and in the streets. It used to be a very green area. From the time of the forced evictions, I have documents from the city government and the Secretariat of the Environment, including a license signed by the secretary authorizing the cutting of 362 trees in one document alone. They’d come to cut the trees, show the document and I’d take photos. I have documents for 100 trees, 200 trees. When [what remained of] the community was redeveloped, there were almost no trees left. It became an open field, with us in the middle. Then we began this reforestation work. There are many species, both fruit-bearing and native.” — Luiz Claudio Silva

He also spoke about the waste unility’s engagement with Vila Autódromo.

“The squares [in the community] need maintenance at least once a month, but Comlurb comes every three to four months. I took a photo of the vegetation covering the playground equipment—it was taller than my wife.” — Luiz Claudio Silva

With her daughter and grandson alongside her at the event, Sandra Maria emphasized the importance of unity among favela residents. During a break, she stressed the importance of more opportunities for collective actions organized by favela residents across the city, working in networks.

“The collective action was important for several reasons. First, because of the unity of the social movement itself, and the importance of the work that the Sustainable Favela Network does, which brings together favelas, enabling connection and collective work. This breaks the isolation that favelas are subjected to by the State and broader social realities. Society fears favelas. Beyond the social and economic challenges faced by the favela population, it is a constant rush, a daily struggle for survival. We are so focused on survival, how do we organize ourselves within that, right?

We had people come here from far away, from Ilha do Governador and Sepetiba, to support our community, our struggle. That is wonderful. We live in a favela that the public authorities try to keep abandoned at all costs. The area that is now empty, where 600 families once lived and were forcibly removed, is now abandoned by the authorities, overgrown, with a proliferation of trees and invasive species that destroy native species.” — Sandra Maria

Sandra Maria also cites Comlurb as one of the public entities neglecting the community:

“We have a situation with Comlurb, which should maintain this area but doesn’t. The area [of the community] near the hotel [Courtyard Marriott, built on a plot that was originally part of Vila Autódromo] is kept clean. But the area beyond the houses [in the community], we need to file multiple official requests for them to clean it. We have to complain, go there, demand it and try to get in touch with people within Comlurb. It’s exhausting, extremely tiring work, and we don’t always manage to do it.”

Amid memories of the struggle to remain in the favela, the collective action gained meaning beyond a group effort. For Sandra Maria, actions like this connect the past, resistance, and the meaning of collective work. With three generations of her family cutting through the overgrowth under the hot sun, machete in hand, Sandra Maria said:

“I can say that participating in this resistance, in this struggle, marked my life and who I am as a person. There is a woman before the forced evictions and a woman after the forced evictions. It changed my way of being a woman and my relationships with my family, of fighting for this community, for our home… It was a learning experience for our family, and I feel that the message passed on to my daughters was one of strength, of a woman who fights, and that it’s possible to win, because we’re still here. A woman’s reality is very difficult, we know that. We live in a sexist, patriarchal society, and every right women have was won through great struggle—even at the cost of many lives… As a mother of three daughters, I feel a sense of fulfillment. We must not accept having our rights taken away or being silenced. Instead, we must roll up our sleeves, fight and claim our spaces, our lives and our freedom.”

Sandra Maria points to the women of Vila Autódromo as the main driving force behind the fight to remain in the community:

“The visible leadership of women is wonderful and is part of the history of Vila Autódromo’s struggle. During the resistance in the period of the forced evictions, this was already something that stood out very strongly. One characteristic of this struggle has always been the significant presence of women. In the fight for the right to housing, women are somehow the majority, [because they are] more connected to the family and to these rights.”

Nathalia Macena, coordinator of the collective action, shared the initiative’s results and its next steps. For her, the most important thing is that the work continue. Showing the organic material separated for disposal, she said:

“The collective action was very productive, even though we didn’t manage to plant seedlings. The most urgent task was clearing the brush, which grows very quickly and which, unfortunately, we can’t keep under control on our own. We often ask Comlurb to trim the brush. Normally, they only do it in the area closest to the hotel. The area where we held the collective action is more neglected and isn’t cleared as often as it should be, so the vegetation grows too high, putting people’s safety at risk—both Vila residents and pedestrians and those using the bike path… It was great to welcome people from other communities and volunteers who heard about our collective action and came to join us. We exchanged experiences, which creates new learning opportunities. Even though the collective action was a one-time activity, it doesn’t end there.”

*The Sustainable Favela Network (SFN) and RioOnWatch are both initiatives realized by not-for-profit organization Catalytic Communities (CatComm).

About the author: Alexandre Cerqueira is a photojournalist, teacher and researcher focused on childhoods in Rio de Janeiro’s favelas and condominiums. Originally from Engenho Novo, in Rio’s North Zone, he holds degrees in International Relations and Education and works in basic education. His work connects education, human rights and communication through photography and audiovisual media. He participated in the SUSI for Student Leaders program, represented Brazil at the UN Youth Assembly and was part of the United Nations Information Centre for Brazil (UNIC Rio).

Support RioOnWatch’s tireless, critical and cutting-edge hyperlocal journalism, online community organizing meetings, and direct support to favelas by clicking here.

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This editorial is part of our series reflecting on the impacts of mega-events on Rio de Janeiro 10 years after the 2016 Olympic Games.

Rio de Janeiro City Hall has been promoting the Rio AI City project at the former Olympic Park site, a proposal that would turn the city into one of the largest data center hubs in Latin America. The argument is that it will increase innovation in the Barra Olímpica neighborhood—officially created in May 2024 and located in the city’s recently renamed Southwest Zone—bringing economic development and integration with the global digital economy. Behind this narrative, however, important questions arise: what type of infrastructure is being built? Who benefits? What are the impacts for those who already live in the city, especially in areas that chronically lack water, electricity and sufficient housing? What lessons can be learned from other cities that have gone through the same process? Were Rio’s residents heard?

What Are Data Centers and Why Do They Consume So Much Electricity?

Data centers are large facilities that store and process the electronic information produced by all of us on the Internet. They hold the data needed to carry out and store everything we do online: social media (such as Instagram and Facebook), streaming services (such as YouTube and Netflix), apps (such as WhatsApp and banking apps) and, increasingly, artificial intelligence (also known as AI, including tools such as ChatGPT and Gemini). For data centers to operate, they require three critical resources: a constant supply of electricity (24 hours per day), cooling systems (which consume enormous amounts of water) and large structures (requiring land).

AI in particular, which has thus far been advancing with little questioning, oversight or regulation, demands an exponential increase in resources for data processing, including electricity, water and land. The water consumption of a data center is equivalent to that of tens of thousands of homes.

What Is the Scale of the Rio Project?

According to Piero Carlo Sclaverano dos Reis, a researcher with the Electric Sector Studies Group at the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro (GESEL/UFRJ), the Rio AI City project could reach an energy demand of up to three gigawatts (GW), a scale comparable to the consumption of large urban regions. For context, this volume exceeds the average load of the Rio de Janeiro metropolitan area, estimated at around 1.8 GW. Similar projects in Brazil already point to this pattern of growth. In other states, data center initiatives may reach up to 5 GW, equivalent to the consumption of cities with millions of inhabitants.

This follows a recurring pattern. Similar projects in other parts of Brazil already consume up to five gigawatts, equivalent to the consumption of cities with millions of inhabitants. These are not small-scale initiatives but large-scale infrastructure that can negatively affect daily life in Brazilian cities, as has already been seen in other parts of the world.

Where Will the Electricity and Water Come From?

This is one of the least answered questions. In requests made by RioOnWatch under Brazil’s Access to Information Law (LAI), Rio de Janeiro City Hall did not provide data on energy consumption, water use or the environmental impacts of data centers in the city. The Municipal Secretariat of Environment and Climate (SMAC) stated that this data does not exist in its systems and that producing it would require additional work. Meanwhile, the Secretariat for Economic Development provided only institutional links, without technical details.

In practice, there is no publicly available information to understand how this project will be sustained or how Rio’s residents will be affected. What we do know is that in other parts of the world, residents in affected areas are the ones paying for the electricity used by data centers. Data analyzed by Bloomberg shows that “electricity now costs as much as 267% more for a single month than it did five years ago in areas located near significant data center activity.”

Who Benefits From These Data Centers?

Despite being built in Brazil, these centers are part of a global infrastructure. They mainly serve large technology companies, digital platforms and artificial intelligence systems. These are not services that will necessarily be used by or benefit the local population. Moreover, although often presented as drivers of development, data centers tend to generate few long-term jobs after construction. This is because they are highly automated, technology-intensive structures that require little labor for maintenance.

Why Do Companies Want To Set Up Data Centers in the Global South?

Studies indicate a pattern of three factors sought by data center companies: relatively cheap energy, water availability and flexible laws. Compared to the Global North (the US, Europe, etc.), countries in the so-called Global South (Latin America, Africa and parts of Asia) tend to have lower operating costs, often with more flexible laws and, in some cases, higher levels of corruption.

This model feeds into the concept of digital colonialism, discussed by researchers such as Deivison Faustino, a professor at the Federal University of São Paulo (Unifesp). According to Faustino, countries in the Global South bear the environmental and territorial impacts of technological infrastructure, while the economic benefits remain concentrated in countries where Big Tech headquarters are located in the Global North.

Is the World Moving Steadily in Favor of More Data Centers, or Are some Stepping on the Brakes?

Not everywhere is open to the construction of data centers. Due to the high costs they impose on local communities—particularly in terms of the power grid, water security and urban land use priorities—resistance has been growing in the Global North, where the technology originated. In Ireland and the Netherlands, local governments even suspended the building of new data centers due to pressure on electricity grids, environmental impacts and a lack of planning by companies. In the United States, the expansion of data centers has sparked debates about the need to slow their growth in order to better understand their impacts. Eleven US states are currently considering regulations, and over 100 communities have already banned the development of new data centers. In different parts of the world, communities and experts point out that these structures are putting pressure on local water and energy systems, as well as requiring significant adaptations to urban infrastructure.

Data Centers in Rio Already Show Few Benefits to the Local Population

Rio AI City aims to become the largest hub in Latin America, but there are already other data centers in the city, particularly in the North Zone. Ascenty operates two data centers in the Pavuna neighborhood, on the border with Greater Rio’s Baixada Fluminense region. One has an energy capacity of ten megawatts and a total area of approximately 7,000 m², while the other has an energy capacity of three megawatts and around 3,500 m². Both are located in an area of the city known for water shortages and power outages, affecting residents of Complexo da Pedreira, Chapadão, Morro da Lagartixa and other nearby favelas.

In addition to these, there is a data center in the Del Castilho neighborhood, where Equinix built RJ2. The company also operates another data center in Botafogo, in the South Zone—RJ1. In 2025, it opened a third facility, this time in Greater Rio, in the city of São João de Meriti.

Also in the North Zone, but at the opposite end, near its boundary with the city center, Cirion operates in the São Cristóvão neighborhood. The site houses the RIO1 and RIO2 data center complexes. According to the company, the facility has a potential energy demand of 80 megawatts in the heart of a region with favelas such as Tuiuti, Barreira do Vasco and Caju, which have historically faced power outages, water shortages and a lack of sanitation.

Since these are areas in the Metropolitan Region that already face chronic water shortages, power outages, inadequate sanitation and limited mobility, the introduction of resource-intensive projects raises concerns and fuels fears of real estate pressure and rising prices, new environmental impacts and the repetition of harmful processes from the pre-Olympic period, such as forced evictions.

More than technology, this is a debate about priorities—including whether we, as a society, want to give AI this much free rein. Investing in data centers means deciding where our electricity goes, who uses the water and how the city’s land is occupied. While many cariocas face a housing deficit, a lack of basic infrastructure and limited access to essential services, why guarantee all of this to Big Tech data centers? What are our public priorities: the right of residents to their own city or the profits of foreign companies?

Is Rio Ready for This Type of Project?

At present, there is still no answer to this question. There is not enough publicly available data. There has been no debate open to the population at large.

It is important to understand, however, that this is a context in which Rio and Brazil are part of a broader debate about the expected role of countries in the Global South in the digital economy.

The expansion of data centers in developing countries can, to some extent, be compared to the dynamic observed in the 1990s, when wealthier nations began exporting waste to poorer countries. In both cases there is, on the one hand, a logic of shifting costs and impacts and, on the other, a concentration of profits and dividends. While some countries concentrate economic and technological benefits, receiving nations take on significant burdens: pressure on natural resources, increased energy consumption, environmental impacts and structural dependency. Just as waste exports were often justified by promises of development and income generation, the push to attract data centers relies on narratives of modernization and integration into the global economy.

Specifically in the Brazilian case, this trend is also being justified by the availability of hydroelectric energy considered clean in terms of its carbon footprint, as well as by the potential expansion of the renewable energy mix (solar and wind). However, reliance on hydropower and the intensive use of water make the system vulnerable to periods of drought. When the next water crisis hits, who will face water and power outages in Rio de Janeiro: Rio AI City or favelas and peripheral areas?

In this context, the lack of information, transparency, public participation and integrated planning makes one thing clear: it is urgent to pause and hold an open, broad public debate to define collectively what role these technologies will play in Rio de Janeiro.

Editorial written in collaboration with Felipe Migliani.

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