Even the clouds appeared to be drawing their energy from the land — or so it seemed from my perspective from the passenger seat traveling the Brazilian countryside. Mile after mile revealed expansive fields of sugarcane, a source of ethanol,…
Give me your rings!
Aliança! Aliança! That’s the word the hooded young men wielding guns kept saying. How did they know that’s who we were, I wondered? We were the Aliança de Batistas do Brasil. How could these strangers know that?