Notes From Bahia

Hello, again.

As promised I am writing my last set of impressions on the eve of my leaving Salvador. I go to Sao Louis and Rio de Janeiro briefly before returning to New York. It is with both sadness of leaving this beautiful place and a desire adn need to be home that I come to this task. After being here for a while it has come to be a home for me with many of the important aspects of my life in place.

At this point my ability to speak and understand portuguese is much better than it was in January (I suppose that is not saying too much considering that I started from point zero), but my admiration for the beauty of the language and the way it is spoken here is if anything greater. Now that I understand some of the words, the musicality of spoken Brazilian is even more evident. Brasileiros use a lot of slang (girias) and are very descriptive in their use of language. The elision and elongation of syylables that provides a rising and falling feeling to the language has more recognizable features for me, and I have
even developed an appreciation for some favorites: The elongated second syllable of “obrigada” which interestingly enough is not as often produced in “obrigado.” The emphatic pronounciation of “isso!” meaning “that one” or “exactly” or “you dig!” Or the guttural “e” which literally means “it is.” Verbs, which are much more complicated than in English, are used a lot here. One thing that fascinates me andn which trips me up continually in my own conversation is the preferred use of the verb form to give an affirmative response. So, for instance, if someone asks does the bus to Ondina pass by here? You don’t say “yes” instead you would say “it passes,” which in a romance language of course is still just one word. So the brevity favored in modern language is retained but
without sacrificing maximizing information.

I am still struck by the politemess of baianos also. The young and the old give warm greetings routinely and practice all manner of courtesies. As before, i do not want to romanticize bahia, however, there are tough people living tough lives here with all that that implies. It is not always so obvious where it is coming from, however, for a beautiful neighborhood by a lagoon and beach by the Atlantic ocea can be a place notorious for thugs.

I experienced some of this on a bus ride during what is called holy week
here. Holy week begins on good Friday and is a big deal. People will ask you how is your holy week as a greeting during that time. I was invited to a traditional dinner (actually
lunch, which is the big meal fo the day here) where traditional baiano cuisine is served. The various African influences of the cuisine is noted with pride. (In fact African culture is something of a source of pride among bainos. and when people ask e if i am from Africa–which occurs countless times–they do so with a note of pride in their voice). But as people are out on holiday there is a shortage of police during that time, as there is during weekends and late at night (maybe this is something that should change). I made the mistake of taking the expensive bus during semana santa. (there are buses that usually const R$2 to ride, but smaller, air conditioned buses that cost R$4 to ride, and
which also usually guarantees you a seat). I was tired of waiting for the bus which had a reduced schedule and took the expensive air conditioned bus. A man walked on the bus and stepped on my toe without saying excuse me. I was taken aback but refrained from getting angry, as i thought, this is not East New York or the east side of Detroit and you can’t expect that people treat this as a capital offense, and just went on with my business of daydreaming or whatever) To place this in context let me say that on the buses in Salvador vendors get on for free and hawk their wares, advertisers come on and pass out fliers for you to read while they give their spiel. afterwards they collect the
flyers and take money from those interested. people accept the fliers compliantly and listen even when there is absolutely no interest in teh product whatsoever. poets command rapt audiences and receive ovations after each recitation. when you are standing on the bus, someone sitting will take your bags and parcels, there is no asking just reach over and take your stuff. when you get a seat or get off the bus they give you back your belongings. a teenage girl got up and gave me a seat so i could sit next to the person that i got on the bus with (never happene3d to me yet anywhere else int eh wolrd), and so on. So this guy’s rudeness was actually noteworthy. It turns out that he was a robber and chose the bus to do his business. actually, the buses are a place where you are
likely to be robbed. since most brasileiros don’t carry much money with them, they mostly steal cell phones adn cameras. this intstance was somewhat amusic, except he pointed a gun at me, and i was relieved of my cash. But i escaped unharmed and even kept my computer. anyway, my point is that the desperation of the poor is ever present despite the widespread courtesy adn beauty of the people adn culture here.

The north adn northeastern parts of Brazil are the poorer sections of the country, the commerce and more developed sections being in the south, where apparently there are better social services and education systems. Keep in mind that until relatively recently Brazil was under a military dictatorship, and despite the student protests that led to its dissolution, there is not as deep a tradition of political organizing and protest as is necessary to combat the appalling lack of economic diversity here. Even in teh North there is some industry, chemicals, volkswagen, mac donalds, but as the saying goes, all the money is in the same ten hands. The president has started a commission for racial
equality adn one for women and this is a new thing. in the minds of some, this is the very first moment of potential democracy in Brazil, and some see the social pyramid beoming more rectangular in shape. Of course there are others who are apathetic adn who roclaim that all politicians promise big things but their words turn to “merda” when they are elected. Interestingly, the president is more popular in the North than in the south.

the african nature of the music and aspects of religion here is quite extraordinary. There is of course those who are self-consciously african in their worship and culture, but i am impressed with the more quotidian expressions. for instance, school children can be heard drumming adroit musical patterns on cans, tables, etc. while talking or playing. Brasilerios have a highly developed sense of humour and delight in making puns and the like. I have witnessed non musicians (who are not associated with any terrerois or house of
candomble)improvise in fun songs that utilize the praise song structur of traditional African music, the call and response of samba, etc. once on teh bus i heard two men, dressed int eh blue jumpers of teh sanitation workers, soiled after a days work sing a complicated two voice song with an even more complicated drmming pattern adn bell pattern beat out on teh seats of teh bus. they kept it up the entire time they were on the bus, and nobody seemed to notice it in any way whatwoever.

of course, there is the mroe conscious elements, especially the houses of candomble. There are several different types of candomble here in bahia, the nagos or yourabas, the keto, the angolas, etc. added to that are several syncretisms of african and brazilian religions, such as jurema, popular in pernambuco, which honor indigenous spirits as well as african ones. these sing in portugues whereas the candomble services are in african languages. Thre are compounds or terreros where religious communities dwell. They may have their own schools for their children, classes teaching about herbs and agriculture, african
languages, as well as the religion.

(note: )my stay here has made me wary of how I speak aobut religion. I am reminded of the brilliant and wise Fred Moten, who on a delegation to Havana Cuba, among other things admonished us against voyuerism into people’s religion. Hence, I will not speak of anything that is not available to the public at large)

the worship services or festa (party) as they are called, are quite beautiful. they are centered around the three drums ru, rumpi and le. the drums are in the pulpit and the saints dance acfcording to the rhtyhms and songs that teh musicians play. the service takes several hours as there are several songs for each orixa which have to be played. and after the songs inviting each orixa is played and danced to, there is another cycle for the saintts to be ridden by their orixa, and then antoehr round where the saints appear with their traditional implements, and so on.

the beauty of the costumes and the controlled grace of teh dance is something to behold for sure. I am told that the Jirema candomble in Pernambuco is quite different. less hierarchical in at least two important ways. In pernambuco (I met some people from Recife) everyone dances, not just the saints. (the santos in candomble have many different levels of experience and knowldege, symbolized by how they wear their attire. some stages require several decades in the religion to attain). Also in Jurema women can play the abataque drums while in Salvador they do not. I did notice a certain flair adn exuberance in the samba dancing from the people from Recife adn wondered if it were part adn parcel of a general difference in the culture of the two regions.

of course, it is too easy to oversimplify any set of experiences. and one should keep in mind that in Salvador the expression of teh orixas takes many forms. There are 16 Exus in Bahia, 12 Oxums, etc. each with their own aspects adn emphases.

save for the liturgy itself, there is no didatic part of teh worship service.

there is an awareness among the houses of candomble that not all pelple welcome them and some are quite outspoken about their political plight in modern day Brazil. And the antipathy does not just come from the fervor of the evangelical Christians, though that is here also. In fact the terrerois or compounds are on large hills with forests surrounding them giving them a military advantage, as they were killed for their religion, especially during teh 19th century when many of teh compounds were first settled. Even during my stay here in Bahia a candomble house was razed to the ground, though the mayor, who is an evangelical Christian adn presumably eager to distance himself from such sacrilege, pledged to have it rebuilt soon.

In salvador there are many hills, and the houses on teh top of the hills have the city ordained streets and buildings. people build houses and alley ways and stairs going down the hill. and you can see all over salvador houses in various states of completion, as people add to the houses as they need and as their family grows. At first I was surprised by how many hardware stores there were adn how they were called construction materials stores, till i learned of the basic squatter character of the housing in Salvador. The razed candomble house was one such structure, but curiously the city waited till it was
completed before they trashed it.

At a lecture about candomble which I attended at the Benin house one of the speakers, Valdina Pinto, a very outspoken leader int eh bahian Afridcan community and leader of the Sacred Park project, went on and on about the sacred nature of candomble and its music, cautioning entertainers not to prositute what was sacred (was i just imagining that she was looking dead at me when she said that) and inciting all present to fight for the rights of black people and culture. The moderator tried to get her to adhere to the time limit with a discreetly placed note, which she read adn scoffed at., saying, “excuse me for being so outspoken, but the black woman who remains silent is the black woman who
will be dead.”

i think i will close there, since i can not remember the rhyming closing to story telling that I was told by a venerable story teller at teh most traditional candomble compound in bahia…

thanks for your attention, and now in a few days i am on to two other cities
in Brazil adn back to New York.

salim
salvador

two things i meant to mention, but forgot (and since i probalby won’t do this
again for a while decided to add now):

perhaps the reason there is not the usual evidence of the sex trade that other parts of Brazil (and certainly many parts of the third world) are famous for is that Bahia is a place wehre love and sex seem to flow freely. On the streets, in the parks, and pracas throughout the city one can see couples of young, and not so young, lovers kissing. not just pecking on the lips, but deep passionate kissing, holding each other’s face and head, standing or sitting, embracing. this causes no more attention than holding hands would in the states, and seems to be just one of those things. I remember seeing this sort of thing
in Havana, but it is much more prevalent here.

the other thing is, don’t sleep on the tambourine, called bandeiro here. igrew up hearing tamborines played in church, but it was nothing like what they can do witih it here. last night at teh jazz jam session which seems to attract the better players i heard an amazing you man on the bandeiros. he was a rapper, actually and wowed the crowd with Brazilian rap, but not before he ripped it up on the bandeiro. The song (which he began with an extended solo in tempo) was Cherokee, taken at the usual breakneck speed. Hearing he virtuosity and swing that he mustered, and the inventiveness was one of the highlights of my stay here. One would think with his talent and unuaully good looks that he’d
be a star. who knows maybe he will be. ok, i am done.

Hello, again.

I thank you all for your correspondence and your encouragement to continue to share my experiences and oberservations while here in Brazil. So, I overcome my natural reticence in these matters and send this second installment. Perhaps I will send another in May when I travel to Sao Louis and to Rio.

The turning point of my visit here was when I began practicing by the ocean, for it was then that I began to meet people who wanted to talk with me bad enough to struggle with my portuguese, and that was the beginning of a much more engaging trip here. After the first week, which was quite lonely, i have been the recipient of many kindnesses and invitations of various kinds here, and am having a wonderful time. Wearing shorts and t -shirts and flip flops, many people ask me for directions virtually every day, and while some can tell right away that i am um americano, many do not until i open my mouth. interestingly, even then the default assumption is often that i am Angolan. i am reminded of how often AFricans and others in New York assume that I am from the Caribbean.
And while they say it in a way to let me know that they are complimenting me by saying I don’t seem like an African American, African AMerican I am. While I am slowly gaining entree into the music scene here and have been to private parties and the like, my Americanness emerges in surprising ways. For instance, having lunch listening to the music of one of the local carnaval stages found me hopping to attention when the stage hands played rap music between the acts. I listen to rap in the US of course, but am not a hip hop head, but found myself digging it more than usual in this context. Or when a Salvadorean percussionist friend, who also lives in New York, greeted me with “what’s up, man” in the relaxed accent of Afro America, I immediately felt like here was a person with some insight into who I am. While these thoughts were a little distrubing, I report them, because they are part of what has happened to me here.

Carnaval is many things. Here in Salvador, it is not a bunch of scantily-clad women being paraded down the street. Nor is it an orgy overly licentious behavior in preperation for the abstinences of lent. Rather it is a party. Mostly, I enjoyed the localized carnavals in the individual bairros. Rio Vermelho, Itapua, Garcia, each with its own flavor. In the beginning of Carnaval I was disappointed to find out that the carnaval started in the suburbs first and only later did it really reach full tilt in the city. Unlike the US, the suburbs here are where the poorest workers live, those earning minimum wage. Apparently, most Salvadoreans do not want to go there, and my inquiries were met with displays of how unpleasant it would be and how no one wants to go there. of course, this made me want to go all the more, but it was too late.

In rio Vermelho, the carnaval featured several stages in various parts of the neighborhood each with musical groups playing one after another throughout the afternoon and the night. The variety of music and the mixtures of styles is quite impressive. For the most part this is music to be danced to and to sing along with. There were samba bands (which inspired the most interesting dancing from my point of view), pachoga, bands, axe bands, etc. Interestingly, as the music went from the more African, samba type bands, to the more westernized pop bands, the dancing changed. it became less poly-rhythmic (the samba dance involves hip movements at different pace and rhythm to the more busy feet patterns, there are also often a disembodied shoulder shake like the dances of so many west African cultures). When the rock and roll started people were simply jumping up and down. also, the hand clapping and propensity to sing along differed according to the style of music being played. i enjoyed the samba type bands the most (especially after I got over feeling like a white music critic–who always seem to delight in proclaiming black musicians to be out of tune), though others enjoyed all the other forms of music just as much. Interestingly, the more pop styled bands presented women differently. None of the female symbols of Bahia represented by the head wraps and ceremonial dresses that were
in the roots bands. In fact the pop bands used womens primarily as singers and back up singers (and often as “sesy” presence) rather than as instrumentalists. The African styled bands had women instrumentalists often. I remember one woman who played the cowbell. She must have been in her sixties, and she had the most intense expression of coolness and engagement as she played. For those of you who watched the Cosbe show, the one that featured the Huxtalbes, there is is delightful skit where the Huxtable family pantomimes a music presentation of night itme is the right time. and in it bill pantomimes the bass player, and he looks so much like a serious r&b bass player (not the bill cosby that is attacking the culture of the black poor, but the bill who was a jazz drummer and who could sing coltrane solos). anyway, if you have ever seen that skit, the look that he gets was exactly like this woman playing the cowbell, cool, serious, engaged.

By far the most interesting happening in Rio Vermelho during the carnaval was the Yemanja festival. I was awakened at 5 in the morning by a seriuos of very loud explosions that started the festival at the ocean. being only a few blocks from the ocean I was there by 5:30 am or so. Already there was a line, maybe half a mile long, of people waiting to make offereings of flowers to Yemanja. Before i joined the line i walked around as there were many activities going on at once. on the beach was a circle of santos dedicated to the orixa dancing in a counter clockwise circle. I was thrilled to see Sterling STuckey’s counter clockwise circle “ring shout” that he argues for as a staple of pan-African culture. These saints were wearing the most fabulous linen clothes, in white and blue, the colors of the orixa. There alekes where the most elaborate i have ever seen, and were works of art in themselves. the were worn differently also, over the right shoulder and under the left arm, going across the torso like a sash. Many of the male santos dancing in the circle were visibly gay. I don’t know if it was because of the particular orixa that they were devoted to, or if it were a general pattern among santos, but the visibility and preponderance was quite noticeable. in general gay males are very visible in Salvador and much more accepted than in the US. As in the states there are many cultural styles represented, from the effeminate, elaborately coiffed, to the chilseled body types, to those who exhibit no noticeable public presentation. Often there are males who are lampooning transvestites with fake behinds and breasts, wigs and make up, and then there are those who really are transvestites. while Gay male couples are more visible than in the Us there is some ambivalence around transvestites, despite the prevalence and the(seemingly) light hearted lampooning. I have heard some people on the street make inquiries and remarks that reveal homophobia. But there does not seem to be the violence visited against gay males that happens so frequently in the states. interestingly, i do not see nearly as many visibly gay female couples, though i have seen a few since i moved to the Garcia neighborhood. I think about the thousands percent increase in Harlem of young (teen age, early twenties) lesbian black couples, usually with one dressed in sagging pants, loose jersey, backwards baseball cap, and the other in traditional femmed up attire. I do not see that at all here in Salvador.

The saots in the line after doing their dance adn singing their praises, began to minister to various persons on the beach, blessing them with water applied with a bush as they prayed over the supplicants. I began to wonder if this was the origen of the blessing branch in the african catholic service i had witnessed earlier.

theere were many people at teh shore line taking in the water adn offering flowers in addition to the long line of people waiting to get into the house of yemanja. this house is kept by the fisherman adn not by the candomble houses. but once inside there is a man sho sprinkles perfumed water as you make your offering, and the line stayed long for the entire four hours or so that i remained at the beach.

I metnioned the differences i observed between capoeriea da Angola (which involves ceremony and very African styled music) and caporeira da rua, the street caporeia designed to capture the attention and money of tourists. well, at teh Yemanja festival I got to see the street caporeira in a less degraded form. here was real artistry that was not concerned with tourism, but with the art form. there were to tambourine or bandeiro players, one berimbau adn much hand clapping, with a call and response singing. the combatnts would dance their fight, adn then when tagged leave and other combatants would come in with thee ritual entrance of doing a hand stand. the bermimbau set the pace of the contest, as some combatants/dancers were more agile and quicker than others. after a while it eawned upon me that one guy kept staying as others entered combat with him. on closer observation i realized that he was quicker and mroe agile than the othersw and was winning the contests, though there was no contact. then a bigger stronger, equally athletic combatant entered the dance with heim. after the kicks and turns, they were in a hold, and the caporeira began to look more like wrestling. it became evident that had they been in a real fight the bigger combatant would win, and just as it became evident to me the combat ended. I was thrilled to be able to finally recognize a little of what was going on. rather than have the ritual embrace that happened at the end of each contest, the new victor comically shunned the embrace of the erstwhile champion, but later as the next two dancers took the center of the circle made his way around to the other to offer his embrace.

It was a visually and sonically beautifuyl affair, the Yemanja festival, and went on all day. I met some sisters who were at the ocean. They were all dressed in white and I thought perhaps they were an order of Yemanja’s followers, but it turned out that they were a group of friends from Atlanta who had come for the carnaval. A friend pointed them out to me, for this would be a chance for me to fala ingles. Anyway, they were a very interesting group of women and it turned out that they were very tight with the daughter of one of my friends, one of the great drummers of new york. One of the women, sister Zauditi, and I shared our impressions of Salvador. Among the insights that she shared with me were teh amazing degree of African retentions alive in Salvador. Also, the universality of rice, beans and greens in the various cusisnes of the diaspora. also, she was impressedk with the confidence discernible in the gait of the young people, which was greater than what we were accustomed to witnessing in the states. i told her about the pretty teenage girl i saw placidly sleeping outdoors at 3 in the morning, and how unthinkable that would be in new york, or detroit, or mombasa, or any number of places. we also talked about african religion, which was explained to me by Paula Santos, a knowledeable tour guide here in Bahia, to be comprised of three things, a messenger, an oracle, and the possibility of possession. In talking with Zauditi i relfelcted upon my upbringing in Pentacostal christianity, which has to be the most African thing in the United States, though in general the participants certainly do not think of them selves or their worship as African, and many would be offended to be so described. yet we were certainly taught to recieve our wisdom from a messenger, and our spirit possession is legendary. it dawned upon me that the manner in which our sacred text, the bible, is used is much like an oracle. That in many ways the hermenutics of Pentecostal christianity is much more like an oracle than a systematic theology.

At the end of the carnaval season i moved to Fazenda Garcia, a very different neighborhood than Rio Vermelho. It is decidedly more working class. In this neighborhood you don’t need shirts, shoes, or quiet decorum to enter the restuarants or bars. Everyone seems to know each other, though i still have to go through two locked gates before i get to my third floor apartment. The samba band complete with trombones adn trumpets paraded up and down the street with crowds following them, and with a happy party going long into the night. this was
more in the syle of the big carnavlas at the more centralized points. athehe barra, or bay, or capo grande, or down town area, there are thousands upon thousands of people following trucks of musicians, dancing and singing, drinking beer, and in general having a good time.

there are workers who cater to the needs of the carnaval goers, who sell the drings, food, flowers. they sleep in the streets and stay at their posts 24/7. and here the class dynamics of carnaval are most evident. to go to the big carnaval sites you must wear a special tee shirt. each day and each location and each bloco has its own tee shirt. and these tee shirts cost money, from about 200 reales to as much as a thousand. so its a good thing that individual
nighborhoods which do not cater to tourists such as itapua and garcia have their own smaller scaled carnavals, because manhy simply can not afford the big carnaval. i watched the news one evening during carnaval and there was in a remote area a huge demonstration. some people had blocked a road with a row of burning tires with huge placards: we want work!

in fact, the class divide is really quite steep here. Brazil is an indust iralized nation, but the first world and the third world collide here and live side by side. Even more than new york, a few yards can take you from one reality into another completely different place. but with all the unsettling class politics of carnaval, it was a happy and violence free time. one friend pointed
out to me, that if we had carnaval in the us we would need police everywhere because there would be shootings. and indeed in new york our west indian day parade never fails to have some violence, and if there were the millions of people partying in detroit i shudder to think of what would happen. the news did not report a single shooting or stabbing related to carnaval, though there were some fatalities due to car accidents. (salvadoran drivers make new york
drivers seem polite), but not scores of fatalities or even dozens in any one city.

i guess i should sign off here, but want to mention one amazing musician that i have met here. his name is leteres leite, and his band is called rumpilezz. it is a mixuture of candomble, samba, and jazz. and the music is powerful and well executed. it is built around five percussionists (all from candomble houses and representing various orixas). there are six saxophonists, four
turmpets, four trombones and a tuba. these guys swing hard, and play the most beautiful arrangements of sacred rhythms. They play with a tandard of intonation that would be familiar to American jazz musicians, and include improvisation as well as sacred rhythms. I spoke at length with the leader who impresses me as a kind of baiano Horace Tapscott. A man who follows the head of Chango, but is a clear disciple of John Coltrane as well. He has started an academy of music to offer free instruction for poor black children, and which attracts
professional musicians from around the city and neighboring countries. This cat is so hip, he understands the dynamics of jazz better than most Americans it seems to me. How many United Statesians do we know that would not be able to see past the dazzling first rate musicianship of a Josh Redman to see that he is a kind of pop star, or who would know that Gary Thomas is one of the most important voices on tenor saxophone? yet he can hear all of this and more. I believe he is the originator of something important, and hope that among you will be those who will help to bring him and his music to New York.

again, thanks for your interest and your patience with my admittedly rambling reporting here,
tudo bem,
salim

Just spent an half an hour on notes and lost it when the computer shut off; so i will be less leisurely than I would like, but perhaps that will improve this anyway.

here goes:

Many of you have reminded me of my journalistic duty as one being so furtunate as to spend time here learning and experiencing bahino culture. As those of you who know me well know, I am much better at, and have a marked preference for oral communication, but want to get this out, as carnaval starts tomorrow, and i am sure everything will be different:

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Salvador is a city upon the Atlantic Ocean in Northeast Brazil. It is about 80 percent black, those many of those who are apparently not being counted as black would have had to ride the back of the bus in the jim crow south, and as skip gates says (don’t trip on me now) that’s black enough for me. are there really white people in brazil? they have a saying here, “you must have at least one foot in the kitchen” (no doubt a reference to the historic servile position assigned to blacks), which is similar to the united states saying, “something ain’t clean in the milk.” But as noel itnatiev and others point out, whiteness is culturally negotiated, and so where does that leave us? anyway, the people here are very cool, and remind me very much of African Americans, if we had less of the default stain that is presumed to automatically attach itself to blackness in the states. Patterson, i think successfully, argues that of the horrors of slavery natal alienation from the culture and social relations presumed by non slaves in america was more significant to the status and experience of being a slave than the mere fact of ownership. I have certainly not been here long enough to have a realistinc take on how race works here, bt the people walk with a calm confidence and erect posture (many vendors still carry their wares on their head, African style).

The way people speak Portuguese here is very musical. It is not a tonal language such as Chinese or Yoruba where the pitch of a syllable can alter the meaning of a word, or rather indicate a different word altogether. but it is musical in the sense that there is a varied rising and falling of pitch as people speak, and some syllables are elongated, others truncated. it sounds like a melody often when people are engaged in coverfsation. there are many soft sounds, and few guttural germanic like sounds, nasal dipthongs, and the mellifluousness of many romance languages. I think of the sing song quality of spanis as spoken my Mexicans, or the beauty of teh Georgian accent in the US. But Bahino Portuguese is much more musical than these; i only reference them to compare say the musicality of some one’s speech from Georgia to say, that of someone from New York.

Everyone speaks, and strangers greet each other almost invariably. Good morning, good afternoon, good evening. Tudo bon? it’s all good? response: tudo bem. it’s all good. teh brazilians are ahead of our hip hopistas apparently. These are very affectgionate people. they touch when speaking to one another, even when spaking to strangers. they kiss on both cheeks as a routine greeting. their handshakes, much like african americans, can have two, three, four, or five different steps to it.

i live currently in the rio Vermelho section of Salvador (so far i have been here, to Campo Grande, the Pelourinho, and Itupua). It is a mostly working class neighborhood where most people mostly wear flip flops (the homeless are barefooted), or sandals, less frequently gym shoes, and even less freqently leather shoes. The men often go bare back (it is very hot here, though night brings lower temperatures and a pleasant breeze). there are many street dogs, who like the dogs in mexico, are beat down, that is always silent and never begging or bothering anyone. they do rummage garbage piles which dot the streets, though there are small containers elevated form the streets for garbage. (maybe new york could learn something here, as i do not see any rats). The middle and upperclass people live amongst the rest, but in large apartment buildings or single dwellings, often barracaded by locked iron or stone fences wit hbarbed wire or imbedded broken glass on top) these houses have large dogs, vociferous rothweilers and the like).

music and religion is everywhere. most of the music is performed out doors and is available for free or for the price of drinking beer at the establishment. (beer drinking is surely teh national past time in Salvador). They dring large bottles of Skor beer, not quite as big as a 40 ounce, but almost. One person explained to mne that the establishments that serve small beers are not to be trusted as they will surely charge you too much. And she was right, of course. the restaurants for the upper classes and the tourists are EXPENSIVE, 30 to 80 reals per dish (1.7 reals to the dollar). Once you get to know the terrain, you realilze that the workers eat their almoco (lunch time is the big meal here, dinner is prefunctory and more like breakfast than a united statesian dinner) in little places that have rice and beans and a couple of meats to choose from and a salad of cucumbers and beets, for 5 reals. and then there are the comida a kilo, where you are charged by the weight of your plate. the food is excellent and much more varied and costs about 10 reals for a good sized plate. the salads are tasty, the sauces delicious, the food well prepared and varied. today i was sick, or rather in pain, and slipped up and ate a peice of lemon cheese cake kind of thing. i have been so good, not eating sweets, which is a big thing here, but it was soooo light and soooo delicious, i know i am in trouble now. fortunately it will be closed apparently for the next week as carnaval goes on)

my first day here, i heard a street band playing drums and tambourines and west African styled agogo bells. These drums were like tom toms played horizontally. The rhythms were very much like the Afro Cuban rhumba music, but without teh shekere, instead tambourines. The Brazilians can do some mean things with a tambourine! I went to go get my recorder, and got lost that night, and thus did not record it. found out later that my recorder (brandd spanking new) does not work).

On Tuesdays in the historic city, the Pelourinho, thre is a church built by Africans. it is traditional since the 19th century for them to feed people and have celebrations on Tuesdays, and outside the church, throughout the pelourinho there are secular celebrations, with lots of music and dancing and the like. My first tuesday in the pelourinho there was a concert by olodun, which of course is big stuff. I could not get in there as there were hundreds of people outside already who couldn’t get in the amphitheatre enjoying the (quite loud music) Many restaurants had small bands of various types and muscial styles playing for their patorn. But there was another smaller stage with a woman singer whose music completely enthralled me. She had a voice that reminded me of Miriam Makeba’s in clarity and delightfulness. Her b and had three guitars and three percussionists. one small guitar, the improvising guitar, and two rhtym players. there was a bass tom tom like drum, a higher pitched one, and a tambourine player. one of the guitarists and one of the percussionists snag background vocals. The music was also built around the West african styled interlocking rhythms. teh bass player, olr rather the bass drum player did the most improvising amongs the percussionists, but all the players varied their accompaniment and added inspired flourishes her and there. the drummers used their right hand to play their tones and the left had to make counter rhthyms and muffled parts on the side of the drum. The music swung hard, but was much softer i thought than say american funk or afro cuban rhumba. When i was in havana, i was impressed witih the universal virtuosity of their msucians. But it had some of the machismo rigidity and virtusos stuff of say bebop musicians. The music here was much more fluid and less rigid; flowing and gentle. She sang introductions that were complicated and that utilized chromatic harmonies, and the like, then settled into melodies that the people could sing along with and standard type rhythmic accampinaments. It was beautiful. the people mostly danced single, especially the woman and girls, but there was some couple dancing as well. Again, the complicated , thythnmic movements of their hips reminded me of the cubanos, but again in a much more fluid and less patriarchal manner. In the dance styles of some latin dancing (though not the rumbha that i witnessed in havana, which had mostly men dancing) you have the man at the center of the couple’s dancing space, controlling teh dance. the woman does most of the turns and difficult moves, completely at the urging and direction of the male. there was nothing analagous evident in the dancing here. at one point an old homeless woman, toothless (often the homeless are here) barefooted and covered in dirt, came in front of the stage to dance. she was an expert dancer and seemed transformed by the act. she was flirtatious and as coquettish as any young teenager. she inspired a young man to come forth and dance several numbers with her. this music was a revelation, as they say.

a few days later i heard a samba band playing along the coast. they had two snare drummers, two bass drum players, one tom tom player, two trombones, two trumpets, and one alto sax. This was interesting music also. the snares make a sort of counter rhythm that is continuous and seperated from the other drummers. the main rhythm was carried by thte two bass drummers, who played with one stick in the right hand and one the left hand directly on the skin. the tom tom plyer was the improviser and also played with one stick. here again there was much fluidity in the way that the band realized its gestalt rhythm. the trombones and trumpets played loud as a mug, and played in thirds mostly with bvery syncopated rhythms. THe alto player was a delight. he played a very bluesy, jazzy style, but comletely original. his altissimo was stunning. a full two octaves above the regular range (we’re talking david murray kind of range here). he needed it i suppose to be heard, as this band was loud. after i had finished practicing i came back and they were perched, still playinig in froont of an acaraje stand (traditional food developed by the black bahoainos. for 2 or 3 reals you get a cornbread licke pouch (actually made from black eyed peas, not corn) filled with a pepper sauce, black eyed peas and okra, some kind of paste and the cucumber mixture that seems to tbe a defuault garnish here. Incidentally, the acaraje is always served by women, whose position in bahaino cultue is traditionally quite high. during slavery women often ran markets, earned money, bought their freedom and property. they are the majority and the most important of the priest class of candomble. always served by women who always wear skirts or dresses–all other waitresses wear pants0 they also wear head wraps, and the alekes of the orixas). when the alto player saw me with my saxophone, he quited the band and took a spectacular solo. he invited me up to play with them, and it was fun trying to hear the melodies as they went through their paces. during their break, a woman requested some bossa novas and the altoist and i played duets over girl from ipanema and wave. this cat played by ear, had had no lessons. his favorite saxophonists were charlie parker adn dexter gordon. he was fantastic and absolutely original. kind of like maceo and bird with clave.

i heard a traditional caporeria class, which was very intersting. they taught teh songs in an african language and with philosophical eplanations of the words and the personalities of the orixas that were being honored through them. the music was also african. the clave had a different starting point thant the song. the call and reswponse pattern of the singing had overlapping parts, as in Africa, and with the itersting intervaillic leaps of west africa. there was a tall conga type bass drum plyed with one stick and had, and a mid sized conga played with two sticks, and a bell part. the bell played clave and sometimes a mozambiquean rhythm when in six. the two stick conga played a running counter part that made me realize where the snare durm part of samba comes from. the lead msucian was the bass drum player who delighted in very abstract renderings of his part, signalling the others and really mixing it up. this is caporeoria de angola, which is tied to ceremony. different from capoereia du rua (rua is street) which is the tourist attraction. their music is loud and by comparison boring. though it is charming to see the children going through the streets playing and dancing together. often the street caporeeristas are posing and flipping for photographs form tourists. they do bnot seemed to be advancing the art of caporeira, however. they are loud and can be seen cavortin through the pelourinho fifty deep jumping up and down and pied pipering a crown behind them.

my second tuesday in the pelourinho was quite rewarding. i went to the church service which was crowded with hundres of standing people. The music was african but the singing was more african brazkilian i would say. The singing was moving, and the people sang along with it. there movements associated with the mass were different form what i have seen elsewhere in catholic services, with outstretched hands, waving, and dancing. the service was quite moving, i must say. (incidentally there was a french journalist recording the service for tv in france). at the end of the service when the priest walked through the crowds (very difficult given its density) with a bush of leaves that look like mint leaves which he dipped in the holy water and then flung the water on the people as we were eating the bread that was being passeed about, people would get a loaf from a basket and then offer to share a peice with those around them. they would at times greet each other by kissing each other’s hands. Man, you wanted some of that water flung on you! Me, a literal refugee form the Christian church, was eager to have the water on my person and clothes. it was something.

the woman is now closing up the shop, so i will end by saying that after the church service i wen tot he main stage to listen to geronimo and afro-indian group form sao louis, maranou. they were beautiful and i felt my spirit fill up to the point where i felt like crying (me, who can count the times he has cried since i was 12). i want to say more, but am been kicked out.

thanks for being patient,

tudo bem,
salim