Everyday Vida

Recently, I remarked to a friend that I don’t know why its taken me so long to update my blog. she said – sometimes its hard to make stories out of the every day. True dat. And its amazing how quickly life becomes the every day. Even if you are in another hemisphere. But the every day - though sometimes can be as banal as the every day – can also be full of surprises and cosisas lindas. But before the every day kicked in, in September my friend Betsy visited and besides having a wonderful time in Salvador, we went to the beautiful, deserted (well kind of) island of Boiapeba. It was stunningly amazing and we passed the time away on the beach (which was about 5 mins away from our eastern-inspired pousada complete with a meditation space) reading, playing canasta and drinking fruitoroksas. We felt grateful for this peaceful tranquility because getting there was the worst 2 1/2 hour boat ride ever. Well not ever for me – ive had one worst. But for Betsy definitely. Everybody on the boat got sick (except for the one other American who didn’t stop talking the entire time about boat rides which was the last thing you wanted to think about) and its probably a good thing otherwise we all would have completely freaked out by the huge waves that were literally crashing up over us in our little catamaran. And then in the middle of all the internal and external commotion the boat drivers (sailors? Navigators?) called out “Baleias! Baleias” We all got up from our positions which we had been holding on for dear life and wobbled to the front of the boat to see the most beautiful site of whales, huge brown whales diving in and out of the water. In pairs, alone , close to our boat and far away. It turns out the end of winter is the time to see them and we had hit the perfect spot.
So after Betsy left, life became the every day. No more tour guide and host, no more seeing amazing creatures of the sea– now it was time to buckle down and start on the post-production stuff I need to get down in order to begin the edit of my film. This is basically not much different from working on documentaries at home. A large part of it consists of me running around Salvador asking people to do things for me for free. But this time in Portuguese. And I was very amused to see that the place where I am doing a lot of my work – TV UFBA (which the television station for the university here) is totally un-brasilian and just like media outlets in the U.S. I could be back at ABC news. The head of it is completely stressed, they all work long hours and they need you to talk quickly (Diga!) so they can get back to their own work. It’s the first time I’ve seen this in Brasil. Aah the joys of working in the media.
And lets see what else - I went to a totally fancy, fun party a couple a weeks ago. It was at the penthouse apartment with a 180 degree view of the city (which basically means you can see the ocean and the bay) with a pool, waiters serving processco and an awesome dj that totally spun music that had everyone on the dance floor. Yes it was early and mid-90’s hip hop with some stevie wonder, rolling stones and Motown thrown in. basically it had my name all over it (its true as I get older, I get more predictable). Apparently this guy plays at a tire shop (!) which turns into a club every Friday at like midnight. Which means in Brasil means like 1:00 AM. Gots to check it out.
The next week after the debauchery I went on a Caminadah da Lua (moon walk) with 2 friends of mine – one an American who literally just made her dream come true by moving here after visiting for the past ten years. She is starting a non-profit to rebuild all of these old, abandoned houses around the city and make them into service centers for the poor. Anywho, a woman organizes this walk every month on the first night of the full moon (did I mention that another friend of mine who visited commented that Brasil is “very seventies”). We took a beautiful long walk on the sand and practiced different exercises incorporating the four things we were told that that are fundamental to helping a person be whole: Oracao, Fe, Entregar, Silenco – Prayer, Faith, Surrender and Silence.
And last night things came to a full circle (I love when that happens!) when I saw the son of slain South African Activist Steven Biko give a speech here in honor of the 30 years of the death of his father. The room was packed and everyone was giving so much love to the son of this icon that had was an inspiration for Biko remarked that he had only been in Salvador a few hours but it felt like home and looking out at the audience he could be back in South Africa. I added in my head – or Brooklyn, or Harlem. And as he pointed out it was coincidently the 40th anniversary of the death of Che Guvera. There was a lot of revolutionary spirit in the air.

Tudo Bem Productions

I am sitting in my new apartment in the sun room looking out at the Bay of Salvador (Bay of Santos) to the island of Itaparica, which is the biggest island in the bay. In other words – my new apartment is sweet. Light pours in all day and there is a view of the water from 3 of the rooms. Granted – its totally falling apart as well –needs a paint job, a new fridge, stove and some general upgrading. But the neighborhood is much cooler than barra where I was living. That area was super touristy and pricey and I got sick of all the euros and hearing American accents. Also, there was nothing to do there at night. I am now in the neighbhorhood of Dois de Julio which is definitely more “de povo” (of the people) which of course means less expensive and more interesting. Its also extremely brasilian with fruit, veggie, meat and fish stands operating all day, and baracas serving beer and charascuro all night. The apartment that I am in is in owned by a locoura French woman who speaks Portuguse and some English really fast and with such a thick French accent that I cant understand her in either language. Although this morning we had a conversation in Portuguese that went fairly well. She talks a lot so which is great Portuguese practice for me. And I discovered yesterday while moving in that my new cool amiga Jackie is renting a place next store for three weeks. She is a beautiful Ghanian woman who grew up in Germany, lives in London and is trying to go to school here in salvador. last night she cooked me a delish gahnian dish called "red red" that consisted of dried camarao, tomatoes, onions, peppers sauteed in palm oil over rice with plantains. now i have to cook her a typical american meal. she said she wants corn bread, fried chicken and macaroni and cheese.
Its interesting that all of the places that Ive stayed at – apartment in barra, pousadah in cachoeria and now here – are owned by women. You definitely see that the women here are taking care of business. And I don’t know if that is a result of the sexism that pervades this country where men are often sitting out drinking cerveja and hitting on women while the women are supporting are taking care of the kids. Brasil is known to have less “machismo” than other Latin American countries and be more open and fluid around sexuality. I think that’s true but the system of patriarchy is still evident.
However, one of the most important places of power for women, especially black women is in the religion of candomble. And one of the areas where candomble is muito forte is in Cachoeria where I have been shooting my documentary for the last 2 weeks. I left Salvador to go up there on August 6th. The week before I left I was anxious and nervous about the shoot, about moving and about my time here being half-way done. I was frustrated with my language progress and the difficulty of making brasilian friends. I arrived in Cachoeria on a Sunday and was immediately remembered as the Americano who is doing the documentary about the Festa da Boa Morte. Folks remembered me from when I was there doing interviews in june and were incredibly friendly. That is save for one person . but we’ll get to that later. Best of all – it was pretty much all Portuguese all the time. So for my first week I was dealing with figuring out what I needed to shoot, who I was going to interview and what events we wanted to make sure we didn’t miss. Annie (who’s last name I changed to ‘thank god you’re here’) arrived on Thursday and we began shooting the next day and basically didn’t stop until the next Saturday. Annie was awesome, has a great eye and is such a trooper. It was also totally fun hanging out and I swear I couldn’t have done it without her. She made me laugh, helped me with the language, and while drinking three reis caparhinhas at night (shout out to ruebens at the Hotel Convento), helped me figure out the story I am trying to tell. The shoot was a typical documentary shoot – exhausting, frustrating, inspiring and infuriating. My big accomplishment is that I was able to conduct the interviews in Portuguese without a translator, which was pretty exciting. Unfortunately, our biggest barrier was the gatekeeper for Irmandade de Boa Morte (they are the sisterhood who put on the Festa every year) who I knew was not into me doing this documentary when I met with her a few months ago. This time around she decided she didn’t like me and proceeded to make our life hellish. But we decided that the name of our company is Tudo Bem Productions and we would do all that we can and then leave it at that. And we had a lot of helpful folks along the way as well. One great thing is that Cachoeria is so friggin’ quaint and beautiful that it’s a pleasure to shoot there and the footage looks beautiful. Annie and I are hoping to edit a piece before our time here is through which means I may spend some time in Rio, where Annie is based , editing the footage. This means my next couple of months I will be preparing for that big time.

Tchau

I have hit my four-month mark and am amazed how fast time has gone. Yesterday I filmed at the Fórum Social Nordestino – a local forum modeled on the World Social Forums that have taken place all over the world. This one specifically addressed issues in the Northeast of Brasil (this is where Bahia is located. It’s the poorest state in the country). I went to meeting of activists working on the issues of quilmobos which are communities located all over brasil that were started by runaway slaves and have maintained a strong history of resistance and tradition. There is a huge struggle right now in Brazil over the quilombos which are under threat from large landowners (fazendeiros) and other companies that want their land. Many of the quilbombos are trying to get title to their land so that they can be declared the legal owners but they have to undergo a lengthy process proving that they are indeed the descendants of slaves. Today I go up to Cachoeira and stay until the end of the month. I will do most of my filming during this time – filming the Festa da morte, more interviews with the Sisters, townspeople etc. My colleague and friend Annie is coming up from Rio and will shoot the festa for me which is awesome. I’m very happy not to have to be a one-man band (shooting, producing, and interviewing). When I come back I will be moving (new neighborhood, less expensive, less touristy) so things feel a little in flux but even when your living abroad change is inevitable.
The new food discovery this month – cenouras (carrots)! Incredible -.Sweet, almost perfumey and a beautiful orangey, yellow color.
I will say tchau for now –Cachoeria is still on dial-up and internet is mush less accessible. Tenha um bom agosto! Muito saudade.

The Sertao

Camarotes

ok so I know that from my postings it seems like my life in brasil is filled with nothing but fun, excitement, festas feijoada and caparinias. And though that’s largely true, I thought it was important to mention that at times it gets lonely, feels super foreign and baffling especially when I step back and once again process that people are communicating in a totally a different language. Its muito strange, man. There’s also times that I work myself up into a cold sweat thinking about what my life will be like when I return to states. However, this last week has been full of the aforementioned festas. My friend Naomi has come for a visit and we’ve been doin it up – camarote style. Camarote means VIP tickets and for the last 2 Friday’s we got camarotes to a great little club called barraca de raizes (roots club) and heard a good samba band that was preceded by great house band. Both times, in classic brazillian style streets outside the club were lined with folks drinking, eating chiaroscuro, and chillin. Then, in classic new orelans second –line style, at about 11:30 pm the house band came down the block drumming and playing outside until they entered the club about a half hour later. Inside , the crowd was fully vibing off the energy and sambaing like mad-people (we especially enjoyed the beautiful tranny who held the crowd captive and as she shook her thang). Then the band came on and kept folks going the rest of the night. we also went to a great concert last week headlined by Gal Gosta and Maria Martinali – two giants of brazilian music. The next day we attended a beautiful candomble ceremony at the Gantois terreiro in honor of Oshala who is the orisha traditionally honored on Friday. The day after that we went to a birthday party of a brazilian woman I met when I was in sao paulo. After getting a little lost in the taxi and arriving there a little early (I was told 8 pm, got there at 10 pm and of course it didn’t really get going to 11:30 pm). We got to practice our Portuguese while hanging out with some cool folks in a neighborhood that was off the beaten tourist track route. The next day after the beach, we ended up at casa da mae listening to the amazing samba de roda band I had heard the week before. again the old ladies danced, again the gringos (yes here im a gringo – I was shocked when I found this out) and the locals mixed, and this time I was even pulled in to the circle to dance which I had been reluctant to do being that I cant samba worth a damn. It was total bahian immersion for Naomi and it felt great to be able to share my new world with a friend from home. This week, consisted of 3 birthday celebrations for a friend who lives here. Last night after the third and final celebration, we ended up at sankofa – an African place in the pelorino – that played American hip, hop and club hits from the last few years. I have to admit – it was really fun to dance to hip hop again. Tonight we are going to hear Olodum the afro –brazilian drum ensemble (we just watched the video they were in with Michael Jackson called ‘they don’t care about us’ on youtube.) and then we are off to Chapada Diminitia which is a national park about 5 hours from Salvador. So I will be off-line for a about a week or so. ate mais and i miss all the camarotes in my life.

Lingua Portugese

Lately ive been loving portuguese. the singsongy melody, the funny words, the 'tino' added to words to make it small and 'cao' added to things to make it big. this has come after a spate of not digging it - of muito frustration and exhaustion and i think it is happening now because im starting to actually understand people - voices are not just an incoherent din of background noise that follows me through the day. but of course this means that im only now getting gists of what people are saying. i miss out on crucial details all the time, confuse words and numbers constantly but despite all that it feels like my world has opened up. somewhat. a little. ok, a smidgen. and when i was in rio last week i noticed how differently the cariocas (rio residents) speak. rio is a muito bonita cidade. the highlights were hanging out with my friend and colleague annie, - talking about our work, and life in and out of brasil and planning our collaborations. we also had a harrowing and hysterical ride in a tram up to the amazing neighborhood of santa theresa complete with an armed guard (rio is a heavily armed city - policia just as scary as the drug traficantes they are supposedly protecting the public from.) annie also took me to this great samba bar in the cool section of the city called lapa. she broke down the basic steps of samba for me but i still doubt i will ever be able to do it. also, in lapa i went to these amazing steps that are a must- see for any trip there. the artist has been working on them for like 20 years. when i returned to salvador (or 'cidade de felizadade' as it is known), i realized that even though i was only gone for a week - i missed it a little bit. and of course last weekend was a holiday (you gotta love a country where there is literally a holiday at least once a month) - baihian independence day. i spent the night before independence day listening to samba de roda (specifically samba from bahia) at casa de mae - a very cool small music spot not far from me. american students, bainas, ex-pats, old women and small children were vibing on the music and dancing. and to make it even more of a brazilian moment, the window looked out onto the waves crashing in the ocean across the street.

Paulista Pride

Who knew that the 3rd largest city in the world would be so friendly, fun and inviting? My friend tisa and I had a blast in Sao Paulo in our 2 two short days there last weekend. We went shopping, checked out the museu de lingua Portuguese (a really cool museum that examines the Portuguese language in Brasil and the diasopora. It looks at history, slavery, colonialism, music, religion and writers, songwriters and authors. Neither of us had been to anything like it before), checked out the Liberdade neighborhood which is the Japanese area (brasil has the largest number of Japanese in the world outside of japan), ate sushi (yum – sushi I miss you!). And of course we did gay pride. Saturday there was a small but spirited dyke march that of course ended in a street party. After we went to one of the best lesbian bars ive been too – food, live music and samba dancing. Why cant we have more of these kind of spots everywhere??? And Sunday was the hugest march ive ever been too. It was estimated to be 3 million people. Wow is all we could say for the entire day. After that I came back to salvador and went back up to cachoeria to do some filming with the irmandade. I’ve connected with this American professor who has been studying and writing a book about them and about afro-brasilian religion, politics and identity. He has been coming to cachoeria on and off for the last 5 years. We realized our purposes converged and I have started filming him interviewing the sisters. I will be going up again this week then off to rio for the weekend for another Fulbright conference. The language learning curve continues, at a glacial pace sometimes and other times by leaps and bounds (well no not really - it usually feels glacial.) One of the things I realized is that I tend to use the same vocabulary over and over again because they are words that I feel confident about and can pronounce. Its like im a 5-year old all over again. I spent yesterday morning learning the past-imperfect verb tense with my language teacher. (Yes, in portuguese three are three ways of conjugating the past depending on the circumstance your talking about. crazy!) and then last night I spent out trying to use it- with limited success. And for the first time last week I started feeling like ive been away for a long time. And its only been a little more than two months.
Im missing ya’ll hardcore.

CSA

My disguise worked! I posed as an academic, got into the Caribbean Studies Assoication Conference last week and immersed myself in academics from all over giving talks, presentations, showing films and getting into heated discussions about the Caribbean, the U.S, Brazil, race, imperialism, pop culture, religion, immigration and a host of other topics. It was a fabulous, inspiring week with fabulous people to boot. A friend was also in town that I hadn’t seen in a while and it was great to hang out with her. I ran into other people I knew, had encounters with new people and partied with a group of really cool folk. I became the de facto tour guide/translator (which is hysterical considering my limited language skills) that was made all the more challenging by having some vegan/vegetarians in the posse. But I got to try the delicious and inexpensive African vegitarian place that I had heard about and take folks to the slightly hippy feel (but not hippy food) vegeitarian spot that is near me. And I learned one important thing about Salvador – being black here does not protect you from getting robbed. This is something you hear from white tourists a lot “oh you’re lucky cause you aren’t a target.” Well on Friday night, I was walking with 3 other black women and one of them got their bags got stolen – ripped right off her arm. Granted – we weren’t walking in the best area, and she had just taken out a camera to take a picture ( a no-no that I had been warned about before). Luckily everyone was ok and she only had the camera in the bag – but it still freaked us out.
It was sad to them all leave en-masse on Sunday morning but hopefully there will be folk that I keep in touch with. Now back to my mellow Salvador life. I just came from capoeria with a teacher named Yorubudddah (i kid you not) who insisted on working us to death. This weekend I go to Sao Paulo (the 5th largest city in the world!) for the Pride festivities. Happy Pride all. And of course this weekend is the Dia de Namorados/as. Much better title than Valentines day.

Naming

one of the first things you hear about when you come to brazil is the persistence of the myth of racial democracy. this is a concept that has defined the country since last century and who’s architect was the social scientist and author Gilberto Freyre. In the 1930's, Freyre introduced the idea of a "Brazilian racial democracy", in where he argued that the mixture of races here (African, Indian, European) has created a race-free society where races freely mix socially and sexually and thus racism doesn’t exist .He said that class difference in Brazil were based on economic disparities, and not racial differences. This narrative has obviously served the interest of the white elite here and not the mass of black folks of which, a large part are poor, live in the favelas or moros on the outskirts of town outside of the economy and who have little access to education and upward mobility. This narrative has also inspired much debate- and yesterday I took part or rather witnessed one among 3 brilliant, politically progressive, women- one afro-Brazilian, one American white and one mixed but considers herself black (race here is very complex. This was crystallized for me recently when someone pointed out that Brazilians have about 30 words for various shades of brown and black. A person is largely defined by what they want to call themselves. So, there are people who are as dark as me, who call themselves ‘morena’–which means brown; brown people who call themselves branco, and so far ive met exactly one brown person who calls herself black). The four of us were eating a late lunch, which after many beers, turned into an evening, which turned into a night. And they were kind enough to speak a hybrid of Portuguese and English so I could follow the discussion. It basically was about whether Freyre could be considered anything but racist since in his effort to elevate the African contribution to Brazil, he stereotypes blacks and argues that slavery wasn’t that bad here. The Afro-Brazilian woman argued no – he cant be. The other Brazilian woman though agreeing that Freye was problematic argued that he had to be read in the context of his time. What was interesting to me is that a white dude who wrote in the 1930s was still the defining voice about race in this country – you either argue for or against him but he is still the standard. I don’t know exactly what that says but I feel like it says something. Then of course we moved on to bigger and better subjects like gay celebrities, differences between butch and femme here and in the states and dirty Portuguese words.
This was the second impassioned discussion I had witnessed/taken part in this week. Earlier in the week, I went to get my toenails done (one of the most convenient things to do in this town because there is literally a salao de beleza on every block). And when I told the woman my name she repeated it to make sure she understood. I am now used to this– most people here know that my name is a language and is in fact the language of the afro-brazilian religion of candomble – so they repeat it, or ask again to make sure they heard me correctly. Sometimes they tell the person next to them and its usually it’s a nice way to break the ice (however, on the bus recently I was talking to this man and after I told him my name he stopped and looked at me in shock said ‘you must change your name’). So after I told the woman at the nail place she told me she knew some Yoruba words because her mother practices candomble and she grew up in the religion. Then one of her colleagues asked her if it is a religion where they do bad things. This sparked a whole discussion and since it was all in Portuguese, most of it escaped me but basically the woman was explaining it was a religion brought over by the slaves and that it was a very beautiful religion, very spiritual and was not about doing harm to people. Interestingly when I asked her if she practices candomble, she said though she likes to go to the festas da candomble and especially liked the food there, she herself preferred Catholicism.
Salvador is awash in conferences this time of year. last week was a conference on Africa and development at the university. I saw 2 good documentaries about Angola and Zimbabwe. and this upcoming week is the Caribbean Studies Conference where people from around the world are presenting on everything under the sun - at least under the caribbean sun. im hoping i can pass as an academic and get into some of the talks.

images from the week

house of the sisterhood in cacheira
view from Cachoeria
friends on the beach

Cachaca, Capoeira, Cachoeira

Last weekend some old friends came through Salvador and I got to show them around my new city. They had just come from rio and upon arriving in Salvador they (who have traveled extensively around the world) declared brasil the best and most underrated country in the world. So my job was fairly easy and we had a blast. On Friday we met up at this great cachaca bar – they serve all different kinds of cachaca (brasilian rum) infused with things like cinnamon, tamarind, passion and a host of other unknown spices - and then we headed to hear a folho band in the streets of the pelohrino. “Folho” is a very popular music in brazil that’s like a mixture of samba, country, a little rock and maybe even a little salsa. We ended up at this great samba bar where the locals hang out and where a different live band plays every night of the weekend. We ended up there the next night as well. This time an afro-pop band played – and they brought on stage a great female singer who rocked the place with her guitar. Before that we went out to dinner at a fancy spot where we had good food, amazing chilean wine (check out Carmenere wine from chile) and heated conversation. We got into a deep discussion about post-colonialism, globalization and politics. It was refreshing to be able to express deeper thoughts than the basic, functional ones that i do in Portuguese and I wondered if I would ever get to the point where I could argue with someone loudly and confidently in Portuguese. Earlier I had shown my friends my index cards with my various vocabulary words written on them. I carry them around with me to look at on the bus and at other spare moments. My friend commented that that was the first multitasking he’d seen in Brazil and said that the way he learned Japanese when he was living in Japan was by arguing with his Japanese girlfriend.
Yesterday I took a capoeria class for the first time. Capoeria is the brazilan martial art/dance created by slaves in brasil. I had been hesitant to do it because, though beautiful, it just looked like something my body was not up for – but I knew I had to try it at least once. And it was amazing. My body may not be completely up to the task but she and i gave it the old college try. The teacher is this amazing young woman who has the right combination of toughness and teacherlyness. Im a total convert. Tomorrow morning I head up to Cachoeria – a town about two hours north of Salvador - to try to gain permission and hopefully collaboration from the women that I want to film.

The Rainy Season

ive been thinking a lot about language lately and Ive decided that language is like a relationship. The familiarity with the process should, in theory, make it easier when you begin a new one. But often you confuse them, substituting words and meanings, switching accents and applying rules where they don’t belong while ignoring or forgetting the new ones. Like a relationship, when you are learning a new language you think about it a lot – analyzing the structure of a sentence or trying like anything to figure out what a word signifies. The process is a relationship- alternately wonderous and frustrating (why oh why are there 3 words for ‘this’ in Portuguese?”), adventuresome and exhuasting ( I was quiet because it takes so much energy to constantly explain what I actually mean. And im tired of being corrected.), impressive (you’ve been studying Portuguese for only 3 weeks – wow you’re a fast learner) and can cause concern ( you didn’t understand that? she asked you ‘where we are from’ -which we learned the first day of class). Language, like a person, takes a really long time to know. Often you think you are getting a handle on it getting into the grove, the rthymn (cool- I totally made a joke and they laughed) and then you are shocked to learn that though you thought you were speaking with the correct accent, right verb tense and correct prepositions - the other person doesn’t know what the hell you are talking about. Sometimes you think you understand them, are quite certain even that you do, and it turns out that they are saying something completely different than what you thought. And sometimes you just cant understand the other person at all – you look blankly at their face, and they are incomprehensible to you. And you realize that all of our assumptions, our nuances, our preconceptions, our selves, are in language. And you are literally speaking a different one. But unlike relationships, one doesn’t become a cynic about language. You keep trying, failing a lot, succeeding some and getting corrected often. Im in my 4th week of language classes and this is where I am. New students come and go each week – this week there are people from France, Italy, Denmark, Finland, Britain, Austria, the U.S and of course Switzerland. But May is a sleepy time in salvador. It is the rainy season, a time for cleansing and clearing away. It rains almost every morning, washing away the trash of the previous evening, clearing the leftover beer cans and quejos on a stick (delish grilled cheese by the way). Still, every morning old men can be found soaking in the blue ocean. Its nice to have some respite from the unrelenting sun and but this is rainy season tropics style. There is usually enough sun for the beach and its still warm enough that official outfit here is bikinis and cute swimming trunks for the men. The other news from brazil is about the pope’s arrival (Brazil has the largest number of roman catholics than any other place in the world) and the daily murders and carjackings in rio. I watch this on the news every morning. That and a special interest program hosted by a Susan Powteresqe blond with so much plastic surgery that is fascinating to watch her speak because her face is pulled back so tight (Brazil has the largest percentage of people with plastic surgery in the world). And I bought a really cute shirt the other day. ive posted it for y'all to see

Black Hair and Oshala

"HAIR EMERGENCY: Can you send me some hair stuff ASAP. Shea Butter, Indian Hemp, Anything please!" This is the emergency text I sent to the states on Saturday and Im still reeling from the shock of trying to find hair product this weekend. When I was packing to come here, I tried to be very strict as to what I would bring. I had naively assumed that hair products would be something that I could easily find. This was brasil afterall! Beautiful black people with beautiful hair, right? Well my first clue should have been the first night that I arrived. I went out to get food with my landlady and somehow we started talking about hair and she said that it was still very unusual for people to have locks – she told me that black women here still mostly relax their hair or wear extensions. Hmmph -I thought to myself- well maybe that’s true for the older people (she is from a different generation) but there’s got to be people here who wear their hair natural. and in fact when I was here the last time these ladies hooked up me and my mom’s hair better than anyone I had gone to at home. So there’s got to be at least one place where I can find hair products – at the very least they must have that little section in the store for black hair care like they do at home. And with all the coconut, avocado, papaya, nuts, cocoa,- theres got to be some great natural stuff. So this week, as my own supply began to dwindle, I started to keep my eye out for product – in the supermarket, in the farmacia. Hmmm – not much. And it seems to all be made by L’Oreal and Palmolive – two companies that I do not associate with black hair. On Monday, over beers with my two friends – American black women who have been living here for a bunch of months – I asked them where they went. “I brought stuff with me” they both replied. One was going back for a few weeks soon and was planning on stocking up. She offered to bring me back some but my needs were more immediate. So this weekend I made it my goal to find hair grease. I took the bus up to the mall and began wandering around. I went into a Botanica – a place where they have shampoos, skin stuff, perfumes etc. The lady showed me sweet smelling hair products but there was nothing there for me. So I asked the first black woman that I saw- “onde e uma loja comprar crème por meu cabello? (where is there a store to buy cream for my hair - I emphasized the my). Lojas Americanas- she replied. I had heard about this store. This was like the K-Mart of Salvador with lines to prove it. So I went there and spent an hour diligently looking in their 3 hair aisles. Nothing. Absolutely nothing for natural black hair. Ok im in real trouble here I thought to myself as I walked out. Across the street was another farcmacia and out of desperation I went in there to continue my search. And deep in one corner of the store practically hidden, I found something that will suffice for the time being. It says it has brazil nut oil, avocado oil and mineral oil. The first ingredient listed ?- Vaseline.
Later that night I met up with my friend to go to dinner and then to a candomble ceremony. My friend who is a very cool ex-patriot, ex-mormon has been living in Salvador for many years. She was with her friend who is afro-brasilian. I expressed to them my shock at the lack of hair products for black hair and they both agreed. The afro-brasilian woman, who had a beautiful short natural do, kept shaking her head and saying “nada, nada.” and how people tell her she'd be more beautiful is she straightened her hair. Well now I know the business to start if I decided to move here.
After dinner, dressed in our whites, my friend and I went to the candomble (for more on Candomble: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Candombl%C3%A9) ceremony. It was for Oshala
(he is the orisha of the the creation, the father) and in a very working class area of the city. As we drove, she pointed out the huge mormon temple that sat there looking completely out of place next to the shacks, and makeshift houses. As she and I waited outside for the ceremony to begin, we saw two young, white men in suits and backpacks walking down the street holding small black books. Mormons on their mission huh. – I asked. Yeah – she said. They’re big here.
The ceremony was supposed to begin at 8:00 pm -which meant it began at 9:30 pm. The bright clean room – called a terreiro- was packed with people of all ages in white - white dresses, pants, linens, t-shirts, shawls .The room smelled of soap, like everyone had just showered 5 minutes before they came. Men, women, teenagers, babies, men and women in their 80s mostly afro-brasilians with a few gringos thrown in, lined the room. Then the drumming started and a line of women in white came out and slowly danced and praised as they circled the room. Then more people came out mostly women but some men came and joined them and they carried what looked like big clay jars on their head. And others held a long sheet over them and they circled the room and made spirals folding into each other. Others went to hug and give praise to the mae de santo. You could see tears begin to stream down some of their faces, and some began to get weak and were held up by their fellow worshipers. And the drums continued, and the chanting and swaying. And some in the audience began to get the spirit and were taken and brought to a room where they later emerged ready to take part in the ceremony. My friend and I stood there for two hours entranced watching. Just swaying and watching.
And tomorrow is Labor Day. Why is it observed everywhere else in the world on May 1st except in the U.S?
and for those cats who claim they are going to visit me - check out these two sites for tickets
http://www.kayak.com/ and www.brol.com
i believe it when i see you on the beautiful beach also known as my backyard.

Back to the Beach

im back in Salvador and back to my sunny, solitary beach life. Montevideo was interesting -it was a place I never would have visited on my on. It was very pleasant, orderly and seemingly easy living. The food was ok – except that they had a thing about cream sauce that would have given the brits a run for their money. In every restaurant the first thing they serve you is bread with a bowl of mayonnaise. It also was pretty chilly there for the most part and being back I realized that im now used to waking up to sunny, beautiful weather and people walking around in bikinis. However their wine was delish – (if anybody can find Uruguayan wine in nyc – holla back. Their grape is called tannat) and everything seemed incredibly affordable – much more so than brasil where the dollar keeps spiraling down with a great sucking sound.
The week ended up being ‘real-world Fulbright’. In the course of 6 days there was intrigue, rock-star partying, a mugging, bonds made and broken, friendships formed, a fight that lasted the entire week, inappropriate racial comments said at least once to each of the three black women in attendance, drunken conversations with government officials, and at least one (probably two) CIA plants. By the end of the week we were all exhausted. But it was inspiring too- and great to hear about everyone’s project. I also bonded with the other film person who is based in rio and doing a really cool project on youth media with kids in the favelas. And I found my gay boyfriend who was a riot and had my rolling most of the time.
now its back to me trying to conquer portuguese like they did brasil!

Southern Cone

I arrived in Montevideo, Uruguay 2 nights ago after a day that began at 3:00 AM and entailed 2 plane trips. Riding on the bus from the airport to the hotel I was amazed at how different Montevideo looked from brasil. The houses looked like a dutch or german style and the streets seemed well-ordered with sidewalks compartmentalized into well-mowed lawns. When I stepped off the bus the windy, salty air hit me and I looked up the little hill where our hotel was located and down at the at coast line across the street. It feels like San Francisco someone said and I agreed. We have all gathered in this little country of 3 million people where the president is a doctor that practices once a week and that's on the border of brasil and right across the river from argentina for the regional Fulbright conference. Everyone here is based in the southern cone of Latin America –chile , Paraguay, argentina, Uruguay and brasil. There are about 40 of us and we are spending the week giving presentations of our work, touring Montevideo and generally networking. We also doing things like meeting the ambassador to Uruguay. that was last night and some had an interesting conversation with him where he said that he was a bush appointee, knew him back in the days before he was governor, doesnt agree with some of his policies anymore, and no democrats in congress showed up to his confirmation process because it was right before recess. We also will be meeting two of the survivors of the Uruguayan rugby team that crashed over the andes in the early 8os and ate their dead teammates to survive - some of us have a bet as to who will be the first person in the group to ask about that.
And yesterday I was reminded that the Fulbright is indeed a U.S government program. After the welcome remarks to the group we had a presentation by a local columnist and professor here in Uruguay on 'Press Freedom and Democracy.' He basically criticized all of the leftist governments in the region saying they were prone to conspiracy theories and were suppressing democracy by cracking down on the press. he also idealized the U.S press, and dismissed the idea of consolidation as having an affect on U.S media. No context was given (like the fact that the Venezuelan media supported the 2002 U.S-backed attempted overthrow of democratically elected president hugo chavez – and in fact five out of the six major networks there are owned by a single owner, who supported the coup). But then the introductions began and then the first day of 3 days of presentations of peoples work. It’s an amazingly eclectic group- scientists, historians, anthropologists and political scietists studying everything from water rights in Argentina to shamanistic music of idegenous tribes in paraguay. The Brasil group is biggest contingent –there are 15 of us. It is also the contingent with the only other black people – both women, both gay, both with dread locks, both brilliant. One is in Salvador like me studying to be a doctor and getting her PHD at Rockefeller university. She is looking at a disease endemic to brasil. The other just graduated from college and is based in rio. She is studying black women and funk music. Yesterday as the presentations started, the sister pulled out her box of crayons and started making the most brilliant doodles and notes of what people said- like a pitcher pouring the words ‘foreign investment’ into a wine glass that stood on top of a puddle of words made up of the names of developing countries. At the top of the page she wrote ‘spill-over effects.’ And I lost my bet that I would be the oldest person here. One gentleman who is about 60 started off his introduction with – “I was a farmer in Nebraska for 20 years before going back to school…..” pretty damn cool.

The whipping post

its Friday the 13th. Im not sure that means anything here in brasil but today I finished my first week of Portuguese classes and it was pretty scary. scary in that I haven’t taken a language class in more than 15 years and this stuff is hard!. I definitely felt I was behind more than the others (everyone else in the class did know Spanish which is totally helpful). But I will solider on determined to have a real conversation in portuguese by the time my journey is through. So this week was really about 3 hours a day of classes and homework at night. I did however manage to go out a couple of times with other students from the language school. On Wednesday, I went out with one of the swiss women – she and I soon figured out that we had the same birthday but would be unable to celebrate together because she is leaving today to go to Maceio - a town further up the coast where classes and accommodation are half as expensive. she and i went to dinner at touché creperie- a little restaurant near my hood. Touché has delicious crepes and on wedesndays they have Mexican night. I was told they have the best Mexican food in Salvador and it was delicious (ok – every meal ive had here has been delicious) She and I sat outside and chatted the evening away – she works in a hospital in zurich and regaled me with stories of socialized heath care and I told her about the documentary that I will be working on here. I also went to the pelourhino twice this week. The pelo is the historic center of Salvador – the old city. It literally means “whipping post” (yes the legacy of slavery is everywhere – and here it feels more open than at home. I wonder where is the pelourhino of Richmond, Jackson and new york city) and it is the cultural heart of the city. On Tuesday evening there is music and dancing on the cobbled sidewalks and turistas and brazilians partying it up. That night I caught brazilian hip-hop with 2 young women performing a mix between break dancing and capoeria, flamenco, and brazilian reggae. We ended the night at a hot little samba bar with musicians and dancing in one room and everyone else outback drinking beer, and flirting.
A few days later I found myself in the pelourhino again. the language school took us to a dance performance where they danced the dance of the orishas and the samba do roda which is specific to this part of brasil. It was beautiful – though certainly for the touristas. It also seemed like the men got better parts. Before the performance one of the students complained to me how in the pelo the people asking for money and vendors are so aggressive. he said that when he was on a tour here a few weeks ago they wouldn’t leave them alone. I nodded my head – well that’s the price we pay for being tourists in their country. We have money and they don’t. later I hung out with another student - an Englishman- and his Brazilian date. He proceeded to tell me which countries had the most good-looking men (“cuba-but you have to pay for them there”) and where the caphrinias were the most inconsistent (rio). At the end of the night I made friends with a young boy selling the beaded necklaces that are sold all over. he was 11 years old and quite a charmer. he seemed content to have a break from his relentless job of approaching the turistas and touting his wares. He spoke slowly to me so that I could understand him. It was almost 11:00 at night and it turned out he lived far from the pelo- close to the airport. he asked where I was from – I told him. he asked if it was nice there and said that here it wasn’t because there were too many drugs. i asked him if he was in school. he said that he was – in the 5th level. I couldn’t help but put my arm around him. all I could think to say was that the most important thing he could do was to stay in school. and that was true for black people in the U.S too. he nodded his head - I wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know. Then he smiled saying -I have to go back to work - and walked away.

C.I.A

it is the evening and I am playing some bebel gilberto hoping that I can decipher some of the words in her mellifluous, melty voice after my first week here and my first day of portugese lessons. the 3 hour class consisted of me, 2 english people and 2 folks from switzterland. Of course the people from Switzerland spoke like 4 languages and I sat there green with envy kicking myself for having stopped taking French in college. But my envy evaporated when we ended the day with a samba class
(at that point more swiss from other classes joined – when was the last time you were in a space dominated by swiss??) and their Nordic roots kicked in like a mo-fo. But they were game and the teacher was a friendly and beautiful man who made everyone happy and to get down and sweat in 80 degree weather (or should i say 28 C)
“The Black Rome “ – that’s another name for Salvador I was told this weekend. “More people of afro-descent in one spot than any other place except Laogs, Nigeria.” Salvador a city of 2.5 million and the figure that is used is that 90% of people here are of African-descent. The other figure is that only 6% of the population categorizes themselves as black. That’s because here in brasil – the opposite is true than in the states – one drop makes you not black. It makes you “morena” (brown) or mestizo. I was even called ‘morena’ walking down the street. Now that was weird! And yet the myth of the racial democracy persists. As I have read and people have confirmed -brasil’s racial mythology is based on the absence of race; because everyone is mixed -black, eurpoean, Indian, - there is no racism. But of course this myth of racial paradise is indeed a myth. The most obvious clue - no one likes to be called black. And in fact, until very recently – to call someone Preto (negro or black) was an insult.
I was getting schooled on all this by a few ex-pats that I meant last week. I was very pschyed to meet them because they are cool, friendly and gay. Very exciting. Hopefully there will be more to come on queer Salvador which to my understanding has a totally different attitude about gays than in other parts of south america. And it took a week – but on Sunday I was mistaken for a bahian. Granted the man was from spain but we carried on a little conversation at the bus stop until my vocabulary petered out. He then asked where I was from – I told him and said that I was living and working here now. he promptly asked me if I worked for the CIA. The sad part is – that’s not an unreasonable question. I assured him I was not. he went on to explain that he had just read about about the CIA's involvement in Southeast Asia and that he didnt mean any insult. then as i stepped on the bus he told me how he loved american culture especially black music.
on the bus i thought again about the best caparhinia in my life that i had the day before. It was on the beach. It was sunset which at this time of year is about 5:30 . beautifully painted sailboats sat on the horizon while the fishing boats returned to the dock. Raymondo, the fabulous caparhinia maker who works the beach nearest my apartment, came by with his cart and made us ones with fresh passion fruit. We shared ours with 2 great women from Brooklyn who were guidance counselors in the public school system. they were burnt out badly and had come here on vacation. the sistas were chillin’ hardcore. and as the tide rose and we scrambled further up onto the shore, we laughed about about how we had found each other thousands of miles away when we lived a just a few train stations away from each other in new york. then we wondered together if obama really could be elected president.

images from the week

here are a few snap shots of my immediate surroundings...

black in barra

it is 1:30 pm here in Salvador. This is the hottest time of the day – a time to be in the shade of a café or the shade of an umbrella on the beach or of course cooling in the ocean. This city is a funny mixture of a beach town and bustling city. Today I found myself back at the mall searching for a map and with my extremely basic vocabulary I was able to find one and also find myself a supermarket that was not wal-mart. Yes- the most ubiquitous market here is BonPreto, aka – Wal-Mart Brasil (you wonder why it is the most profitable business ever – exceeding or right after Exxon! for more on evil wal-mart see Democracy Now headlines from 4/05 http://www.democracynow.org/article.pl?sid=07/04/05/141245).
I shopped there yesterday because of course it is the one closest to me. But today I found the other one, the brazilian one which im happy to say I like better –more organized, the prices seem better (of course everything’s in kilos so im still making non-educated guesses as to how much groceries cost) and they were playing good music to boot. I’ve also seen at least two subway shops , blockbuster, mcdonalds, HSBC and Citibank. And ive barely left my neighborhood. Aaah, globalization.- and even in my three days here I see how globalization is taking brazil by storm. The beautiful bodies, the beautiful food, the beautiful surroundings barely mask an inequality that is one of the most stark in the world. It is also extremely racialized – with blacks being at the bottom. The gap between the rich and the poor here is more than 6 times the difference in countries like India and Pakistan and more than three times the difference than in the U.S. If you compare wealth inequalities in the countries of the world – brazil comes in 3rd to last. All you have to do here is look up and you can see it – tall gated apartment buildings constructed in a jazzy, late 60’s futuristic style and tucked in between them the infamous favellas built on top of one another fighting for their part of the city. It hit home for me last night – so obvious and clear.,] I met up with my friend nilson who is a student here at the university and from the town where the Sisterhood is from– Cahoeira. Nilson speaks English and as he was walking me back to my place someone said something in English to me again. I started laughing and I asked nilson – how do they know I am American? im even trying to sway my hips like a brazilian. And he said immediately – because you are black living in barra. Riiiight, I said, of course. Barra is upscale, with gates and 24 hour security men. And the right on the beach. And though there are plenty of black people on the street enjoying the chill vibe, at the beach and cafes, the ones you see consistently throughout the days are the ones selling something, working in the stores or sleeping on the streets – not living here.

Passing

I just arrived in Salvador a few hours ago. It has been exactly a day since I left new york and it feels like I will be away for a long time. As soon as I stepped off the plane the tropical heat enveloped me letting me know this aint nyc no more. Portuguese sang all around me and I found myself mute, embarrassed that I could only mumble "obrigada" (thank you) when someone helped me with me ridiculously heavy luggage. The brother of my landlady met me at the airport and drove me to my apartment. I asked him if he spoke English – he said to me you must speak Portuguese now. so our half an hour ride to the apartment consisted of him describing the city sites to me in 3 word or less – “igeria” (church); “shopping center" and me nodding my head saying “sim, sim” and practicing one of the few phrases in portuguese that I know: “eu sou Americana mais eu mora em Salvador agora” (I am American but now I live in Salvador). Sindhu- his sister and my landlady met me at the apartment and we went out to get a bite to eat. The apartment is one block from a beautiful beach with rocks and coves in a lively, slightly touristy area called the barra neighborhood. We walked to the water and at 8 pm there were still plenty of people hanging out on the sand-making out, jogging and playing volleyball. Sindhu and I sat down at a little restaurant and drank fresh pineapple juice with mint and ate a pizza that had corn and peas on it (sounds weird but was actually good). Sindhu is very sweet and though from one of the most spiritual places in Brazil - the reconcavo which is up north and a hotbed of the African candomble religion- she is a follower of an Indian guru. Sindhu lived on a commune in oregon during the 80’s, then moved to Brooklyn for a few years before retuning to her native brazil. she continues to travel to India a few times a year. I asked her to describe her religion. “well” she said “its hard to explain. It’s basically a way in which we are asking questions about ourselves and trying to not complain about life.”
I told her- I'm down with that.
Sindhu is going to come by tomorrow for lunch and to take me around the neighborhood a bit. She also told me she thinks I will learn Portuguese fast. i asked her if i passed as a brazillian. she said no - in order to look more like a brazilian, I need to shake my hips from side to side when I walk. this was confirmed the next morning as i left my apartment to go get a fresh fruit drink native to brazil - (acai- a berry found in the amazon) and a man on the street looked me over for one second and declared "americana?" i gots to work on swaying my hips.

Bush continues to make it hard for us all

the brazillians dont play. in retaliation for the strict requirements that went up after 9/11 for foreigners to come the U.S, Brazil now requires an FBI report to get a visa to stay in the country for more than a year. this of course is a huge hassle and takes a long-assed time to get. after various running around- getting my fingerprints, begging the FBI and the local police on the phone to expedite the process and pleading with the brazilian embassy, it looks like i will have my visa today.
that will make it officially, official. i will be an expatriate. Finally, after all these years.

questions

I arrive in brazil in 6 days. how do you pack for 9 months? how do you say goodbye to everyone? how do you not worry that shit will go down when you are away and you will not be around to comfort, celebrate or talk it out? how do you live in a country where you don't speak the language?

this i do know: im excited for this adventure. i cant believe its actually happening. i love you all and carry you in my heart.