| "Hmmnn, Bah-i-a-ya ... " The next day you say good by to your friend Dalia and take a plane to Salvador, Bahia, the birthplace of carnaval. The Brazilians call Bahia the California of Brazil. Most of the people practice macumba. The macumba religion requires its members to participate for days and nights without stopping. Of course, they can't go to work. There is, therefore, a large percentage of Brazilians who do not work. The country's total workforce is not available. It's a great economic problem. In the state of Bahia there isn't much chance for reform since a sizable portion of senators represents the macumba. Carnaval in Rio de Janeiro is elegant. Carnaval in Bahia is "down home." Maybe this poem gives the feeling of it. "SALVADOR" Where's the action? It's in the street, man. You gotta go down to the street, man. I don't know the street. You gotta go down to the street, man. That's where it's at, man. I'm afraid. Everybody's afraid, man, but they're in the street, man. It's the only way, you gotta go down to the street. It's happening in the street. But I want to go where the beautiful people are. They're in the street, man. Go to the street, man. You ask the natives in Bahia how thy feel about carnaval. One says, "It's four days that you don't have to work. Four days to do whatever you want -- if you want to drink, or dance, or make love." Another says, "It's a time for your erotics." No religious or cultural significance is mentioned. No one seems to know the history or why they have carnaval, only that they look forward to it all year long. You leave your expensive hotel on the Atlantic Ocean and take a taxi to downtown Salvador to see the carnival. There are groups of people dancing. In each group the people wear the same costume. It's described to you in Portuguese. They call it a fantasy, rather than a disguise, which is what they say in Spanish. Each group represents a bloco, or street block. The dancers are mostly men, all wearing dresses. Some really get into their fantasies and put their hair up in curlers, and put on make-up and wigs. The majority of Bahia is black. One man carries the bottom half of a female mannequin and brandishes it over his head. A man in another group has the top half. He carries it with his hand inside the cavity, for some reason there seems to be something lewd about it. Another man has a large shape inside his dress over his stomach and dances in an obscene fashion, making it move. Some men wear tight dresses and dance just like women. You think, at first, that they are transvestites or gay, like you saw in Rio, but it turns out they are mimicking women in that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. They surely are fantasies. If a man can enter a woman's body with his penis, how much better if he can enter her body totally -- and in their fantasies they do. Most of them are funny and silly, very few are lascivious. Later in the night, you see someone clomping through the park in a blouse and skirt, high heels and a wig. He is very careful to have his clothes on properly, but his swaggering, manly walk makes such a clown of him. He's truly an hermaphrodite. It's the first day of carnaval, but the trash and garbage that fill the streets is unbelievable. You wonder what it's like on the fourth day. This madness goes on twenty-four hours a day. It rains, the sun shines, but no one stops. If they get tired, they just lie down in the street until they're ready to start up again. A group of dancers follows the music. Attached to the music truck is a large plastic rope. The dancers maintain their own order from the crowds and traffic by keeping the rope taut. They all wiggle to the music as they walk along. The people on the truck wiggle. Some people ride on the truck just to toast the crowd. It's a carnival truck with lights and huge speakers, double-decker, like a river boat. Electric music plays, much of it from the States. No sambas or bossa novas, (guess they're all in Rio). You don't recognize the beat they play, no doubt it's typical of Bahia. Actually, very few people dance with or for anyone. They just do their strange disconnected movements for themselves. You're walking down the street by yourself. You get stuck in a crowd going through a narrow passage. There's no way out. You're thrust along with the flow of humanity pushing so hard you can feel your bones against theirs. You are only temporarily terrified. Then the mouth of the river of bodies opens and you are free. Carnaval in Salvador, Bahia is very much like playing football, only you have no guards to defend you. When the line hits, it's incredible. All those arms flailing around, bodies pushing, deliberately hitting you. You step in a hole of gunk and you're afraid that when you withdraw your foot, it might not be there. You can't describe the stench. The streets are full of people, in the sense that a glass of water is full when the water is up to the brim. Not another drop can be added. The second day that you go down to the street, the costumes are more elegant and there are some beautiful women. Two black Brazilian women befriend you. They speak a little Spanish and a little English. You are able to communicate. Many people can speak a few words of English in Brazil. And many are admirers of the United States. One says, "Oh, yes, I love California. It's beautiful. I've been there." she says proudly. "Yes? What part?" you ask. "Oh, Florida, New York, San Francisco, Las Vegas - yes, I love California." she says. "Mnnnnn, right," you reply under your breath. |
| VACATION #17 CARNAVAL IN BAHIA |