Benedita, the fighter from Vassouras

The voice belonged to Joaquim Lacerda, owner of the quinta de Santo António, an average coffee farm of 320 hectares, with around eighty forced laborers.

Joaquim was a little over fifty years old. His hair was graying, his beard was neat, his clothes simple but clean. He was neither one of the richest nor one of the most powerful. He was a man who survived on a land in debt, calculating every expense, every harvest, every possible loss.

The other buyers laughed. Seven cents for this woman they considered unusable. In their eyes, Joaquim was becoming senile.

The auctioneer, relieved not to have to return the goods, struck the hammer. Benedita was sold.

Joaquim climbed onto the platform, took the chain attached to his ankle and took it away. She followed him without speaking, her expression blank.

They walked three kilometers to the quinta. Joaquim was walking on his old bay horse. Benedita followed on foot, chained, her feet bleeding on the dirt road.

When they arrived, the sun was setting. The sky was tinged with orange and purple. Joaquim dismounted, tied him up, then led Benedita straight to the barn.

An unexpected proposal

The barn was a large wooden building where tools, coffee bags and a few animals were stored. Joaquim closed the door, lit an kerosene lamp, then sat down on a stool.

He observed Benedita for a long time before asking a simple question:

“You know how to read? “

She didn’t answer.

He tried again:

“You know how to fight? “

This time, something flashed in his eyes. Almost nothing, but enough for Joaquim to notice.

He went to get a large hunting blade, held it by the metal part and stretched the handle towards it. Benedita didn’t take it. She looked at him suspiciously.

Joaquim then placed the blade on the ground, between them, and stepped back.

He explained to her that he didn’t want to hurt her or send her to the fields. He had another plan, but he needed her to trust him a little, at least for tonight.w

He then told her his story. Ten years earlier, he had had an only son, Vicente, an intelligent and courageous boy. One day, on their way back from the city, they were attacked by bandits. Vicente tried to defend his father and was stabbed in the chest. He had died in Joaquim’s arms.