In a recent essay, Joao de Souza Martins, a professor of sociology at the University of Sao Paulo, linked de Moraes to a long Brazilian tradition of mystical religious prophets from the hinterlands "raising the millenarian banner of a kingdom of liberty, justice and abundance."
That has made her a lightning rod for discontent of all sorts, among groups that include the peasants here and the urban middle class in the more prosperous south.
"Her indignation at the perverse effects of the current economy, with the manipulations of power, with corruption and the delay in the redemption of the poor, is the indignation of millions of voters," he wrote. "They are the ones who feel deceived by a guiding star who, in fact, has not transported Brazil to a new era of snug tranquility."
To sharpen the contrast between herself and the two main candidates, de Moraes is campaigning on a shoestring. She takes commercial flights rather than a private plane, sleeps in supporters' homes rather than in hotels, wears blue jeans and a plain white blouse at public events and refuses to accept contributions from corporations.
"I don't have Air Lula or a private jet," she tells crowds when she has to cut short a speech to catch a plane. "I am like all of you, a backlands woman who has to struggle to get by."
What her campaign lacks in financing or organization, she compensates with personal warmth. On the stump, de Moraes is highly tactile, offering hugs, kisses and embraces for voters and addressing the reporters who question her on televised news programs as "my love," "my flower" and other endearments.
"She has a talent for approximation that allows her to get close to people, and for people to want to get close to her, without all the security apparatus the other candidates have," said Manoel Henrique de Melo Santana, a Roman Catholic priest, friend and occasional spiritual adviser.
Da Silva may be offering himself as the "father of the poor," Santana added, "but maybe what the people want is a mother."
Last Sunday, de Moraes came to this small farming town to take part in a religious pilgrimage honoring an Italian friar whom many Brazilians regard as a saint.
She was mobbed by well-wishers who shouted out phrases like "hit 'em hard, woman" as she climbed and then descended the hill that houses the sanctuary.
"Lula is going to win, but I am going to vote for her anyway," Antelio Ramos da Silva, a retired farm worker, said after he and his wife embraced the candidate.
"She's a fighter and she's honest, and that's just what we need to clean up that nest of corruption in Brasmlia," he said.
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