The Difference of “Voluntary” Work in Cuba and Brazil
HAVANA TIMES – One of the most traumatic memories I have from my life in Cuba is of those so-called “voluntary” workdays that weren’t really voluntary at all—because if you didn’t show up, you could receive a public reprimand, a minor sanction, or even be permanently removed from your job.
That’s why, after having freed myself from that prison, experiencing something similar in this country might seem absurd. But is it really?
Brazilians use the word mutirão to refer to a collective action, without pay, in which a task is carried out or a problem is solved, generally for the benefit of everyone involved.
It’s said that the term comes from the Tupi word motyˈrõ, meaning “work in common.”
This past Saturday, the pastors at my church invited us to a mutirão to clean an area that will be used for meetings and jiu-jitsu classes, among other things. It’s a space that was restructured and was previously a car wash.
Normally, I find it hard to respond to this kind of call, because I’m usually exhausted after each workday and have very little free time—but this time was different, because I was on vacation.
We worked on organizing the place, throwing out old furniture, pieces of pipes and construction debris, and we cleaned the floor a bit so that others could paint the walls.
I worked for about four hours, after which I felt really good. No one forced me to do it, and I didn’t even do it out of gratitude for the people who helped us when we arrived in this city with empty pockets.
The church was saving some money by not having to hire a crew to do the work we did, but it certainly could have afforded it—so it wasn’t a case of helping someone in need.
Did I do it for convenience? Because my family will benefit from this new space? Well, it’s true that we will—but I could’ve easily made up an excuse and stayed home enjoying a good movie under the covers. No one would’ve noticed.
So then, why did I do it? What makes this different?
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in recent years, it’s the joy that comes from doing good, from being in solidarity and having a sense of community—but not like in Cuba, where we were blackmailed into participating.