_A Source of Light and Power_
São Paulo is rich in the possession of an abnormal number of waterfalls
and rapids--in fact for its size it is in this respect the richest state
in the world. Much of the power that flows over these rapids has already
been utilised and does an enormous amount of work, and more is destined
in the future to be harnessed to supply the increasing demands of
industry. Rivers and streams rise in the great Serro do Mar, and flow
over a hilly country, encountering so many changes of level that
innumerable falls and rapids are the result. One of these rivers, the
Tieté, which rises in the hills not far from Santos, flows in a
north-westerly direction till it joins the Parana. There are many falls
in this river, sometimes situated so close together that in the course
of half a mile several may be counted. At one fall near the little
country village of Parnahyba, about twenty-two miles as the crow flies
from the capital, a power station has been erected, and at it sufficient
electric power is generated to run the extensive tramway and lighting
systems of the whole city. The plant belongs to the São Paulo Light and
Power Company--one of the largest business concerns in South America.
The Sorocabana Railway runs along the green banks of the river from São
Paulo, and passes a little wayside station called Baruery. Here all the
material and supplies for the power station are unloaded, and all life
that centres round the station is connected in some way with the Light
and Power Company. Goats, fowls, and children run wild round the trains
when they come to a standstill in the little station, although there are
but few habitations to give indications of a settlement. A long drive
over undulating dull red roads that wind round hills and alongside the
river brings the visitor to the power station, which is built in the
dry bed of the diverted river. Upon a beautifully wooded hill stands the
manager’s house, overlooking hills and valleys of rare beauty.
The power house stands below a reservoir, which is connected by three
enormous iron pipes with the dam 2200 feet higher up the river. Two of
these pipes are twelve feet in diameter, the remaining one fifteen feet,
and through them the water rushes to feed the reservoir immediately
above the station. Short, thick pipes lead the water into the seven
large turbine generators which together develop over thirty thousand
horse-power. The current generated is received at a pressure of 2300
volts and transformed to 40,000 for transmission across the twenty-two
miles of line to the city, where it is again transformed at the
distributing station to a voltage suitable to the requirements of
consumers. All along the river’s banks the natives were early taught by
the Jesuits to construct small water-mills for crushing their sugar
cane, and although these primitive “power stations” still exist in
considerable numbers, the owners of them are amazed that the power they
have used for so long should be able, by passing through the turbines,
to accomplish the mighty feat of driving 200 large cars over 100 miles
of streets at almost any speed, as well as turning the heavy machinery
of factories and mills many miles away. The numerous workshops for
repairing the machinery of the station employ a small army of nearly 200
men, and the Brazilians, Spaniards, Portuguese, Italians, Germans, who
form this staff are housed in the picturesque little village of
Parnahyba, which nestles on a hill-side about a quarter of a mile away.
A typical country church stands on the sloping village square, and is
the only building of any importance in it. It is fairly well built, but
decorated with the cheap, garish ornaments that attract the untrained
eye. In front of the high altar paper flowers, in inferior china vases,
and cheap candles embellish the shrines of the velvet-robed plaster
saints. Poor lithographs, all highly coloured, mark the stations of the
cross. Confessionals, open at the top and sides, barely conceal the
priests who listen to the recital of the villagers’ lapses from grace.
Outside, groups of orange trees grow round the little bamboo dwellings,
while further down the hill the river, released from its labour at the
power house, rushes past, making a cheerful music. The trees harbour
birds of myriad hues, the
[Illustration: THE POWER STATION.]
river teems with fish. Long canoes lie alongside the grassy banks, and
children play upon the shores happy and free from care. In the evenings
and on feast days the village is full of animation; men and women gather
in little groups and gossip, the latter smoking pipes, which are
considered effeminate by the men, who prefer cigars and cigarettes.
Horse and cattle kind are plentiful, and the men amuse themselves with
races upon a small scale. “Caipiras,” as the small farmers are called,
are experts on the course, and have much of the trickiness and low
cunning that long contact with horseflesh is believed by many to
engender.
A racing story is told in the locality about an Englishman who owned a
horse he was eager to match against all comers. A day and course were
fixed upon, but, to the surprise of outsiders, the race was won by an
old “caipira,” whose steed was heavily backed by the punters on the
course. The crestfallen and astonished “Ingleze” did not discover till
long after his defeat that the winner was an old race-horse that had
been surreptitiously obtained from São Paulo for the purpose of taking
down his boastful pride. It was the last appearance of an English owner
on the Parnahyba race-course, and the natives chuckle to this day over
the way the old “caipira” soaked the “Ingleze.” A few days spent at the
manager’s house on the hill are full of interest, and the details of the
day’s work in connection with the station provide ample topics of
conversation. Watchful attention has to be given night and day to the
great installation, for lightning storms occur frequently, and may at
any moment cause a slight disturbance of the transmission, which, but
for the reserve steam power station in the city, would envelop the town
in darkness, bring the whole tramway service to a standstill, and stop
thousands of machines which are dependent upon the station for driving
power. Telephones connect the distributing with the power station, and
the latter with the manager’s house, and even his bedroom is provided
with an alarum which can rouse him at any moment from his slumber. The
Light and Power Company of São Paulo have acquired many concessions
along the Tieté, and other rivers and sites for future stations have
already been fixed upon--two at Pirapora, and one, where construction
has been going on for some time, at Sorocaba, about three miles distant
from Parnahyba. Surveyors and engineers are at work planning another
station at Pau d’Alho, so that the rapid developments which are taking
place in the State will not catch this enterprising company napping. At
Pirapora, not far from the village, there is a Roman Catholic convent
where a dozen priests under the direction of a bishop are housed. The
building itself is new, but the site was occupied by one of the earliest
Jesuit mission stations in the State. The church, Bom Jesus de Pirapora,
in the village of about 1500 inhabitants, has an extensive fame, not
only in the State of São Paulo, but in others lying at a great
distance, for it has a reputation for miraculous cures. It is the
Lourdes of Brazil. The great annual pilgrimage to this shrine attracts
thousands of afflicted persons, lame, halt, deformed, and blind, who
walk from great distances, enduring many hardships and suffering
privations with astonishing fortitude. Many die on the way, but the
thousands of photographs preserved in the church are evidence of the
numbers who have visited the spot, and these pictures of the cured, with
their crutches and bandages, serve to advertise the virtues of the
shrine. A legend exists in Pirapora to the effect that Christ rose from
out the river some years ago, and the authority of the church supports
and spreads the myth. At the annual gathering of the pilgrims, bishops
and priests from distant parishes are present in great numbers,
encouraging the patients with advice, and administering healing slaps on
the faces and bodies of the victims to accelerate the cures. Many of the
natives of Pirapora have never left the precincts of the little village,
and spend their lives in ignorance of the ways of the great city not
fifty miles away. The priests still exercise a powerful influence over
their lives, and girls and unmarried women are kept indoors and out of
the public gaze with Oriental strictness. A curious market is held
outside the church on Sunday mornings and on festa days. The priests
hold an auction, and horses, cattle, goats, pigs, chickens, flour, rice,
vegetables, fruit, furniture, and innumerable odds and ends are offered
for sale and knocked down to the highest bidder. The proceeds of these
sales go into the coffers of the church, and as the stock sold is the
gift of the people this is their way of supporting their religion. This
system is prevalent throughout the country, and in many districts it
becomes a sort of “fair,” at which all kinds of little stalls, covered
with bunting and adorned with flags, are set up to provide refreshment
to the holiday crowd. Firework displays wind up the day, and as all the
squibs, rockets, and roman candles are home-made, the uncertainty of the
behaviour of each separate piece gives an added zest to the spectators.
At the church auctions strange lots are sometimes offered to the public;
mysterious parcels, without any marks or signs to give indications of
their contents, occasionally fetch high prices, and on being opened
disclose some ludicrous object such as a baby’s feeding-bottle or
rattle. A bunch of wild flowers, gathered and given by some village
beauty, will generally cause excited bidding by her admirers, who
compete with extravagant bids against one another, until it is knocked
down at an absurdly high figure. There is plenty of sport to be had
along the river’s bank, and hunting parties make good bags of birds,
monkeys, carpincha, and occasional deer. Fishing is also a popular and
profitable sport with the natives, who are not too partial to strenuous
exertion. Most of the workers on the small farms own their land, and the
crops of maize, sugar, and rice provide a comfortable and easily
obtained livelihood. From the sugar juice a highly intoxicating liquor
called “pinga” is distilled, and sold in kegs to the small stores, who
retail it to the public at about 20 reis a glass (less than a farthing
English money), a price that brings it within the reach of all, and
contributes largely to its popularity. This fiery brand is responsible
for much of the crime that takes place in the country. A tragedy
attributable to pinga occurred some little time back at Parnahyba, which
for about a fortnight was full of speculation as to the cause. One of
the great gates that guard the entrance to the water conduits leading
from the upper dam to the reservoir had become jammed, and a diver was
sent down to ascertain the cause. It was noticed that he had taken a peg
or two of pinga before he donned his helmet, but little heed was given
at the time to this not unusual proceeding. He soon came up from his
first examination, and reported the position, which necessitated the
attachment of a strong wire rope to the damaged door, in order that it
might be pulled back into its proper place. The diver descended again,
taking the end of the stout rope with him, and for a long time the men
at the pump went on turning to supply him with air. After an hour had
gone by without a sign of the diver they grew alarmed, and pulled at the
communication cord without receiving any answering signal. Two more
divers were telegraphed for from Santos, and until they arrived the
following day the pump was kept going, in the hope that the unfortunate
man was alive, but perhaps entangled with some obstruction which
prevented him from coming to the surface or from replying to their
repeated signals. All that the newly arrived divers could discover, when
they descended, however, was that the air supply pipe to the missing man
led over the jammed gates into the great pipe, and that it was divided;
the victim must be somewhere in the long 2000 feet tube. Search was made
in the reservoir above the
[Illustration: THE FALLS OF PARNAHYBA.]
power station, but no sign of the missing man could be discovered. The
excitement in the village grew to fever pitch, and spread to the
inhabitants along the river’s bank. Endless suggestions and theories
were forthcoming as to what had happened and the means to be taken to
clear up the mystery, which puzzled the wisest and most expert opinion.
One theory set up and spread by the subtle-minded labourers was that the
missing man had slipped out of his suit underwater, and had, under cover
of the darkness, made his way to a distant part of the river, and there
he had climbed out and escaped, his object being to get compensation for
his widow and children. This theory spread, in spite of its absurdity,
for the simple folk recalled the case of a man who conspired to have his
effigy burnt in a fire that took place in another part of the country,
and whose supposed widow got insurance money, which the supposed victim
and his fellow-conspirators shared among them. Other theories, no less
ridiculous, were current, and the superstitions of the natives were
aroused, when one of the night watchmen refused further duty at the
tragic spot, alleging that he had seen the ghost of the diver emerge
from the water and hover round the spot, and it was only when the body
of the missing man floated to the surface of the reservoir, a fortnight
later, that an end was put to the endless surmises and stupid
conjectures that were the talk of the whole neighbourhood.