Of Chips and Millstones

Most people thought that my purpose here in Brazil was to help with the church. Some, like myself, thought that I came here to learn Portuguese, experience a different culture, and observe people from a different church background. As it turns out my only purpose here so far has been to corrupt the young people of the church in Campo Grande. I last week I received a call from one of my friends here in Brazil. He wanted to know if I wanted to play a game. I had no plans so I jumped at the chance to get out into the city. I asked, “ What kind of game.”

He replied, “Ogre.”

Now I had no idea what ogre was so, being an avid Sherlock Holmes fan (both the literary and the cinematic versions), I attempted to deduce what ogre could possibly be. I didn’t have many clues. It was around eight in the evening, already dark, and rather cold. Campo Grande, Brazil, gets one week of legitimate winter weather a year. I happen to be here during that week. When I say cold I mean it hit thirty-two degrees that night. The day before it was sunny and eighty. I don’t have any warm clothes. Through an intense session of concentration and reasoning I’d narrowed it down to a game that took place inside. I realize this wasn’t an impressive conclusion, but I’m not Sherlock Holmes. My friend arrived and we drove to his house to meet up with four young people from the church. We cleared the table in preparation for ogre. As my friend put two decks of cards and some poker chips in place of the plates he asked me, “Do you know how to play ogre?”

“You mean poker?”

“Ah, yes, poker!”

“Of course I know how to play poker?”

“Can you teach us?”

I’m still not sure what they would’ve done had I not been there because none of them actually knew anything about poker. Anyways, I began to teach these five, naive, innocent people the art of gambling in Portuguese. I realize speaking in Portuguese doesn’t justify the fact that I corrupted five people simultaneously, but it has to be better than corrupting people in English. I explained the different hands, which were better, and other things pertaining to the game. They asked if we were playing for money to which I promptly replied, “Absolutely not, I’ve done enough damage as it is.”

To make things worse the house we were playing at is used as a church on Sundays. The owner is the preacher. He walked and, upon seeing what was taking place said, “The church has been turned into a den of robbers.” He was laughing when he said it, but I got the feeling he was about to go braid himself a whip. That joke was for all my fellow bible nerds. The Brazilian people are incredibly kind until you get them behind the wheel of a car or playing soccer. It turns out it is the same with poker. They were vicious. I dealt the entire time and didn’t play. It would’ve been hilarious had my soul not been in peril.

After a couple hours of poker they wanted to play porco, which means pig in Portuguese. It’s a lot like spoons except when you lose one letter of the word porco is written on your arm. Once the word is entirely written you have to crawl on all fours and oink. I told them we played it with knives instead of spoons in the states, which was a lie, but they believed it and think we are all insane. Then I told them a story about how my entire family played a game of spoons. There were around thirty of us and I specifically remember my grandmother, Rita, wrestling on of my cousins for the last spoon. You better believe grandma wiped the floor with him. That was a true story, but the Brazilians didn’t believe it. Apparently playing a game with knives that would leave you fingerless is more believable than true stories about my family.

The night ended well past midnight and we all prepared to go home. As I was leaving they all thanked me for teaching them how to play poker. I was reminded of a verse found in Matthew 18:6. It says, “But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.” At least we didn’t play for money right? Well as I was getting into the car that was going to take be back to Zanatta’s house they asked if I knew how to play billiards. That millstone started to get heavy.