BRAZIL NOTES
2 March 2003 7:35 am
It’s early Sunday morning and it’s very hot already. Although the apartment is a 10-minute walk from the breezy ocean, the barely blowing wind is just enough to tease the chimes hanging outside the back door. The wind makes the chimes cling and clang a little, but nothing continuous or rhymatic. I’m sitting in the carport not directly under the light, but the heat is so intense, you can feel its strength tingling like needles prickling your skin. I can only imagine how it will be if you’re working outdoors under the Brazilian sun all day.
3 March 11:45 pm
We had big fun today in Pelourinho, the old slave section of Salvador de Bahia. Its carnaval time and it appears to be an on going party, splitting the days of February and trickling into March. There were young and old people, everyone together following musicians and dancers up and down the old cobblestone streets. A spontaneous traveling party could start at moments notice with a beat of a drum, or a blare from a horn. One would drop what they’re doing and find youself dancing to the sound of reggae one minute, and around the corner come the next band playing salsa or samba. The energy from the bands and people having fun is very contagious and tireless.
I’ve only been in Brazil five days and I’ve found the people of Bahia are very friendly. If they bump into you, they excuse themselves, which is impressive considering Salvador is such a large- city. I’m not sure of the population, but it is large and bustling, but has a laid back feel. Nobody seems to be stressed.
The people are also strikingly beautiful. The mix of Portuguese, Indian and African blood is very evident, even within the immediate families. On an urban bus stop, you could see many different skin tones. There is chocolate brown, smooth caramel, berry-black, olive, to alabaster white skin tones. Brazilians have various grades and textures of hair. Black, blond, brown silky smooth, wavy reddish, and strong coarse naturally kinky hair abound. Their eye color matches the variance of their skin tones. You will see a dark skinned person with sky blue to sweet pea green eyes.
They celebrate their European, Indian and African ancestry- especially their African ancestry. It is evident in the beat of the music, the spices on the food, and the friendliness in their demeanor. It feels like home.
4 March 12ish
It is raining as I walk through Pelorhino. People don’t mind the rain. They stand under storefront awnings or keep walking. The rain is good because it cools the hot streets. You can see the steam rising from the cobblestones.
I wonder in my mind, what if my family had been sent to Brazil instead of North America. Where would we be? Would we have civil rights? From what I understand, Brazil is about 20-30 years behind how we (black North Americans) have advanced in rights. I wish I knew why black people worldwide have suffered socially. Just because of the melanin in our bodies.
I have been in Brazil for three weeks. I have stayed in three different cities, each having their own flavor. Salvador de Bahia has a strong African presents. It’s rich in culture and celebratory of its history and heritage. I am told the state of Bahia has more African descendants than anyplace in the western world.
Belo Horizonte is a racially diverse mountainous city. Looking at the terrain, the city is modern with their structures and put me in the mind of Denver, Colorado. There are many black people, but their present’s is not as vivid as Salvador. But, Belo is well balanced with mulattos and whites.
Rio de Janerio is very European with its look. It’s very beautiful (scenery) with healthy tan looking beachcombers living in the city proper. The blacks live in the favelas (slums) in the North Zone of Rio up in the hills. Rio has the largest, deadliest favela in Brazil. It is world renown. I am told the police don’t even venture inside unless they must. Up in the hills, you can look out of the entire city. You can see the mammoth rock formations that checkerboard the South Atlantic Ocean.
11 March 2003 Belo Horizonte
Angelica and I parked about a block away from the entrance to the favela. There’s an invisible fence surrounding the favela. You see it with a barrier of dilapidated shacks and jobless people wearing faces of hopelessness and despair. Almost with a sixth sense, the people at the gate gaze at you as if knowing who belongs and who does not in this city inside of the city. Later I would learn that the city proper does not even recognize this area of town. It is not even printed on the map.
At the time, I did not know we were suppose to get permission to enter, but Angelica is a feisty little lady and we just walked on in like we lived there.
We were looking for the radio station made famous in this favela. She asked a boy where it was located. He said something in Portuguese and pointed.
We walked up a very steep hill where the workers were carving steps in the earth. We had to stop twice to catch our breath. By us stopping to catch our breath, people could tell we didn’t live there. We were not used to the walk. When we reached the top, it was like opening the doors to a new world. Not a sunny clear world, but a world of poverty. There were no smiling faces welcoming us in this world. These faces showed the look of desperation, hunger and no hope. We had entered the city within the city. This city was called Pindura Sara, the largest favela in Belo Horizonte. I am told 60,000 people live within these impoverished stricken walls.
After meeting with the radio station people, I wanted to look around the favela. I wanted to show just because I had a camera, that I was not a threat. I asked this guy to show me the interior. Angelica had left so I used my choppy Portuguese because nobody spoke English.
The walk through the favela was interesting. I met some people along the way. One of the most interesting and intimidating was this group of teenage boys. I could tell by the look on my guide's face these were not nice boys. From my own urban living experiencing gangs, I could tell these boys ruled this part of the favela. Most of them were dark skinned with course kinky hair, quiet and dusty looking. They didn’t say anything to us, but we quickly and respectfully walked by. As we rounded the corner, my guide’s face showed relief. Later Shalimar would tell me Angelica told her no body was there to me us as planned earlier, so technically we did not have permission to enter the favela. I’m guessing if that gang of boys knew I was un-authorized, there may have been trouble. What I didn’t know and what the boys didn’t know didn’t harm either of us.