Nadya’s Nights: Road to Vengeance

Night Three: Settling Scores

Chapter Forty-One: Orphaned

by Indy McDaniel

Copyright © 2009 Indy McDaniel

Nadya hated the bed.

It was flat, hard, and uncomfortable as hell.

Other eight-year-old girls might have complained about the fact that it was flat out ugly.  Nadya didn’t much care for the aesthetics of the bed, one way or the other.  The comfort level of it, on the other hand, was much more important to her.

After all, how could you get a decent night’s rest when you were essentially lying on a plank of wood?

The pillow was filled with lumps and the blanket, if it could actually be called that, had more than a couple holes in it and – even without them – was so thin that keeping the night chills at bay wasn’t something it was capable of doing.

If asked about how her experience was going at Nikolaevna’s Orphanage for Lost Children was going, Nadya would have responded with, “Shitty.”

‘Shitty’ may not have been a traditional response for an eight-year-old girl to respond with but the sleeping arrangements weren’t the only thing not up to par at Nikolaevna’s.

The orphanage was under-funded and over-crowded.  There were five adults working there and an estimated fifty or more children of varying ages.  The kids picked up the curses from the over-worked adults and then they spread through the group like wildfire.  The excessive amount of cursing may have been one of the reasons why the adoption rate at Nikolaevna’s was so low.

Not too many prospective parents wanted a child to tell them that someone was acting like a ‘cunt-licking ass-fucker’.

Nadya had been at the orphanage since she was four.  She couldn’t remember much of anything before coming to Nikolaevna’s.  She’d been told by Olga, the woman in charge of the orphanage, that she was in a better place.

Nadya found that hard to believe.

Despite her lack of age, she was quite the cynic.  Not that the other children at the orphanage were much better.

Nikolaevna’s was like a crash course in the cold, hard reality of life, the world and everything.  The lessons taught were that life sucked, people sucked even harder and if you wanted something, you’d best learn to fight for it, otherwise you wouldn’t get it and, even worse, you’d have what little you had taken from you by someone bigger and stronger.

The plan of action Nadya had found best to stick to was to keep as low a profile as possible.  It wasn’t hard since she wasn’t a very noticeable figure.  She was small enough, even for her age, that she managed to slink around and not get spotted.  There were altercations, still, but not nearly as bad as some of the other kids got.

Lying on the uncomfortable bed, Nadya found sleep hard to come by.  It usually was, but this night was even worse.  There was more on her mind than just discomfort and colorful new words to describe her shitty living arrangements.

A new boy had arrived at the orphanage earlier that day, which meant that the grand total of children was probably now closer to sixty than fifty.  Normally, every new face that arrived was enough to send all the kids into similar grimaces and low-volumed cursings – Nadya included.  More children meant less food and space to go around.
Instead of calling the boy a ‘limp-dicked cocksucker’ and wanting to push him into something sharp, Nadya instead found herself thinking about him in much kinder ways.  Despite what his presence meant for her and the rest of the children, she couldn’t help liking him.  She’d never had a crush before, but she knew about them.  They were quite frequent in the orphanage, really.

Some of the older children at the orphanage, in their teens, were definitely having sex.  That was a concept Nadya wasn’t entirely clear on but supposedly it was something fun to do with someone you had a crush on.

If there was one cardinal rule at the orphanage amongst the kids, though, it was that, nobody got to have a crush on the new kid.  It didn’t matter who they were, what they looked like, how nice they were.  New kid meant more hardship for everyone else, which in turn meant that the rest of them gave the new kid even worse hardships to deal with.

The hazings were brutal at best.

A number of new arrivals hadn’t lasted through them, running away or, in at least two instances that Nadya had been witness to, suicide.

Nadya had a seven-inch scar that stretched down the left side of her ribcage.  A large, older girl had taken a sharp piece of stone and attempted to ‘cut her fucking flat tits off’.  Being just over four years old, Nadya hadn’t been quite clear as to what exactly ‘tits’ were or why the other girl wanted to cut hers off, but she did know it hurt badly and bled a lot.

One of the adults had luckily found her before the offending girl had finished her cutting and Nadya had been treated to a lot of stitches and several weeks apart from the rest of the children.  Luckily, in that time, two new arrivals had come to the orphanage, so Nadya had moved further down the hit list.

The new boy – his name was Pavel – had arrived late that day, just before bedtime, so none of the other kids had a chance to terrorize him yet.  Nadya was dreading the next day probably more than Pavel was.  After all, the boy didn’t know what was in store for him.

Nadya did.

Normally, she was content to just stepping aside and letting the others do what they did.  She didn’t get involved for the most part.  If a new kid approached her and there were others looking, she’d be forced to do something mean, just to avoid getting anything done to her, but she didn’t really take much pleasure in it, like some of the others.

Nadya stared up at the dark ceiling above her head, feeling exhausted but unable to get her mind to shut off.  For the first time in the four years she’d been at the orphanage, she actually felt bad about what was going to happen to one of the new arrivals.

One of the discussions a group of the kids had had a while back was about love, mainly to criticize and mock it.  The concept of ‘love at first sight’ had come up briefly.  It was generally agreed by all involved in the conversation that the idea was bullshit.  One of the older kids had remarked that all it meant was that you wanted to fuck the shit out of the person.

Personally, Nadya wasn’t sure why anyone would actually want to fuck someone to the point of having them shit but there were a lot of things the older kids said that she didn’t quite understand.

She was positive she did not, in fact, want to fuck the shit out of Pavel.  But that love at first sight thing, she wasn’t too certain one way or the other.

She let out a long sigh and tried rolling over in the bed to find a more comfortable position.  All she succeeded in doing was making the bed creak loudly and another girl lying somewhere else in the room told her to ‘stick a fork up her cunt’.

Nadya considered getting up to smother the girl with her lumpy pillow.  Her exhaustion convinced her that it’d be best to just remain in bed.

Her anger at the foul-mouthed bitch faded as her thoughts turned back to Pavel.  Whether or not she was actually in love with him or not, which she did admit was pretty ridiculous to think that she could be in love with a boy she’d only seen for a grand total of maybe a minute before getting shuffled off to the sleeping quarters, she wanted to somehow keep him from getting tortured and humiliated for however long it took the rest of the children to more or less accept his presence at the orphanage.

Well, there is one way, Nadya thought to herself, finally feeling sleep start to creep up on her.

There’d be hell to pay, but what the hell?

Lesson Number One at Nikolaevna’s Orphanage for Lost Children was Life Is Hell.  If not for you, then for the other person.

And who’s to say Nadya couldn’t bring a little hell to the others in turn?

A light smile formed on her face as her eyes drifted closed and she fell into a sleep far more restful than she’d managed to obtain in four years.

*    *    *    *

The next morning, Nadya awoke before the rest of the children.  It hadn’t been planned.  Her eyes just snapped open and even though she was pretty sure she’d only been asleep for a few hours, she felt fully rested.  Her dreams, which were usually filled with random visions of things that weren’t very pleasant, this time didn’t haunt her.
There was a fleeting image but it was hard to focus on and was gone before she could trace it back to the rest of the dream she’d been having.  She did know it wasn’t a bad dream, and that Pavel had been there.

As she sat up in bed, Nadya found herself of the opinion that love at first sight involved more than just wanting to fuck fecal matter out of a person.

Aside from another brief creaking, which this time didn’t manage to stir any of the other girls in the room, Nadya was silent as she got up and slipped her worn shoes on before moving across the room and exiting.  The sun was just barely creeping through the windows, which meant that she was probably the only one up.

Now she just had to find Pavel.

He’d looked about her age, maybe a year or two older, so that meant he was probably in the communal sleeping area for boys aged five to ten.  Nadya’s plan of staying unnoticed and away from as many of the other children as possible had allowed her to explore most of the orphanage and find out where all the rooms were, so she didn’t have much trouble finding the one she was after.

Peeking into the room, she confirmed that none of the boys were awake yet.  She crept in and started to look from bed to bed, searching out Pavel.  She found him towards the back of the room and for several long moments, she stood over him, looking down at his sleeping form.

He was lying on his back, mouth half open and head tilted to the side a bit.  His chest rose and fell slowly.  He looked so peaceful.  Despite the various curse words that were frequently used to describe the various things in the orphanage, Nadya found herself thinking of another word to describe Pavel that very rarely, if ever, came up.

Beautiful.

Without realizing it, Nadya’s hand had reached out for the boy’s face.  She caught herself before stroking her fingers along his cheek and instead lowered her hand to his shoulder, giving him a soft shake.  He woke suddenly, blinking the sleep from his eyes and trying to focus them on Nadya.

She put a finger to her lips, signaling him to remain quiet and crouched down next to the bed.  “I’m Nadya,” she said, keeping her voice as low as possible so not to wake any of the other boys.  “I want to help you.”

Pavel’s expression was one of confusion.  His mouth was open, trying to form a response, but Nadya continued before he could.  “You don’t know about this place, do you?”

He closed his mouth and shook his head.

Nadya’s jaw tightened.  He looked so innocent.  She didn’t know where he’d come from or why he was here, but she knew he didn’t deserve what fate had in store for him.

“The others.  They’re going to hate you.  Probably for a while.  They’ll hurt you.  I don’t want that.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked, and she finally got to hear his voice.  Another word unfamiliar to her surroundings came to her.

Angelic.

And before she could stop herself, her hand did move up and touch his cheek gently.

“I’m going to help,” she said.  “I’m going to keep them from hurting you.”  Nadya glanced around.  A few of the other boys in the room were starting to stir.  “C’mon.  We’re going outside.”

She watched him sit up and fumble with his shoes, her eyes shifting from him to the other boys.  Once he was ready, she took hold of his hand and led him out of the room quickly.

*    *    *    *

The orphanage was a large, square-shaped building with an inner courtyard.  The inner courtyard was what was technically referred to as the ‘playground’, although not much playing went on out there.  There were some wooden picnic tables set up that weren’t exactly the safest places to sit, for fear of splinters, rusty nails or, better yet, the entire thing collapsing due to rotten wood.  A swing set with only one functional swing was off in one corner, along with a rusted metal slide that deposited the slider into a pit of dirt and rocks.

There were several trees, all of them dead.

The only plant-life was a few weeds that had sprouted up along the edges of the courtyard near the walls of the orphanage.

The courtyard was where the children spent most of their time.  The adults would have claimed it was because it gave the kids more time to play, but really it was more likely that the courtyard was the most secure area of the orphanage.  It made it more difficult for children to run away and easier for the single supervisor on duty to keep an eye on any scuffles.

Although that wasn’t always a guarantee that the supervisor would come to the rescue of any child in need of it.

Despite all that, there was enough open space in the courtyard that Nadya wouldn’t have to worry about getting cornered.  It was about the best place she could think of to make a stand against the ranks of other children in the orphanage.

Fighting through almost sixty other children, most of them older and bigger than her, probably wasn’t the most brilliant of plans but she was running on instinct and young love.

She stood in front of Pavel, between him and the doors leading into the courtyard, as the first of the others started to file out.

From the looks on their faces, the boys that came out first had been curious as to where the new arrival had gotten to.  They were already annoyed at having their fresh meat escape them and when they found him in the courtyard with the scrawny blonde girl in their way, their annoyance quickly turned to anger and, in some cases, amusement.

None of them approached her though.  Not yet.  More and more of the children piled out into the courtyard.

Finally, it was the larger girl who’d taken the piece of stone to Nadya’s chest who approached.  Since then, Nadya had learned her name was Inga.  She wore an ugly sneer on her face and pointed a thick finger over Nadya’s shoulder to Pavel.

“It’s time to pay for the fucking food you’re stealing from the rest of us.”  Her finger shifted to aim at Nadya.  “And you, worthless cunt, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Nadya stayed firm, tensing herself.  “Leave him alone.”

The large girl laughed – more of a cackle really – and lowered her finger.  A few of the other children joined in.  “Or what?  Is the worthless cunt going to defend her cocktoy?”

Nadya’s hands clenched into tight fists.  Over the four years she’d spent at the orphanage, she’d only been in two fights.  One she’d won, the other she hadn’t.  Neither time, though, had she been so determined to win.

Odds be damned.

“I said… leave… him… alone…”

Inga glared at Nadya for a moment then let out a loud, angry bellow and charged the smaller girl.  Nadya firmed herself up as Inga closed the distance between them.  Part of her mind told her to turn and run.  The girl had age, experience and weight advantages over her and suddenly her plan of beating every single opponent who came up against her didn’t seem all that feasible.

She managed a quick glance behind her and spotted Pavel, still standing behind her and looking a bit worried.  All thoughts of running away fled her mind.

Nadya turned back to face Inga as the girl was just about to finish closing the distance between them.  The larger girl had one fist cocked back, ready to smash into Nadya’s face.

With a speed she wasn’t even sure she was capable of, Nadya’s own fist shot up from her side, straight at Inga’s face.  There was an audible crunching as her fist collided with the bottom of Inga’s nose and blood was already starting to squirt outwards as the larger girl’s forward momentum become more uncoordinated.

Inga collided with Nadya, knocking her backwards and landing on top of the smaller girl.  Nadya felt her ribs creak from the pressure and her air was forced from her lungs, but more than that, she found herself confused.

Why wasn’t Inga swinging or kicking or biting at her?

Instead, she was just limp and the overwhelming smell of blood and something more reminiscent of the odor that came emanating from the bathrooms of the orphanage filled Nadya’s nostrils.

She scrambled out from under Inga, shoving her off and onto her back before jumping to her feet and looking down at the girl.

Inga’s nose now resembled a pig’s, flattened upwards.  Blood covered her face and her eyes were staring blankly back up at her.  A wet patch was darkening the crotch of her pants.

It was the first time Nadya had ever seen a dead body so close.  Her fist was smeared with blood and throbbing.  She stared in shock down at Inga’s corpse, unsure of what exactly she’d done or how.  Then she looked to the large group of orphans standing before her, all of them just as stunned as she was.

Although she wasn’t sure how she’d done it, Nadya thought she’d just won the battle with a single punch.

None of the others seemed interested in attacking her or Pavel.  Her shock turned into elation.

She’d won.

Suddenly, sharp pain streaked through the back of her head and she found herself stumbling forward, tripping over Inga’s body and falling face first into the dirt.  Cringing, she started to push herself up and looked back, feeling her shock return just as quickly as it had faded.

There was Pavel, where he’d been all along.

Only now he was holding a large rock, the edge of which was darkened with blood.

Nadya’s blood.

She opened her mouth, unsure of what he’d done or why and intending to ask.  Her words were instead drowned out by the cheer of the rest of the orphans and the ground started to rumble as the group charged en masse towards Nadya.  The sight of Pavel was obstructed as the group swarmed around her.

Feet began to kick at her hard.  She brought her arms and legs up around her, trying to shield herself from the blows as best as possible.

The physical pain grew stronger with each blow, but even as she took another hit to her head that knocked her into blackness, it never came close to the pain that was streaking through her heart.  It felt as if it had been ripped in half.  Her last thought before being knocked unconscious was:

Is this heartbreak?

*    *    *    *

When Nadya woke up, she found herself in a bed that was not her bed, but it definitely wasn’t any more comfortable.  The fact that her entire body was throbbing with pain didn’t help matters.  She recognized the room she was in from the time Inga had carved her up.

Apparently, one of the adults had rescued her before the rest of the kids had beaten her to death.  The thought of the beating immediately led to one of Pavel.

Why had he done it?

The cynical side of her mind, which was getting louder each year, immediately fired up a response.

To get accepted.

Even if, by some miracle, Nadya had managed to keep him from getting beaten that day, the others wouldn’t just leave him alone.  They’d have come back for both of them and probably have given them even worse treatment than usual for a longer period of time.

So he’d made a decision.

Help take down the troublemaker who was putting a kink in the usual way things went in the orphanage.

By slamming a fucking rock into the back of her head.

The cynical side tried to make the argument that had been ingrained in her since day one at Nikolaevna’s Orphanage for Lost Children.

Life sucked.

People sucked even harder.

It didn’t matter if it was a fat, pig-faced bitch lying dead in the dirt, or the new boy who seemed like a beautiful angel upon first assessment.

Despite the rationalizations, Nadya’s heart still felt like it had taken the brunt of the beating.

The room was empty aside from her.  She wasn’t sure what time it was, but it was dark once more.  Getting out of the bed was a bit problematic with the amount of damage she’d taken from all the kicking but she managed.  She limped her way to the window and shimmied it open, sliding out of it slowly and dropping to the ground outside.  The night air chilled her, but she didn’t notice much.

Last night, she’d fallen asleep with a plan firmly set in her mind.  Now that plan had blown up in her face and she had another.

Putting as much distance as possible between herself and Nikolaevna’s Orphanage for Lost Children and – more specifically – Pavel the Double-Crossing Shit-Eater as possible.

det är fredags eftermiddag/kväll och ingen i kollektivet dricker något som innehåller alkohol. vad har hänt? det finns bara ett ord misär!

Gender: Feminine
Origin: Swedish
(ING-eh-lah)

The name is an elaboration of Inga, and was quite popular in Sweden in the early to mid part of the 20th-century. The name is considered rather dated in Sweden these days. The designated name-day is November 7.

Draft Page / Bix & Inga Meet

Inga interrupts her peaceful research work to play water-taxi for the escaping assassin, Bix Buckley in this draft page from “Tomorrow’s Girls.”  Looks like the ladies are off to a rocky start.

Gender: Feminine
Origin: Swedish/Norwegian
(IN-ga-LIL)

The name is a smush of the Old Norse female name Inga and Lill which can either be in reference to the Swedish word lille meaning “little; small” or Lilly which is a Swedish form of Lily and a diminutive form of Elisabeth. The name was quite common in the 1940-50s, but is now considered rather dated in Scandinavia. The name is borne by Norwegian Politician Ingalill Olsen (b.1955) and its designated name-day in Sweden is October 25.

Gender: Feminine
Origin: Old Norse/Germanic
(IN-ga)

A feminine form of Inge or Ing which is an Old Germanic name of uncertain meaning, it was the name of an ancient Germanic god of which very little is known. In addition to Scandinavia, Inga has experienced prevalent usage in other countries, such as Germany, the Netherlands and Russia. Other forms of the name are the Old Danish forms Inia and Inken, the Frisian and Finnish Inka, the Saami version of Iηgá and there is an old Norwegian form of Ingara. Inge is rarely ever used as a masculine form and is occasionally used as a female form in Scandinavia, pronounced (IN-ge). Common male forms are Ingi and Ingo. In Sweden, Inga’s designated name-day is October 25. In Norway it is December 17 and in the Swedo-Finnish calendar it is June 20.

Inga is also the name of a genus of tropical trees and shrubs.

The name was and is borne by Swedish stage actress and opera singer, Inga Åberg (1773-1837); Swedish actress Inga Tidblad (1901-1975); Swedish actress Inga Landgré (b.1927); American actress Inga Swenson (b. 1932); American femininist author Inga Muscio (b.1966); Russian Olympic Speed-Skater Inga Artamonova (1936-1966); Bosnian-Australian politician Inga  nee Dosen Peulich (b.1964); Australian anthropologist, author and historian Inga Clendinnen (b.1934) and Danish Opera Soprano Singer Inga Nielsen (1946-2008)

Fotos: Pedro Pantoja

Uma guerra interna entre integrantes da facção criminosa Comando Vermelho (CV) levou pânico a moradores do Morro do Palácio, no bairro Ingá, na Zona Sul de Niterói, na noite desta quinta-feira, dia 8. O tiroteio entre os traficantes deixou cinco pessoas baleadas. Três delas morreram – duas chegaram a ser socorridas, mas não resistiram aos ferimentos. A Polícia acredita que todas tinham envolvimento com o tráfico de drogas. No entanto, um dos sobreviventes disse que trabalhava em uma pizzaria perto de sua residência e tinha ido ao local para comprar drogas, quando foi surpreendido pelo confronto.

Baleado seis vezes – no abdômen, no braço esquerdo, no tórax e duas vezes na perna direita, Éverson Rodrigo Nascimento, 21 anos, é morador do Jardim Catarina, em São Gonçalo. Ele foi levado por um taxista até a Rua Paulo Alves, onde foi encontrado por policiais militares lotados no 12º BPM (Niterói) e levado para o Hospital Estadual Azevedo Lima (Heal), no Fonseca, na Zona Norte de Niterói.

Três horas antes, um casal já havia sido socorrido por outra equipe do 12º BPM. Uma mulher conhecida como Lacraia – que usava bermuda azul, camisa preta e casaco cinza – estava caída ao lado de Flávio dos Santos, 30, morador do Arsenal, em São Gonçalo. Baleados, os dois foram levados para a mesma unidade de saúde, onde a mulher veio a falecer. O Hospital Azevedo Lima recebeu, ainda, mais uma vítima da guerra no Morro do Palácio: um homem negro que aparentava ter 30 anos de idade e havia sido baleado dez vezes. Ele não resistiu aos ferimentos e também morreu na unidade. No final da manhã de sexta-feira, dia 9, Éverson foi transferido para o Hospital Estadual Alberto Torres (Heat) – mais conhecido como Hospital Geral de São Gonçalo – no bairro Colubandê, em São Gonçalo, enquanto Flávio permanecia, até a tarde de sexta-feira, internado no Azevedo Lima.

O corpo da quinta vítima foi encontrado, no início da manhã de ontem, no final da Rua Getúlio Vargas, em uma boca-de-fumo existente ao lado da Padaria Pimpão. Vestindo uma bermuda vermelha e uma camisa verde, ele era conhecido como Baixinho e segurava uma caneta na mão direita. Atingido por nove tiros de pistola calibre nove milímetros, ele foi baleado nas pernas, nos braços, no peito e na barriga.

“Provavelmente ele foi pego de surpresa, pois há muitas perfurações nos braços, o que indica que ele tentou se proteger”, afirmou um perito do Instituto de Criminalística Carlos Éboli (ICCE) que esteve no local do crime.

Logo nas primeiras horas da manhã desta sexta-feira, dia 9, equipes do Patrulhamento Tático Motorizado (Patamo) e do Grupamento de Ações Táticas (GAT) do 12º BPM ocuparam o morro para evitar novos confrontos. Em uma das incursões, os PMs estouraram uma central clandestina de distribuição de sinais de canais de tevê por assinatura. O gatonet funcionava no salão de festas da associação de moradores, localizada no final da Rua Getúlio Vargas, atrás do campo de futebol existente na localidade Monte Carmelo.

Apavorados, moradores do Morro do Palácio evitaram sair de casa, ao longo do dia de ontem. Os estabelecimentos comerciais existentes no interior da comunidade não abriram suas portas. As poucas pessoas que arriscaram sair de suas casas não paravam para conversar. As ruas estavam vazias e o trânsito era apenas de quem trabalhava fora do morro e não podia faltar ao emprego.

“O clima de insegurança começou em agosto, mas piorou no mês passado”, limitou-se a dizer um professor, que é nascido e criado na comunidade e pediu para não ter a identidade divulgada.

A guerra entre integrantes da facção criminosa Comando Vermelho (CV) começou após a morte do traficante Verneck Marlei de Araújo, o Verneck ou VK, 40, no último dia 15 de agosto. Ele e dois de seus seguranças foram baleados durante confronto com policiais do 12ºBPM. O trio chegou a ser socorrido e levado para o Hospital Universitário Antônio Pedro (Huap), no Centro, mas não resistiram aos ferimentos.

Com eles, os policiais apreenderam duas pistolas – sendo uma calibre 380 e outra nove milímetros – e um revólver calibre 38, além de munições, 43 trouxinhas de maconha, 43 pedras de crack e 14 sacolés de cocaína. Na ocasião, Verneck – que cumpriu 13 anos de prisão por tráfico – estava em liberdade condicional.

No dia 18 de junho de 2004, ele havia sido seqüestrado por PMs do 23º BPM (Leblon) e do Batalhão de Policiamento em Vias Especiais (BPVE), sendo mantido em cárcere durante três dias, em Duque de Caxias, na Baixada Fluminense. O valor do resgate era de R$ 200 mil e restavam R$ 4 mil para o pagamento – que incluiu um apartamento na Praia das Flechas, no Ingá (de propriedade de um pré-candidato a vereador de Niterói, na época), dois carros (um Ford KA e um Fiesta), além de jóias e dinheiro em espécie (R$ 13 mil). O cativeiro foi estourado por agentes do Serviço de Inteligência (P-2) do 15º BPM (Duque de Caxias), no dia 21 de junho daquele ano.

Três meses depois, ele foi preso por uma equipe do Destacamento de Policiamento Ostensivo (DPO) da Engenhoca. A prisão ocorreu no dia 11 de setembro de 2004, e ele foi flagrado com uma pistola nove milímetros com dez munições, além de 197 papelotes de cocaína e R$ 30 em espécie. Na ocasião, Paulo Roberto Muniz Bastos Júnior, o Gordo, 23, foi baleado.

Após sua morte, Verneck – que deixou uma dívida de R$ 30 mil com o CV – foi substituído pelo traficante Alcione Peçanha Júnior, o Júnior Macaco, 27. No entanto, ao negar-se a cumprir a determinação da cúpula da facção, que determinou que ele pagasse a dívida de seu antecessor, Júnior Macaco recebeu a ordem de repassar o morro para o traficante Vino do Inferninho. Ao se recusar a entregar o posto, ele acabou sendo morto por seus antigos comparsas, no último dia 12 de setembro.

Desde então, integrantes do bando de Júnior Macaco e criminosos do grupo de Vino brigam pelo controle das bocas-de-fumo do Morro do Palácio – localizado na Zona Sul e próximo ao Centro de Niterói, sendo rodeado por faculdades da Universidade Federal Fluminense (UFF) e considerado um dos morros mais rentáveis da facção de Luiz Fernando da Costa, o Fernandinho Beira-Mar, 42, no município.

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Saiba Mais Aqui: Brindes e Promoções para os Leitores

Wellington ladies start going through your wardrobes – only 3 weeks to go until the next Big Shwop event! We’re back in the capital and stoked to be having the event at the city’s premiere arts venue The St James Theatre on Courtenay Place.

Registrations are open and filling up fast – go to our website www.thebigshwop.co.nz to secure your place on the day. If you don’t get around to it you can always just turn up on the day – but spaces are limited.

Stay tuned for info on the lovely eco-friendly giveaways we’ll have for you at the event….

It’s shwop – tastic!

x Inga

Took this shot of Lower Manhattan the other night from the Brooklyn Promenade. NYC makes me swoon. Nuff said?

Gender: Feminine
Origin: Swedish/Norwegian
Meaning: “beautiful Ing.”
(ING-rid)

When you hear this name you probably think of golden legend Swedish actresses and tow-headed Scandinavian maidens. Ingrid is viewed as the quintessential Scandinavian name to most English-speakers thanks to the fame of Ingrid Bergman. The name is composed of the Old Norse elements Ing which is derived from the name of a divinity, Ingwaz, an ancient Germanic fertility god. He was an obscure god who was considered the progenitor of the Ingaevones, a Germanic tribe. Though not much is known of him, he seems to have left his mark on many classic Scandinavian names: Ingmar, Ingri, Inga, Inger, Ingela and of course Ingrid to name a few. The second part of the name is from the Old Norse word fríðr meaning beautiful. In Sweden and Norway, Ingrid is rather timeless. It has never seemed to have gone out of style and remains in the popularity charts as of last year. In Sweden, Ingrid was the seventieth most popular female name, while in Norway, she came in even higher, at # 12, tying with her sister names Ingri and Ingerid. The name has received widespread usage outside of Scandinavia. It is used to a certain extent in German speaking countries. In Germany she even boasts her own name-day, September 2nd, while in Sweden the name day is a month ahead, October 9. Ingrid is occasionally used in Eastern Europe, particularly the Czech Republic and Slovakia. Latvia and Lithuania boast their own elaborated form: Ingrida, while in Poland its spelled Ingryda. In Finland she is Inkeri. She is occasionally used in France. Ingrid has gotten plenty of usage in the US, thanks to the large influx of Norwegian and Swedish immigrants at the turn of the century, in 1913, she managed to move her way into the top 1000, coming in at # 934. The highest that Ingrid has ever peaked in the US, however, was in 1967, she came in at # 381. It is interesting to note that Ingrid has never dropped out of the US top 1000 since. She currently stands at # 545. Ingrid seems to have a fond following in the upper midwest, browse through Minnesota and North Dakota birth announcements and I wouldn’t be surprised if you saw at least one Ingrid. Ingrid might be appealing to English speakers who are looking to names like Eleanor and Matilda as inspiration. That is, strong yet decidedly feminine names fit for a down to earth medieval queen.

Det arbeides! Kragejakken mangler bare to stykk korte ermer og resten av venstre forstykke. Et pannebånd som Mormor skal få til jul har rast av pinnene. Taklister og dørkarmen på “det lilla rommet” har blitt hvite og gårmaling til veggene er kjøpt inn. I morgen skal jeg bestille gulv og mannen som skal legge det. Hvis jeg får tid skal veggene få et strøk maling før jeg drar på hytta med Mannen og Inga, harmony-pinner og noen nøster mellanraggi. Etter helgen skal alt bildedokumenteres

Ayy noo, acabo de ver ps. i love you y fue una de lloraaaaaar….
por eso no veo peliculas casi, ay no qe estress, llorar y llorar
ya suficiente eh tenido con mi depresion postcontest hahaha
lo bueno qe es domingo y estoi con vivita esponja de mar y me da amor
but eqiz, solo hizo qe me recordara una cancion,,
la cancion oficial del desamor y la solteriaaa (:

Estão abertas as inscrições para a próxima palestra da série “Diálogo das Águas”, promovida pelo Instituto de Gestão das Águas e Clima (Ingá), com o tema “Sociedade, Desenvolvimento e Meio Ambiente”. O evento será realizado sexta-feira (28), às 15h, no auditório Paulo Jackson, na sede do órgão, no Itaigara. A palestra é aberta ao público e gratuita, mas as vagas são limitadas. Para participar, é necessário se inscrever pelo e-mail cerimonial@inga.ba.gov.br ou pelo telefone (71) 3116-3009, fornecendo o nome completo, ocupação, instituição em que trabalha ou estuda, e-mail e telefone para contato.

O Diálogo das Águas é uma série de debates promovida há dois anos pelo Instituto de Gestão das Águas e Clima (Ingá) para estimular na sociedade a discussão sobre temas relacionados à degradação ambiental e seus efeitos na vida de cada um, principalmente o avanço da escassez da água doce em diversas regiões do planeta.

Sir
It is an incontrovertible fact that ever since that marvellous invention of that genius Faraday and that somewhat strange man Tesla, and that loud Yankee from Menlo Park, electricity has been harnessed for the greater good of man – and dare I say it, womanhood. Economies rise and fall not so much by the rise and fall of empires any longer, but by the price of electricity; nowhere more so than in a country that thrives on mines and heavy industry, smelters and furnaces. It is therefore all the more disturbing – disappointing? – in any case, outrageous, the way the price of electricity in your beloved country has escalated of late… (more)

The vision of cheap energy from a continuously self renewing source has been around since mankind started using machines instead of muscle power to do work. Early devices such as water wheels and windmills attempted to harness the immense energy available from natural sources in the planet. Electricity provided an energy form which could easily be transported, and promised realisation of the vision of harnessing nature’s bounty. We have been reasonably successful in doing so, primarily in the form of hydro electric schemes, and more recently in wind and solar energy systems… (more)

Dette er Inga. Skatten min.

Første gang jeg møtte Inga var da hun ble med meg på Mororennet på Påskeaften i 1993 sånn cirka. Jeg har sett et fint bilde med meg, storebror og fetter Thore – guttene med gammel-mann-masker og jeg ikledd koften (som senere fikk navnet Inga) og skaut. Etter det ble jeg og Inga veldig nære venner. Inga var egentlig Mormors, men siden hun bare oppbevarte henne på Lillebu (familiehytten) fikk jeg arve henne. Hun ble med meg hjem og vi har hengt sammen siden. Jeg er så glad i Inga!!!

Inga er oppkalt etter *klør meg i hodet og prøver å huske riktig* konen til fetteren til Morfar. Damen strikket i sin tid hver sin Fana-kofte til Mormor og Morfar og festet fine merkelapper bak i nakken hvor det stod “Handmade by Inga”.

Tusen takk strikke-Inga (som jeg aldri har møtt og dessverre aldri kommer til å møte) og Mormor for verdens deiligste kofte! Og takk til Mamma som syr og fikser hver gang Inga mister en knapp eller slipper en tråd. Det er ikke bare lett for Inga å bli gammel, men heldigvis er det noen som bryr seg om henne.

Her er Inga, mannen og jeg på Lillebu-terrassen.

Jeg har selvfølgelig “Handmade by Cecilie” på mine merkelapper

Rettelse: Inga var tanten til fetteren til Morfar.

Pues si mis estimados, asi fue..
para los que se preguntan, se cuestionan, ya no aguantan el chisme
y solo escuchan los dimes y diretes.. aqui la historia.

si… quede seleccionada, qede semifinalista, qede finalista.. y despues de tanto cocinar, de dormir pensando en fondos, en el nopal baboso qe porfin habia logrado quitarle toda su baba sin perder su sabor, despues de un arduo dia de trabajo doble, (doble porque trabaje lo del rest, y aparte lo mio del contest), pues llego a mi casa, bien emocionada porqe ya tenia un lugar en la final.. ya lo habia logrado, despues de casi dos meses de esfuerzo, tanto monetario como mental y fisico.. ya estaba ahi, en la final.. a un paso, a un suspiro…
no se que me paso, alguien o algo asi lo quizo.. y no llegue a tiempo.
ya no me dejaron cocinar..
para mi fue muy fuerte, fue mucho el shok, no sabia qe estaba pasando, no lo podia creer, no soy madre, pero sentia que me habian atropellado a mi hijo, no podia contener mis lagrimas de horror, de impotencia, de coraje, de frustacion.. de haber pueso todo mi corazon, mi alma, mis ganas en algo que sabia qe podia hacer… y no lo hice.
qe porque no llegue? ni yo misma tengo la respuesta, pero lo que si se, es qe di todo de mi, le puse todo el corazon, todo el mundo me valia madre, y creo qe eso fue mi error, me exedi.. me confie, yo que se.
El caso es qe lo hecho, hecho esta, y asi fue. El error mas caro de mi vida, ya lo vivi y no se lo deseo a ningun cocinero del diablo. Pff, nimodo.

Miles de frases llegaron a mi en tono de consuelo, pero ninguna tiene cabida en mi cabeza, no me lo voy a perdonar nunca… no por esto, me voy a dar por vencida, algun dia voy a lograr mi meta, y sacare de mi alma este dolor, qe aunqe suene exagerado,,  asi lo senti y asi lo siento. Creo que tendre deprecion por mucho tiempo. Pero nimodo..

shit’s happens

Os esforços do Comitê Grupo de Apoio Social, que realizou ações voluntárias no Dia do Bem Fazer em Ingá, podem ser traduzidos em: 

Números… 

• Funcionários da Alpargatas que participaram do evento: 83 pessoas
• Pessoas da comunidade e familiares que participaram como
• Voluntários do evento: 67 pessoas
• Beneficiados com a ação: em média 50 alunos
• Resultados atingidos: transformamos aquela escola que estava apagada, em um ótimo ambiente para estudar, além de deixar-la linda.

 …e palavras:

 “Muito obrigada pessoal! Vcs deixaram a escola linda!!” – Edilene, diretora da escola

“Tenho uma cozinha nova, tenho pia nova e o melhor tenho água na torneira” – Dona Maria, merendeira.

“Eu nunca me senti tão bem! Por favor não me deixem fora dos mutirões. Quero participar de todos” – Josirene, mãe da funcionária Diane

“Quando tem mutirão fechamos a casa e trago marido,filho e sobrinho,temos que fazer o bem juntos” – funcionária Dulcinéia.

“Todo preparativo para o mutirão nos deixa ansiosos, pensando tem que dar certo!! Mas quando termina que vemos o que aconteceu só temos a agradecer primeiro a Deus e segundo aos Institutos Alpargatas e Camargo Corrêa por nos ajudar a fazer o bem para comunidade em que moramos” – Rosângela, coordenadora do comitê de Ingá