Urban example: balancing tradition and infrastructure, Curitiba continues to be the model ecological, people-centered metropolis of Brazil.

• Author: Holston, Mark
• Position: Company overview

It's a typical weeknight in September in the capital city of Brazil's southern state of Paraná. Tonight, I'll be exposed to an aspect of this city of 1.7 million that few outside of its gritty bairros know or care much about. After all, in recent years, Curitiba has been heralded around the world as a global leader in urban planning for its innovative public transportation schemes, recycling programs, and a myriad of other progressive social, environmental, and economic initiatives. The city's affluent neighborhoods, well groomed parks, and sparklingly clean business districts stand in stark contrast to the rutted back roads, ramshackle dwellings, and poorly-lit squares that we pass as we drive into the heart of Bairro do Cajuru. But there is a common thread: problem-solving. For decades, Curitiba's citizens, from the mayor to the street sweepers, have addressed issues that bedevil municipalities in countries rich and poor with homegrown solutions that are as ingenious and innovative as they are effective.

Enzo Scaletti Jr. an attorney who heads the municipal government's anti-drug program, is giving me an opportunity to see up-close something that is a front burner topic in virtually every city in the world: the corrupting presence of drugs and the influence they have on a community's most vulnerable citizens, its youth.

In Curitiba, the dilemma has its own unique twist. Because of the city's relatively close proximity to the one of South America's major smuggling routes--the infamous tri-border region where the boundaries of Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay converge--it has become a key transit point along a major drug distribution route to the north. In recent years, gangs have stepped up efforts to recruit Curitiba youth to act as "mules" to transport cocaine. Curitiba's answer? Give the youngsters enticing alternatives to being lured into the drug underworld and let them know that the greater community cares about them.

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The city's strategy was simple: Take existing facilities like schools and community centers and keep them open until late into the night on weekends. Provide activities, a trained and caring staff, and police officers for security, and give neighborhood kids something to do to occupy their idle time.

"When the drug gangs knew what we were up to, they reacted violently at being challenged on what they believed was their turf," Scaletti says. "They tried to intimidate the local communities, the kids, and us. They fired weapons at our activities centers and even killed one person. But, we still have the support of the local residents, and the kids keep coming."

In the poorly lit gymnasium, the shrill whistle of one of the project's coordinators blows as a scruffy group of kids laugh their way through a coordination drill using volleyballs. Although it's close to midnight, several parents are in attendance. Maria Luiza sits in the bleachers keeping an eye on her eleven-year old son Tiago. "It's much better to have him here than to be out on the street," she says.

The city has decided to put a strong emphasis on its youth. Comunidade Escola is a new program that functions on Saturdays and Sundays where more than 100 volunteers work at 70 schools to provide physical conditioning and self-esteem building activities for kids. One veteran of the program is 69-year old José Castro de Oliveira, who brings his 40 years of training in karate to classes of youngsters decked out in the traditional white ji robes of martial arts. "It teaches them discipline and a competitive spirit," he explains after demonstrating a dizzying array of quick moves. "It also helps them with their...