THE BIG READ: A World Cup Special

As Brazil prepares for the World Cup, Rio de Janeiro has worked to tame the crime-ridden favelas, but at what cost? asks Mac Margolis.

THE other day I stopped into my neighbourhood bistro for a bite. It’s usually a laid-back place, with a great jazz soundtrack, but when two guys in dark suits walked in the mood chilled. They were “fiscais” — Rio shorthand for city inspectors — snooping for irregularities. Proprietors in Rio de Janeiro dread these sorts of visits: Fiscais always find something. They might be persuaded to look the other way, for a price. Brazilians call it wetting the official hand.

With Brazil in the global headlights, and 600,000 foreigners expected for next month’s World Cup, hands are getting wetter. “My blood freezes when I see them,” whispered the bistro manager as the suits marched into the kitchen. “You work hard, follow the rules and still you get taken advantage of. Makes you want to join the protests.”