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.