Chap 2

 That determined, extraordinary woman was my grandmother, Minervina, later changed to Minelvina, when she applied for Portuguese citizenship. As a little girl growing up in the town of Cacapava, right out side of Sao Paulo, Brazil, she probably never dreamed of the path that she would one day take. She grew up poor. I don't even know if she ever went to school but the fact that she didn't read or write makes me believe that she didn't. She told my Dad many stories of her home in Brazil. She told him stories of the wild cats, probably jaguars, that would follow them home and how her mother used to warn her to keep walking and to never stop until she got home, or else the cat would catch her if she stopped. She told him once of the snake they had found in the jungle, that was in the midst of digesting a man that had gone missing a week before. She said from time to time, they would always come across a snake that had eaten a farm animal. She didn't know what they were called, but I imagine an anaconda in the Brazilian jungle. A life lived in the wild. I used to love listening to those stories. 

She used to talk about her grandmother who was part of her own Underground Railroad of sorts. I don't know what it was called back then, if it even had a name, but I'm sure something like it existed. She was known for helping escaped slaves, at least in their circles. She would clothe them, feed them, and hide them from those that were out looking for them. Those men would come knocking, and even though the family would be in such peril if they were caught lying, she would always say she hadn't seen anyone. They would come in the middle of the night searching for her, desperately in need of help. It was a stop that they would make while on their journey to freedom. I wish I could find some kind of confirmation, but who knows. She deserves a story of her own. 

As a teen, she met my grandfather, a recent immigrant from Portugal. I wonder sometimes about their story. How did they meet, how long they courted, was it a love story? So much we don't know. I wish I would've had the opportunity to ask her all these questions. They eventually married in a small church in Chavantes, Sao Paulo, and continued to live in Brazil. My grandfather was a builder of the common one room house, made of wood, found at that time in that area, and that's how he made his living. Their first three children were born there, three little girls, Maria, Joaquina, and Isaura.  

At some point, my grandfather decided to take his new family and travel back to his birthplace, Portugal, and continue their lives there. What made him decide to travel all that way? Was he homesick? Were they struggling? At that time, there were many people struggling to survive there, so who knows. That little girl from Brazil, my grandmother, was about to set sail on quite an adventure. An adventure that would take her across the globe to a new continent, knowing that she was leaving her family and all that she's ever known behind and she would probably never see them again. I can't imagine the trepidation, excitement, or anxiety that she may've been feeling at the time. Especially, it turns out, after reaching her destination, the realization that it was going to be a new life that she was not accustomed to. She lived most of her life outside of Sao Paulo, a bustling and fast paced city, alive with so many different people. The heartbeat of Brazil.  Her new destination was very much the opposite of all of that. A very quiet, less populated, slow moving, town. It must've been a shock for her at first. 

They reach Portugal, and they settle not too far from my grandfather's birthplace, a small village named, Alveijar, a mountainous area overlooking the main town of Porto de Mos. They settle on a modest farm with some land and my grandfather starts to build a home. He builds a similar home that he had been accustomed to building back in Brazil. A one room wooden styled structure. Recently, I have been searching for any images on the internet of what that may've looked like. The only structures I've seen is what looks like the modern day favela in Brazil. After some years, they build a bigger home to accommodate their growing family. They eventually would have 14 children. Three children died in infancy, no one knows the exact cause and one, my aunt Joaquina, passed away in her early twenties, from a fall that had left her bedridden. My Dad was five when she passed away, he remembers sitting on the floor by her bed while she spoke and played with him. He always used to say that unfortunately she lived in a time where medicine was quite limited. In todays world, it probably was something simple, that wouldn't have taken her life. 

They lived off of their land, like any typical farming family. My grandfather's land was rich with olive trees and he made olive oil, best in the area I'm told, they made wine, and sold much of what they cultivated. My Dad always talked about his childhood, I feel like he missed those times a great deal. A simpler time.