Samba Bangor Web diary from Brazil

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Kate & George's Web Diary Page 3

When I first wrote this instalment of the diary I was sitting on the balcony of our Salvador apartment watching the reflected light of the setting sun play on the sea, the port, the sea, island flooded with pink and golden light. This is the third instalment of the diary of Kate and George, wistful in Brazil. We've now moved on from Salvador to Forteleza where we've begun a new phase of the project. However, in this instalment of the diary I will describe our final two weeks in Salvador. I've no doubt that every word of this diary entry will be colored bysaudades (longing) for Salvador � it really didn't take long for that magic Salvador emotional glue to do its thing. Leaving Salvador was so hard � it really felt like we'd only just begun the process of discovering all the wonders on offer. More importantly, leaving Salvador meant leaving all the gorgeous people we met there. Salvador is literally the friendliest (and most in yer face) place I have ever been: everyone, and I mean everyone, talks to you. What's more, friendship doesn't require disclosing the contents of your innermost being. Of course, there were people who wore our ears out with elaborate sales pitches or seduction routines: there's one chap who regularly tried to sell me everything from percussion lessons to a dodgy massage and there was another lad who professed undying love on a daily basis. But for most people, friendship was easy, but not cheap. Before we left we had acquired a regular crowd of genuine friends and we don't half miss 'em!

The last two weeks in Salvador passed with a rush of activity. Aware that our departure was imminent, we convinced ourselves that we possessed superhuman qualities (and, of course, the accompanying shiny Wonderwoman kecks). We rushed around with unbrazilian haste trying to do everything.

Capoeira training continued. Kate has got really good and I acquired an embarrassing capoeira name (Most capoeiristas are given a capoeira name to be used only in training and in the roda. This is a remnant of the days when it was illegal to play capoeira and thus dangerous to reveal your identity). Well, my capoeira name is Formiginha which means "little ant"�hmmmm�..I�d rather be a big mama of a cockroach or at least a self-respecting gadfly.

We had also been learning to play candomble rhythms with Maestre Moa. (Not only is Moa a maestre de capoeira de Angola but he is also a fantastic musician and former director of Badaue, one of Salvadors principal afoxe groups). It's a real privilege to be taught by such a consummate musician who doesn't so much play the atabaque (the hand drum used in candomble ceremonies) but rather, he converses with it, caresses it, and coaxes it into making a fantastic variety of sounds. We had our lessons in an elaborately decorated room normally used for candomble ceremonies. We would pound away on the atabaques incompetently trying to imitate Moa's glorious sounds surrounded by images of the Orixas (no doubt, much to their displeasure!)

In addition, I also took a series of Afro-Brazilian dance classes. (Kate claims to be an elephant and wants nothing to do with dance classes). Afro-Brazilian dance is based on the dance moves used in candomble ceremonies. Each of the moves symbolizes a characteristic of one of the Orixas; sometimes fluid, sometimes sharp, the moves should always be performed with strength and conviction. Classes would be both relentless and magic. Accompanied by two atabaques and a dum dum, we would stretch every sinew, work every muscle until we'd completely forgotten ourselves and become lost in movement and music, frantic, and begging for more.

Trouble in paradise

For us, Salvador was a paradise full of cultural glories; however, this is not to say that we didn't experience the odd spot of trouble. As I explained in the first dose of the diary, our mission in Salvador was to build web-sites for community theatre groups that make up the Ativa��o collective. Well, we spent quite a lot of time and energy and, to be honest, we didn't get that far. We originally set out to construct a web-site for each group that would be linked to a web-site for the collective as a whole. We aimed, in the process, to teach each group how to construct a web-site, using the one computer that is the communal resource of the collective. Well, one of the groups now has a rather garish web-site, the web-site for another group is partially finished, a further group has received instruction in how to construct a web-site, and the web-site for the collective as a whole is almost complete. It's not quite the suite of web-sites that we had envisaged: nonetheless, we all learnt a lot in the process and at least Ativa��o is now somewhere along the road of cyber sophistication. Hey, I guess that's what cultural exchange is all about.

Our first mistake was not to respect the preciousness of resources: for years, these theatre groups have struggled along with nothing, they are now understandably precious about their computer. Initially then, at least, they were a little suspicious of the linguistically impaired westerners and unwilling to give us free reign to use the computer without the presence of one of the main bods. This made preparation difficult and, further, made writing the web diary damn near impossible. Moreover, we made a major boob in leaving some of their photographs and written materials on the floor while getting stuff together for their web-site. Little did we realise that such could be construed as a major insult: in Brazil, the floor is an unholy place only fit for rubbish. We found ourselves trapped between two mutually exclusive and incompatible demands: they wanted to be involved in all stages of the web-site creation process but had little time available to do so (what with the competing demands of running theater groups before and during carnival hecticness, holding down jobs and doing the family thing.) What's more, arranging meeting proved to be ridiculously difficult: I can't tell you how many meetings got lost in a quagmire of confusion whereby one party would fail to turn up, bring the correct resources, or fail to arrive at the correct time for the meeting. Moreover, we were dealing with a collective that needed to meet before any group decisions can be made --- the machinations of consensual process were, of course, frustratingly slow. It didn't help, of course that we were working with computers, who, like dogs, are sensitive to anxiety and will invariably choose those most critical moments to do that random crashing thing. Maybe this is unfair, but, it didn�t help that we were two women working in an area that it's usually a male preserve.

So what did we learn? First, allow six times longer to do a task than you calculate it might take. Secondly, assume nothing: Brazilians live by different cultural norms and unfathomable assumtions. Third, always confirm arrangements, check, and then check again. Fourth, allow time for democratically organised groups to do their consensual process thing. Most importantly, we learnt that patience, tolerance, a sense of humour, and a very thick skin never goes amiss.

At times, the whole thing made us want to throw a wobbler but, looking back, I think I secretly enjoyed the struggle. I don't think either of us will easily forget the experience of introducing Salvador's grassroots theatre groups to cyberspace

International Women's Day

Somewhere in the middle of all this hecticness fell International Women's Day. To celebrate the occasion, we joined a march through the center of Salvador in the company of the Ativa��o people. In true Brazilian street theatre tradition, everyone donned crazy costumes, face paint or stilts. It was for this reason that I found myself garbed in plastic skirt and tap shoes attempting to be militant in the center of Salvador. The march was attended by a huge range of groups including hundreds of women from Movemento Sens Terra (MST), a movement that aims to represent the dispossessed agricultural workers who own no land and who live in absolute poverty. Some of these women had traveled for days to be there and had then occupied a site within Salvador in order to make their presence felt. Julia co-ordinated Ativa��o's contribution to whole affair. Oh, I haven't actually spoken about Julia McNaught yet and I really must. Julia is a British import to Brazil who runs Estrella, an organisation that exists to promote cultural exchange between Brazil and the North East of England. It was Julia who first put us in contact with Buscap� and Ativa��o and facilitated the whole skills exchange process. Julia is just great: she's a bundle of energy, enthusiasm, and inspiration....whoops, I've made her sound like a chocolate bar now! But seriously, she was a huge help in everything: she provided so much information, she helped to demystify so much of the stuff that is baffling about Brazilian culture and acted as a good friend to us. What's more she is an excellent person to be with if you want to pegar fogo (raise hell) on a 4am carnival razzle. So love and thanks to Julia. Anyway, back to International Women's Day, the voice of women within Ativa��o isn't always heard and Julia did a sterling job trying to ensure that it was women who directed proceedings. Brazil is, without doubt, a country in which machismo damages the lives and relationships of so many people, it was hard to ignore the depth of feeling among the crowd when we chanted repeto a mulhers (respect for women) We joined the march and then formed a roda in the middle of town where we performed some theatre promoting the message of International Women's Day � much to my eternal embarrassment I was talked into doing "a respect for women tap-dance"� it was really bizarre. No less bizarre was the fact that we spent International Women's Day with the only group of people with whom we have felt the need to fight for respect on account of being women. Nonetheless, the whole day was really positive and necessary.

A weekend with the rastas on sea

About forty miles north of Salvador lies Arambep�, an idyllic beach replete with palm trees, clear sea, a full moon, and a hippie colony. I can't resist waxing lyrical about our magical weekend with the rastas on sea. I mentioned in the last diary entry, that we'd met a group of reggae musicians who called themselves "Bem adventurados". It was one of these guys who suggested we escape to Arambep� for the weekend. We arrived at Arambep� late on Saturday night - when I say late, I mean really late. We had spent the day with Sergio and Innajara in their house that is filled with the beautiful hand made furniture that Sergio makes for a living. Sergio, now in his 60�s, is a maestre de Capoeira, trained by Maestre Bimba (the guy who developed capoeira regional); he's also a musician and was one of the people who played host to Janis Joplin when she visited Arambep� in the late 60�s. His wife Innajara, is manager of a business and a community activist (involved with the activities of Buscap�). Both of them are totally charming and have loads to say for themselves. We tarried in their house for too long and, as a consequence, arrived at Arambep� on the last bus. We immediately found ourselves incorporated into a party on the beach with a bunch of strangers and were plied with beer and food. 2am found us wandering along the beach totally lost, when, in a Mr. Ben magic type of way, Aluminum appeared. Aluminum is a gorgeous man with amazingly animated dreads who is lead singer in Bem adventurados; he immediately invited into his barraca and found us a place to sleep in amongst a full complement of sleeping bods.

It's hard to pinpoint exactly what was so wonderful about our time there: we did lots of playing music, wandering on the beach, playing capoeira, and eating gorgeous food cooked on an open fire, and lazing in a hammock. People continuously dropped by: musicians capoeiristas, and blokes with dreads. The evening filled with beautiful music and then we wandered along the beach the full moon reflected in the sea. I think what made it so lovely was that the whole place was so filled with love. Now I know that sounds corny, and I don't mean love in a sloppy or euphemistic way. It was just so nice to spend time with a group of people who are so open, friendly, uncomplicated, and who can appreciate a full moon on a clear sea. So thank-you Aluminum, Bornai, Molly, Gege, Marsius and all the rest whose names I can't remember!

Bye bye Salvador

I could carry on blabbering away about Salvador people and Salvador craziness but I won't. Needless to say, we regretfully left Salvador in a flurry on unfinished websites. On the last night we drank champagne (that I had carted all the way from Wales) in the center of Pelorinho with Julia, Moa, Naide, and a whole bunch of other wonderful Salvador people. Then it started pelting torrential rain: big blobs of rain, an instant flood. Maybe it was the effect of the champagne but I found myself running through the cobbled streets of Pelorinho, a drowned rat on some hysterical rain kick. We spent the rest of the night in reggae club wishing we didn't have to leave. So that's it for the moment. In the next installment we will tell you all about the Forteleza experience which has proved to be quite different from our time in Salvador. Hopefully I�ll be able to upload it before we actually arrive back in Wales. Huge hugs to the North Wales posse

George and Kate

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