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Newly-released numbers by the Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistics (IBGE) show a 9.22 percent increase in agricultural and cattle-raising activity in comparison with last year. Other data show that same tendency of the interiorizing of the economy. While there was an 18 percent fall in car sales across the country in the first quarter, there was also a 15.4% boost in agricultural machines deals during the same period. Supermarket chains are selling twice as much in some oftheir interior branches when compared to those in urban cen-

6

ters. However, at the same time that the hinterland is driving the Brazilian economy back to health, city residents are ending up with the short end of the stick, stuck what record unemployment. Again, recent statistics reveal that one in every four Brazilians living in the cities is involved in the informal economy, a booming segment that includes street As you might know, Brazzil is a very small operation: one person and some volunteers who help as and when they can. The magazine is coming out a little more than a month late and I'm sorry for that. I don't see me catching up soon, but rest assured that the content is fresh and you will get all the issues you've paid for. Thanks and all the best. R.M.

CONTENTS

vendors, hairdressers, repairmen, and unlicensed cab drivers. They generate more than $120 billion a year. If there is any good news there is in the fact that these workers don't produce as much as half of Brazil's $700 billion annual official Gross Domestic Product (GDP) as earlier estimates had it. Brazzil has drawn an ample portrait of this underworld in its cover story. Take your time to probe the view. R.M.

27

Media

Short Story

Bundas, irreverence

"A Confissao" by Cristovam Buarque

to laugh and think

33

9 Sports

Travel

The sad death of hero Joao do Pubo

Ceara, natural and supernatural beauties

11 Cover Without a job, Brazilians get creative

18 Politics 2002 presidential campaign has started

20 Memory Ayrton Senna: it's been five years

22 Impressions Rio on the hill, Santa Teresa hill, that is

Cover by S6nia R. Tryhane

DEPARTMENTS 6 Rapidinhas 16 Letters 49 The Cultural Pulse 51 Classifieds 52 That's Brazilian

39 Impressions My unforgettable jangacla trip

41 Travel Bonito, where time stood still

45 Music Sergio Santos, all on his own

52 Special Indians will not take it anymore

TIME TO RENEW? Sorry, we don't send Send mail to: P.O. Box 50536 - Los Angeles, CA 90050-0536 reminders. Look at the Ads/Editorial: (323) 255-8062 - Subscrip.: (323) 255-4953 label to know when your Fax: (323) 257-3487 - Brazzil on line: http://www.brazzil.com subscription ends. E-mail: brazzil@brazzil.com Publisher and Editor: Rodney Mello / Commercial Director: Leda Bittencourt Entertainment Editors: Sam & Harriet Robbins / Book Review: Bondo Wyszpolski / Music Editor: Bruce Gilman Brazil Bureau Chief: Marta Alvim - E-mail: mItdalvim@yahoo.com - Tel.: (021) 539-9214 - Fax: (021) 581-0198 BRAZZIL (ISSN 1091-868X) is published monthly by Brazzil - 2039 N. Ave. 52, Los Angeles, CA, 90042-1024. Periodicals Postage rate paid at Los Angeles, CA. Single copy sold for $2. One year subscription for 12 issues is $3 (three dollars) in the U.S., $15 in Canada and Mexico, and $18 in all other countries. No back issues sold. Allow 5 to 7 weeks to receive your first issue. You may quote from or reprint any of the contents with proper copyright credit. Editorial submissions are welcome. Include a SASE (self addressed and stamped envelope) if you want your material mailed back. Brazzil assumes no responsibility for any claims made by its advertisers. The Library of Congress ISSN: 1524-4997

POST MASTER: Send address changes to BRAZZIL - P.O. Box 505 6 - Los Angeles, CA - 90050-0536

BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999

5


.1Vf • •

0 0 0 INUO .11I 'LW II II l_f gam Glossy Mooning The newest national publishing venture in Brazil and one causing laughter all around and uproar in some quarters is the brainchild of a group of veterans who 30 years ago revolutionized the Brazilian , small press by launching what was to • become the most successful alternative , national paper to date: 0 Pasquim (The Pasquinade, cheap newspaper). In a cheap shot against Caras (Faces) magazine, a . publication by powerhouse Editora Abril, which celebrates the rich and famous with lavish pictorials, the new lampoon is called Bundas (Butts). The colorfplly slick magazine, whose first issue , ran 100,000 copies and which is selling at newsstands for 2.90 reais ($1.70 dollars), is the brainchild of intellectual:cum-cartoonists Ziraldo and Jaguar, both from the defunct Pasquim, and both still very active in their profession. For Ziraldo, who faced imprisonment because of his journalistic activities during the Pasquim years, times couldn't be better for humor and satire. "Today we have hypocrisy and cynicism as raw material for our work," says Ziraldo. It all started as a joke. Ziraldo drew a cartoon for Manchete, a weekly magazine, in which he showed some prominent buttocks. Rio's daily Jornal do Brasil liked the work and the cartoonist quipped to a reporter from that paper that it would be a good idea to publish a magazine called Bundas to make fun of Caras. He even dreamed up a slogan: "Whoever shows a bunda (the butt) in Caras does not show a cara (the face) in Bundas. Another Ziraldo's slogan goes, Bundas magazine is the true face of Brazil.' Soon after somebody spread the news that Ziraldo was going to launch a magazine called Bundas. Rio's daily 0 Globo dedicated two pages to the non-news. Interviews on TV followed. Only then things started getting serious. Says Ziraldo, "We got together, we had some 500 meetings. The main stumbling block was to find financing as well as someone who would manage the thing professionally. If Jaguar and I were professionals we'd be very rich today. Despite the success that Pasquim was, Jaguar is still paying off the magazine's debts. We are very incompetent. The immense goodwill across the country has made a magazine that did not exist into the most popular one in Brazil." `. While the manager was found close by (Ivan Fernandes, son of Mill8r Fernandes, one of many famous contributors) Gilberto Camargo, a group from Parana, came up with the money. Ziraldo does not believe in market research, relying instead on the old gut instinct: "I don't know if Bundas is going to work. I have no marketing data; we've done no market research. Of one thing I'm sure: everybody is looking forward to the magazine because there's nothing like it in the press," said the cartoonist shortly before the launching of the weekly. It took three years for Ziraldo to make the Bundas idea come true. While the writer refers to the magazine as A Bundas (with a feminine article), Jaguar prefers to call it 0 Bundas, in a twist he thinks gives a more dignified name to the publication. For Ziraldo it is Bundas, a revista (the magazine); for Jaguar it is Bundas, o semancirio (the weekly). The ad people tried to change the name, arguing, "How can we call an ad agency and say, `I'm from Bundas." The discussion angered Ziraldo, who finally decreed: "The name iS* Bundas and that's the end of it." Ziraldo explained the project's long gestation: "We were waiting for the right conditions to do it, because there is no longer room for adventure." He also insisted that the publication be a weekly instead of a more easily-assembled monthly, as suggested by some. "There is no monthly humor, it has to be weekly." Jaguar even believes—you never know when these guys are putting you on—that it was thanks to the more dignified name that he was able to convince 102-year-old Barbosa Lima Sobrinho, a very active writer and president of the Associacao Brasileira de Imprensa (Brazilian Press Association) to grant an interview for the magazine's premier issue. Pieces like this interview show the serious side of a publication that wants to be both the whip, as well as the cultural thermometer of the nation. The party for the launching of the magazine—the publication's offices are in cozy house on Bulhoes de Carvalho 6 BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


street, in Copacabana,—had all the informality and irreverence of the pub ication's team. Writer Luis Fernando Verissimo joined musicians Aldir Blanco and Walter Alfaiate in a livel samba jam session before some 200 revelers They all gathered on May 31, a Monday, at the well-known arbecue restaurant Marius, in Rio's Ipanema. The veteran team of founders and contributors want to preserve the s e spirit of openness to young writers and cartoonists as existed at Pasquim 's. The premiere and second issues e already giving ,a taste of such fresh and promising talent. Contributions from around the country are apparent y pouring in. Contributors are among the best media professionals money can buy. Among the famous names the first issue, besides those of Jaguar and Ziraldo, there are cartoonists Mill& Fernandes, Chico and Paulo aruso, Lan, and Miguel Paiva plus writers Carlos Heitor Cony, Joao Ubaldo Ribeiro, Ruy Castro, Tutty Vas • ues, Aldir Blanc, Jo Soares, and Frei Betto. No publication in Brazil today would be fmancially able to assembles ch a bevy of heavyweights. And how did Ziraldo pull off this trick? "Simply. because nobody asked how much, ey were going to make. Ifthis works, we are going to pay well, if it doesn't, we will pay badly. But if the mag ine is a hit everyone is going to make lots of money." When prospective contributors ask what they should s nd in, they are told to write or draw something they think no other publication would publish, 'a kind of rev rse censorship. As a hint of things to come, Jaguar (67, "but with the head of an 18-ye old") interrupted the flow of formal presentations on the launching night declaring: "Since this is an oppositi n magazine, let's start the opposition at home. Nobody talks anymore. It is absurd to stop a samba jam session of this quality to make speeches." To a reporter who wanted to know what had changed between the time of 0 asquim and the one of Bundas, Jaguar answered: "The enemy's clothes. Before it was the olive-green of the surping military. Now the neoliberal gang wears Hermes ties and Armani suits." Stop This Nonsense • Journalist Ivan Lessa, who was 4 Pasquim contributor and now live in London, declined an invitation to be part of the new publication. His response: "I don't know why you Brazilians waste your time with this nonsense. Go to the beach, folks, go play soccer. Go play the guitar un er the stars while beautiful morenas; do the samba, chic-a-chic-a-boom. This stuff of journalism, culture, I on't know, folks..." While the more respectful weeklies ( Veja, Isto E, and Epoca) reach t e newsstands on the weekend, Bundas will be showing up on Tuesdays. President Fernando Henrique Car oso, a former contributor to the old Pasquim, and named "most successful former contributor" should b now one of Bundas 's main targets. Renowned writer Luis Fernando Verissimo, a constant Cardoso critic, rites in the premiere issue's editorial: "We are here in the name of all moral and civic values which are so ften forgotten nowadays and that is contained in the word Bundas. To say things clearly and entirely. And, onsidering this social democracy that does not dare to say its name in public..." The premiere issue opens with the poem "A Bunda Que Engracad "(The Butt, how Funny) by the late Carlos Drummond de Andrade, Brazil's greatest poet. In his anthem t the derriere, Drummond writes: "A bunda, que engracada Esta sempre sorrindo, nunca é tragica." "The butt, how funny It is always smiling, it's never tragic" Bundeio (big butt, but a wimp in this case) of the week is a regular eature, but it was omitted in the debut issue. There was a unanimous vote for a candidate, but his name was n t revealed by the Bundas gang. Their explanation: the "weakened character" was spared "in accordance ith constitutional precepts." Another regular will be the less politically-charged "Bunda of the Week", a horn ge to that part of female anatomy most appreciated by Brazilians of all classes. Bundas follows on the footsteps of satirical cartoons present in th Brazilian media since the creation of Rio's Jo'rnal do Commercio in 1837. Emperor Dom Pedro II apparentl didn't lose his sense of humor in spite of being constantly ridiculed by cartoonists such as Angelo Agostini d Bordalo Pinheiro. Dictator Geollio Vargas also suffered under the poison pen of several humorists witho t jailing his critics. Magazines 0 Malho (The Sledgehammer), which started in 1902, d Careta (Grimace), which debuted six years later, were the most famous satirical publications in Brazil in the first half of the 20th century. They were feared by the powerful. In 1910, for example, House president S bino Barroso had to abandon his post after being ridiculed by 0 Malho, a publication that survived until 19 4. Careta was so popular that it was a staple at doctors' and dentists' offices, at barbershops and shoeshine stands. For Ziraldo, the reality of Brazilian life constantly shows the eed for a humor magazine: "What we lacked was for someone to sit and say, 'Leave it to me, I am going t publish this magazine.' We got old, everyone went his way to live his life. There no longer was the kind of en rgy we had in our 30s when we decided to put together 0 Pasquim. First, we didn't have the balls anymore. N that we are over 60 we finally notice what kind of crazy boys we all were."

BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


e avio

Hooked by the Mouth Saving an Iffy Penny Brazilians across the country have found away of saving on electric bills, or at least that's what they believe. The method, which would be illegal if it worked, is very simple: place as many waterfilled bottles as you can over the electric meter. The practice, spread mainly among the poorest families, started in shore communities and has since spread inland. Meter readers now find an average of three plastic soft drink bottles filled with water over the meter in poor neighborhoods like Vila Matilde, in the east zone of Sfto Paulo. Despite warnings from the power companies that the habit doesn't save a penny and several pieces in the media ridiculing the custom, even people who claim they don't believe the method works keep doing it, just in case. Some of those who adhered to the practice comment facetiously that they are spending on water what they save in electricity. Social scientists have already added this to their list of popular urban myths. As an official from Eletropaulo, the sao Paulo electric company, explained to daily 0 Estado de S. Paulo, "if there are any results it is because people who practice this method are already predisposed to save energy and this predisposition reflects on consumption."

a

"I like you, I want to kiss you on the mouth.- In the Brazilian modern way of courtship this is a very common line on the very first approach among youngsters. The more lips and tongues you can touch with your lips and tongue at one party the better. In an inversion of the courtship ritual, the kiss has often become the first step. Then the couple will talk for a while and see if they have something in common. That might last just a few minutes until it's time for the next kiss on the mouth. The favorite place for this ritual is nightclubs, where parties don't start until midnight and end only after daybreak. Shopping malls are more for the under-14 crowd and the parent's house couch—this piece of furniture has been rehabilitated—,where anything can happen, is for those already in a more serious commitment. Daily newspaper Diario da Manha from Goiania, capital of the state of Goias, cites student Marciarosy, 17: "Nobody says he is going to date someone. We say, 'we are going to have a good time and find some gatinhos—little cats (hunks)—to kiss on the mouth. The boy comes and asks to kiss on the mouth. Things then happen. If it does not work we go for the next guy. If the boy is shy the girls take the lead. I adore to attack shy boys who are usually the prettiest and the sexiest. With a serious courtship there is all the usual bullshit: the gal only goes out with the same guy, the jealousy starts, visiting and going to bed become a routine." The most committed are acting a lot like married couples, which includes opening joint bank accounts. Sex is no big deal, but both sides are requiring exclusivity. Kiss (beijo in Portuguese) is the word du jour in Brazil. The biggest hit of the new CD by the Cidade Negra band is an old Pepeu Gomes's tune called "Eu Tambem Quero Beij ar" ("I Also Want to Kiss). G lobo network TV Sunday show Fantastic° has just dedicated a segment to the beneficial effects of the kiss for oral health and the prevention of cavities. e avio

Moans' Parking Lot This past Sweethearts' Day (June 12) lovers in Brasilia, the federal capital, have gained their modern-day version of lovers' lane: a little private space just big enough to receive a passenger car and a little bit more. For $4 the couple gets two hours of parking far from prying eyes and protected from spoilsports like robbers and police. Although this is the first open-air motel of this kind for Brasilienses, the practice is old hat in other places like Rio and Sao Paulo. Called S6 Love (Love Only) the new dating venue is the brainchild of civil engineer Rosemberg de Ara6jo Gouveia, 46, a former glass merchant, who sold his business and used the money for the new venture. SO Love offers 40 spaces, all with a little table and two chairs plus an intercom so the couple can order something to eat or drink. Waiters come on roller skates and deliver the food without seeing or being seen by the customers. Some ofthe spaces come with an enclosed toilet. But there are no Jacuzzis or even showers as some were expecting. For added security a system of TV cameras will film every car and person that comes in. To avoid protests, which have already started, Gouveia decided to build his love drive-in in Taguatinga, an industrial zone of Brasilia. The debut of SO Love was helped by the fact that a construction project in the city has just closed the Pontao Sul in the Lago Sul neighborhood, until recently the official spot for alfresco-loving lovers. To those who complain that there are schools near the drive-in, Gouveia shows the permit he got from the city last March. He told daily Correio Braziliense: "The law allows a motel in this area of town. For couples this will be a much more secure place. Making love in the streets is way too dangerous. And we even have special accommodations for paraplegics so they also can come for a date. Everything is in order here."

BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


em ory

A Brazilian Tragedy Oscar, the former basketball player hero, was there as well as judo Olympic champion, Aurelio Miguel, and Ademar Ferreira da Silva, twice Olympic champion (1952 and 1956) for triple jump Several authorities came to say goodbye, including Sao Paulo governor Mario Covas. Some 2,000 people in all paid their last respect to a man who was better known as Joao do Pub o (Jumping John) after winning the Olympic gold medal in the triple jump category. There was also an honor guard from the Army, where Joao Carlos de Oliveira served as a lieutenant, and the wake was held at the Sao Paulo Assembly building where Oliveira served as an elected state assemblyman for two four-year mandates. Despite the pomp and circumstance, the Olympic hero and record breaker felt forgotten by Brazilians. He started to drink heavily and died of cirrhosis of the liver on Saturday, May 29, the day after his 45th birthday, having spent one month at the Beneficencia Portuguesa Hospital in Sao Paulo. He was buried in Pindamonhangaba, the little town in the Sao Paulo interior where he was born. Joao Sete Vidas (John Seven Lives) was another ofhis nicknames. It had to do with all the adversity and tragedies he had to face during his life: a poor childhood, a fight against tuberculosis when he was five, and the 1981 accident that caused the amputation of his right leg. His father was as a railway man. Oliveira was still a little boy when his mother died and he was raised by a stepmother who allegedly beat him constantly. From 1986 to 1994 he was an assemblyman. The hero jumper was elected with 25,000 votes the first time and with 32,000 the second. Attempts in 1994 and four years later to return to his old office failed, though. He couldn't get more than 7,000 votes during his last ill-fated campaign in 1998. That same year, the mother of his daughter Thais, 11—he was never married to her—took him to court for non-payment of child support. Unable to pay, he ended up in jail. In another forum a suit is still pending, claiming he is the father of a 4-year old boy, Emanuel. In an emotional statement to Rio's daily 0 Globo, Pedro Henrique Camargo de Toledo, 59, Oliveira's former coach, declared: "I am going to repeat what other people have said, 'Joao was one of the greatest athletes the world has ever known. He was born at the wrong time, in a country without an athletic tradition and had a coach who lacked the credentials to work with a talent like his. Someone with more experience would have probably done more for him and were I his coach today I don't know how far he would be able to jump. "What saddens me most is the way we forgot Joao and so many other idols. We wait until they die, are killed or go through some tragedy before we put them in the news. I guess this is a cultural question in Brazil. The government or some other organization should take the initiative—and this does not mean getting handouts from the government. In Mexico

BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999

there is a program to help those who get Olympic medals. They may be invited to openings, i conferences and to work on sports centers. This is a w y to avoid burying them alive." Who's That Man? It was October 15, 1975, when Brazilians and the world first took notice of a young Brazilian competing at the PanAmerican Games i Mexico. He jumped 17.89 m (58.69 feet) in the triple jump, an astounding 45 cm (1. 7 feet) more than the recor established by Russian V adimir Swanesev. Joao as 21. That's when he ecame Joao do Pub. The record would be broken nly ten year later by A erican Willie Banks, who umped 17.97 m. On December 2 , 1981, Joao do Pub o was • riving back from being onored at Campinas Catho ic University PUC w en his Volkswagen Pas at collided with another ar coming the wrong wa on the Anhangiiera road ay. The other driver died. liveira remained in a coma for four days, and after 23 operations the doctors gave up trying to save his r ght leg. The athlete spent 3 3 days at the hospital. He as 27, with a very promi ing future, when his leg as amputated on Septe ber 8, 1982. He was seen a the favorite in the 1976 ontreal Olympic Games, b tended up losing to the ussian Viktor Saneev, g tting a bronze medal ins ead. In the next Olympics, in Moscow, he again cam in third, (there were chargeS of fraud benefiting the Rus . ian athlete). He continued inning several internatio al competitions, includin the one in Rome in September 1981, when he became triple ump champion for the third time. In 1992 Harry Seinberg, c ach for Estonia, admitted that there had been fraud in Moscow in 1980 and apologized to the Brazilian athlete. But later e recanted. Lately Joao di Paulo had a daily routine in Guarulhos, Greater Sao Paul., where he lived. Late in the afternoons he used to sit alone o a little stool outside his house drinking beer and looking at pe ple go by. If anybody asked he didn't refuse an autograph. But hese requests had become rarer and rarer. He was surviving on $700 pension he received for the time he served in the Arm . A bakery and a transportation company he started went bank upt. In better times his house was always full of people and he h d memorable barbecue parties, which could last three days, w th gifts for the children. Then there was no money left.

9


diam

Breakout Birds

Giving the World Wings $4.9 billion, that's how much Crossair, a subsidiary of Swissair, is going to pay for the 200 ERJ aircrafts it ordered from Brazilian Embraer. If the amount seems high, that's because it really is. According to Mauricio Botelho, Embraer's president, this is the largest sale ever made to a regional airline. Confirmation of the news was given on June 14, during the Paris Le Bourget A irshow, the last one of this century. "I don't think we are competing with Boeing," said Botelho. "We are going for another niche." Botelho was talking about regional airlines versus mainline carriers, which prefer longer-range planes built by the two largest manufacturers: America's Boeing and Europe's Airbus. In this niche Brazil stole the limelight with its 70-to-100 seat aircrafts. The competition in this field is with Canada's Bombardier and US Fairchild Aerospace. At the end of the air show, Em braer had accumulated a total of 890 orders for jets oftlae ERJ family. "more than twice as many as we predicted when the ERJ-145 was launched," commented Botelho. It's curious that some of the planes like the ERJ 190200 have yet to be tested. Buyers are so sure they will work properly that they are rushing to order them. These machines will have GE and Rolls-Royce engines. The Swiss purchase will create 3,000 new jobs at the Brazilian aircraft company over the next 10 years—the time it will take to complete the order. Embraer currently employs 6,600 people. Not all the orders are firm though. Guaranteed orders total approximately $2 billion for 60 aircrafts: 15 ERJ 145 seating 50, with the balance being ERJ 170s (seating 70) and ERJ 190200s (seating 108). The remaining 125 orders are options to buy 25 ERJ 145s, and 100 ERJ 170s and 190-200s. It's estimated that the regional commercial airlines will need 2,800 jets in the next few years. Embraer expects to produce at least 650 of these aircrafts. The new orders were received with enthusiasm in Sao Jose dos Campos, the city in the interior of sao Paulo where Embraer is headquartered. When the city's main employer almost went bankrupt ten years ago, sao Jose dos Campos was forced to rearrange its economic profile by learning to diversify to survive and entering the field of services and telecommunications. Since privatization in 1994, productivity per worker has skyrocketed at Embraer from $40,000 in December 1994 to $230,000 today. In the last three years alone the company has invested more than $400 million to build new jet aircrafts.

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It was a record for the Brazilian prison system: On Sunday, June 6, 345 out of 456 prisoners escaped from the maximum security Putim prison in Sao Jose dos Campos, 100 km from the city of Sdo Paulo. "Escape" does not accurately describe what really happened since the inmates left jail through the front door unchallenged. Four days after the escape 191 inmates were still at large. The escape occurred in the late afternoon and was aided by prison workers, including warden Paulo Roberto da Silva Filho. Da Silva and Gilmar Guarnieri, the jail's director, who had taken the position two weeks before the breakout, were removed from their posts pending investigation. Another breakout took place at the jail last Christmas. This latest escape was the eighth in the brief history of the prison, which opened in 1995. Putim is not underequipped; it has a close-circuit TV and radio system in addition to electronic locks and alarms. Sao Paulo's secretary of Public Security, Marco Antonio Petrelluzzi, declared: "This was worse than just poor management. I am convinced that there was criminal participation. We believe that people inside the prison were bribed to allow the jail break. There were some days of panic for the 550,000 residents of Sao Jose dos Campos while200 rangers, civil and military policemen using helicopters, horses and dogs tried to recapture the fugitives in the neighboring woods. Prisoners invaded houses and took residents as hostages. Trying to save face with the population, police killed two of the fugitives and jailed at least five people by mistake. Talking to reporters, auto mechanic Jose Ernesto, who was detained for seven and a half-hours, complained of police brutality while showing the marks left on his back by the thrashing he got: "I was beaten a lot. They were furious and kicked me all over." The Putim episode is just part of frightening statistics showing that in sao Paulo alone 1,245 wardens were recently indicted during a 17-month period for assisting or looking the other way during jailbreaks. Escapes from prisons across the country have become increasingly common. One week after the Putim breakout 63 more inmates escaped from prison at the Sumare First Police District in Sao Paulo. This time four armed men broke into the prison, which held 76 inmates, even though it was built for a maximum capacity of 24 prisoners. Thirteen inmates elected to remain in jail The fugitives stole four cars that were parked close to the police station. The precarious situation of the Brazilian prison system was criticized in the report Brazil Behind Bars released in 1998 by the Human Rights Watch NGO (nongovernmentalorganization). According to James Cavallaro, the organization's director in Brazil, the Putim breakout reflects a prison system incapable of giving adequate treatment to prisoners and guaranteeing prison security: "Inmates' living conditions in Brazil are the worst, and security is lacking. Because of this, escapes and rebellions may become bigger and more frequent. An inmate can do whatever he wants, since it is very easy to take a warden as hostage."

BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


Unemployed in line

Making Do New official statistics show that the subterranean economy in Brazil employs one in every four Brazilians. Some experts think that the situation is so desperate that only a federal program modeled after Franklin Delano Roosevelt's New Deal created to combat the Great Depression would work right now. The 12.87 million people employed by the informal economy equal the total number of workers in the public and industry sectors combined. Furthermore, this crisis has increased the amount of working children. In Rio alone, there are 1.5 million youngsters between the ages of 10 and 17 who work. FRANCESCO NEVES For 20 years Carioca Jorge Nunes was a bus driver. Even w orking as much as 10 hours a day, he never made more than $250 a month, too little to maintain his wife and raise a

BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999

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family of four children. Then, in 1994, he lost his job and for two years, Nunes tried in vain to get a new one, but his efforts proved fruitless due to his "old age" of 46 years. It was during this time of despair that Nunes was able, in November 1996, to get himself a minivan and start working independently transporting passengers. Today, he is making around $800 a month. Nunes's story was used by Rio's daily form! do Brasil to illustrate the booming times of the informal economy in Brazil. In Jornal do Brasil, the former bus driver declared: "My life has improved a lot since I started working for myself. I remodeled my house and I am even paying for private school for my son. I am my own boss and I know my obligation; to twat my clients and my car well." , There are millions of Jorge Nunes in Bragi today, however, not too many of them live happily ever after. They are men and women who for one reason or another could not get a regular job or had a job that paid too little, and, therefore, decided to go their own way. A newly-released IBGE's (Instituto Brasileiro de Geografia e Estatistica—Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistics) study entitled Economia Informal Urbana (Urban Informal Economy) shows that the informal sector represents 8 percent of the GDP (Gross Domestic Product), which are the goods and services generated in the country. While modest in the formation of the GDP, the subterranean economy employs one in every four Brazilians. The data was collected in October 1997, but it is still believed to be a fair representation of the informal economy situation, which economists believe has become a bit larger since then. In October 1997, 9.47 million informal businesses generated $7.15 billion, $2.9 billion of which were profit. According to Angela Jorge, chief of the IBGE's Deren (Departamento de Emprego e Renclimentos—Employment and Earnings Department), the institute's work despite being two years old is still a faithful portrait of the informal sector. "What might have happened is an increase in the number of ventures causing the sector to expand, not a change in the most significant characteristics of such economy." The new information, which uses the International Labor Organization parameters for informality, dispels previous estimates in which the informal world was shown as big or at least half as big as the official GDP of around $700 billion a year. According to IBGE's president, Sergio Besserman Vianna, the activities included does not necessarily mean irregular and then he jokingly added: "We did not include criminal activities such as embezzlement, prostitution and drug trafficking since we did not have the means to study this." The study, which is believed to be. the first not only in Brazil but also in the whole world by its scope and amplitude, has interviewed 50,000 families in 753 urban municipalities in every one of the 27 states of the union. Among the findings was the discovery that half of the 12 million informal workers are younger than 25, with 67% of them between the ages of 18 and 39. Almost half of them (45 percent) never finished elementary school. Haifa million of these employees (4 percent ofthe total) work for nothing, because most of the time they {' 12

are at the service of a relative. The majority of them (67 percent) are self-employed while 10 percent work for a legitimate company, but get paid under the table. Twelve percent, on the other hand, offer up to five jobs in their informal company. The 12.87 million people employed by the informal economy equals the total number of workers in the public and industry sectors combined. When we add to this number of informal workers those who work as maids or other domestic jobs, we find out that 32 percent of Brazilians living in urban surroundings do not have a so-called real job. Domestic work is a chapter apart in the Brazilian labor landscape. A residue from slavery times, domestic workers—only 6.84 percent of them are men—live in that limbo of coziness that often makes the employee a member of the family on one hand, depriving her (or him) of a just salary and benefits on the other. According to the IBGE, there are almost 5 million domestics workers in Brazil. Very few of them, however, are taking advantage of the ten-year-old legislation for the sector that contemplates among other things, a 30-day annual vacation, paid maternity leave, and the so-called 13th salary once a year. The law, however, says nothing about overtime, social security payments and raises. In Sao Paulo and Rio de Janeiro, salaries for domestic workers can be as high as the salary for teachers. In these big cities, baby sitters make in average $400 a month; a cook, $350; and a maid, $180. A house cleaner gets an average of $22 per day. In other large cities, however, like Brasilia (Brazil's capital) and Salvador (capital of Bah ia state), these salaries are cut in half and it is not that uncommon those who work in exchange for a roof over their head, clothes and food. Sixty five percent of all domestic workers make minimum wage, which is only $72 a month. In a recent article entitled "Profession: Maid," weekly newsmagazine /sto E told the story of the president ofBahia's Domestic Workers Union, Creuza Oliveira. She was only ten when she left the interior of the state to work in Salvador. For a long time, she worked for food and a very special kind of food: leftovers from her bosses children. She remembers her boss giving her lunch or dinner. "Everything is pretty clean, she would say, throwing a ladle of beans over the food." This was 30 years ago. Oliveira has no reason to believe things have changed that much since then: "In the small towns, it is very rare that maids get any salary at all." Disparities And where are the informal businesses? They are all over. Commerce gets the bigger chunk with 26 percent of such ventures. Then comes services, which include such jobs as hairdressers and repairmen, with 20 percent of the total. Next in line is civil construction, which absorbs 16 percent of this informal work force. The so-called transformation industry, which includes apparel makers and artisans, represents 12 percent of the informal sector. Transportation, while representing only 6.7 percent of the informal ventures, was the sector with the biggest volume of investment (an average of $7,500), four times more than the second place: technical services. Only 23 percent of these businesses are installed BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


in adequate locations. About 28 percent of them are con-, ducted from their owner's residence while 27 percent use the client's home as its place of doing business. Nine percent just use the streets and other public places and another 5.5 percent use a vehicle. Sixty-six percent cif them have no work permit and, consequently, also do not pay neither taxes nor fees related to their enterprises. These are non-stop businesses, with the vast majority of them (91 percent) keeping workers busy the whole year. As in the formal job market at large, the informal one is not favorable to women. While monthly earnings average $135 in the area as a whole, this amount is only $120 for women. Compare this to $140 for men, who hold 64 percent of all informal jobs. Sixty-six percent of all owners are also male who make an average of $310 a month. The majority of• informal workers (66 percent) have been doing this for more than three years and are neither looking for nor interested in a regular job. With their low educational level, they would be making less than two minimum wages ($144) anyway. The image conveyed by the IBGE is a mirror of Brazil's larger picture, showing the same economic disparities between the different regions of the country. Almost half of the informal businesses (46 percent) are in the rich Southeast, where the average monthly profit is $435. In the Northeast, on the other hand, where profits are the lowest, this average is $181. Profits are almost six times bigger in the South where they average $958. For 10% of those with an informal occupation, this job is just a way to complement their earnings from working in a regular job. In some cases, they can even make more in their own business, but prefer to keep their jobs as a way to feel more stable as well as to secure pension and health benefits. A study released in the last week of June by Rio's Municipal Secretariat of Work show that self-employed people were the ones most favored from 1994 to 1997, following the introduction of the Real Plan. Their average monthly earnings grew from $163 in June 1994 when the Real Plan started to $241 in 1997. This amount fell to $215 in the first quarter of this year. Among the reasons were the devaluation of the real and the stagnation of the informal sector that is not being able to absorb all the new unemployed. The informal sector, however, is the one that grew the most between 1991 and 1998. While self-employed people represented 26.2 percent of all workers in the Greater Rio in 1998, this number has increased by 4.3 percent since then. Commenting on the recent fall of the real in Jornal do Brasil, economist Marcelo Ned from the IPEA (Instituto de Pesquisa Economica Aplicada—Institute of Applied Economic Research) said, "We have here a pro-industry and not pro-services fact, and this does not generate jobs in Rio." To what Andre Urani, another expert, added: "The creation of the real Plan give us conditions to think about the economic future of the country. In order to achieve a reversal in the situation brought about by these five years of real, we heed to defme what kind of growth we are looking for: one that includes or one that excludes people." 50,000 in Line Brazil has 6.6 million—one third of the population living in the state of Sao Paulo alone—unemployed people right now. For some experts the situation is so desperate that BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999

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the only solution would be to immediately start a federal program modeled after Franklin Delano Roosevelt's New Deal, created in 1933 to grant relief to a US wrecked by the Great Depression. "No one can be against state inA protest against the real tervention and the creation of job fronts in a time like this," Universidade de Sao Paulo's economy professor Helio Zylberstajn, told 0 Estado de S. Paulo. He even suggested that governmental relief programs should be in a constant standby waiting to be adopted as soon as the economic conditions deteriorate and unemployment gets out of hand: "This is the time to promote the worker and, not to diminish him and stigmatize him as someone incapable and not qualified for the new job market. It's time to; use unemployment to teach a new occupation and to inVest in the worker's dignity." In Sao Paulo, embattled mayor Celso Pitta was just following this advice when he decided to attack unemployment through the use of job fronts. In the last week of June, Pitta signed contracts for six months with 6,500 people who were unemployed. All of them will receive a monthly salary of $75, a basic basket of food and transportation passes. During this period, they will also have to take one or more of the 40 different job-related courses for which there is demand,like sewing or working with computers. Other courses offered are telephone repair, gardening, and construction work. The project, which is costing $8.4 million, is called Program of Job Incentive and Professional Requalifying. If everything works as planned, 3,500 of the recently unemployed will join the program starting in August. To illustrate how bad the unemployment situation is, close to 50,000 people applied for the openings even though they were told beforehand of the requirements they should fulfil before even being considered. They had to be unemployed for, at least, one year, have lived in sao Paulo for a minimum of two years, and not to have studied beyond the eighth grade. Those with children had priority. This did not prevent people with college degrees from trying to get a chance to sweep streets or do other kinds of menial jobs. The state of Sao Paulo will also be offering 150,000 jobs to face the rampant unemployment in the state. In Sao Paulo, the unemployed today need an average of 18 months to get a new job, two months more than in 1998. Even those with unemployment insurance are not getting adequate relief since this insurance lasts only for five months. According to some experts, the national program of public work will only be effective if it is capable of absorbing close to 1 million unemployed people. In an interview with 0 Estado, Unicamp's (University of Campinas) economist March:, Pochman proposed urgent and dramatic measures by the government, including the creation ofpublic restaurants, bathhouses, and health clinics, as well as massive investment

in infra-structure to offer jobs. He said, "If we want to discuss job fronts, we have to think about absorbing at least 600,000 to 800,000 people, otherwise the programs will not have the effect of combating the negative cycle of the economy and employment." Child Work Together will unemployment, the employment of children has also increased in the country. Among the most common activities for children who work are paperboys, counter attendants, office boys, and domestic helpers. The practice is prohibited by law through the Federal Child and Adolescent Stattite, but it is believed that in Rio alone there are 1.5 million youngsters between the ages of 10 and 17 who work. A study conducted by Universidade Federal do Rio de Janeiro with employers, parents, teachers and the children themselves showts that the idea of children working is universally accepted. Close to 90% of these children's parents believe that working is an educational activity for their children and thattthe job does not interfere with school. Even teachers (67% of those interviewed) see work for children as something positipe. Besides, more than half of these youngsters say that th4 consider their bosses as a second father, somebody who listens to them and gives them advice. "Sure! am in favor of eradicating child work, but let's not be hypocrites," said one of the authors of the study, researcher Alda Judith Mazzoti, in an interview with Jornal do Brasil. "The majority of the youngsters come from poor families, which are not able to support themselves. For them, a paying occupation is, besides being a factor of independence, a way to avoid criminality. What kind of childhood do these slum children have? Their parents work the whole day and they are left home at the mercy of drug traffickers, violence and a lost bullet. lam in favor of ending child labor, but you cannot do this overnight." Another indioator of the unemployment crisis is the steep surge in hocking tit the state savings bank Caixa Econ8mica Federal, the only institution allowed to offer these loans in Brazil. The Caixnpawning practice was created by Emperor Dom Pedro II in 1861 under the name of Monte de Socorro (Help Mountain)and was used even by slaves who utilized it to buy their owt freedom. Pawning had increased by more than 60% from $2.8 million in December 1998 to $4.5 million in March. Everyday, around 4,000 Brazilians take their possessions to pawn in one of Caixa'sbranches spread all over the country. The most common object for hocking is the wedding ring, with the fanciest ones guaranteeing as much as $1700 in loans. For this kind of loan, Caixa charges an annual interest of 45%—a rate conSidered low in Brazil—to amounts of up to $170. For larger sums, the rates jump to 54%. "We cannot continue to have programs that distribute basic food baskets indefmitely, because this is shameful," said President Fernando Henrique Cardoso. "We need to create more jobs and working conditions conducive to a positive environment, so people can have access to a standard of living that does not drive them to receive a basic food basket. We have to offer more dignity to the human condition, so people On live without assistance. Either Brazil participates as more dynamic society in the world being molded into the qext century or we will be condemned to irrelevancy, poverty, misery and exclusion." The presidential talk happened early July during the launching of a federal plan called Active Community Program, which intends to promote economic autonomy among BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


the poorest Brazilian cities. While bemoaning state paternalism on one hand, Cardoso and his team were celebrating the fact earlier this year that the union distributed, in 1998, 30 million basic food baskets to the poor at a cost of $217 million. The President hailed the Active Community Program as a step in the right direction. This effort intends to make government, businesses and national and foreign NGOs (Non Governmental Organizations) join forces. The residents from the poor localities themselves helped by federal technicians will be offered the opportunity to create their own projects to develop their region using the available resources in the area. The government's announced goals are to include 1000 cities in the program by the end of the year 2000. Initially, the plan will reach only 133 cities—five in every one ofthe 27 states—all situated in rural areas with less than 50,000 inhabitants. Real Five Years Despite all the displeasure with the present administration and the perception that Cardoso reneged on his promises of taking care of the country's social ills, the Brazilian population continues to back the real, the new currency created five years ago, which ended a succession of disastrous economic plans incapable of stopping an inflation that at the creation of the new currency was 21.26 percent a month. The monthly inflation has fallen to 0.05 percent now. The cost of living index in Brazil dropped from 911 percent in 1994, the year before the introduction of the real, to 0.5 percent last year. While the fifth anniversary of Plano real in June was received in the media with phrases like "we are living in a Brazil without hope" and "our economy is now being managed by nationless capitalism", a poll conducted by InformEstado—a subsidiary of media group 0 Estado— revealed that 55 percent of the greater So Paulo residents are in favor of the Plan even after the recent adoption of the free exchange that makes the dollar jump from $1.20 per I real to $1.80. Naturally, the backing is much more lukewarm than in years past. In 1997,71 percent of the population approved of the plan , and such approval hadn't gone lower than 65% previously. Today, 16.6 percent say that they are totally in favor of the plan, while another 38.4 percent talk about being partially favorable to it. On the other hand, 14.6% declared themselves entirely against the Real Plan, while another 14.9% said to be partially against it. Almost half of the people interviewed believe that the plan worked out well. While 30 percent said that they are spending more in restaurants and leisure, 40 percent stated exactly the opposite. At the end of June, the government was not celebrating the fifth anniversary of the real as it has done every year since the creation of the Real Plan in 1994. With 35 million Brazilians unemployed, there is hardly any reason to celebrate the date. Instead, the President got together with his economic team to discuss ways to deal with unemployment. According to the govermnent' s own admission, the economy will not grow but shrink this year. There are hopes that there will be a 2 percent growth in the year 2000. This is only wishful thinking at the moment, though. Exploitation Climate Managing the Brazilian economy has been a tough act. While the US has had only two Federal Reserve chiefs in the last 20 years, Brazil had 20 Central Bank chiefs during the same period. In recent months 'alone, there were three of them. Gustavo Franco, who had defended the so-called foreign exchange anchor maintaining a fixed exchange rate, BRAZZ1L - JUNE 1999

was replaced by Francisco Lopes, who idealized a complex model known as "endogenous diagonal band". Lopes' pas sage was short lived, however and respecte trader Armini FragaNeto, wh was a forme hedge fund man ager for the bil lionaire Georg Soros and p -time teacher of International Finance at Columbia Univ rsity was chosen to take his place. His main credit is to ha e cooled consumer demand and drawn in foreign inves mit by boosting interest rates to 45 percent. Since then inte sts rates have declined and are continuing to fall. At the send • fJune, while talking in Rio to other chiefs of state during the summit between Latin America and Europe, President Fern do Henrique Cardoso drew a rimy picture of the Brazilian or, telling about their ambitions: "We noticed that, bes des wanting to master the Portuguese language, the po er people of Brazil want to learn two other languages: the nternet and English." The President cited a non-identified study in which a poor mother says: "If the IMF (Internati nal Monetary Fund) is in Brazil why shouldn't my children le English?" As expected, Cardoso's comments were me ked by the local press who frequently accuse him of being • t of touch with the poor. While DI ESE (Departamento Intersindical de Estatisticas e studos Socio-Economicos--Interunion Department for tistics and Socio-Economic Studies) numbers show that 1.7 million people or 20% of the Greater SA° Paulo populat on fit for work are without jobs, companies and job recru ers alike have used the excessive offer. of candidates to ipose absurd requirements of them. As a way to trim the n ber of applicants, one common requirement is that the can idates have completed high school even for menial jobs 1- e cleaning up. Some co • anies want their secretaries to be trilingual even though ortuguese is the only language they need for the job. And 's not rare that experienced sellers are also required to ha e their own car, cellular phone and computer. The practice as come to such extremes that there are even firms advertis g for "trainees with experience". In order to prevent people from fainting when waiting in line—someth g becoming more and more common everyday—to appl for a job, recruitment agencies have been offering food The thousands of unemployed who line up everyday at e Centro de Solidariedade ao trabalhador (Center of So 'clarity to the Worker), which is maintained by workers' uni ns in .SAo Paulo, are offered a mortadella sandwich. Daily ne paper 0 Estado de S. Paulo cited unemployed Roni Anton' o de Carvalho, while waiting in line: "I think nobody reall knows how important this lunch is, what a blessing it is or people who like me have no money. When the bread wi mortadella arrives, I think about that time during mass hen the priest says, "blessed are those invited • for the suppe with the Lord". 15


JUST A REFLECTION I just received t e May issue o your magazine today and I was amazed at the amount of negative mail you received. It ranged from the reasonable such as disagreeing with certain articles to the absurd- and asinine such as complaining about the name of the magazine. I just wanted to say that I have loved your magazine from the first time I picked it up in the lobby of the Brazilian consulate. What! principally love about your magazine is that it IS Brazil. The beauty and the ugliness, the hope and the hopelessness, the potential and the shortcomings. Brazil is the only country in the world that can have the rich and the poor living inches from each other as in Rio, where a man can be elected president despite the government publicly acknowledging that they are rigging the election, where the country is ashamed because they think their president is gay, then horrified when he shows up to Carnaval arm in arm with a woman without panties, then enamored with the love he found for a young teacher. Where skirting the law is the law. Brazil is the most contrasted country in the world. It is this contrast that makes me love and hate it. I have great hope and profound sadness every time I hear news from the country. Your magazine is a reflection of all this. It is Brazil as it is. I do not always agree with what is written, I sometimes wish that some pictures were not included, other times I wish more pictures were included. When I was in Brazil it was the same feeling, some things I loved, others I hated, just as I feel about my own country. If you do not like the sexuality in the magazine you will not like Brazil either with its soft porn prime time novelas and prostitutes that openly advertise in the paper. If you do not like the stories of corruption in Brazil than do not go there, as you will not be able to adapt yourself to thejeitinho. If you are Brazilian and do not like the way your country is represented in the magazine do not pretend that those elements are not real. If it is so disturbing, go back and fix the power is in the hands of the people. Things are the way they are because the people accept it. Ifyou are American, realize that the only difference between here and there is that they acknowledge the shortcoming of their country. They do not have kids killing other kids in school, or crazed postal workers. If you are offended by the open sexuality of Brazil then remind yourself of the sex addict that we have in office. You elected him, and if you didn't elect him you also didn't do a very good job of getting him out of office. What you seen in the two dimensional black and white ofthis magazine ispart ofthe three dimensional technicolor of real life. Look at it, think about it and learn from it or bury you head back in the sand and shut up.

Willis D. McCain San Diego, California

FOR ALL EARS Hungry for information on Brazil. I always devour your magazine. The May issue You are invited to participate in this dialogue. Write to: Letters to the Publisher

P.O.Bot, 50536 Los Angeles, CA 90050-0536 or send E-mail to: brazzila brazzil.com

Please, include a phone number in the e‘ent ue need to reach ou. Thanks! 16

wa vet)/ well dope: even your ugly Australian's article was semi-readable and: less annoying than usual. However, I would like to comment on the music section. I love the quality and counterpoise between Bruce .Gilman's article on Caetano (the pu I se) and Daniel la Thompson' s piece on Arranco (the fabric). I realize that the editorial choices you make are limited, but I want to commend you for providing information for Brazilophiles at both "beginner" and "advanced" levels (as well as providing a service, and target, for stranded Brazilians). "thanks.

Don Gettinger Via Internet Thanks to Bruce or the wonderfulpiece o writing on Caetano Veloso (May 1999). It gave me some very basic insights in Caetano's work that I was lacking. Also,-1 now a_ppreciate Livro much more. The piece verified for me a number of themes I thought present in the CD, but wasn't sure. This summer at University of California Santa Barbara I'll being doing a presentation on Caetano Veloso and will distribute this article to the participants.

Fred Dobb, Ph.D. California Department of Education VINICIUS AND ORPHEUS I ove e artic e in Brazzt on Vinicius e Moraes (May 1999). Can you tell me if the film Orfeu will make a U.S. debut? I am most anxious to see the film having seen the original 15 times. Your magazine is wonderful. I look forward to receiving many more issues.

Barbara Goldstein Via Internet INSIDE STORY We di ove t e artic eon Vimcms. I never knew the whole story, and I am a fan of bossanova. By the way, is it possible to get Black Orpheus in Video VHS?-1 am talking about the one that appeared on cinemas in Mexico around 1959 with those Luis Bonfa songs. Please let me know, I am a current reader of your magazzine.

Gilberto Gomez Mexico

Although Brazil markets to mostly persons of European parentage, there is enough room to market to a few million non-Europeans every now and then. If possible, could one of you writers/editors create a story that shows the pride and dignity of this very important group within your economy.

Robert C. Blackmon Via Internet POOR IN PARADISE I was especially captivated by your April 99 ("Blue Angel") story about the impoverished people in Brazil. I have been to Rio once before and plan to go again in September. Can the author (Kevin Rafferty) provide an address for the shelter-home described in his article? I would like to take family mem.bers there to show them how harsh life in `paradise" can be. And if there is something I can do to help them during my stay, I would be obliged.

Scott O'Neil Via Internet . GUN DEFENSE I d like to comment on your artic e 'Rio Disarms Its Citizens" (April 1999). The only people affected by gun laws are the good people. Criminals always get what they want: guns, drugs you name it. I own a fine handgun made in Brazil. lam so sorry to hear that is is happening to the citizens of the great state of Rio. Brazil is a wonderful nation but it must not seek to destroy freedom there...I hope thepeople of Rio rise up and say NO to victim disarmament. Freedom is so easy to give away and so very hard to get back. If they wanted to, Japanese-Americans could regularly purchase handguns and shoot each other with abandon. Yet JananeseAmericans, who have access to firearms, have a lower violent crime rate than do Japanese in Japan. In other words, for this one ethno-cultural group, the increased availability of firearms means absolutely nothing in terms of increased violence. I so enjoy Brazzil; I find it is the most entertaining ezine around.

AND THE RICH BLACK? I am writing Brazzil magazine because I have not seen an article about the Afro-Brazilian middle class. What businesses do they own, and what do they like to do in their spare time. Please understand that I am not interested in a pocor Baiano- story. Out of a population of 60 million Afro-Brazilians, there-has to be at least one million persons or families that live above the poverty line. In essence, they are the people I would like to market a variety of products and services too.

Angela Gibson Via Internet FOR MORE LETTERS AND ENTIRE LETTER SEE: http://www.brarzil.com

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Welcome to 2002 Instead of swift movement on a series of reforms that have been stuck in Congress for years in some cases, Brazilians are being treated to a blatantTy public, often bitter debate involving political leaders who, on paper, are government allies. And there are already candidates stepping forward for presidential elections set for November of 2002! ADHEMAR ALTIERI Brazilians are generally not familiar with the term "lame-duck", that nifty piece of political jargon Americans often use, that so graphically describes a president going through the motions as a term of office winds down. But things remaining what they are, Brazil's political pundits may soon be searching for the Portuguese-language equivalent of the limping political bird. Most surprising is that the term is even worth mentioning in a Brazilian context: President Fernando Henrique Cardoso should be anything but lame, having been decisively re-elected for a second term just last November. But outside of a surprising reaction to economic woes early in the year—a reaction attributed almost entirely to a savvy performance by government negotiators— there' s been precious little government action to speak of in Brazil. This at a time when decisive steps and strong leadership are called for on a number of fronts, to ensure that a remarkable turnaround since January's economic blues doesn't fritter away. Instead of swift movement on a series of reforms that have been stuck in Congress for years in some cases, Brazilians are being treated to a blatantly public, often bitter debate involving political leaders who, on paper, are government alli es. It's the type of political posturing that characterizes the final stages of an outgoing government, complete with would-be candidates throwing their hats in the ring. Precocious doesn't quite describe it: these are candidates stepping forward for presidential elections set for November of 2002! Although the origin of much of the current end-of-term atmosphere is the legislative branch, President Cardoso cannot be excused from all blame. Public perception has been that the President is merely gawking while his allies do battle, at times over tiny morsels of power that shouldn't pack enough importance to paralyze all other government activities, but end up doing just that. Such was the case with the mid-June appointment of the head of Brazil's Federal Police, the local equivalent ofthe FBI. The appointment would normally be made by the Justice Minister, but the process dragged on for three months because of infighting over which party—the governing PSDB, or one of the coalition partners, PFL or PMDB—would have final say. When the name was finally announced, the result was an embarrassment for the government: Brazil's new top cop was accused of torturing a priest to extract a confession during Brazil's military regime that ended in 1985. The government had no choice but to drop him, and a new appointment was rushed through in just three days. How does the appointment of a lower-rung public servant become a politically-charged battle, with party leaders drawing successive lines in the sand and threatening to pull their support from the government? In part, because of a perceived lack of. leadership and decisiveness from President Cardoso to deal with political allies and their ambitions. And also because the political system in place in Brazil opens numerous doors to just the type of bartering that turns even a lesser government position into a potential political stronghold— a practice not entirely unknown to politics elsewhere, but taken to often unacceptable heights in Brasilia. The basic elements of the Brazilian political formula make it all possible. They come together in a mind-boggling tangle that most participants prefer to simply navigate and often cash in on, than attempt to pull apart. The many personal advantages that such a system makes accessible certainly don't escape the average Brazilian politician. All of which goes a long way in explaining why political reform, considered a priority by 18 BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


by political allies represents, is providing additional bad government and opposition members alike, has gone nonews for C rdoso. The latest polls show his approval where since 1993, when the first attempt to review the rating is at an all-time low, with only 23 percent of system failed miserably. Brazilians s pporting his administration. That compares To most Brazilian legislators, it comes down to not to 44 percen at the start of his first term in office, in 1995. giving away what amounts to a very convenient arrangement: they get to bog down negotiations until they extract Adhem r Alfieri is a 21-year veteran with major news what they want from the government in exchange for a vote, o tlets in Brazil, Canada and the United States. and they seldom pay the political price for the negative e holds a Master's Degree in Journalism from consequences of such delays. The President usually bears Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, the brunt ofthe criticism, mainly because of Brazil' snot-tooand spent ten years with CBS News reporting from distant political past. Brazilians still see the presidency as allCanadi and Brazil. Altieri is a member of the Virtual powerful, and tend to expect their President to be far more Intelligence Community, formed by The Greenfield incisive and even authoritarian than Fernando Henrique Consalting Group to identify future trends for Latin Cardoso has been throughout his presidency. America. He is also the editor of InfoBrazil Without reform, the Brazilian political scene will remain (http://www.infobraziLcom), an English-language a minefield of sorts for the presidency, and an obstacle to weekly e-zine with analysis and opinions on Brazilian long-term stability and modernization. Major aspects that politics and economy. You can reach the author at need an urgent review include mandatory voting, the lack of editorskinfobraziLcorn electoral districts, the lack of any serious limitation on politicians who hopscotch between parties without regard for voters or political tendencies, the ease with which just about anyone can start a new political party, and a serious imbalance in Congressional representation that privileges remote, lessBRAZIL CARGO SPECIALIST populated regions. Each of these aspects has profoundly negative effects, but together, they create a situation that BEST SERVICE + BEST RATES University of Sao Paulo political AIR - IATA 01-1-9279-012 scientist Bolivar Lamounier has deOCEAN - FMC 3853 scribed as an "option for minority government". The existing system in effect reduces all political dialogue to individual, not party or ideology-based negotiations. It guarTO ANY AIRPORT IN BRAZIL antees overall control for party and regional minorities as Lamounier put it, while coherent majorities with the effective power to govern cannot be formed. "It's as if the politiFULL CONTAINER & DIRECT CONSOLIDATIONS cal minority, whatever its nature or WITHOUT TRANSLOADING IN MIAMI method of formation, should be considered somehow ethically superior to the majority", wrote Lamounier in a recent column in the business magazine Exame. In the end, an early start to the 2002 presidential race may turn out to be the most harmless consequence of avoiding reforms in Brazil. Far more damaging would be the threat of economic collapse, a real possibility if budget deficits are not controlled. And to get control, Brazil needs political, tax and social reforms on the front burner soon, all of which must be successfully concluded or well under way by the end 12833 SIMMS AVE. AVVTHORNE, CA 90250 of 1999 if trouble is to be avoided. Whether or not President CardoTEL: (310) 973-7112 FAX: (310) 973-7113 so sets some sort of record as the earliest-ever lame-duck President will depend on his ability to shift attention to matters at hand. For VISIT OUR WEB SITE: now, the apparent disregard for the incumbent that early campaigning

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Five ears Without Ayrton It doesn't seem like five years since that fatal crash at the Tamburello curve at the San Marino Grand Prix in Imola, Italy. It doesn't seem like five years that Brazilian in a state of shock gave the Formula One champion a funeral few heads of states have ever had. Ayrton Senna is still much alive in the hearts of his fans. Brazil has had other sporting heroes, but with Ayrton it was different He struck a chord with people and he made us believe that if he could conquer the world than surely there was hope for us as well. DODD DARIN

"The wealthy can no longer live on an island surrounded by a sea of poverty" Ayrton Senna, 1993

"From the bottom of our hearts, we dedicate this victory to our friend Ayrton Senna. He, too, was heading for his fourth world title" Claudio Taffarel, goalkeeper for the Brazilian national soccer team after the 1994 World Cup victory

I've never been quite sure if the old adage "time heals all wounds" was simply a worthless cliché or perhaps a partial truth applicable only to life's less significant losses. When this wonderful adventure we call life deals us a cruel, soul searing yet inevitable loss, we never fully heal and we most certainly never forget. The human heart is simply too vulnerable and passionate for that. Indeed it was the passionate heart in all of us that Brazil's beloved Ayrton Senna touched so deeply. Can it really be that five years have passed since he lost his life at the Tamburello curve at the San Marino Grand Prix in Italy? Flashbacks of Brazil shocked to the core as we watched his funeral, as grandiose as any head of state had ever received. The streets covered with simple yet poignant messages : "Thank you, Senna", "Senna isn't dead because Gods don't die", "Thank you for making our Sundays so happy''. These were the deeply felt emotions of Brazilians of all socio-economic classes; he belonged to us all. Before painfully revisiting that dark day in May let us for a moment simply close our eyes and remember him in happier times; parading around on a victory lap, the Brazilian flag at his side waiving wildly; joyous celebrations for his World Championship titles in 1988, 1990 and 1991; Pautistas absolutely overcome With frenzied emotion in 1991 as he captured his first Brazilian Grand Prix at Interlagos; the great pride we felt every Sunday in our living rooms as we watched him carry the colors of Brazil into battle all over the globe. No, surely it has not been five years? A Nation Mourns As with the assassination of the American President John F. Kennedy many of us will always remember where we were and how we heard the horrible news of Ayrton's death. May 1, 1994 was the culmination of an ugly, nightmarish weekend in Formula 1 that left Brazil and sporting fans the world over simply

numb. Even when balanced against the long and often tragic history of Formula 1 motor racing, the events of that weekend shocked us deeply as never before. Losing a World Cup game final can tear at the national soul for years but our soccer heroes know, as do we, that they will have the future with which to erase the pain of the past. Motor racing is a different animal entirely, a cruel temptress that at times leave us with no possibility for a future happy ending. Our fascination and respect for the heroes of motor sport in part is derived from our realization that racing is so inherently dangerous and that each time they get in the car they must stare down their own mortality and indirectly, the viewer's as well. Here then is the crux of why so many people could not cope with Ayrton's death; he simply did not seem mortal and if he was, than what did that portend for us? From the occasional fan casually flipping the dial on a Sunday, to the hardened Fl fanatic, to his fellow drivers, Ayrton was simply the one person this simply could not happen to. As former 3 time World Champion Niki Lauda said. " If this can happen to Ayrton, the greatest driver of all time, we have to question what is the point of it all". That is partially why all of Brazil mourned so openly and deeply at his death; it was not possible; this was Senna. Over the final weekend of his life, he witnessed carnage on the racetrack. During the Friday practice session Ayrton's protégé, fellow Paulista Rubens Barrichello crashed heavily; the violence of the crash seemed to portend the worst but miraculously he suffered only minor injuries. Upon regaining consciousness, the first person he saw was Ayrton who had tears in his eyes. On Saturday, Formula 1 racing got hit with a cruel dose of reality not felt for 12 years; death on the race track. Austrian

20 BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


rookie Roland Ratzenberger had a front wing break; he lost all control and was killed instantly. The two accidents had a deep impact on Ayrton; possibly in a way he never before had confronted in his professional life. Books have been written on the details of that last weekend; suffice to say that he was quite concerned about the safety of the track and at one point even considered not racing according to his girlfriend at the time, Adriane Galisteu. Regardless of any doubts he might have had about safety, or concerns about the championship situation which saw him trailing his new arch rival Michael Schumacher by twenty points, Ayrton Senna did the only thing his character and personality would allow him to do. On May 1, 1994 he strapped himself into a Formula-1 race car to begin the San Marino Grand Prix at Imola, Italy. As he had a record 64 times before, he began the race from the coveted pole position. History will record that on lap 7, after a restart due to an accident, Ayrton Senna's Williams-Renault left the high-speed left-hander Tamburello at close to 190 miles per hour and crashed into a concrete wall. The impact was significant but it could have been withstood; in a freak occurrence a suspension arm broke free and pierced his helmet causing a fatal head wound. Endless investigations, books and scientific analysis have tried to prove what caused the accident. The definitive cause of the accident is to this day unknown. One thing seems certain, it was not driver error. The most widely accepted belief is that a steering column that was altered for Ayrton's driving comfort broke, leaving him with no steering. A second theory is that lowtire pressures and temperatures caused by slow laps behind the pace car contributed to the accident. In a haunting and perversely hellish scenario, determined to the end, Aytton's last moments of life were spent fighting to keep a young upstart challenger behind him on the racetrack. This was his way, and his destiny from his first days of karting at Interlagos to his final moments on earth thousands of miles away from his beloved homeland. Love Affair The genuine love and deep affection that Brazil felt for Ayrton Senna is hard to put into words. The public perceived correctly that he was more than just a great racing driver and sportsman. In essence, beneath the tough sporting exterior, the handsome and charismatic looks and his vast personal wealth there was a fundamentally decent human being who we wanted to emulate. There have been other sporting heroes for Brazil; Fele, Emerson Fittipaldi, and Nelson Piquet of course come to mind. Each in their own way brought pride to Brazil but it seems to this writer that with Ayrton it was different; it was deeper. Part of the equation could be the age of technology and information transfer; the world of Formula 1 racing in 1994 was quite different from that of Emerson's time or even of Piquet's. We are living in an age where news is instantaneous and constantly in our face; often painfully so as with the terrible TV coverage o f Ayrton 's final moments after being pulled out of his wrecked car. This might have contributed but it was not the primary factor in our emotional attachment to him. No, Ayrton struck a chord with people the world over because we could relate to him; he inspired us and made us believe that if he could conquer the world than surely there was hope for us as well! In addition, Ayrton's pride of being Brazilian was displayed passionately and genuinely in away that was palpable. He spent all of his free time in Brazil, be it in Sao Paulo running the many businesses he developed or on the beach at Angra dos Reis. Throughout his racing career it was as though he never really left; he was simply the boy who went off to Europe and made good but always came back to Brazil and never, never forgot where he came from. The Legacy Lives On The quote about poverty at the beginning of this piece might well have come from a politician looking to scam votes. It certainly seems a bit incongruous to have come from a young man at the height of success and fame in the glamorous world BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999

of Formula 1 ra ng. Influential friends thought that one day he would make a wonderful head of state for Brazil; again a somewhat strange picture is painted; a picture of complexity. One of the c mplexities that might have escaped the public was his fundanental decency and sense of humanity. Those close to him fe 1 he had a basic philosophical struggle with those beliefs, bnliefs based on his strong Christian faith versus his ruthless ambition to conquer Formula 1. Regardless, he realized that he was very fortunate in life and he genuinely wanted to use hi success to help others have a fighting chance. During his ifetime he gave millions to charity; always doing so in priv te and without fanfare. A few months before his death, he spoke ith his sister Viviane and laid out his vision for an institute tha could help give hope to Brazilian children in need. Sadly, he never got to see the fruits of his vision ,but the Ayrton Senna oundation exists today and is doing wonderful work. It is provid g health care, education, nutrition and all the essentials withi a framework of encouraging sports for character developmen . Officially licensed shirts, videos, model cars and hats help raise millions of dollars every year for the foundation. Th huge sums that are raised annually through this merchandising .tand as a testament to his popularity worldwide and the money oing to help needy children are his true lasting legacy; this wo Id have been far more important to him than any conquests on t e race track. The world of Formula 1 racing changed ramatically after Ayrton's death. Improved safety of the cars, circuits and medical advancements have all come about as a result of his losing his life. While each of us personally can debate questions of fate and destiny, this writer has often pondered whether Ayrton was taken from us to give us all something of a message or wake up call. A message to the Formula 1 authorities to improve safety in all areas and never again sacrificing driver safety for economic reasons. Indeed, if anyone other than Ayrton Senna lost his life behind the wheel that day it is likely that none of the safety changes made since 1994 would be in effect today. Every driver on the F 1 grid today and those of the future owe a deep debt of gratitude to Ayrton. The message to the rest of us mi t be more simple yet just as profound; to be grateful for w at we have and to live each and everyday fully and to appreci te this life. It has been ive years since Brazil and the world mourned the loss of Ayrto Senna. To many it is still a fresh wound and always will b . Quite simply he had that effect on people. We should not dei him now nor make him in death what he was not in life. Th re is no need to do that; he was something very special, the Ii es of which we may never again see in our lifetime. "Life is s ething that God gives us. In many instances it is up to us to s ow God that we understand that we regard health and life as a v ry great gift. It is our responsibility to look after such a gift" Ayrton S- na 1990 Obrigado, Ayrton! Author's ote: While I have never been particularly superstitious, I mu t share with you the following personal story. In January 199 I ordered a new vidpo about Ayrton from a company in ngland. I was anxious to receive it and quite disappointed hen by mid April I still had not received it. It finally arrive on the Thursday before the fateful weekend when he lost is life. For reasons I will never fully understand, upon receivi it I simply no longer had any desire to watch it. It remained u opened long after May 1st, 1994. Recomm nded reading: Ayrton Se na: As Time Goes By by Christopher Hilton 1999 The Deal of Ayrton Senna by Richard Williams 1999 Comments to author: ddadgearthlink.net 21


When It DizzIes Rio de Janeiro is a delightful place to visit in the fall— Brazilian fall, that is. DANIELLA THOMPSON

I love Paris in the springtime I love Paris in the fall I love Paris in the winter, when it drizzles I love Paris in the summer, when it sizzles. —Cole Porter Gazing at Rio for the first time inspired Cole Porter to rhapsodize, "It's delightful, it's delicious, it's de-lovely." Now, once again, his lyrics serve to introduce a Brazilian theme. The man had the right words for every situation. We're singing a full-throated "I Love Paris" as we stand on the beach—or rather, what used to be the beach—at Arpoador, watching the sea crash upon the rocks, having carried away all the sand. There's no more beach at Arpoador, but there's music, Cole Porter's and every other kind. It's Rio in the fall, when it drizzles. In May and June airfares to Brazil are lower than at other times, and the planes are only halffull. You can stretch out on three seats and snooze or start a conversation with one of the Brazilians who are returning home from the States. When you arrive in Rio, you won't feel as though you've entered a steam bath. Don't forget to take a sweater and some socks. Rio is said to have only two seasons: Summer and Hot, but La Nina has wrought a miracle, and Rio in this fall is very much like San Francisco in spring and summer, Mark Twain' s famous remark about San Francisco's summer being the coldest winter he'd ever known notwithstanding. Santa Teresa I'm happy to be staying in Santa Teresa. This is the San Francisco of Rio de Janeiro. Nestled on a set of hills right in the center of the city, this

picturesque, village-like community boasts vividly painted turn-of-the-century houses; spectacular views of downtown, Guanabara Bay, Sugar Loaf, and Corcovado; several cozy restaurants and bars; and even a functioning antique bonde (streetcar) that clatters its . Way through the winding cobblestoned .g streets. From Santa Teresa you can descend on foot to the center of Rio, to Lapa and Cinelandia, or to Gloria, where my hosts do their fruit and vegetable shopping in an open-air feira. Shopping done, Santa Teresans load their bags and baskets into a bus, a jitney, or the bonde for the ride uphill. The bonde begins its journey at a station near the cathedral, runs along the top of the Arcos da Lapa (as hairraising as any amusement park ride), and enters Santa Teresa carrying a nonpaying cargo of street boys who make a sport out of jumping on and off the moving cars and hanging on. There are risks involved. In his youth, the legendary singer Orlando Silva lost part of his foot in a bonde accident. This was seventy years or so ago. The streetcars haven't changed. My window overlooks an open space encircled by verdant hillsides, crowned by the distant statue of Cristo Redentor atop Corcovado. One of the hillsides has sprouted a minifavela of a few houses. On another hillside and out of sight live the homeless in the open air. Across the chasm is the bonde garage and museum. Just below to the left is a red-roofed house said to have been Carmen Miranda's dwelling. t Nobody can say when she might have lived there. I resolve to visit the place, s but in typical carioca fashion, I never get round to it. Another thing to leave until the next trip. Everybody in Santa Teresa owns at ; least one dog. At night the canine chorus keeps me awake; it's followed before dawn by a choir of roosters. After the first few jetlagged nights, I cease to hear them. Arte de Portas Abertas Twice a year, Santa Teresa becomes mobbed by cariocas from other districts. It happens in May and November, on open-studio weekends. Quaintness and affordable rents make Santa Teresa

22 BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


a haven for artists and craftspeople, and 92 of them opened the doors of fifty studios to the public at the 7th Arte de Portas Abertas festival in late May (find out more at the Viva Santa website: http://www.vivasanta.com.br). Tourists from greater Rio and the rest of the world browse among paintings, sculptures, masks, photographs, mosaics, ceramics, paper objects, and prints. The best part may be not the studios themselves but getting to them, as many are hidden at the end of a cul-de-sac, the bottom ofa long staircase, around a mysterious corner, on top of a hillock, and in all manner of unexpected places, as well as right on the main streets, which are all narrow, old, and charming. Studio No. 41, at 234 Rua Oriente, belongs to sculptor and designer Rubens Saboya, "Rubinho." Rubinho, the heterosexual father of four, woke up one day with the desire to look like a woman. And he does. He's no longer married, and I don't know what his girlfriend thinks of his appearance, but Rubinho, being a good artist, knows how to do it with aplomb. My favorite "studio" isn't an official participant in the event. It's a tiny house consisting of little more than one minuscule room. The room is crammed to capacity with ancient mementos: photographs, bits of lace, the bric-a-brac remnants of another life. On the exterior wall, little paintings are hung for sale. They are signed by Dinorah. Dinorah is as tiny as her house, an ancient and genteel woman who wears a pinafore-like dress, plays a tiny accordion, talks of the days when she lived in a palace, and offers visitors coffee-flavored hard candy wrapped in gold-and-brown paper. A Dickensian character, hers is the most recognizable face in all of Santa Teresa. Several days after the open studio weekend I'm startled to find Dinorah seated in front of me on the bus going uphill from the center. I couldn't have imagined her ever leaving the charmed world of Santa Teresa. She sits on the bus holding one of her coffee-flavored candies wrapped in gold and brown. A younger woman comes up to her and offers homage. Gentility isn't dead. Roda de Santa The most famous restaurant in Santa Teresa has the exotic name Sobrenatural. It's an intimate place with exposed-brick walls and excellent Brazilian cooking. I'm told that the owner and cook is the former wife of the great sambista Wilson Moreira. I can vouch for her bobo de camareio (prawns in a thick yellow sauce) and crunchy farofa (manioc meal). Sobrenatural used to be a venue for rodas de samba (samba circles), musical get-togethers in which professional musicians perform samba classics and the audience sings along. Apparently the late-night music bothered some neighbors, who complained enough for the prefeitura (city hall) to slap a gag order on eating establishments and watering holes in the center of Santa Teresa. But cariocas are resourceful as well as musical people, and Santa Teresa is once again blessed with a weekly roda de samba, this one located in a place far removed from complaining neighbors, at the very top of the hill. The aptly named Roda de Santa takes place at Clube Lagoinha, a "country club" that smacks more of the country than of a club. You'd expect to see the simple stucco structure with its bare-walled room in some small provincial town, but here it is, commanding a 360degree view of the Cidade Maravilhosa (Marvelous City; Rio's nickname comes from Andre Filho's famed 1935 Carnaval samba). You can sit inside (the room isn't large) or on the terrace. You can drink beer and eat caldo de feijcio (a meaty black bean soup) while listening to some of the best BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999

bambas (crack sambistas) of Rio. Beth Carvalho, Wilson Moreira, Delcio arvalho, Dona Ivone Lara, Monarco, and Walter Alfaiate ar some ofthe headliners who appear there on Friday nights. If Lagoinha is too far for you, try the Antiquario in Lapa. This antiques shop-cum-bar hosts a very crowded roda de samba on Friday nights. The musicians are always the same, but you never knov who might drop in to jam with them or to sing. The crowd irinks caipirinhas—those deadly cachaca and lemon cocktails—and sings lustily along. Botequins The botequim (or boteco) is a carioca phenomenon. All Brazilian cities have bars aplenty, but only Rio has botequins. The great carioca poet and composer Noel Rosa immortalized this institution in his humorous samba "Conversa de Botequim," in which an impertinent customer commands a beleaguered waiter to bring him food, drink, napkin, pen, paper, envelope, cigarette, and ashtray; to shut the door; find out the football results; make a pl one call on his behalf; and even to lend him money. The phoninumber mentioned in the song, 34-4333, is so deeply ingrain d in the collective Brazilian memory that 0 Globo, a Rio new paper, has appropriated it for its classified section, with one additional digit in the prefix (534) to allow for the passage o1 time. Noel died in l37. In the botequins of today you'll seldom see a waiter; cust mers step up to the counter and get their own beer. Some of t ese storefront establishments are nothing more than holes n the wall, with a couple of tables on the sidewalk or not e en that. The singer arcos Sacramento is a great conhecedor (expert) of boteg ins. As we amble through the town, he points out the beautiful old ones that have retained their original bottle shelves an cabinetry, the primitive ones with nothing but a counter, th tiny ones, the wildly painted ones. He tells stories and writes songs about the people who work behind the counters. Marcos also likes to drink beer—Brazilian beer that I, used to Englis - and German-style brews, find watery and tasteless, particu any in this temperate autumnal climate. But happily, one can ind beauty in botequins even without drinking beer. I ask M rcos to write an essay about botequins for the benefit of non-B azilians. He just might do it (although, being a carioca, he jus might not). Cariocas, time, and kissing Everything you do in Rio takes two or three times longer than in any other place. The reason lies with the inhabitants of Rio, who never hurry for anything. No show ever starts on time. Exchanging travelers cheques at a bank is an ordeal of half an hour or more, as the employee behind the counter leisurely fills out form after form, all the while conducting an amiable chat or the phone. If you invite people for four o'clock, the firs guests will begin trickling in at six. Some simply won't sh w up. If this behavior upsets you, don't come to Rio. When they f ally get together, cariocas kiss a lot. At any given meeting ere's a protracted kissing ritual, as every person must kiss every other person present at least twice (once on each cheek) At the end of the gathering the ritual is repeated, not on e but several times, because no carioca can simply get up 4nd leave. Invariably, there's beer drinking going on, and j1.st as invariably, someone calls for a saideira (one for the road) that postpones the departure, necessitating a 23


fresh round of collective kissing. Cariocas often get colds. My dinner with Guinga The composer Guinga is a rarity: a punctual carioca. We had agreed to meet at a buffet restaurant in his neighborhood at 6:30 pm. When I arrive at 6:33, he's already there, filling his plate. He greets me with a joyous "Pontualidade americana!" ("American punctuality!"), which instantly makes me feel very guilty for being three minutes late. Guinga is considered by music critics and many fellow musicians to be the most important composer currently working in Brazil. He released four much-lauded solo albums and (with lyricist Aldir Blanc) composed all the songs on Leila Pinheiro's prestigious disc Catavento e Girassol. He's also one of the top guitarists in Brazil. Yet this idol of many can't make a living from music. What pays the bills is his dental practice. Guinga is on the verge of fifty (although he looks considerably younger; fit and trim, he's also a crack soccer player), is happily married and the father of two daughters, and says he can't afford to buy an apartment in Rio. The first time I met him, I didn't expect to have a conversation. Guinga is famously shy and speaks no English. I'm shy as well. I had been invited to a club where he regularly plays soccer and would have been perfectly happy simply to sit on the sidelines and watch him kick the ball. When he showed up (punctual to the minute), it wasn't to play but to talk. And when he talks about music, the words flow of their own accord (in Portuguese, naturally). Guinga's knowledge of music, Brazilian and other, is vast. He talks about his admiration for the great American popular composers: Duke Ellington, Gershwin, Cole Porter, about how so much of American popular music was created by Jewish composers (he is not Jewish,,and I don't think he knows that I am). Like many Brazilian composers, he admires Ravel, but also Puccini and Wagner. He loves the music of Charles Mingus, Michel Legrand, and Kurt Weill (we hum "Speak Low" together). I tell him that I compared him to Weill in an interview, and that the interviewing journalist called his music "almost classical." We muse on the musical tastes of the young, and he tells me that the writer Nelson Rodrigues, when asked what advice he would give the young, said, "Get older." Guinga is a modern composer who adores older music. He asks what old Brazilian music I listen to and is extremely pleased when I name Ary Barroso. Guinga's father owned a cornplete collection of Orlando Silva's records, and now Guinga sings bits from Orlando's 1930s hits: "Pagina de Dor" by Pixinguinha and Candido das Neves and "Ultima Estrofe," which Candido wrote alone. Guinga compares Orlando Silva to Nat King Cole and Frank Sinatra, suggesting that Orlando was as good as Sinatra. I perceive that he' s•trying to spare my "American" feelings and assure him that I consider Orlando Silva a better singer than Sinatra. Relieved, he agrees. About American songs he says that they flow easily, whereas Brazilian songs do it the hard way, their melodies meandering all over the place. He illustrates his remarks by singing melodic snatches. He points out that American popular music is piano-based and Brazilian music guitar-based, circumstances he attributes to economics. Among jazz pianists he singles out Bill Evans. I mention Thelonius Monk, and Guinga concurs that the man was a genius, saying, "Monk played

Marcos Sacramento fan club No adult likes to admit to being a groupie, but I'm visiting Rio to meet my idol. It's therefore a relief when another adult whom I greatly admire, the poet and lyricist Sergio Natureza, tells me, "Marcos is one of the greatest singers of this century. He's my idol and he doesn't know it." Soon I find that I'm but a Johnny-come-lately, the greenest recruit in a select fan club that includes the music critic and historian Sergio Cabral (who declared after hearing Sacramento for the first time: "Finally, a singer!"); the eminent music collector, researcher, and producer Paulo Cesar de Andrade (who lured Sacramento out of rock and into classic samba); the composer Paulo Baiano (who says, "Marcos is the best singer in Brazil, and I've known it for twenty years."); and just about anyone who has the good fortune to be around while Sacramento employs his seductive timbre. If you know him, the opportunities are many, as he bursts into spontaneous song at the drop of a hat: at parties, in the car, walking in the street. He knows the lyrics of countless old sambas, valsas, and morellos. He breaks into Stevie Wonder songs, Cole Porter songs, French chansons, Italian opera, old TV program jingles, and Carnaval tunes from his childhood. He imitates Ademilde Fonseca, Aracy de Almeida, and Linda Batista. He improvises hilarious Spanish versions of Brazilian songs. He intones "Segura o Tchan" in the styles of Caetano Veloso, Maria Bethania, and Nana Caymmi. We're transfixed by his voice and charisma. He's shy and doesn't even notice. Rehearsal The Lira Carioca ensemble is meeting to rehearse its next show, which will be devoted to songs from the 1920s, many of them never recorded. The repertoire was selected by the music researcher and pianist Fernando Sandroni, founder of the ensemble. The Sandronis are a distinguished family, offsprings of an important newspaperman. They're also a musical family. Fernando's niece is the singer Clara Sandroni. Clara's brother Carlos is a songwriter. Lira Carioca's previous show and disc were devoted to the works of Sinh6, the "King of Samba"—also from the '20s. They're just beginning to learn the new repertoire. The rehearsal takes place at Sandroni's elegant house in Gavea. The musicians make a ragtag appearance amidst the Chinese porcelains and the burnished woods. With pauses for coffee and cake, they run through a number of songs I've never heard. The instruments are piano, flute, cavaquinho, and contrabass— the drummer isn't here tonight. The voices are a soprano (Clara) and a tenor (Sacramento). Eventually they perform a song I know: the gorgeous "Linda Flor" (Ai IWO by Henrique Vogeler, Luiz Peixoto and Marques Porto, recorded by Isaura Garcia (1944), Elizeth Cardoso (1956), and Maria Bethania (1990)—the latter in a tender duet with Joao Gilberto. Then the group launches into a delightful bit of fluff by Ary Barroso and Lamartine Babe called "Oh! ...Nina! ... " from the 1927 musical revue 01019 a Beca. I tell Fernando that Sergio Cabral doesn't mention this song in his book on Ary Barroso. Fernando says, "Cabral didn't know about it—I told him." Ary was only 23 when he composed this catchy tune, and lyricist Lamartine was a couple of years younger. Fernando is kind enough to write out the lyrics for me:

24 BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


Oh!...Ninal.. [foxtrot] Barroso/Lamartirie Babo; 1927)

Oh!...Nina!I... [foxtrot] (Ary Barroso/Lamartine Babo; 1927)

[Voice] Nina era uma pequena Levada demais Flertes tinha uma centena Corn qualquer rapaz... Sempre flertou Sempre brincou... Nunca se apaixonou...

[Voice] Nina was a little one Who was too flighty Flirts she had a hundred With any boy... She always flirted She always played... Never becanie impassioned...

.(Ary

smell of smoke an burning meat pervades the air. It'll still be in your hair and y ur clothes when you return to your room. Books and squares

[Refrain] [Refrain] Oh! Nina Oh! Nina Cuidado... Be careful... De fitas Of ribbons Tu tens You have Urn punhado... A fistful... Oh! Nina Oh! Nina Es fina... You're fine... Porem However Alguem Someone Te enganou... Fooled you... De tanto namorar With all this dating Achaste o teu bem You found your love Dentro do coracao... Inside the heart... Oh! Nina... Oh! Nina.. Que sina! What fate! Oh! Nina! Oh! Nina! Chorares You cry Amares You love Em vao!... In vain!... Feira de Sao Cristevao We go to the Sao CristOvao fair to see how the other Brazil lives. This is the dominion of the working class, of people who migrated to Rio from other states. I You don't want to arrive too early, for it really gets jumping. past midnight. As usual, you can't park your car without contributing a tithe to the flanelinha who'll look after it vfhile you're gone. Flanelinha is a flannel rag, the type used to wipe car windows. It's also an occupation born out of necesSity. In large Brazilian cities, eachflanelinha has his curbside territory marked by some invisible force, and woe betide the unwary driver who parks without tipping the keeper of the curb. The one who "receives" us outside the Sao Cristevao fair has two long barbecue skewers in his hand. Nothing further need be said. The sao Cristovao fair is a Saturday night thing. People come here to eat churrasco (grilled meat), drink beer, and danceforro—a sinuous two-steps-here, two-steps-there, tight couples dance from the northeast. Butcher stalls offer everything from pig snouts and exotic organ owes to whole sides of cows and sun-dried beef. Delicacy stalls offer cheese from Minas Gerais, bottles of liquefied butter, various sweets I never knew existed. CD stalls offer brega, the schmaltzy music that Brazilian radios play non-stop. I look at the people as they arrive. Some are fat, but there's not the high proportion of obese people one sees at similar events in the United States. Peanut-vending boys circulate among the tables and drop off samples. The live/arra music—an accordion called sanfona, a triangle, and a• large drum with the onomatopoeic name ofzabumba—is loud, as is the chatter of the crowd. The BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999

When movies led, Cinelandia was the night queen of Rio. Now the Art Dec movie palaces are closed, and only a few survivors remain f the numerous glittering cafés that used to dot this large squ e in central Rio. Traces of the old elegance are still on displa thanks to the magnificent architecture of the National Libr ,the Municipal Theatre (modeled after the Paris Opera), and he marble-lobbied City Hall, all located at one end of the square. The political protests of the 60s have given way to insipid evangelical mu ic from a truck that appears to be permanen ly parked in front of City Hall. rowds still gather here at Carnaval time, but For the rest of the year, Cinelandia is primarily a book place, home to a daily book fair inst lied in the center of the square. New Brazilian books are expensive, but the stalls at Cin landia sell them at a20% discount (one stall off rs a 50% discount). Among the books you can find here is a large and beautifully designed volume with pho os of Cinelandia in its heyday. I pick up singer Joyce's m moirs at half-price and a used Portuguese grammar book fo one Real ($0.60). Another Rio quare with noteworthy architecture is the dentes. The square and the narrow streets historic Praca surrounding it are an enclave of old Rio, well worth at least one visit for a look at he city as it used to be a hundred years ago. Serious book by rs come here for a peregrination among the sebos (used boo stores) concentrated in the area. If you're interested in the h story of Brazilian music, you might be lucky enough to pick u out-of-print volumes by illustrious names. I came away fro one of those tightly packed, dusty stores with such treasur s as No Tempo de Noel Rosa by Almirante, Aspectos da Mu ica Brasileira by Mario de Andrade, and Sainbistas e Cho 'Oes by Lficio Rangel. Twenty book later, I'm shopping for a tote bag at Largo da Carioca. Reluc tly I face the fact that it's time to go home— to the summer of an Francisco that is so much like Rio in this fall. Ah! Rio, que te inventou? —Sergio Natu eza Dani ha Thompson is a writer and preservationist living in northern California. She can be reached at danivAjps.net.

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The A Confissao Co fession Isso de ficar dentro duma casa copiando as ideias dos outros nao se ajustava corn meu juizo. 0 que eu gostaya_pra de vaguear. Ir por ir buscando ideias. Arrancando das pedras que me davam topada, da agua que eu bebia, das meninas que eu via. Do Coronel e do mundo todo. So aparecer na minha frente, e pronto: estava feita a estoria.

The idea of staying indoors copying other people's ideas just didn't go over with me. What I liked to do was wander around. Just go around looking for ideas. Pulli g them from the stones that I stubbed my toe on from the water I drank, froni the girls ihat I saw. From the Colonel and from everyone. The idea only had to appear in front of me, and there was the story, already composed.

CRISTOVAM BUARQUE

CRISTOVAM BUARQUE

"SO escrevi o que vi e vivi." Astor Eu you contar porque o senhor insiste e eu o conheco e sei urn homem de bem. Mas o que eu gosto mesmo é de inventar. Criar est6ria sem dono. Que saia daqui. Que venha de dentro, saindo do nada. Do nada, nao! Sempre tern urn estourinho que sai de algum lugar. Mas depois, o que chega aqui fora é criado no juizo da gente. E dessas que eu sempre gostei. Desde menino. Sentado na calcada de D. Inocencia. Ou na venda de seu Romao. JA morreu o velho Romao! Ou na Pedra do Riacho Grande. Ali era o meu ninho. Olhando agora, depois de tudo passado, é daquele ninho que eu tenho saudade. Nao é dele mesmo porque ainda esta au; no mesmo lugar, depois daquela volta au i na estrada, ve?, do lado do rio, que tambem nao mudou de lugar; seca, enche e volta a secar, mas sempre no mesmo lugar; diferente da gente: é s6 secar e secar e nunca no mesmo lugar. Nao é dele no e é dele sim. Dele diferente como era entao. Tinha dia que eu chegava madrugando, ouvindo o acordar dos matos na ribanceira. Parecia que o mundo estava ainda se espreguicando devagarinho, debaixo do cobertor azul e branco. Ali eu ficava calado, matutando alguma estoria que tinha ouvido na vespera. Parecia que meu juizo dormia ainda corn o mundo. De repente acordava tudo saindo do juizo para fora, no mundo, corn um sorriso se abrindo aos pouquinhos. BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999

"I only wrote what I saw and lived." Astor I'm going to ell the story because you asked, and because I know you, and ecause I know you're a good man. But what I lik to do most is invent. Create a story without an own r. That just comes from inside, comes out of noth ng. No, not out of nothing, no! There's always a Ii le explosion coming from somewhere. But then what comes out is created by your mind. Tho e are the ones that I've always liked. Since I was kid. Sitting on the sidewalk out in front of Don Inocencia's house. Or in Senhor Romao's bar. e died; old Romao died! r sitting on the Riacho Grande Stone, by the rive . That was my nest. Looking back now, after all t at's happened, it's that nest that I miss the mos . Not that it's gone; it's still there in the same plac , past the bend there in the road, see? Alongside the river. The river's still in the same place, too, drying up, then filling up, then drying up again, but always in the same place. Not like us. We're only drying up and drying up and never in the same place. I don't miss Riacho Grande Stone itself, or, yes, I do. I miss it the way it was then. There was a time when I arrived right at dawn, hearing the woods wake up in the ravine. It seemed that the world was still stretching itself under its blue and white blanket, slowly shaking off its sleeipiness. I kept still, thinking over some story that I had heard the night before. My mind seemed to s ill be sleeping, along with the world. Suddenly eve hing woke up, coming out of my mind into the orld, with a smile that spread little by little. ow I knew that I had another story to tell. I tho ght it over a little more and the story was ready, wai ing for listeners. And now there would be ano her story and another and yet another. t night, after dinner, people began to arrive, act g like they didn't really want anything. They were standing here, outside the door, with their hats in their hands, calling i side, "Senhor Joca, could it be that Astrogildo's 27


Eu já sabia que tinha outra estoria para contar. Matutava mais urn pouco e estava a estoria pronta, esperando ouvintes. E ja ia para outra e outra e outra mais. De noite, depois da janta, o povo comecava a chegar. Parecia que nem queriam nada. lam ficando au, pela porta, de fora, corn o chapeu na mao, perguntando para dentro. "Seu Joca, sera que Astrogildo tai?" Eles já sabiam que eu estava. Al, pai saia. Eu ficava de dentro, mas corn os ouvidos IA fora. E me derretia ouvindo de la o que eles diziam: "Seu Joca, Astrogildo é urn contador dos bons." "Estou para ver outro contar igual." "Nem o velho, o fmado Antunes, era tao born." Eu so ouvindo. "E sera que ele vem contar estOria hoje?" Al eu mandava dizer que estava cansado. Ou ia eu mesmo. Meio besta, dizendo que nao. "Eu nao sei nada de estoria." "Seu Joca, se seu filho fosse letrado estava fazendo livro para o povo ler." "Hoje td ate fraco." "Vamos falar de outra coisa." Dizia corn medo. Medo que falassem de outra coisa. Medo de que soubesse que meu coracao tinha mais vontade de contar que os deles tinham de ouvir. E desembuchava. Desembuchava uma detras da outra. Diziam que eram est6rias boas. Tern umas que todo mundo ainda conta. 0 senhor nao ouviu a estOria da "Moca Serpente", a do "Cangaceiro Apaixonado pela Pedra do Riacho", a do "Capataz Zumbi", a do "Engenho na Lua"? Pois daqui sairarn. Mas tinha dia que era dificil. 0 mundo acordava de manhazinha corn meu juizo ainda dormindo. La fora tudo mexendo, e aqui dentro tudo parado. Era urn desespero. E a hora passando e o povo perto de chegar. Teve urn dia que vinha Seu Doutor Juiz ouvir se as est6rias eram boas como se dizia. E estOria nao vinha. Nem as velhas eu conseguia mudar. Al contava como as velhas eram e todo mundo dizia "essa já ouvi", e ate gostavam e pediam outra vez. Mas eu aqui dentro sabia que eu nao gostava. Est6ria repetida por falta de nova é como chegar na Quarta vivendo ainda na Terca. E Segunda sem Domingo. E Pascoa antes da Festa. Num pode. Num pode. Num pode nao. Eu jogava pedra no rio. Deitava, a boca para cima olhando para o ceu e vendo tudo de dentro. 0 senhor ja viu a complicacao do mundo? E por que a gente num manda na cabeca da gente mesmo? 0 meu juizo dormindo e o mundo IA fora acordado e o sol andando em cima como se rindo estivesse de mim, e a noite chegando e os chapeus do povo na mao, na porta de pai, o juiz e tudo, e eu calado. Calado sem vislumbrar a verdade do mundo, porque a verdade para mim nao é a que acontece de todo, mas a que eu arranco aos pouquinhos da verdade que nail) e verdade porque é aparencia. Aparencia somente, ate que a gente descobre como ela é, da volta, e no avesso descobre onde ela se esconde disfarcada. E mostra ela para o povo, e ve os olhos do povo brilhar olhando os da gente espantados, contentes, corn medo desesperado. Assim pois, seu doutor, era eu, desde moco, contador de estOria, respeitado no Sertao. Como comecou, nao me pergunte. S6 sei que comecou. Diz minha tia Maria que eu nunca deixei de ser o que sempre fui: urn mentiroso. Desde antes de ser, quando cinco vezes disse que ia nascer e desesperava todo mundo para depois do aperreio danando nao chegar. Ate que um dia, quando ja ninguem acreditava e a parteira ja nem veio, eu nasci s6. Eu nasci s6, e chorando tanto que pensavam que eu estava corn espinhela caida e depois já era corn o diabo no corpo e nem 28

there?" They already knew I was there. Then, Pa went outside. I stayed inside, but I perked up my ears. And the things they said! "Senhor Joca, Astrogildo is the best storyteller!" "I've never known anyone who could tell a better story." "Not even old Antunes was this good!" I was just listening. "And might he be telling a story today?" And I would send word that I was too tired. Or go tell them myself. What a fool I was, saying no! "I don't know anything about a story." "Senhor Joca, if your son knew how to write, he could write us a book to read." "Today he's too tired." "Let's talk about something else," I said fearfully. Fearful that they would talk about something else. Fearful they'd find out that, in my heart, I wanted to tell stories more than they wanted to hear them. And the stories poured out, one after another. Everyone said that they were good stories. People are still telling some of them. Have you ever heard of "The Serpent Girl," of "The Highwayman in Love with Pedra do Riacho," of"Boss Zumbi," of "The Sugar Plantation on the Moon"? Well, they all came from here. But some days it was hard for me. The world woke up early in the morning but my mind still sleeping. And time was passing and people were going to arrive. There was the day that the Judge was coming to see if the stories were as good as he'd heard they were. And no story came. Not even the old ones that I could change. I'd sometimes retell the old ones, and everyone would say, "I already heard that one," and would even like it and ask to hear it again. But here inside I knew that I didn't like it. Repeating a story because you can't think ofa new one is like living in Tuesday when it's already Wednesday. It's Monday without Sunday. It's Easter before Carnival. I just couldn't. I threw rocks in the river. Lying face up, looking at the sky and seeing everything outside and nothing coming from inside. You see how complicated things can get? How you can't even tell yourself what to do? My mind sleeping, and the world outside already awake, and the sun high in the sky as if it were laughing at me, and night coming and people with their hats in their hands, at Pa's door, the Judge and everyone, and me silent. Silent without catching a glimpse of the truth ofthe world, because, for me, the truth isn't what happens all at once, but what I pull out a little at a time from the truth that isn't the truth because it's only appearance. Nothing but appearance, until we discover what it really is, turn it inside out, and on the back discover where truth's hidden and disguised. And show it to people, seeing how their eyes grow brilliant, frightened, happy, fearful, desperate. So, Doctor, from the time I was a child, I was a storyteller, respected in the backlands. How it all began, don't even ask. All I know is that it did. My Aunt Maria says that I've never stopped being what I always was: a liar. Going back to before I was even born. Five times I said I was going to be born and then disappointed everyone. One day, when no one believed it and the midwife didn't even come, I was born by myself and crying so much that they thought that I had the evil eye. And then that I was possessed by the devil. It wasn't either one; I just wanted everyone to hear 8RAZZIL - JUNE 1999


nada era, s6 que eu já queria que me ouvissem de todos os lados do mundo todo. E num é mesmo que eu gostava de mentir? Porque you mentir agora! Eu gostava. Mas tambem no gostava nao. E, seu doutor, é que a verdade é urn quadrado de muitos lados. Tern a que vai la fora e a gente pode pegar mas nao pode mudar, e a que vai aqui dentro que a gente nao pode pegar mas pode mudar. Eu num mentia nao. Eu s6 fazia mudar. E o povo gostava. E eu gostava. E eu gostava que o povo gostasse. No comeco era est6ria pequena, de coisa corriqueira. De nao conhecer o de fora, eu nao mudava quase o de dentro. Depois foi melhorando. Aprimorando no tempo. Contando devagarinho. Acrescentando viradas nas coisas. Mentindo dentro da mentira. E o povo gostava ainda mais. Urn dia eu parei na metade e disse que no outro dia voltava. No comeco ninguem queria ir embora deixando o donzelo da estOria perdido no mato sozinho. Mas eu fiz de rogado e disse que s6 no outro dia.'Nesse outro todo mundo veio. E eu já estava corn o donzelo livre, quando todo mundo ainda estava corn ele preso; perdido no mato. Al eu me senti dono do mundo e mostrei o caminho da vida e salvei o donzelo e todo mundo ficou contente. Outra vez, por 10 dias, eu acho, estive esticando a estOria, mudando aqui, botando uns homens au, aparecendo uma irma boa por IA. Agora eu sei que o nome disso é novela de radio. Naquele tempo nao tinha nome, nao. Mas eu sabia que era born porque todo mundo gostava. Foi ja por esta epoca que o padre Ambrosio comecou a me ensinar a ler. Eu me lembro da briga. Eu nao queria. Isso de ficar dentro duma casa copiando as iddias dos outros nao se ajustava corn meu juizo. 0 que eu gostava era de vaguear. Ir por ir buscando iddias. Arrancando das pedras que me davam topada, da agua que eu bebia, das meninas que eu via. Do Coronet e do mundo todo. SO aparecer na minha frente, e pronto: estava feita a estOria. Isso de b corn a nao era de meu feitio. E dava trabalho. E era dificil. Como podia uma bola ser urn o? e urn palito ser urn i? E tudo o mais? Foi empurrado de pai que me fez continuar indo A escola do padre AmbrOsio corn D. Lurdinha. Ela ate que era boazinha comigo. 0 padre, nao. Que Deus perdoe que eu num devia estar dizendo isso, mas o padre so me chamava de mentiroso. Num queria que os outros meninos me vissem contando estOria. A gente tinha que se esconder. Ou subia no pe de azeitona. Eram os meninos cuspindo caroco e eu cuspindo palavras. No fim eles estavam corn a lingua azul e eu corn a minha leve. Eu nao agilentava. Sabia do castigo que corria, mas nao agilentava. E os meninos gostavam tambem. Zeca levou urn castigo, desses de grande, carregando agua para casa do padre por cem dias, s6 porque me pediu para repetir a estoria da Donzela Sonhadora. Uma que dizia que o mundo era corde-rosa quando todo mundo via azul e preto, que pensava ser princesa quando era sO rendeira, e quando pingava goteira na casa dizia que era o raio da fada-madrinha. Urn dia the deram, desculpe a palavra, merda de vaca e disseram que era chocolate estrangeiro e eta gostou. E ninguem ate hoje sabe se foi chocolate ou merda o que eta comeu. Nem eu mesmo. Pois Zeca seguia me pedindo estOrias apesar dos castigos. 0 padre entao viu que nao tinha jeito e me chamou no canto junto da batina fedorenta e me disse: "Astrogildo, eu you the deixar contar estorias. Nossa Senhora me falou ontem e disse que nao BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999

me. And don't! Ii e to lie? Because I'm going to lie right now! I liked it. But I a so didn't like it. Doctor, the truth is a square that has many sid s. There's the outside part that we can see but can't change an the inside part that we can't see but can change. I • idn't lie. No I didn't. I only made it change. And peopl liked it. And I liked it. And I liked it that people lik d it. At firs it was small stories about everyday things. Because I didn't know what was going on outside. I almost did 't change what was inside. Later it got better. Improving with time. Slowly telling stories. Increasing the twists d turns of things. Lying within lies. And people lik d it even more. One dai I stopped in the middle and said that I'd only continue t e next day. At the beginning no one wanted to go horn and leave the young hero lost in the woods by himself. Bit! let them beg and said I'd continue only the next day. The next day everyone carne. And I already had the young hero free, when everyone still thought he was imprisoned, lost in the woods. I felt like the king of the world, and I showed th road of life to the young hero and saved him, and everyone w s happy. Another tim , I think for ten days, I stretched out the story, making change here, taking men out there, putting a good sister in over th re. Now I know that this is called a radio soap opera. At that t e it didn't have a name, no it didn't. But I knew that it wa good because everyone liked it. It was aroun ii this time that Father Ambrosio began to teach me to read. I stil remember the fight. I didn't want to do it. The idea of staying i doors copying other people's ideas just didn't go over with m;. What I liked to do was wander around. Just go around looki g for ideas. Pulling them from the stones that I stubbed my to on, from the water I drank, from the girls that I saw. From the olonel and from everyone. The idea only had to appear in fr nt of me, and there was the story, already composed. This busine s of putting a "b" with an "a" wasn't my style. And it was so uch work. And it was hard. How could a ball be an "o"? And a stick be an "i"? And all the rest? It was only because Pa pus ed me that I kept going to Dona Lurdinha's class in Father mbr6sio's school. She was really very good to me. Not the pri St. May God forgive me for saying this, but all he did was call e a liar. He didn't even want the other children to see me tellin stories. We had to hide. Or go up to the foot of the mulberry tree. The other boys were spitting out the seeds and! was spitti gout words. They wound up with blue tongues and I wound us with a lighter one. I couldn't stand it. I knew the risk I was nning, but I couldn't stand it. And the other children liked i ,too. Zeca was sunished real bad. He had to carry water to Father's house for 100 days, only because he asked me to repeat the story ofthe Dreaming Damsel. The one who thought the world was 11 pink when everyone else saw it as black and blue, who thou t she was a princess when she was only a lacemaker, who th ught that the rain leaking through the roof was abeam from he Fairy Godmother's magic wand. One day they gave her, excu e my language, cow shit and said that it was imported choc late... and she liked it. And even now no one knows if it wa chocolate or shit that she ate. Not even me! Well, Zeca kell following me, asking for stories in spite of the 29


fazia ma! nenhum. Mas voce tern de contar estOrias so de Deus, de N. Senhora e da Santissima Trindade Abencoada." EstOrias todas de salvacao e de gente boa que dava esmola para as igrejas. Isso foi depois que o Senhor Bispo passou por la. Loguinho depois. Eu ate pensei em fazer assim. Mas como? Nao saia nada de nada. Eu dava volta pelo juizo, procurava explicacao, mudava nome dos santos, e nada acontecia. Eu nao sei se certo ou en-ado estou, mas quem nasceu para contar o contra, nunca vai contar o a favor. Al, fugi da igreja, passei a me esconder do padre, tinha medo que ele visse o que estava dentro do meu juizo. Pai me deixou solto, desde que eu ajudasse na roca. E a vida era so belcza. Foi um tempo que eu estive assim. Já nao ia acordar o mundo no meu ninho do !ado do rio. Mas de manha, carregando a enxada na mao, eu seguia o sussurro do vento me contando estOria; cortando a terra, eu ouvia os gemidos dela lamentando seu sofrimento; no sol escaldando, eu sentia o peso dos raios me marcando versos. Al, eu voltava na tardinha, o vento ja mais calado, a terra saradinha e o sol calm inho la em cima, como se o mundo todo tivesse me confiado os segredos dele, que eu mudava como queria. Al, era so tomar o café corn cuscuz e esperar o povo chegar. 0 padre nao vinha e dizia para o povo nao vir. E eles diziam: "Faz mal nao, padre Ambr6sio. Nao é por estoria que a gente vai nao. A saber de comadre Alta, que esta com urn sarampao." Mas ele§ queriam era ouvir. Tinha uns que se benziam corn cruz e credo e tudo. Mas ficavam ai o tempo todo. E as estOrias foram crescendo tanto, seu doutor, que eu já, nao controlava. E dizia o que queria. E o padre Ambrosio foi sabendo e viu que na pele do lobo eu estava vestindo ele, e que o povo todo sabia que de lobo sO tinha padre e de padre so tinha lobo. 0 povo tinha um medo gostoso que eu via nos olhos de todos. E eu, urn medinho de satisfacao tambem, nao you mentir nao. Mas se o Sol e a Terra e a seca falavam comigo era porque Deus nao estava contra. E contei a histOria de que Deus falava corn todo mundo. E o padre se zangou e perguntou no altar supremo no domingo depois, para que era que Deus tinha feito as escolas de padre, seminarios para ensinar como falar corn Ele. A briga estava feita. 0 povo estava corn medo; isso garanto ao senhor. No domingo, o povo nao sabia se ia a missa de manha; no sabado de noite nao sabia se vinha a casa de pai me ouvir. E pai quis me proibir. E mae tambem. Minha madrinha veio de longe e pediu por tudo que nao queria ser madrinha de renegado. Me chamaram de bode e bode eu nao era. Me chamaram de herege e herege eu nao era. Eu so queria descarregar o que vinha de dentro, o que me dizia o mundo, mudando aqui e au i sO para dar urn gostinho, mas ficando tudo como era de mesmo, na verdade, pelo avesso das aparencias. Al veio o avesso do avesso. Veio o Coronel Bernardo que tambem tinha ouvido estOrias que nao gostava. A estoria do Cavalo Nobre contra o Cavaleiro Desalmado e outras mais. 0 Coronel falou corn pai, que disse que eu era homem, que em mim nao mandava mais. 0 Coronel disse que corn homem tratava como homem e mandou dois capangas darem em mim. Eles deram. Eu apanhei, nao nego. Eu chorei depois sozinho, nao nego tambern. Eu quis morrer numa horinha, nao nego. Mas al foi mais forte do que eu, o meu juizo doido que eu nao controlava, e que me disse mais estOrias 30

punishment. Then Father saw that it wasn't working, and he called me over to talk to him in the corner next to his stinking cassock. "Astrogildo," he said to me, "I'm going to let you tell stories. Our Lady spoke to me yesterday and said that there was no harm in it. But you have to tell only stories about God, Our Lady, and the Blessed Trinity." Stories about salvation and good people who gave alms to the churches. That was after the Bishop had visited there. Right after. I even thought about doing it. But how could I? Nothing came out. I racked my brain, looking for an explanation, changing the names of the saints, and nothing happened. I don't know if I'm right or wrong but, if you're born to tell "con" stories, you're never going to tell "pro" stories. So, I fled the Church. I hid from Father; I was afraid that he could $ee what was inside my mind. Pa left me alone, because I was helping in the fields. And life was sheer beauty. It was like that for a long time. Now I didn't go to my nest next to the river to wake up the world. But in the morning, carrying my hoe, I followed the whisper ofthe wind that was telling me stories. Cutting into the earth, I heard its sighs lamenting its suffering. In the scalding sun, I felt the weight of the rays marking the rhythm of verses on me. Then, returning in the afternoon, with the wind quieter, the earth so valiant, and the sun so calm above, as if the whole world had confided its secrets to me, so I could change them as I liked. Then, it was home to eat couscous, drink coffee, and wait for people to arrive. Father didn't come, and he told people to stay away. And they said, "It's all right, Father Ambrosio. We don't go to hear the stories. Only to find out how Comadre Alta's doing. She's down with the measles." But they wanted to hear the stories. Some of them even blessed themselves and everything in front of Father, vowing they didn't. But they stayed the entire time. And the stories were growing so much, Doctor, that now I couldn't control them. And I said what I wanted. And Father AmbrOsio found out that I was dressing him in a wolf s skin in my stories, and that people knew that he was the wolf and the wolf was him. People had fear in their eyes. I could see it and it was beautiful. And I, I... for me there was a feeling of satisfaction. I'm not going to deny it. But if the Sun and the Earth and the drought spoke to me, it was because God didn't oppose it. And I told the story of when God spoke to everyone. And Father was furious. The following Sunday he asked from the pulpit why it was that God had made Father's schools and the seminaries that teach how to talk with Him. Well, the battle lines were drawn. People were afraid. I'll vouch for that. On Sunday people didn't know if they were going to morning Mass, or not. On Saturday night they didn't know whether or not they were coming to Pa's house to hear me. And Pa tried to forbid me from telling stories. Ma, too. My godmother even came from far away and asked me to stop because she didn't want to be godmother to a renegade. They called me a son of the devil, and I was no devil's son. They called me a heretic, and I was no heretic. All I wanted to do was repeat what the world was saying to me. Changing it here and there only to make it more tasty, but everything still the same, only seen from the reverse side of its appearance. Then came the greatest reversal of all. Came Colonel Bernardo, who had also heard stories that he didn't like. The BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


I ainda. Quis calor e a boca se abria; quis esquecer e a cabeca se iluminava; e da peia que levei, lhe digo corn sinceridade, mil estOrias novas eu tirei. Agora cram estOrias de Odio mesmo, nao era s6 o avessinho do mundo nao. Era a verdade crua; urn avesso arrevesado que eu sentia e dizia. Eu vi o povo ficar corn medo mas nao me calei e o medo foi embora e o povo veio sem medo e as estOrias correram. A estoria do "Coronel Enforcado", do "Padre Satands", era tudo as veras e o povo crescendo e dizendo "pois é", "pois assim foi", "pois num é mesmo assim?". E durou um tempo. Urn tempo que eu jã nao sei como nem quanto. Na verdade, eu acho que naquele tempo eu já nao existia. Era alma sonambula encarregada de contar estOria para o povo ouvir. E contei muita, eu the digo. Muitas mesmo, antes que o mundo se acabasse naquela tarde. To be continued. First ot two parts. Excerpted from Cristovam Buarque, Astricia (Rio de Janeiro: Civilizacao Brasileira, 1984). 0 Cristovam Buarque Cristovam Buarque (cbuarque@brnet.com.br) is the Brazilian author of fifteen books of essays and fiction. He is a professor at the University of Brasilia, where he was the Rector from 1985 to 1989. From 1995 to 1999 he was the Governor of the Federal District of Brasilia.

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story of the Noble Horse versus the Cruel Horseman and more. The Colonel spoke with Pa, who told him that! was a man now and that he didn't have any control over me. The Colonel said that you treat a man like a man, and he sent two of his bodyguards to deal with me. Deal with me they did. They beat me up; I don't deny it. Later I cried all by niself; I don't deny that either. I wanted to die; I don't deny it. But there was soInething stronger than me; I couldn't control my crazy mind, and i told me more stories than ever. I tried to shut up but couldn't keep my mouth shut. I tried to forget, but my head was clearer than ev r. From the fetters I was wearing, I say this sincerely, I drew o e thousand more stories. Now they were hateful stories. t was the naked truth. I saw that people were afraid, but! di 't shut up, and the fear left them, and the stories continu d. Stories like "The Hanged Colonel," and "Father Satan.' It was all true, and the number of people growing and them saying, "Well, yes," "Yes, that's how it was," "Well, isn't it just like that?" And this went on for some time. For how long and Why I don't !glow. To tell you the truth, I don't think I really existed at that time. I was a sleepwalking soul entrusted with the task of telling stories for people to hear. And! told a lot of them, you can believe me. A whole lot, until that afternoon that the world came to an end. To be continued. First of two parts. Translated l)y Linda Jerome (LinJerome@cs.com) from "A Confissao," published in Brazil in 1984 by Civilizacao Brasileira as part of Cristovam Buarque's collection of short stories Astricia.

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Of Faith Poveriy and Beauty In Ceara you will find attractions for all tastes: for beach goers, hikers, those interested in history and folklore, those looking for unspoiled places. Curious about mysticism? Ceara is the land of Padre Cicero, a priest seen with misgivings by the Catholic Church, who is venerated as a saint. Ceara's pride and glory is its coastline— nearly 600 km of glorious beaches. The beach in this part of the Northeast engenders a special way of life. In nearly all of the small beach towns, the people of Ceara live out their folklore every day of the year. They make old-fashioned lacework and handicrafts, cook according to traditional recipes, sleep in hammocks, sail out on jangadas to catch fish and live in thatchedroof homes. Should you stray inland into the send°, you will see a rugged, drought-plagued land, a bleak landscape of dust and caatinga peopled by vaqueiros (cowboys) who rely on their cattle for almost everything. The dried meat serves as food, tools are fashioned from the bones, and the hides provide clothing—nothing is wasted. For a complete contrast, visit the Serra de Baturite, a small chain of hills southwest of Fortaleza, which features an agreeable climate and coffee and banana plantations. For all its size and wealth of culture, much of Ceara is poor and undeveloped. Poverty and disease are rampant and dengue and yellow fever are endemic. FORTALEZA Fortaleza is now a major fishing port and commercial center in the Northeast. The tourist attractions of the city include a small historical section, a large selection of regional handicrafts, and a growing nightlife scene along Praia de Iracema and Praia do Meireles. Although the city beaches are not 33


1171 very clean, there are some super beaches 20 beyond the city limits in either direction. History According to some revisionist Cearense historians, the Spanish navigator Vicente Yanez was supposed to have landed on Mucuripe beach on 2 February 1500, two months before Pedro Alvares Cabral sighted Monte Pascoal, in Bahia. Despite this early claim to fame, it was only in 1612 that the first colonizers sailed from the Azores to settle on the banks of the Rio Ceara. The settlement at present-day Fortaleza was hotly contested: it was taken over by the Dutch in 1635, then, in turn, lost to the Tabajara Indians. In 1639, the Dutch under the command of Matias Beck landed once again, fought off the Indians and constructed a fortress. In 1654 the Portuguese captured the fortress and reclaimed the site. A town grew around the fortress, which was given the name of Fortaleza de Nossa Senhora da Assuncao (Fortress of Our Lady of Assumption). Fierce battles with the local Indians continued to delay colonization for many years. Orientation The city is laid out in a convenient grid pattern., The center lies above the old historical section and includes the Mercado Central (Central Market), the se (cathedral), and major shopping streets and government buildings. East of the center are the beaches of Praia d Iracem a and Praia do Ideal, then continuing eastwards, Avenida President Kennedy (also known as Avenida Beira Mar) links Praia do Dian° and Praia do Meireles,, which are lined with high-rise hotels and restaurants. Beyond here are Porto do Mucuripe (the port) and the FarolVelho (Old Lighthouse). Praia do Futuro begins at the lighthouse and extends five km southwards along Avenida Dioguinho to the Clube Caca e Pesca (Hunting & Fishing Club). Information Tourist Office Coditur (253-1522), the state tourism organization has its head office in the Secretaria de Industria e Comercio (2nd floor, room 270), at Rua Castro e Silva 81. The branch office in the Centro de Turismo (2313566), at Rua Senador Pompeu 350—inside a renovated prison—has stacks of information and can help with booking accommodation, tours to the beaches and details on bus transport. The Centro de Turismo is open every day from 7 am to 6 pm. There are also Coditur booths at the airport (open 24 hours) and the rodoviaria (open daily from 6 am to, 10 pm). Fortur (265-1177), the municipal tourisrit organization, at Avenida Santos Dumont 5336 (Room 302), can give up-to-date information on local craft markets. A tourist information telephone service Disque Turismo (Dial Tourism), is also available—just dial 1516. Dangers & Annoyances Travelers have reported pickpocketing in the city center and petty theft on the beaches. We also heard 34

reports about solicitous males on Praia do Meireles who cuddle up travelers, drug their drinks and relieve them of their valuables. Museums The Centro de Turismo, at Rua Senador Pompeu 350, is a restored prison which now contains a folk museum, tourist information office and shops selling artesanato. The Museu de Arte e Cultura Popular (folk museum) houses a variety of interesting displays of local handicrafts, art and sculpture. It's open every day from 7 am to 6 pm. The Museu Histarico e Antropologico do Ceara, a museum devoted to the history and anthropology of Ceara, is at Avenida Baran de Studart 410. A bizarre exhibit here is the crushed wreckage of a light plane, which is a reminder of the murky politics associated with military rule in Brazil during the '60s In 1964, the Cearense Castello Branco, a hardcore right-winger from the military' organized a military coup to oust 1Joao Goulart, whom he accused of leftist politics, from the presidency, and then assumed the presidency himself. Disgusted democrats shed few tears when Castello Branco was killed in a plane crash outside .!Fortaleza in 1967—hence the wreckage outside the museum. The museum is open from 8 am to 5 pm Monday - to Friday, and from 8 am to 2 pm on Saturday. Car enthusiasts will want to visit the Museu do Automovel (Veteran Car Museum), at Avenida Desembargador Manoel Sales de Andrade 70, in the Agua Fria district on the southern edge of the city. The museum displays a variety of veteran cars including /43uicks, Pontiacs, Cadillacs and Citroens. It's open Tuesday to Sunday from 8am to 5 pm. Teatro Jose de Alencar The Jose Alencar Theatre (1910) is an impressive :building; a pastel-colored hybrid of classical and artnouveau architecture which was constructed with cast-iron sections imported from Scotland. It is now ;used for cultural events. Beaches Fortaleza's city beaches are generally less than clean, with the exception of Praia do Futuro, but the locals don't seem to worry about it, so you can make up your own mind. There are clean beaches within 45 , minutes of town (11/2 hours or so by public transport), but the best beaches all lie further away from Fortaleza. Near Ponte Metalica, the old port, Praia de fracema was a source of inspiration to Luis Assuncao .and Milton Dias, Ceara's Bohemian poets of the '50s—some of this atmosphere lives on in a few bars ,and restaurants around Rua dos Tabajaras. Ponte Metalica has been recently restored, and includes cafés, a space for art exhibitions and an outdoor music stage which has occasional free concerts. There's a lovely promenade along the waterfront and a capoeira school often practices here in the evenings. Unfortunately, the beach is now polluted and not recommended for swimming. Praia do Meireles is also tainted with pollution and not safe for bathing, but it fronts Avenida President Kennedy, which is a hotel and restaurant strip and BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


also a popular place to hang out in the evening. Praia do Futuro is a clean length of sand that stretches five km towards the south along Avenida Dioguinho to the Clube Cava e Pesca. It is the best city beach. Like Rio de Janeiro's Barra da Tijuca, it is being built up at an alarming rate. There are barracas here which serve fried fish and shrimp. On Thursday night, there's live forro along the beach and comedy shows in some of the bars. The beaches immediately north of Fortaleza, Cumbuco and Iparana, are both pleasantly tranquil. Harried traveler can relax, string up a hammock in the shade of the palm trees, sip coconut milk and rock themselves to sleep. Parque EcolOgico do Coco This park, close to Shopping Center Iguatemi, was set up in 1991 after local ecological groups pressed for protection of the mangrove swamps from encroaching highways and the industrial zone. Entrances to the park, which is about seven km from the center, are on Avenida Engenheiro Santana and Rua Vicente Leite. From the center, take the bus marked 'Edison Queiroz' to Shopping Center Iguatemi, which is opposite the park. Organized Tours There are several tours available from Fortaleza, mostly to beach destinations such as Beach Park, Lagoinha, Jericoacoara, Canoa Quebrada, Morro Branco, Iguape and Prainha. Although there are regular bus services to all these places, the tours can be a good idea if you don't have time to arrange your own transport or don't want to stay overnight at the beach towns. The tour prices include transportation only. Some sample per-person prices are: Beach Park, $6; Morro Branco, $10; Iguape, $12; Lagoinha, $18; and Canoa Quebrada, $18. Coditur can give up-to-date advice on reliable agencies. Recommended operators include: Emanitur (244-9363), at Avenida Bard° de Studart 1165; Valtur (231-9157), at Avenida Monsenhor Tabosa 1078 (Praia de Iracema); Egoturismo (221-6461), at Rua Ballo de Aracati 644; and Petritur (261-8999), at Avenida Desembargador Moreira 2033. Festivals The Regata de Jangadas, ajangada regatta between Praia do Meireles and Praia Mucuripe, is held in the second half of July. The Iemanja festival is held on 15 August at Praia do Futuro. The Semana do Folc lore, the town's folklore week, takes place from 22 to 29 August.

of tropical frui, including cashews, coconut, mango, guava, sapoti, graviola, passion fruit, murici, caja and more. There are several local dishes worth tasting. Peixe a delicia is al highly recommended favorite. Try pacoca, a typieal Cearense dish made of sun-dried meat, ground vith a mortar and pestle, mixed with maniac and th n roasted. The tortured meat is usually accompanied ly baido de dois, which is a mixture of rice, cheese, bans and butter. Things to Buy Fortaleza i one of the most important centers in the Northeast JO- crafts. Artisans work with carnafiba palm fronds, bamboo, vines, leather and lace. Much of the productibn is geared to the tourist, but there are also goods foi urban and Sertanejo customers. The markets and fairs are the places to look for clothing, hammocks, wbod carvings, saddles, bridles, harnesses and images of saints. Markets are held about town (usually from 4 pm onwards) from Tuesday to Sunday. BEACHES SOUTHEAST OF FORTALEZA The coastal road from Fortaleza south to Aracati, the CE-004, runs about 10 km inland. It's mostly a flat, dry landscape of shrubs, stunted trees and some lakes. The towns are small, with good beaches,jangadas and dunescapes.

Fortaleza via the beach to Beach). Prain weekends. L their jangada

Prainha Thirty-three km south of R-116, and seven km from Aquiraz, is n of Prainha (the name means Little a is a great beach, but it gets packed on cal fisherfolk will give you rides on

Iguape Iguape, fi e km south of Prainha, has a long stretch of w ite-sand beach with jangadas, a few lonely palm ees and sand dunes breaking the clean line of the ho izon. The kids from town ski down the dunes on pla ks of wood. In Iguape, women and children make wonderful lacework. Four or more wooden bobs are held in each hand and clicked rapidly and rhythmically. The bobs lay string aro nd metal pins which are stuck in burlap cushions. Usi g this process, beautiful and intricate lace flowers re crafted. Save your urchases for Centro das Rendeiras, six km inland, here the lacework is just as fine and cheaper. Also on sale are sweet cakes made from raw sugar-cane b oth which is boiled into a thick mass, pressed and r boiled in vats.

Places to Eat You can eat well in Fortaleza. There's delicious crab, lobster, shrimp and fish, and a fantastic variety BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999

Praia do orro Branco Bounded n the coast by the Choro and Piranji rivers and ml nd by red cliffs, Morro Branco is four 35


km south of the town of Beberibe. There are several brand-spanking new barracas along the beach for sipping and sunning. If you're feeling active, take a jangada ride to the caves, or hike to the cliffs of colored sands and the natural springs at Praia das Fontes. The big festival here, dedicated to Sao Francisco, is held on 3 and 4 September and features a grand procession. Aracati Aracati is a large town by the Rio Jaguaribe, a river that provided transport for sugar cane and thus wealth, for Aracati in the 18th century. Although the town is not in the best of shape architecturally, it's worth a few hours to look at some of the historical buildings. The Igreja Matriz de Nossa Senhora do Rosario, on Rua Dragao do Mar, dates from the late 18th century and is a fine example of colonial architecture. The attractive Sobrado do Barao de Aracati houses the Museu Jaguaribano, which contains sacred art and local handicrafts. For a look at more colonial houses, some of which have retained their azulejo façades, wander down Rua Comercio (Rua Grande). The town is also known for its handicrafts; and the best time to see them is at the Feira do Artesao (Artisan Market) held on Saturday. The towns south of Aracati, poor little villages often without electricity or running water, are set on stunningly beautiful, wide beaches. Developers have moved in to construct regular accommodation, but it's still easy to camp on barren beaches. ,4 *There are sharks waiting at Aracati's rodoviciria to whisk you off to Canoa Quebrada in taxis—walk 700 meters down to Praca Mercado do Antigo and take a bus passenger truck or jalopy instead. There arf also regular buses from Aracati to Majorlandia and Beberibe.

SOUTH TO RIO GRANDE DO NORTE The 50 km south-east from Quixaba to the border with Rio Grande do Norte is just a series of primitive little beaches and towns mostly off the maps and definitely out of the guidebooks: Lagoa do Mato, Fontainha, Retirinho and Retiro Grande, Mutamba, Ponta Grossa, Redonda and Retiro (a waterfall), Peroba, Picos, Barreiras and Barrinha, and, finally, Icapui, which has a couple ofpousadas. Five buses a day go from Fortaleza to the village of Icapui; it's a 4Y2 hour ride. A road continues to Ibicuitaba and Barra do Ceara beach. It's possible to drive from there to Tibaii, in Rio Grande do Norte, at low tide. BEACHES NORTH-WEST OF FORTALEZA Beach Park This full-blown beach resort, 22 km up the coast from Fortaleza, is one of the most modern in Brazil, with facilities such as ultralights, surfboards, and buggies. It also has an Aqua Park, which features a huge swimming pool complex with the highest water-toboggan run in Brazil (24 meters and speeds up to 80 km/h). It's quite expensive and would probably appeal more to travelers in search of structured fun. Paracuru About 100 km from Fortaleza on BR-222 and CE-135, Paracuru is a Cearense version of Rio de Janeiro's BUzios. It's a clean relaxed and fairly affluent town—there' seven an up-market gym called Musculacao next to the bus station. Along the beach, coconut palms, natural freshwater springs and jangadas complete a tranquil beach picture. Although the beach attracts crowds from Fortaleza at weekends, it's quiet during the rest of the week. In recent years, Carnaval in Paracuru has become a byword amongst Cearenses for hot beach action.

Canoa Quebrada Once a tiny fishing village cut off from the world by its huge, pink sand dunes, Canoa Quebrada, 13 km from Aracati, is still small and pretty, but it is no longer the Shangri-la of the past. There are lots of hip international types running about, and on weekends tourist buses roll in and dwarf the village. Other than the beach, the main attractions are watching the sunset from the dunes, riding horses bareback and dancingforro or reggae by the light of gas lanterns. If you still have energy remaining after a night of dancing, hire a horse (four hours for $8 after bargaining) and ride out early in the morning. Take care, bichos de pd (small parasites) are underfoot. Wear shoes all around town and wherever pigs and dogs roam freely.

- ‘Praia da LagoiTilia • Praia da Lagoinha, a short distance up the coast from Paracuru, has lots Of coconut palms, good camping and a small but deep lagoon near the sand dunes. The beach is considered by Cearenses to be in the top three in the state, and its relative isolation has so far kept crowds down.

Majorlandia Majorlandia, 14 km south of Aracati, has a wide, ' clean beach with many barracas and jangadas. It's not as hip as Canoa Quebrada, but the beach is lovely, and during the week, it's very quiet.

ericoacoara The latest remote 'in' beach to become popular among backpackers and hip Brazilians, Jericoacoara is a small fishing village where dozens of palms drowning in sand dunes face jangadas stuck on a broad grey beach. It's a long haul to get there, so you might as well stay a while—in fact, r it may be harder to leave. Pigs, goats, horses, cows, bulls and ' dogs roam the sandy streets at will.

Quixaba Five km further south of Majorlandia on a sandy 36

track are the distinctive, chalky-white sandstone bluffs of uixaba. From the bluffs, cut by gullies between cacti and palms, you can see the pink hills of Canoa Quebrada. You can rent a jangada and visit the neighboring beaches.

Mundaii, Guajira & Fleixeiras The beaches of Mundau, Guajira and Fleixeiras, 155 km from Fortaleza via BR-222, are traditional fishing areas with wide, unspoiled sweeps of sand. Itapipoca The city of Itapipoca, about 120 km west of Fortaleza, can be used as a starting point for exploring the beaches of Pracianos, I ferno and Marinheiros.

BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


It's best to avoid bichos de fie and other parasites by not walking the streets barefoot. If you stay bicho-free, you can practice your steps at the forro held in an outdoor courtyard every Wednesday and Saturday—just follow the music. You can also climb the sand dunes (watching the sunset from the top is mandatory, but sand-surfing down is only for crazies), go for a ride on a jangada, or walk to Pedra Furada, a rock three km east along the beach. At low tide the beach route is easier than the hill route. You can also hire horses and gallop along the beach. Organized Tours Tour operators in Fortaleza and up-market pousadas in Jericoacoara offer tour packages for Jericoacoara. The tours usually leave Fortaleza twice a week, at 7 pm on Tuesday and Friday; and return from Jericoacoara on Thursday and Sunday at 3 pm. Tataj u ba Tatajuba, about 30 km west of Jericoacoara is a tiny, isolated fishing village perched on the mouth of a tidal river. The beach is broad and lonely, and there's a lagoon surrounded by extensive dunes about two km from the village. The only restaurant and pousada, the Verde Folha, is run by Marcus and Valeria, refugees from the "big smoke" of Jericoacoara. They have a couple of rooms with beds and hammocks. Full board, including great home cooking, costs $12 person. There is no regular transport to Tatajuba. The walk along the beach from Jericoacoara takes about five hours; leave early in the morning and take water. At Guriii, a little less than halfway, there's a river to cross—canoes will take you over for about $2. The river at Tatajuba can be waded at low tide. Don't try to cross it if the water is high, as the current is very strong. Alternatively, you should be able to rent a boat in Jericoacoara to take you there; ask around at the beach. Camocim Camocim is a lively fishing port and market town at the mouth of the Rio Core* in north-western Ceara, near the Piaui border. The town's economy revolves around the saltworks, lobster fishing and a busy everyday market. On Praia dos Barreiros and Praia do Farol, two and four km from town respectively, you can sip coconut milk while tanning. SOBRAL Sobral has two minor sights, faded glories from the past before all was changed by the construction of the BR-222. The Museu Diocesano Dom Jose (a museum of sacred art), on Avenida Dom Jose, houses an eclectic collection of images of saints. It's open Monday to Saturday from 2 to 5 pm. The Teatro Municipal Sao Joao, on Praca Dr Antonio Ibiapina, is an impressive neoclassical theater (1880). MARANGUAPE Thirty eight km from Fortaleza, on the way to the Serra de Baturite, is the town of Maranguape, famous for its Ypioca brand of cachaca. The YpiOca aguardente factory is six km from town; the turn-off is near the Shell station. There BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999

is no regular transportation to the cachaca plant, but it's not a bag hike and most of the traffic is headed in your direction. At the sate, ask for a tour of the 138-year-old plant. Befo e you step within the grounds, a pungent sour-mash smell assaults the senses. Whirring, clanking, st am-spitting Industrial Revolution-era machinery cm hes the cane to pulp and mush. The raw sugar-cane mash undergoes alcoholic fermentation, is distilled then aged one to three years in huge wooden ca ks. PACA UBA Pacatu a is a cute little town in the shadow of the Serra de B turite. The Balneario Bico das Andreas spring is s elly, dirty and not what it's cracked up to be. SERRA DE BATURITE Ceara's interior is not limited to the harsh landscapes of the sena°. There are also ranges of hills, which break up the monotony of the sunscorched land. The Serra de Baturite is the range of hills closest to Fortaleza. A natural watershed, it is an oasis of green where coffee and bananas are cultivated around the cliffs and jagged spires of the hills. The climate is tempered by rain, the evenings are cool and morning fog obscures Pico Alto ( I 115 meters), the highest point in the state. Baturite Founded in 1745, the town of Baturite (95 km west of Fottaleza) was once at the forefront of the fight against slavery, and is now the economic and commercial center of the region. Most of the town's attractions are grouped around the Praca Matriz and include the pelourinho (whipping post), the baroque church of Matriz Nossa Senhora de Palma (1764), the Palacio Entre-Rios, and the Museu Comendador Ananias Arruda, which contains exhibits from. the town's past (though surprisingly, little on the struggle to abolish Islavery). There are also a few termas (resorts with mineral pools) clustered around the town. There are local handicrafts on sale in Baturite that include embroidery, tapestry and straw goods. Guaramiranga & Pacoti Two of the prettiest villages on the heights of Serra de Baturite are Guaramiranga and Pacoti, 19 km and 26 km respectively from Baturite. CANIlsiDE Caninde', only 110 km inland from Fortaleza on the BR-020, is the site of one of the Northeast's great religious pilgrimages, 0 Santuario de Sao Francisco das Chagas Since 1775 pilgrims have been coming to Caninde to offer promises to and ask favors of Sao Francisco de Assis. Nowadays around 250,000 fervent believers arrive each year, most from the sertilo, almost all rzlirt poor. For Westerners the festival is . 37


1

both colorful and bizarre, and laced with superstition. You'll see many votive offerings and miracle cures. It's a scene right out of a Glauber Rocha film. The festival begins on 2 September at 4 am and continues until 4 October. On 30 September, the climax of the festival begins with the celebration for the lavradores (farm workers), which is followed in turn by celebrations for the vaqueiros , (cowboys) on 1 October, and for the violeiros (guitarists and luthiers) on 2 October. The culmination of all the festivities begins at 3 am on 4 ,t October, when the first of nine masses commences. These are followed by a 70,000-strong procession through the town. PARQUE NACIONAL DE UBAJARA The main attractions of the Parque Nacional de Ubajara, just a few km from the small town of Ubajara, are the cablecar ride down to the caves and the caves themselves. Nine chambers with strange limestone formations extend over half a km into the side of a mountain. The main formations seen inside the caves are: Pedra do Sino (Bell Stone), Salas da Rosa (Rose Rooms), Sala do Cavalo (Horse Room) and Sala dos Retratos (Portrait Room). The park, with its beautiful vistas, forest, waterfalls and three-km trail to the caves is well worth a visit. At 750 meters above sea level, temperatures in the surrounding area are kept cool and provide a welcome respite from the searing heat of the serteio. In 1987 the lower station of the teleferico (cable car) was wiped out by boulders, which fell after winter rains. The station was jerked 18 meters off its foundation and pieces of the teleferico were flung 500 meters into the sertclo. The cable-car system has been replaced, and now operates every day from 8.30 am to noon and 1 to 4 pm. The ride costs $3. Guides accompany you on the one-hour tour through the caves. Information The IBAMA office, five km from Ubajara proper, at the entrance to the park, provides guides for the tour, but the information center has been abandoned. If you fancy a strenuous hike, ask at the office if you can take the three-km trilha (trail) down to the cave. Allow at least half a day for the round trip. Start in the cool of the early morning, wear sturdy footwear and take enough to drink. Alternatively, you can walk down to the caves and take the cable car back up. SERRA DA IBIAPABA The Serra da Ibiapaba, a range of hills running along the undefined border with the state of Piaui, forms a rugged terrain of buttes, bluffs and cliffs, overlooking distant plains. The town of Ipu lies 75 km south-east of Ubajara, in the Serra da Ibiapaba. The main attraction of Ipu (the name means Waterfall in the Tabajara Indian language) is the Bico do Ipu, a powerful waterfall that jets 100 meters downwards and fans out into sheets of mist and spray. A few km out of town are some strange stone stairs built by the Tabajara. There is a sleazy restaurant under the falls, but no hotels 38

in town. Ipu is worth a visit if it happens to be on your route, but it's not worth a special detour. JUAZEIRO DO NORTE Juazeiro do Norte, 528 km from Fortaleza, is a magnet for believers in Padre Cicero, who lived in this town and became a controversial figure of the sertab. Not only was he a curate, with several miracles to his credit, he also exercised a strong political influence. His astonishing rise to fame was started when an elderly woman received the host from him at mass and claimed that it had miraculously turned to blood. Soon he was being credited with all kinds of miracles, and later became drawn into a leading role in the social and political upheavals in the Northeast. Padre Cicero died in 1934, but despite attempts by the Catholic Church to deny his sainthood the claims and adoration of his followers seem to be as strong as ever. The best time to see this magnetic attraction and devotion is during the festivals and pilgrimages in honor of Padre Cicero. On 24 March, the Aniversario do Padre Cicero celebrates Padre Cicero in legend and song. The romaria (pilgrimage) to Juazeiro do Norte in honor of Padre Cicero takes place on 1 and 2 November and is known as the Dia do Romeiro e Festa do Padre Cicero. The city of Padre Cicero is rich in wood and ceramic sculpture. Look for the work of Expedito Batista, Nino, Cizinho, Jose Celestino, Luis Quirino, Maria de Lourdes, Maria Candida, Francisca, Daniel, Jose Ferreira and Maria das Dores. Logradouro do Horto On the hill above the town, accessible either by road or via a path laid out with the stations of the cross, is the colossal statue of Padre Cicero (25 meters), which was built in 1969 and now ranks as the fourth-tallest statue in the record books. Those taller are Cristo Rey (Cochabamba, Bolivia), Cristo Redentor on Corcovado (Rio) and the Statue of Liberty (New York). Nearby is a small chapel and a building filled with votive offerings, which depict the afflictions and problems from which the worshippers have been freed: wooden or wax replicas of every conceivable body part, and graphic representations of survival from accidents. Ttimulo do Padre Cicero Padre Cicero's tomb is beside the Capela Nossa Senhora do Perpetuo Socorro, on Praca do Socorro. Grafica de Literatura de Cordel If you are interested in literatura de cordel (literally string literature), visit this workshop on Rua Santa Luzia, where you can see the pamphlets being produced for sale on the premises. It's open from 7 to 11 am and 1 to 5 pm Monday to Friday. It's closed on Saturday afternoon.

Excerpts from Brazil A Travel Survival Kit 3rd edition, by Andrew Draffen, Chris McAsey, Leonardo Pinheiro, and Robyn Jones. For more information call Lonely Planet: (800) 275-8555. Copyright 1996 Lonely Planet Publications. Used by permission. BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


Recife, Brazil's top north-eastern resort, has much to offer a viSitor. Among its many attributes are a lush green countryside, endless sunshine, historic sites, rich folklore, fun-filled nightlife and splendid beaches. However, above all, these numerous endowments are enhanced • by a unique allurement—sailing on jangadas,' crude sailing rafts traditionally used for fishing in the region. After reading about them, I came to believe that to sail on these crafts, struggling against the wind and waves, was one of the most fascinating adventures on the north-eastern coast of Brazil. Leaving the biting cold of North America, we came one January day to this appealing sun destination, especially tempting for vacationers from the north. A temperature of near 30° C (86° F) and half a dozen musicians with their accompanying folkloric dancers greeted us as we stepped offthe plane. It was a superb beginning to our sojourn in an exciting resort. After settling in our comfortable hotel a few feet away from Boa Viagem, Recife's tourist beach par-excellence, we set about doing what seaside dwellers do best—enjoying the sands and ocean under the hot sun. In the ensuing days we found excellent eating places and took a number of excursions both inland and by boat. At night, from the samba to the voodoo, we revelled in the thrill and passion of Brazilian folklore. Yet, I was not fully content. I yearned to sail on the historic jangada—employed for hundreds of years by fishermen along the coastline on north-eastern Brazil. When the Portuguese arrived in the early 16th century, they found the native Indians using these flimsy crafts for fishing and transport. At first sight, they reminded the newcomer's of similar sailing crafts they had seen a few years before in India, called janga—a name which later evolved tojangada. The Portuguese fitted them with mast and sail but, since that time, tliey have not been improved in anyway. An anachronism from the bygone centuries, jangadas have managed to survive until our times. Yet, even though they are one of the last sailing crafts still used, their days are numbered. There is little doubt that in a few years they will completely disappear. Until recent times, the jangadeiros—men who sail thejangadas—lived in their own settlements along the coast. However, in the last few decades, the drastic decline of their main trade— fishing—and the urbanization of the countryside—Boa Viagem, itself, was once a site of a jangadeiro village—has forced many of them to move away and seek other work. When I found out that one of the tours to Porto de Gal inhas, a very charming beach town near Recife, included sailing on a jangada, I was delighted. The next morning I joined a group often and we set out on a minibus, elated at the prospect of sailing on these ruggedromantic rafts. Passing an industrial area, we drove through BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999

eet anacn ron ism •

When the Portuguese arrived in the early 16th century, they found the native Indians using these flimsy crafts for fishing and transport. They made some little changes to jangadas, but they have not been improved in any way since then. These lovely ancient rafts are with their days numbered. HABEEB SALLOUM


rolling hills dotted with sugar plantations, leading to an impressive palm forest through which we made our way until we reached Porto de Galinhas (Port of the Chickens)-80 km (50 miles) from the heart of Recife. This small beach town got its name from the days of the slave trade. To protect the smugglers who secretly brought in their human cargo after slavery was banned, the people would say, 'the chickens are coming in'. When I first beheld this tiny town with its palm shaded sands, it was like seeing a picture postcard. On the wide beach, there were dozens of jangadas edged by calm-sparkling bluish-green waters. Beyond, an encircling reef held the ocean waves in check and created a placid lake. It was a huge naturally-made swimming pool where hundreds of bathers were romping in its tranquil waters. The jangadas were all for hire. A jangadeiro offered to take our group for a four-hour excursion at $3 a person. We gladly accepted, but first we had to wait until he found help to push his craft off the log rollers on which it was resting—a tiring task which has to be performed every time the jangada is docked or is to be sailed. Our jangada, as were all the others, resembled a craft hastily put together by a castaway. All it basically consisted of was a raft, a sail and an oar. Its construction appeared to be crude and simple—a method of building which has not changed for centuries. Traditionally, to build a jangada, five to eight 20 foot logs ofthe phiba tree, whose wood is, in its soft texture, the same as that of the balsa, are pinned together with strong rods of hard wood. The stem is then trimmed to give an upturn and a mast is attached. Today, the piiiba is becoming scarce and expensive and the jangadas, like a number we saw on the beach, are built with whatever wood can be found. Only one sail held out by a notched boom that can swivel on the mast is utilised. The jangadeiro controlling the sail and the rudder-oar usually stands on the stern where there is a seat on which he at times sits. Also, included are uprights on which men or fish baskets can be attached. Not a bolt or nail is utilised in its construction. Every item used is hand made. The moment it puts out to sea the craft becomes somewhat waterlogged and seems on the verge of sinking. Nevertheless, it cannot sink unless it becomes completely waterlogged—a process which takes about a year after which a new raft has to be built from scratch. Before the age of tourism,jangadas were employed chiefly for fishing. Two or three men would sail about 20 miles onto the high seas, usually for a day, but the odd time for up to four days. During this period, the only way the men could rest was by tying themselves to the uprights 40

and having a short nap. Today, this harsh life has almost disappeared. The jangadas cannot compete with modern fishing ships and the ones that survive are employed, almost exclusively, in the tourist trade. These antique crafts are not rented by themselves since they cannot be sailed by an inexperienced tourist. Appearing simple to operate when one sees others sailing them, they are very dangerous to sail by the unskilled traveller. They often turn over and should only be taken out to sea by expert navigators who also must be excellent swimmers. Hence, for ones like myself who always dreamed of sailing on these boat-rafts, it was a joy to find them being rented with their jangadeiros. Across placid waters our jangada gently sailed until we docked near a small pool carved out by nature in the middle of a reef. Here we spent an hour soaking in the warm water of what must be one of the most tranquil, warm, clear and comfortable bathers' ponds to be found on earth. None of the countless resorts where I have spent my vacations, can compare with this serene spot, created by the waves, apparently for human comfort. With reluctance we left the enticing pool and returned to our craft. However, sailing back and forth inside the reef in the peaceful and transparent bay put us in another relaxing world. The ancient jangada steered by a weather-beaten jangadeiro, skimping over the sparkling blue waters within sight ofthe shoreline's swaying palms, cried for an artist's brush. It was an interlude of which sailing buffs dream. As the tide began to creep in over the reef, our jangada was back on log rollers atop the sands, which were being slowly covered by the incoming sea. For me, it had been a gratifying day. The heavenly pool and sailing in comfort on the legendary and primitive jangada in a world wrought with modern oceanic technologies is something I will always remember. Habeeb Salloum, who resides in Toronto, is a Canadian author and freelance writer specializing in travel and the culinary arts. Besides books and chapters in books, Habeeb has had hundreds of articles about food and travel published. Among his most important works are the ,books: Journeys Back to Arab Spain (1994); with J. Peters, From the Lands of Figs and Olives (1995 HB; 1997 PB); with J. Peters, Arabic Contributions to the English Vocabulary (1996); and Classic Vegetarian

Cooking From the Middle East and North Africa, (in press). You can contact him at salloum@chass.utoronto.ca

BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


A Glimpse of Wonder. Staring at the massive views and feeling-the silent majesty of this place was like being in a wondrous cathedral and experiencing something very profound within oneself. It seemed to take longer to climb out than it did to descend, but perhaps that was because part of me didn't want to leave there and I kept stopping to look down and back, trying to etch the memory of the place forever in my mind's eye. JERINE P. WATSON

Last year I lived and worked in Brazil, performing as the English-speaking liaison between my employer/host, an importer of western goods and clothing, and more than 60 American manufacturers. I was delighted with thq opportunity to learn Portuguese, to observe anther culture and to see a part of the world I haJ never even hoped to visit. February, a summer month in Brazil, was to id, humid and sticky-hot when we landed in Sã Paulo after an 11-hour flight from Dallas. A er progressing through customs and loading our luggage in the bed of my employer's fourdoor pickup, we began the long drive to our destination—the city of Presidente Prudente. N,A*ks earlier, I had misunderstood my emplOyer and thought the town was located a mere four hours from Sao Paulo. Not so. We had to driVe 400 MILES west, not four hours. Nine hours or more in a truck after flying 11 hours down into the lower half of the world is a long way, even with part of the journey at supersonic speed. Most tourists would take advantage of the maiy luxurious (and expensive) hotels availab e in sao Paulo, in order to rest after the ar uous flight. However, I was the guest and employee of Marcos, who was anxious to get ba k to work in Presidente Prudente and to rei.nite with his wife and daughters. I wore a clo k of a different cloth now: not a tourist, not a iative, but an American with a tourist visa who had agreed to tutor Marcos' teenaged daughters in English, in exchange for roundtrip air fare as well as room and board with his eld rly mother-in-law. Plus assisting with his bu iness correspondence and contractual Iangu ge, when necessary. The size of the city of sao Paulo intimidated meL I thought we would never reach the outskirts, much less the countryside. Everywhere loomed the tall, rectangular columns of beige and gray narrow buildings they seemed to have erected for every conceivable purpose, as if the arc itects had agreed beforehand not to use any oth r shape. The teeming traffic defied comprehension. A speed limit, if it existed, was ignored. Wagons, horses, trucks of every age, Vo kswagens, Fords, Chevrolets, motorcycles, bicycles, hundreds of motorcycles, all racing at a heart-thudding speed through clouds of carbon monoxide and deafening blasts from Klaxon-type horns. The cacophony of boom boxes hovered over it all, ebbing and flowing likq anh accompaniment to the frequent screeching of brakes. I tightened my seatbelt and clung to he armrest wefilhikaellya rseuarcvhievdorthine eadb go e uonfdtinhg e lifeboat on a stormy sea. Conversation was impossible for nearly two hours as we fought our way westward. suburbs, we stopped at a lanchonete for refreshments and I was amazed at the cleanliness of the co bination rest stop and restaurant—and at the quality and taste of the delicious foods

BRAM. - JUNE 1999

41


offered the travelers. The tropical fruit juices were fresh and blended with ice and/or cold milk; I've never tasted anything quite as satisfying. By the time we filled the gas tank and got back on the highway, the traffic had thinned out considerably and the stars were beginning to hang low in the sky. I was enthralled, staring at the constellations of the Southern Hemisphere—particularly the Southern Cross. I had studied star maps during my astronomy classes iacollege, never dreaming I would actually see these constellations. The farther out in the country we drove, the bigger and brighter the stars appeared. Soon we were driving through the endless blackness of unoccupied farmlands, with only the lights from other vehicles and a myriad of stars to keep us company. The occasional hamlets were few and far between, always with a town square around which were clustered small, onestory homes, surrounded by a protective iron fence' or masonry wall extending out to the street The tiny homes of , most Brasileiros are constructed of concrete walls, which adhere to inner structural walls of adobe bricks—resulting in a very thick insulation to keep the interiors cool in the unforgiving heat. Electricity is prohibitively expensive in Brazil, so there is very little air-conditioning in private homes. Even the very wealthy utilize room-sized air-conditioning units and then only when absolutely necessary for sleeping. The " average home has no plumbed hot water, no bathtubs and, of course, no dryers. The showers are equipped with an electrical apparatus which, when activated, heats the pipes above, through which the cold water flows to the showerhead. However, even families of low to moderate income have domestic help, one of the few bargains in: Brazil. These are the women who launder the clothes, often,' by hand in cold water, and hang them to dry in the hot air. , The upper middle class of Brazil usually live in "aparti ments", which are purchased outright and sometimes, as in the case of my host family, occupy the entire floor of luxurious high-rise. Marcos told me his seventh-floor apartment had cost $250,000 a few years ago and they had spent that much and more having it redone to suit their needs and professionally decorated. Counting the live-in maid's bedroom and bath, the apartment consisted of five bedrooms, five and a half baths, Marcos' paneled home office, a family room, a main sala or "great" room, elevated formal dining room, breakfast room, modern kitchen, huge laundry room, walk-in pantry and spacious marble entry hall. It was interesting to note they did have plumbed hot water but no dryer and only one air-conditioning unit installed in the wall of the master bedroom. Most of the people of Brazil do not live in such elegant surroundings however, but there appears to be an increase in the size of the "middle class", particularly in the larger communities surviving on a regional industry. We arrived in Presidente Prudente near midnight that first evening, after making several stops in order for Marcos to visit with friends and relatives on the way. Marcos' wife, mother-in-law and daughters were awaiting our arrival and; after unpacking my things and taking a blissfully cold shower, I slept nearly 10 hours on a bed with a two-inch thick mattress about as soft as pebbled concrete. The next day was a Saturday and by the end of the weekend, I was as rested as I could get in the tropical heat and ready for Monday morning and the workweek. The language barrier was the most difficult for me, particularly not having anyone to converse with on the 42

telephone or in person. I could not understand the television nor the radio, even with my fluent Spanish, so I spent most of my free time listening and concentrating on BrazilianPortuguese language tapes. As the days slid by, I began to pick up phrases and within three months, was able to converse in Portuguese, even though I was told my version was a strange mixture of Spanish and Portuguese. I began to fit into my new environment and came to love everything about Brazil. I was invited to accompany Almeli (Marcos' wife), her mother, Alcina, and her aged aunt, Sensaia, to an upscale resort near the city of Bonito in the state of Mato Grosso do Sul. We left the state of Sao Paulo around noon on a Thursday in the company truck with the driver at the wheel. Around 8 PM, we turned off the main road and found the only hotel in a small town. What had appeared to be a mediocre place turned out to be exceptionally modern and spotlessly clean. We had two large rooms, each with accommodations for three (Brazilians always allctw for the standard female "companion" for the elderly lady or the usual "nanny" or au pair for the children), stocked refrigerator, air-conditioning and plumbed hot water in the bathrooms. We left the next morning at 7:30 after a picture-perfect Continental breakfast of cylinders of prosciutto and cheese, numerous kinds of breads, papaya, yogurt, fresh orange juice, strong coffee laced with sugar, goiaba and guava conserves. The two older ladies spoke no English at all and had no understanding of anything I said; Almeli had only a minimal knowledge of English and the driver, none. I was straining to communicate and to understand, overwhelmed by a feeling I can only describe as "near helplessness." At times, my fellow travelers seemed to enjoy my consternation and looked upon me with sympathetic superiority. I wondered if I, myself, had ever imparted this kind of discomfort to a foreign visitor in my own country. I vowed silently never to be unaware of the tendency again. After the banquet-breakfast, we climbed back into the truck and drove the desolate highway for what seemed like an eternity. Without warning, the pavement ended abruptly and we literally rattled, banged and bumped over a potholed, rocky, corduroy road cut through bamboo jungle and endless fields of soybeans, mandioca (manioc), papaya and date palms. Stately, tiptoeing emu watched us pass with their long necks extended and their heads cocked in curiosity. A beautifully marked red fox narrowly missed death as he dashed across the road in front of our tires. Bright green parrots squawked from the tops of trees. Hundreds of red dirt termite hills lurched upward intermittently in the fields, like a strange epidemic of the soil, some as tall as a small child. Three huge buzzards, appearing more like condors, lifted up on massive wings in arrogant protest as we interrupted their feeding on carrion. The expression in their yellow eyes was fierce and for a moment I doubted my own safety inside the protection of the truck. We were beaten unmercifully on this road for over an hour, emerging finally upon a blacktopped crossroad. Making a right turn, we rolled into the small town of Bonito, resentfully protesting tourists with gut-wrenching speed bumps and, I found out later, a steadfast refusal to grade and pave the main road we had just survived. Driving around the square, we spotted a nice hotel for the driver and, after depositing him at the entry, Almeli drove •back through town, then west again, toward the Zagaia esort Hotel, several kilometers beyond. We found ourselves on another dirt gravel road and, with BRAZZIL -JUNE 1999


a cloud of red dust trailing behind us, we rounded a bend and there, nestled at the foot of a sloping hill, at the end of a winding, flower-edged guarded lane and kiosk entry, was a fairy-tale dream of a hotel: sparkling clean, meticulously maintained, surrounded by manicured lawn and flower beds, out in the middle of Nowhere, as it were. As we drove up the curving drive, we passed a landing strip, a small lake with tranquil ducks gliding slowing among the lily pads and innumerable blooming tropical flowers and trees. We parked under the porte cochere where two attendants cheerfully unloaded our things from the truck and led us into the spacious modern lobby. We again were given two rooms with three beds each, stocked refrigerator and plumbed hot water. I enjoyed the privacy of one of the huge rooms all by myself. After unpacking, we changed into bathing suits under long pants, T-shirts and tennis shoes. We checked out beach towels, drove back into town, picked up our girl guide and proceeded to drive a few kilometers beyond the other side of town to a privately-owned fazenda, or ranch, upon which had been discovered a tremendous, natural, spring-fed aquarium in the river flowing through the property. The owner of the land had agreed to allow tourist access for a moderate fee but only with the authorization and supervision of the Brazilian equivalent of the EPA. The cost for half-day excursion was $6.00 each, plus $25.00 for the guide and equipment rental. We walked from the parking area to a large thatched-roof structure, which encompassed a small coffee shop arid displays of souvenirs as well as dressing rooms and racks of wet suits in all sizes—the short-sleeved, short-legged style. We peeled off our outer clothing and squeezed into the wet suits, pulling them up over our swimsuits. I could hardly walk, much less breathe, as we followed our youthful, bouncing guide off into the jungle down a long, wood-slatted walk. Our voices became more and more subdued as we walked over two curving footbridges and noticed the jungle rapidly becoming more and more imposing and wildly beautiful. Bamboo and palm fronds met in an arch above our heads. In places, the bright sun was hidden from sight by the leafy growth overhead. Eventually, we reached another structure built like a lean-to, where were hung lifejackets, snorkeling masks and breathing tubes. From not too far away, we could hear the sound of rippling water, like soft music on the top of the breeze. The guide gave us instructions about using the masks and we were told never to put our feet down on the river bottom or amid the weeds because of polluting contamination and the need to protect the environment of the pristine Form oso River. We were led to the river's edge where a large deck had been constructed extending out over a very wide part of the river. From somewhere off to the right the sound of gentle rapids originated and the water was as clear as the air above it. One by one, barefoot and wary, we descended the wooden steps from the observatory deck into the icy water. When I stood on the bottom rung, it was time to submerge and snorkel properly, in order not to touch the bottom with my feet. My first view into those depths was startling. Hundreds of large fish, 10 to 12 inches long or more, teemed BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999

thickly around us, fearlessly approaching our masks to stare as curiously al us as we were staring at them. They were golden in color, with blue and vermilion stripes marking their length from gill to tail, and as they curved and swirled in the water, the sunlight reflected from their bodies in silvery shimmers. Toward the deeper center of this "aquarium", we could see a large, concave indentation along the bottom, which was covered with a fine, white gravel. From the center of the "hole" in the bottom, rock debris and bubbles indicated miniature eruptions, freshets, thrusting jets of spring water upward then across the floor of the entire riverbed. The guide had told us to be watchful for a minuscule vermilion fish which, she said, was extremely rare and exists on the planet only in this par of the Formoso River. When I saw the first one, I thought [ had imagined it, then I saw another. And another. In an hour's time, I caught glimpses of at least ten of these brillian . red, miniature fish. They were like animated tiny rubies flashing by in the coolness. We followed the guide's lead and cautiously paddling flippers and pulling ourselves along with our cupped hands, we snorkeled another hour, following the river downstream. The reeds and water ferns grabbed at my head and arms and legs and minnows nipped at my toes but nothing distracted me from staring in appreciative wonder at the beauty of this underwater place. We reached another set of wooden steps leading up to another deck and after climbing out of the river, the graceful weightlessness I felt in the water was replaced with the soggy burden of a dripping wet suit encasing a now-too-heavy worldly body. We walked slowly back through the jungle, each of us preoccupied with our own thoughts after observing so much colorful, busy life in a comparatively silent world. We dried off, pulled dry clothes over wet suits, shivered with the cold, had a demitasse of Brazilian coffee—and returned to town and the Zagaia Hotel, where a hot shower felt unbelievably luxurious. The evening had grown much cooler and there was breeze strumming the palm trees as we walked outside d up a sloping walk to the spectacular, glass-enclosed d ing room. The buffet dinner was elegant, with uniformed ttendants waiting to serve our every, need. There were deli ate carvings out of tomatoes (roses) and squash (swans). concluded in every Brazilian heart there lurks an artist as walked by the creamy soups, salads, pasta, beef, fish, chic n, potatoes, rice, pudims (flans), tortas (pies), coffee an an impressive selection of wines. Fresh flowers graced e ery table and all the creative cuisine was presented with a artistic and gracious flair, as if every guest were visiting ro lty. All of it, all the time, was delicious. The next mo ing, we were up and ready to go at 7:30. Breakfast was other gastronomical wonder, also served buffet-style, but his time in the open-air dining area overlooking two of e swimming pools. We wore jeans and long-sleeved shi s as we stopped by the government office to pick up our gui e for the day—this time, a young man. Our drive to the en ance of the Blue Grotto took about 45 minutes. We foll wed the nondescript signs and turned off the main road, d iving through a peaceful meadow in the foothills around onito. Less than a dozen vehicles were parked on the gra s near a hand-lettered sign designating the 43


main entrance. Tourists milled about, awaiting a signal from their guide for permission to walk down the narrow path toward the grotto. Only 14 people were allowed to enter at a time, due to the narrowness of the passageway. While we waited our turn to approach the point of descent, our guide told us the history of the Blue Grotto. In 1927, a group of Indians stumbled upon an opening in the ground, almost hidden from view by overhanging brush and tall weeds. Inside this opening, 100 meters straight down, the Indians crawled and tumbled down to discover a huge, underground pool of water the color of a deep blue sapphire and crystal clear. All around and above this pool, which was actually an underground river, looms a mammoth, arched cave with gigantic stalactites and stalagmites still forming from the drops of mineral-laden water oozing down through the earth above. Since that early time, the landowners of the area have had rock "steps" carved from the surface down through the massive rock formations, all the way to the blueness of the grotto below. At certain times of the year, the sun's rays enter the circular opening in the earth and strike the surface of the water, causing the entire interior of the massive cave to appear a translucent blue. This is the only cave, or cavern, of this type on the planet Earth. Scientists and spelunkers from many countries have traveled to Bonito to explore the depths of the Blue Grotto. Divers in wet suits and fms wearing oxygen tanks tried in vain to reach the bottom, descending over 100 feet. A diving bell was finally brought in and lowered into the navy blue depths. The skeleton of an ancient saber-toothed tiger and the fossilized remains of an albino shrimp were found as well as a large round aperture nearly 200 feet down from which streamed a strong current of clear, ice cold water, as dark as blue ink. The origin of the strange underground river remains a mystery. As recently as 1991, visitors to the Blue Grotto were allowed to swim in the azure depths until geological experts advised against risking any further pollution. At present, people are allowed to descend in small groups but only if supervised by guides. No smoking, eating or drinking is permitted inside the cavern and tourists are forbidden to stray from their assigned group. We listened to this discourse with concentrated interest, but still were not prepared for the immensity of the sight awaiting us. We entered the dark recesses of the entrance and after our eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, perceived the first of the steep, rocky steps leading downward. The "steps", or more appropriately, ledges, were sometimes as much as three feet in height. The path curved downward to the left, then to the right, then back again, with wide areas now and again for people to stand together comfortably and listen to their guide's descriptions and technical explanations of the geological formations. As we descended deeper and deeper beneath the earth's crust, the temperature grew cooler very rapidly and the barometric pressure escalated. Heartbeats increased and throbbed in our ears. At each overlook, we peered down at the quiet blue lagoon, marveling at the size of the people in the group ahead of us, already at the bottom. They looked to be no bigger than 10 inches in height. It seemed impossible for the bottom of the cavern to be that far away. There were no handrails or other supports paralleling the steps; small children and the elderly were not permitted to descend for obvious safety reasons. The closer we got to the bottom, the more awesome the cavern became. The roof soared above us, dripping its centuries-old stalactites in nature's most original sculpftires, each one incomparably designed. Instinctively, our voices dropped to a 44

Staring at the m sive views and feeling the silent majesty of this place was like being in a wondrous cathedral and experiencing something very profound within oneself. Regrettably, no unprofessional tourist camera could possibly capture the effect of such magnificence. We were dumbstruck by the view at every turn. Reaching the bottom, we turned to look up at the entrance • behind us and I was fraught with misgivings about being physically able to climb out. I watched the group behind us making their way down with the utmost care as we had done and then I realized the increase in barometric pressure was making me feel more exhausted than I normally would have been. When our guide signaled for us to begin the long ascent, he told us not to rush and to stop occasionally to take deep breaths. It seemed to take longer to climb out than it did to descend, but perhaps that was because part of me didn't want to leave there and I kept stopping to look down and back, trying to etch the memory of the place forever in my mind's eye. Several times, the steps seemed insurmountable and I had to drop to all fours, clambering up like a mountain goat. The last three ledges were the most difficult, but I made it, albeit with trembling legs. We stumbled back along the dirt path leading to the parking area and stopped long enough at the souvenir shop near the entrance to have a cup of coffee, sit and stare, reflecting on the experience. None of us felt much like talking on the way back to the hotel. I sensed we all felt a sense of human frailty after seeing one of the inexplicable wonders of our planet, particularly since we hadn't expected anything as overwhelming as it had been. The cost of the Blue Grotto trip was $16.00 per person, plus $10.00 for the guide. The rest of the trip—white water rafting, a dinner featuring fresh fish roasted in banana leaves, breakfast al fresco with a baby emu wandering among the tables, a professional, colorful dance review performed by employees of the hotel, more spectacular buffets—all of it was memorable, but nothing was as awesome as the Blue Grotto. The rates at the Zagaia Resort Hotel are on a par with fivestar hotels everywhere, with rates for rooms beginning at around $150.00 per night. The town of Bonito, famous in Brazil for its fresh-water river fishing, is 257 Km from Campo Grande, a larger city northeast of Bonito in the same state (Mato Grosso do Sul) and easily accessible by air from the city of Sao Paulo. Rental cars and chartered planes are available in Campo Grande. Inasmuch as Bonito is in the heart of the Brazilian "river country", there are several other places of interest for travelers, such as the Rio do Peixe (Fish River), the Rio Mimoso, the Rio Sucuri, the Ilha do Padre (Isle of the Father) and others. Each area offers the services of tourist guides and reasonable prices. I would recommend two weeks minimum, to allow for enough time to absorb the enchantment of Bonito and its environs. There are English-speaking personnel at the hotel, which also has ample facilities for conventions and business meetings and/or company retreats. A vacation trip to Brazil that includes a visit to scenic Bonito is an experience of a lifetime. For me, it was a great,. gulping taste of the rugged, natural beauty of a rural part of Brazil, which is still relatively unspoiled by the inevitable commercialism of the future. Jerine P. Watson, a graduate of Southern Methodist University with a B.A. in Spanish, is a freelance writer/ editor. She can be reached at JerinewAaol.com for further information. BRA7_ZIL - JUNE 1999


A Natio al Guar Laced with sophisticated oodwind enriched arrangements, he second CD from Sergio Santos xplores a wide scope of samba a d affirms his incontestable tal nt as composer and inter reter. BRUCE GILMAN

For listeners in the United Stated, samba brings instantaneous images. Samba is the rhythm of Brazil, the soul of Brazil, the foremost symbol of Brazilian culture. And although its themes chang constantly, as do the regional variatio from Sao Paulo to Bahia, samba r mains the primary agent of nation unity, even for Brazilians abroad. Wh you consider that traditional samba is not play much on Brazilian radio anymore and that roc country, and dance music from Bahia as well the United States is what predominates, this ide of samba succeeding outside Brazil becomes interesting phenomenon and one that was su stantiated by Sergio Santos when he open for Carlinhos Brown last month at the Hollywood Bowl. Santos is a forty-three year old composer d guitar player from Varginha, Minas Gerais, who started his usical career as BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999 45


a singer with Milton Nascimento's show Missa dos Quilombos. In 1982 he participated in the live recording at the Igreja de Nossa Senhora Mae dos Homens (Church of Our Lady Mother of Men) in •Caraca, Minas Gerais. Shortly after working with Milton, Santos abandoned his architectural studies at the Faculdade de Arquitetura da UFMG (Federal University in Minas Gerais) and devoted himself to music despite the fact that he was selftaught and had a limited musical background. Perfecting his musical craft as a composer and player in a series of shows, first in Minas and afterward throughout Brazil, Santos captured critics' attention with his refined harmonies, penetrating vocal timbre, and elegant guitar playing. His name became well known as he started winning important music festivals: Avare (Sao Paulo), Juiz de Fora (Minas Gerais), Festival Carrefour de MPB (Rio de Janeiro), , and in 1987, the Festival 0 Som Das Aguas, organized by Manchete television network. Working in partnership with some of Brazil's most important lyricists—Cacaso, Fernando Brant, and Aldir Blanc—gave even greater impetus to his work. Santos, however, found his ideal partner in poet and lyricist Paulo Cesar Pinheiro, the extraordinary poet who collaborated for many years with both Baden Powell and Eduardo Gudin and w,hose pieces; including "Vou Deitar e Rolar" (Quaquaraquaqua), were recorded by Elis Regina. When Paulo and Sergio first presented their work in concerts in Rio and Sao Paulo, it received unanimous applause from the critics and praise from the great names of MPB like Edu Lobo, Chico Buarque, Francis Hime, and Dori Caymmi. Even Sergio's detractors had to acknowledge the density and good taste of his melodic solutions and harmonies. And these initial performances echoed in Japan, where Brazilian musicians started recording their compositions. Sergio admits, "There were great changes in my life after Paulo Cesar became my partner." Together they have written close to 200 songs since joining forces in 1991. Many of their early compositions, written during endless, late-night, long distance telephone conversations, appear on the 1995 CD, Aboio. Aboio's title comes from a cattle call familiar to ranchers in Minas, and it is the first indication that the recording's thirteen-tune repertoire—comprised of toadas, choros, and sambas—is inspired by the rhythms and themes of Minas Gerais. The project, featuring the sanfona of Sivuca and the guitar virtuosity of the late Raphael Rabello, received wide critical acclaim as one of the year's best. Moreover, Aboio was nominated for a Premio Sharp award and was also released in Europe on the French label Buda Musique. A mural in sound, Aboio was given tangible form by artist David Lainez. In his exhibit Aboio II Lainez translated the musical language of poet and composer into painting and sculpture for an intriguing show at the Palacio Aramburu in Tolosa, 46

Spain. The exhibit was divided into two groups and arranged in six spaces that corresponded to six of the thirteen themes on the recording. Part one was the text, the figurative point of reference; part two, which was the abstract language of feelings and sensations, was the music itself. Lainez commented that he had listened to Aboio an infinite number of times. "So many, in fact, that I know the music as well as Sergio." Working first with the figurative elements and then moving to the abstract, Lainez found in the poetry and music a point of union with his own work and was able to begin the process of interrelating and development, of crossing over into the plastic dimension, and to ultimately achieving an exhibit striking in its intensity. "Translating musical language into plastic is always difficult, but conceptually this venture was easier because it was what I had been looking for and had many connections with my work." Lainez, who has worked as scenographer for numerous dance companies in the realization of their projects, stated that upon initially hearing the music on Aboio, he felt an immediate connection with it, as if it were his own. "Although there is an ocean between our cultures and perceptions of life, there are many aspects of this music that are in tune with my own work." At his home in Belo Horizonte, Sergio Santos works intensely as a composer, arranger, and producer. His compositions have attracted interpreters like Fatima Guedes, Claudio Nucci, Milton Nascimento, and the duos SA & Guarabira and Pena Branca & Xavantinho. As a guitar player and singer he has performed with the finest artists in Brazil including Gal Costa, Banda Mantiqueira, and Guinga. Samba has always been an integral part of his repertoire, and on Mulato, Sergio's second solo recording, samba is the dominant thread that ties the entire work together. The title itself is an acknowledgment of Brazilian identity and of samba as the great metaphor for cultural and racial mixing. Of Mulato's twelve tracks, eleven were written in partnership with Paulo Cesar Pinheiro; one is instrumental. When asked about the album's concept, Sergio said simply, "I chose samba to celebrate Pixinguinha's birthday, to commemorate the recording of "Pelo Telefone," and because I had good material." Mulato was recorded at studios in Belo Horizonte (Via Sonora), Sao Paulo (Club Estiidio), and Oslo, Norway (Rainbow Studio). Mixing and mastering took place at Rainbow—the studio that Egberto Gismonti prefers. Bass player Rodolfo Stroeter produced the project and put together the band, an elite ensemble that includes Stroeter (bass), Marcos Suzano (percussion), Silvio D'Amico (guitar), and three of the amazing players from Banda Mantiqueira—a group that competed for the Grammy in the "Best Performance—Latin Jazz" category with their first release, Aldeia. The pianist on the date was Bugge Wesseltoft, a fluent and inspired Norwegian player with a thorough grasp of Brazilian music. Referring to the recording process Sergio observed, "We couldn't find a studio in Brazil with the perfection we were looking for, so most of the recording process was done in Norway. The funny part was that I never saw the pianist." The CD opens with the almost-classic "Artigo de Luxo" (Article of Luxury), the most well-known of Sergio's tunes and one that was also recorded by Fatima Guedes with a somewhat different interpretation. For this surefooted version, the woodwinds from Banda Mantiqueira accent and provoke the tune's insistent pulse and create a feeling that you're either dancing or that the ground is shifting beneath your feet. "Samba e Futebol" pays homage to soccer and examines the relationship between the agility of a great sambista and a crack soccer player. "Samba pra Mangueira," a tune that has also been recorded by Ana de Hollanda, is a tribute to the samba school most respected by the advocates of "authenticity." It is a medium tempo samba in which Marcos Suzano' s hypnotic, rhythmic phrasing creates a trancelike BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


state by simulating the patterns of Mangueira's bateria—bass, pulse, and accent. As always, Suzano, more than simply brilliant, is urgent and impassioned. Sergio's high, dreamy voice invokes an air of anticipation on "Rancho das Quatro Luas" (Ranch of the Four Moons), a marcha-rancho with achingly delicate lyrics that features the unambiguous accordion of Bugge Wesseltoft. "Aos Meus Amigos do Trio" (To My Friends in The Trio), the only instrumental track on the disc, is dedicated to a group of choro musicians from Rio de Janeiro and spotlights the lightning technique of two masters on the date: Silvio D'Amico on guitar and Nailor "Proveta" Azevedo on clarinet. The colorful dialogue and virtuosity displayed by the two equally represented solo instruments exhibits these players' rare and varied inventive power. But above and beyond the piquant melodic lines and rhythmic zest of the tune, what grabs you is the sense that performers and composer have balanced the architecture, the essence, and the instinct of choro without relying on formulaic clichés. "Mulato" is a tender samba with sensuous vocal harmony that turns on the optimistic idea that Brazil is a mixture of race and culture. The tune talks about the color ofBrazilian skin, praises miscegenation, and reminds us that nothing (except maybe soccer) has made Brazilians prouder of their country than samba, symbolizing, as it does, the illusion—the convenient myth—that Brazil has transcended race prejudice. The velvety "Cofre de Vidro" (Glass Safe), a samba-bossa with some of the finest lyrics on the recording, brings to mind compositions by Djavan as does the tune "Nega do Balaio" (Girl With the Basket/Hips), a sexy samba that also makes references to miscegenation and, by a play on the word balaio (a large, wide basket), to a woman's hips. The song typifies the way that, for Paulo Cesar Pinheiro, socially conscious themes intersect with the romance of everyday life. Mixing congadas (African dances) in a 3/4 meter, "Danca de Sao Goncalo" is the most Minas-like expression of the samba on the CD. Its forceful rhythmic base reminds us of the African roots in Minas Gerais.

Mulato

Mulatto

Sempre fui malemolente Dizem que isso é de ambiente Clima talvez ou mal da cor E preconceituoso quem diz isso Tenho orgulho em ser mestico Num pals é so calor

I have always been a rascal They say that this is due to the environment Climate maybe, or from skin color He is prejudicial who says so I am proud of being mestizo In a country that is only heat

Quando passa esse mulato Dizem Id: que desacato E o meu andar provocador Porem no Carnaval o teu desejo Era de ter esse molejo Pra sambar seja onde for

When this mulatto passes by Tli[ ey say: what disrespect It is my saunter that provokes But in the Carnaval your wish Ws to be with this guy T dance samba wherever it leads

Mas quem pensa que é mais do que alguem Nao levo a serio Corn dinheiro e poder faz urn imperio E acha que tudo pode ser seu Mas no samba tern que ter ciencia Dengo, malicia e cadencia E nessa malemolencia 0 imperador sou eu

B t those who think they are better than so eone else I •on't take seriously W th money and power I can make an e pire A d believe that everything can be yours B tin the samba you have to have the sc nce Se y, malicious, and rhythmic And this rascal I am the emperor

Artigo de Lux

Luxury Article

Samba agora é artigo de lux Samba now is a luxury article, é luxo s real "chi-chi" Quern faz samba tem sempre u Sambistas always have cartuch an ace Na manga do palet up the sleeve Ele agtienta o repuxo, bambei They take it, hesitate Cai no chdo, sacode o p Fall down and rebound Mesmo fora da media da midi Even outside this media hype Da moda da multi And the international fashion Na manha na moita ele sai do mocO He stealthily steps out Chega e já vai-dando um n He comes and confounds everyone Todo moreno quando passa pode esta samband Toda morena caminhando mexe corn quadri E que o samba td no sangue desse pov Td no coracao de onde ele nunca sai Dois por quatro é a cadencia 0 compasso do chao do Brasil

Every brown man may be dancing samba Every brown woman moves her hips when walking For samba is in these peoples' blood It's never left their hearts Brazil moves in 2/4 time

BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999 47


Nega do Balai Those who might miss tunes of a more romantic nature can count on the uando uma nega bonit "Nenhum Adeus" (No Good-bye), a cai no samba samba-cancao, which quotes Jobim's .No rebolado da nega nego chega "Wave" at its onset, and weaves an inChega dizendo que vem pra ver o triguing melody atop a thick cushion of samba harmony. Of all the tunes on the disc "Oba de Mas vem pra ver é o balaio dessa nega Diz que esse samba é born Xango" stands alone in that it does not Diz que é urn balanco s6 have a direct relationship to the samba, S6 que o balaio da nega aside from the fact that samba is the Nego diz que é bem melhor reference point of the composer homaged, Dorival Caymmi. Ocean imQuando um mulato sestroso toca urn agery and darker sonorities that exploit samba the melodic tensions inherent in a minor Deixa o balaio da nega sem sossego mode contribute to this passionate tribute. The tune asserts Sergio's sense of Nao tern ninguem que balance mais o samba musical propriety, a simple but ineffable Do que a cadencia bonita desse nego rightness that never abandons him. SO que ele diz que é dom "Embaixada do Samba" (Embassy Dorn que ele diz que é s6 of Samba), the CD's best track, relates S6 que o balaio da nega samba to politics and reveals how Santos Nego diz que é bem melhor and Pinheiro, whether they're writing about politics or love, create common Brasil, Brasil bonds with their listeners. Pinheiro's E nesse samba que eu caio lyrics declare, "If I were ambassador, I Tambem quero balancar would ask the government for just one Brasil, Brasil favor, and that is to give more value to To nesse samba e nao saio the samba." Again woodwinds lace a Nem precisa me chamar wildly-syncopated groove, and the band Quando urn nega bonita cai performs with conviction and unremitno samba ting drive as the tune—strongly reminiscent of Joao Bosco—snowballs in intenCofre de Vidro sity. Often my first response when reviewing a new CD is to look for its Pra conseguir shortcomings. This is probably my way Urn grande amor of guarding against writing nothing but Nao tern regra, se a rosa se abrir "fluff-pieces." But I could find nothing Voce se alegra e rega a for on Mulato that was less than perfect, not E faz depois a mistimed moment, a flawed judgment, Corn jeito e sem rumor or a lapse in spirit. Even the graphic Urn cofre no peito layout and photography by Marcilio dos dois Godoi and Fernando Fiuza, which sugPra se trancar a dor gests the Baroque architecture typical of Minas Gerais, is irreproachable. FurMas pra durar ther, Mulato confirms something the 0 grande amor crowd at the Hollywood Bowl was quick Nao se deixa uma queixa no ar to discover: Sergio Santos is the musical Pra queixa nao virar rancor exponent of an intoxicating catalyst that Urn bem querer expresses itself in terms men and women Nao sofre dissabor can understand and that may never be lie o cofre nao pode romper replaced as Brazil's national rhythm— Pra no cortar a for samba. Pra mim amor assim Bruce Gilman, music editor for Fica sem fim Brazzil, received his Masters No morre mais degree in music from E urn bem que quern nao tern California Institute of the Arts. Nem sabe bem o bem que faz He leads the Brazilian jazz ensemble Me causa d6 Axe and plays cuica for escola de Os que nao dao valor samba MILA. You can reach him Nem pensam na bencao through his e-mail: De urn grande amor

Girl With the Basket/Hips When a beautiful girl goes to the samba Her swaying hips attract the boy Who says he only came to see the samba But he came to watch that girl's hips He says that samba is good He says that it's only shaking Only the hips of the girl The boy says that it's very good When a shrewd boy plays a samba She wiggles her hips unconcerned Nobody can shake better Than she can to that boy's delightful rhythm He says only that it is talent A talent that is unique The boy says only The girl's hips are very good Brazil, Brazil I succumb to the samba I also want to shake Brazil, Brazil I am in the samba and I cannot leave Don't bother calling When a beautiful girl surrenders to the samba Glass Safe To obtain A great love There are no rules, if the rose opens You are happy and wet the flower And after you do With finesse and without chatter There is a glass safe in the hearts of both To shut out the pain But to endure A great love A complaint is never left in the air To turn to rage A great love Does not bear dissonance That can break the glass safe And cut the flower For me, love is thus Without end Love does not die This feeling that those without Don't know the good it does Causes me pain Those who do not value love And don't understand the blessing Of a great love

cuicaAinterworld.net

48

BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


Books

Plays RIO Calinguall—Comedy. Collective creation. Directed by Ivan de Albuquerque, with Leyla Ribeiro and Camilla Caputti. Among the main themes approached: police violence, homosexuality and marriage. Teatro Rubens Correa. Estrelas do Principio ao Fim (Stars from the Beginning to End)—Musical comedy. Two actors present eight different characters, who muse about the life of the artist. Another collective creation. Myrian Persia directs. With Jorge Azevedo and Veluma. Teatro Serrador. Sexo (Sex)—Comedy. A group plays with sex and has lots of fun. Written, directed and interpreted by Cia. de Comedia Os Melhores do Mundo. Teatro dos Grandes 4tores. Opera do Malandro (The Scoundrel Opera)—Musical. Cariocas showing off their roguery abilities. Written by Chico Buarque de Hollanda, directed by Claudio Feliciano, with the group Cabeca de Prata. UFF Theater. Aldir Blanc, urn Cara Bacana (Aldir Blanc, a Nice Fellow)--IMusical. The Bohemian, who loves bars, women, and soccer. Written and directed by Claudio Tovar, with Lucinha Ijns. Teatro Abel.

SAO PAULO Bailer na Curva (I Danced at the Ctirve)— Drama. Directed by Carmo Tavares, with Persona group. How peoples' lives are changed by history. Teatro Joao Caetano Se Essa Rua... (If this Street.. edy. Directed by Tiche Vianna, with students of EAD (School of Dramatic Arts) and ECA (School of Communications and Arts). Two rival businessmen hire a detective to prevent their children from dating each other. USP (Universidade de Sao Paulo) Teatro Laborat6rio. 0 GuardiAo do Trim ulo (The Grave Keeper)—Drama. Based on a Kafka text, directed by Eduardo Cabus, with Ant6nio Soler, Harold Ferrari, and Victor Paes. A debate about power and the way it is used by people. 0 Homem Que Sabia Portugues (The Man Who Knew Portuguese)—Musical. Directed by Chico Pelficio with Tim Rescala, Marina Machado, Mauricio Tizumba, and Regina SpOsito. A teacher, his maid and their love life. Tom Brasil. Cacilda!—Dramedy. Written and directed by Jose Celso Martinez Correa, with Leona Cavalli and Renee Gummie. The story of Brazilian theater though the eyes of virtuoso actress Cacilda Becker. Teatro Oficina. BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999

best-sellers Just-released American movies: Gloria (Gloria), Entrapment (Armadilha) The Other Sister (Simples Como Amar) Deconstructing Harry (Desconstruind Harry), Analyze This (Mafia no Diva), Arresting Gena (Atraindo Gina), Crue Intentions (Segundas Intencaes), The Wed ding Singer (Afinado no Amor), Legion naire (Legionario), •The Mummy (A Mamia), Star Wars - Episode I - The Phantom Menace (Star Wars - Episodio I - A Ameaca Fantasma), The Spanish Prisone (A Trapaca), Tarzan (Tarzan)

FICTION lA casa dos budas ditosos, Luxaria, Joao Ubaldo Ribeiro. Objetiva, R$ 19 2 A eminencia, Morris West. Record, R$ 28 3 0 Clube dos anjos, Gula, Luis Fernando Verissimo. Objetiva, R$ 16.80 4 Toxina, Robin Cook. Record, R$ 28 5 Ramses, o templo de milhoes de anos, Christian Jacq. Bertrand, R$ 30 6 Conte-me seus sonhos, Sidney Sheldon. Record, R$ 25 7 Mal secreto, Inveja, Zuenir Ventura. Objetiva, R$ 22 8 Homem que matou Getdlio Vargas, J6 Soares. Companhia das Letras, R$ 25 9 Veronika decide morrer, Paulo Coelho. Objetiva, R$ 15 10 0 Advogado, John Grisham. Rocco, R$ 25

Ate Que a Vida Nos Separe (Until Life Do Us Apart)—Brazil/1999--Adventure— Directed by Jose Zaragoza, with Alexandre Borges and Kilia Lemmertz. Five friends from Sao Paulo and their love exploits. 0 Viajante (The Traveler)—Brazil/1998— Drama—Directed by Paulo Cesar Saraceni, NONFICTION with Marilia Pera, Jairo Mattos, Leandra 1 A casa do Rio Vermelho, Zelia Gattai. Leal, and Miriam Persia. Record, R$ 25 How the arrival of a salesman changes the 2 0 Essencial, Costanza Pascolato. life of a Minas Gerais state little town. Objetiva, R$ 39 Requiem (Requiem: Um Encontro corn 3 A Viagem do descobrimento, Eduardo Fernando Pessoa)—Switzerland, France, Bueno. Objetiva, R$ 18 Portugal/1997—Drama—directed by Alain 4 As melhores piadas do planeta e da Tanner, with Francis Frappat, Andre casseta lambent, vol.2, Casseta e Planeta. Marcon, and Alexandre Zloto. Life starts Objetiva, R$ 12 changing when Paul meets in Lisbon with 5 Ndo faca tempestade em copo d'dgua, poet Fernando Pessoa's ghost. Richard Carlson. Rocco, R$ 19.50 Outras Estorias (Other Stories)—Brazil/ ,6 Como falar corretamente sem inibicoes, 1999—Drama—Directed by Pedro Bial, 'Reinaldo Polito. Saraiva, R$ 18 with Cacd Carvalho, Giulia Gam, and Juca 7 Chiquinha Gonzaga, uma historia de de Oliveira. Based on Guimaraes Rosa's vida, Edinha Diniz. Rosa dos Tempos, R$ short stories. 22 Orfeu (Orpheus)—Brazi1/1 998—Drama. 8 Ndufragos, traficantes e degredados, Remake of Marcel Camus's Oscar winner Eduardo Bueno. Objetiva, R$ 19.50 Black Orpheus. This is the Orpheus myth 9 As barbas do Imperador: D. Pedro II, and his love for Euridice set among the um monarca nos tr6picos, Lilia Schwarcz. favela (shantytown) residents in Rio. Based Companhia das Letras, R$ 32 on Orfeu da Conceicao, a play by Vinicius 10 203 maneiras de enlouquecer um de Moraes. Directed by Carlos Diegues, homem na cama, Olivia Saint Claire. with Toni Garrido, Patricia Franca, and Ediouro, R$ 10.90 Murilo Benicio. SELF-HELP AND Um Copo de Colera (A Glass of Wrath)— Brasi1/1 999—Drama—Directed by Aluizio ESOTERICISM Abranches, with Alexandre Borges, Julia 1 0 advogado de Deus, Zibia Gasparetto. Lemmertz, Ruth de Souza, and Marieta Espaco Vida e Consciencia, R$ 20 Severo. He is running away from society, 2 Feng Shui: a arte milenar chinesa, she is apolitically active journalist. Based Richard Craze. Campus, R$ 15,50 on Raduan Nassar's cult book of same 3 A cabala da inveja, Nilton Bonder. name. Imago, R$ 26 Tiradentes—Brazi1/ 1 998—Drama. The 4 Linguagem secreta dos aniversdrios, A. story of Joaquim Jose da Silva Xavier, Goldchneider. Campus, R$ 18,50 Tiradentes, the martyr of the Brazilian in5 A linguagem secreta do Taro, Simon dependence. Critics 'have lambasted the and Pickard. Pensamento, R$ 18 film as a caricature. Directed by Oswaldo Caldeira, with Humberto Martins, Rodolfo According to Jornal do Brasil, http:// Bottino, and Adriana Esteves. www.jb.com.br 49


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Information being gleaned from Brazilian Indians is in much demand from "researchers" all over the world. They want to know why these indigenous peoples appear to be immune to tropical illnesses, and how they can function in extreme weather conditions. With this information, these "researchers" produce medicines that increase soldiers' resistance during combat in parts of the world with similar illnesses or weather conditions.

In April, 1998, I gave a seminar at the International Holistic University, located in the City of Peace, Brasilia. During that same week, the National Encounter of Pajes was being held at the City of Peace. Pajes, or shamans, from some 40 tribal nations in Brazil, had assembled to combat "ecopiratism," the theft by the biotechnology industry of their resources and tribal knowledge. This encounter was â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;sponsored by the Fundacelo Nacional dos Indios, the National Foundation for the Indians. I was able to interact with many of the pajes during meal times, as we all ate at the same restaurant at the City of Peace. I also was allowed to visit the encampment of the pajes, which was located near a beautiful waterfall. Some of the pajes were also chiefs, as these functions are sometimes combined in small tribes. The paje with whom I had the most frequent contact was flambe Pataxo, representative of the Pataxo Nation, a well-known activist who has protested the inattention given to indigenous cultures in the anniversary plans surrounding Portugal's arrival in Brazil in 1500 (Hasse, 1999). With him, I rang the Peace Bell, a gift to the City of Peace from a private Japanese Foundation in honor of the university's work in the area of conflict resolution. A few years earlier, I had represented the United States when the Peace Bell was dedicated, to the accompaniment of Japanese dancers and musicians. Itambe told me that in 1996, an American company, Coriel Cell Repositories, and a Brazilian physician had teamed up for a clandestine commercial operation in a village inhabited by the Karitiana tribe in northwestern Brazil. They had obtained permission from the National Foundation for the Indians to study a regional animal, but instead drew blood samples from members of the Karitiana Nation who naively trusted the outsiders. A similar procedure was followed to obtain blood samples from the Surui tribe. Both tribes are located in the state of Rondonia near Porto Velho, the state capital. Veloso (1998), a Brazilian journalist, reported that through its Website, Coriel Cell Repositories has been selling the decodification of the Indians' DNA as well as their blood samples. Veloso described the Karitiana village as a small enclave of some 200 Indians who live a poor but peaceful life as subsistence farmers, growing rice, beans, and corn on their 800 acres. When the scam was uncovered, a special commission from Brazil's House of Deputies denounced the scheme, but no action was taken. According to the shaman-chief Cizino Karitiana, the most outrageous aspect of the


incident was that the researchers were accompanied by a representative of the National Foundation for the Indians who did nothing to stop the abuse. On the fateful day, the shaman-chief was invited to be the guide for eight "researchers" as they traveled to a cave. In the meantime, two "researchers" stayed in the Karitiana village and drew blood from everyone, including elders and babies. The "researchers" told the Indians that they were sick and that their blood needed to be examined in order for them to be healed. When Cizino returned from the cave, he was also told to donate blood, or he would contaminate the entire village. The information gleaned from these incursions is in demand from "researchers" in various parts of the world who ask why these Indians appear to be immune to tropical illnesses, and how they can function in extreme weather conditions. With this information, these "researchers" produce medicines that increase soldiers' resistance during combat in parts of the world with similar illnesses or weather conditions. A representative for the National Foundation for the Indians, Zilene Kaingangue, was interviewed by Veloso and commented, "It is not enough to have rigorous laws. The important commitment is among ourselves, the Indians, not to give away our own medicines." She told Veloso that her father, Domingos Kaingangue, a well-known paje in the state of Parana who was present at the encounter, received some "researchers" in 1995. He gave them a number of prescriptions for various illnesses ranging from cancer to the common cold. A short time later, these prescriptions were published in a book without the village's authorization or any kind of financial compensation. Zilene claimed that the biotechnology industry "makes millions of dollars in profits from our knowledge." At the end of the week-long encounter, the pajes produced a Charter of the Principles of Indigenous Knowledge which was publicized throughout the country. I was given a copy of this Charter and promised Citambe Pataxo that I would distribute it once I returned to the United States. What follows is a translation of this document from the original Portuguese.

Indian chiefs With President Cardoso

The Manifesto The invaders, like animals of the night, have been coMing to our land to steal our most precious possession. This precious possession is the knowledge that is stored inside the head of each paid and in our tribal traditions. They steal this knowledge in the name of peace, in the name of humanity, and in the name of science. After they plunder this knowled ge, they sell it to the one who offers the best price for it. We would like to have this document, in which our concerns are recorded, sent all over the world, because we still hope to teach the invaders that we all participate in the great cycle of life. We are children of the Great Mother Earth, and we are here to live in peace, which is the daughter of respect. As long as there is no respect for our people, there will be no real peace among us. Many years ago, at the beginning oftime, we Brazilian Indians were already here, and there were millions of us. In those times, our ancestors were already teaching that all that exists is linked to the great cycle of life. In nature, each detail is important. The waters of the rivers and the tributaries, the forests, both large and small animals, all have their own purpose. They were placed here in order to maintain the cycle of life and to share their knowledge with human beings. Through thousands o f years, we have participated respectfully in this cycle of life, learning from nature every day. The Earth was

BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999 55


the Great Mother to our people, and still is. Nature gives us nourishment for our children. Nature teaches us how to use plants to heal the illnesses of our people. The invaders arrived five hundred years ago, and everything changed in this place where we used to live. Many of our tribes were decimated by illness and by war. In the beginning, we were six million in number. Today we are a mere three hundred thousand. The invaders have taken the precious minerals, the wood, and even the land. Our Great Mother cries sadly, and we cry with her. When we go to the river, it is polluted. Many of us can not hunt in the forest because it no longer exists. When we want to talk to the spirits, they do not answer us because tractors have trampled their homes. We are certain that the way of life that was imposed upon us was a "civilization" that did not even work out for the invaders. As Indians, we still resist this "civilization." We maintain our traditions and our respect for Great Mother Earth. But these activities cause us to be labeled "lazy savages" by the invaders. We do not comprehend their teachings. We do not understand teachings that destroys the forest, that pollutes the rivers, and that kills the fish. We do not comprehend teachings that abandons the elderly, mistreats their children, and abuses their women. We do not comprehend the invaders' anxiety to dominate not only nature and the forces of the universe, but other people as well. All of

56

their power and all of their weapons have not made them happy. We know the medicines that would cure many of their illnesses and pains, sicknesses for which their wise men have no remedies. Our knowledge could even help them deal with the various plagues that are affecting their farms. At this National Encounter of Pajes, we were able to talk about our traditional knowledge with our relatives from all over Brazil for the first time. We found that once more the invaders, like animals of the night, have been coming to our land to steal our most precious possession. This precious possession is the knowledge that is stored inside the head of each paje and in our tribal traditions. They steal this knowledge in the name of peace, in the name of humanity, and in the name of science. After they plunder this knowledge, they sell it to the one who offers the best price for it. At the National Encounter of Pajes, we spent a great deal of time talking about these issues, and we decided to close our hearts and protect our knowledge. We issued a command: Stop stealing from us. Stop treating us as objects of research. Stop the destruction of the forests, rivers, and animals. We demand respect for our past and for our culture. We also demand that not only the Brazilian government, but other world authorities as well, respond to the following proposals:

under the names of outsiders what, in truth, belongs to us. These laws are neither good nor just for indigenous people. These laws permit the theft of our knowledge. We demand a new law, one that gives voice to the pajes_as representatives of indigenous people, one that guarantees that we have the rights to what is ours. We want to be heard and we want our wishes to be respected whenever laws are made concerning this matter. 3. The blood of some of our tribal relatives, the Karitiana and the Surui, was taken away from their bodies and away from Brazil, and is now being sold as genetic merchandise. We demand that the Brazilian government speak with the other governments of the world in order to stop this practice. 4. The blood of the Karitiana and the Surui was taken far away and is now worth money. These tribes were left with the promise that they would receive some help from those who took their blood away. We demand a just indemnity be paid to the Karitiana and the Surui people for the damage this theft caused them. 5. Many outsiders go to our land, are welcomed, conduct research, talk to us,

1. A pile of laws has been established by Brazil and many other governments throughout the world. There are laws that protect our people and our traditional knowledge, and that protect the forests, rivers, and air. But in Brazil and all over the world there are too many laws and not enough action. For us, these laws have no value because governments do not follow the laws they make. We demand that governments enforce their own laws that were made to protect indigenous people. 2. There are patent laws that register

BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


and carry away many living things from the forests and rivers, then do not return. 8. We know that there are many Instead, they go to the cities, write books, universities in the big cities, and that make movies, print postcards, then sell there are many Brazilian researchers all of these items for profit while our Why do they have to remove items in people remain poor, without care, and order to study them? Why do we have to without support. The National Founda- buy expensive medicines, many ofwhich tion for the Indians proclaims that it resulted from applications of our own controls these entryways yet we never knowledge? For example, the Macuxi saw this control handled in the right tribe has used an herbal medicine for way. We demand that the Brazilian years that is now being studied at a government begin working with the university, and will probably be sold National Foundation for the Indians back to us in the future. The Brazilian to control the entry of outsiders in government needs to acknowledge and indigenous lands. support the research already done by indigenous people. 6. The National Foundation for the Indians has existed for a long time, and 9. The future of our traditional through its services, many outsiders have knowledge, a rare and precious resource visited our land. What has been done for all humankind, might not be secure. with the results of these visits? How has Our pajes and our elders are dying with this work helped our people? When will illnesses that did not exist in the old this assistance arrive? The National days. Many of our children and our Foundation for the Indians must an- young people are dying of illness and swer. The National Foundation for starvation. Therefore, we demand that the Indians should produce a report the authorities assist us in maintainabout this matter and present it to the ing our health and guaranteeing the pajes. survival of our people. 7. We know that various plants, animals, insects, and even our own blood samples are exported from Brazil to other countries. Our land is like an open market, where anyone can enter and carry away whatever they like. We demand that the Brazilian government monitor its own gateways in order to establish a better protection of its own patrimony.

10. The Earth is our Great Mother. Nature is the largest pharmacy that exists in the world. Without nature, our traditional knowledge will not be useful to our people or to the rest of humanity. The invaders' greed has resulted in the transformation of our natural resources into money. This greed has brought sickness, starvation, and death to our people. During the fires in the northern state of

Roraima, many animals, herbs, and vines that we used in our medicines perished, and no longer exist. Our Great Mother Earth is mortally wounded, and if she dies, we will die as well. If she dies, the invaders will have no future. Therefore, we demand protection of our lands. We demand the guarantee, through demarcation, of the space that is necessary for our physical and cultural survival. 11.We know that the Brazilian government is not the only government responsible for the indigenous people's lives and environment. Everything that is exported from our lands, such as wood, minerals, animals, and our blood, go to distant countries. Therefore, these countries are also responsible for our suffering, and the suffering of our relatives throughout the world. There is an International Charter of Indigenous Peoples. We demand that a firm position be taken by the United Nations and by the European Parliament in order to guarantee this Charter and to require that the governments of the world treat environmental issues and the indigenous people with the respect and seriousness they deserve. Our final words are not those of happiness. We ended this encounter very

BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


distressed with what we saw and what we heard about our relatives. In addition, there is a great sadness in our hearts after observing the violent "civilized" world in action. Now we are going to close our hearts, and keep in our heads the knowledge of our ancestors. This is not because we are selfish. We are doing this because we must protect our indigenous knowledge to guarantee a better future not only for our people, but for the entire world. We will discuss these issues with our relatives who did not attend this encounter. We will tell them the stories we heard at this meeting. We will warn everybody who will listen to us. We would like to have this document, in which our concerns are recorded, sent all over the world, because we still hope to teach the invaders that we all participate in the great cycle of life. We are children ofthe Great Mother Earth, and we are here to live in peace, which is the daughter of respect. As long as there is no respect for our people, there will be no real peace among us. We have been coexisting with the invaders for 500 years. These 500 years are full of sadness and conflict. Nevertheless, we are still alive. Our women bear fruit every day, as does the Earth. We are from the Earth and we will stay here. We can help all humanity, and we want to help them. But we need help as well. At the same time, we can not condone the theft and the devastation. It is time for this to stop. This is our word. Francisco Apurina, from the Apurina Nation Waixa Javae, from the Javae Nation Domingos Kaingangue, from the Kaingang Nation Maluare Karaja, from the Karaja Nation Cizino Karatiana, from the Karatiana Nation

58

In contrast, the "emic" approach entails the use of people's self-categorizations and others to establish racial identities and meanings. This approach sees race not as a "natural" attribute, but one that is socially constructed and specific to a given society. In Brazil, for example, the perception of skin color, hair texture, and facial features outweigh heritage to establish a racial identity (Harris, Consorte, Lang, & Byrne, 1993). When indigenous people protest against givCity of Peace, Brasilia, 17 April ing blood samples for genetic testing, they are also making a legitimate objec1998. tion to the reification of racial stereoIn October, 1998 a similar confer- types that have left a legacy of ence was held in the United States. The disempowerment and discrimination in Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes their wake. and the Montana/ Grateful acknowledgement is exWyoming Health Board hosted a con- pressed to Joaquim Pose for his assisference on North tance in translating this document. American Genetic Stanley Krippner is a Professor of Research and NaPsychology at the Saybrook Graduate tive People in PoiSchool and Research Center, San son, Montana. This Francisco. California. conference brought together tribal leadReferences: ers, scientists, bioHarris, M., Consorte, J., Lang, J., & ethicists, tribal attorneys, and educators to discuss issues relating to human ge- Byrne, B. (1993). Who are the whites? netic research and indigenous peoples. Imposed census categories and the raNotably absent from the conference cial demography of Brazil. Social were representatives from the North Forces, 72, 451-462. American Committee of the Human Hasse, G. (1999, April 19). Paje nao Genome Diversity Project, despite requer festa pare Cabral [Shaman does not peated invitations by conference orgawant a festival for Cabral]. Epoca, pp. nizers. A tribal attorney at the conference criticized the Project's protocol, 46-47. noting that "It doesn't demand anything Harry, D. (1999, February). Tribes but informed consent. Who will judge if the consent is informed?" Another law- meet to discuss genetic colonization. yer observed, "No research [on humans] Anthropology Newsletter, p. 15. should be done unless there's a benefit Veloso, B. (1998, April 21). Pajes se to the population to be studied... If there were no patents, my guess is that most of unem contra biopirataria [Shamans unite these issues would be gone" (Harry, against biopiratism]. Correio Brazi1999). In other words, many similar liense, p. 16. concerns were voiced at the two conferWinant, H. (1994). Racial condiences. tions: Politics, theory, comparisons. Finally, the "etic" approach to the Minneapolis: University of Minnesota study of human diversity has been seriously questioned (e.g., Winant, 1994). Press.

Maria Diva Maxacali from the Maxacali Nation Citambe Pataxo, from the Pataxo Nation Joaozinho Xavante, from the Xavante Nation Joao Xerente, from the Xerente Nation Representatives from the Kraho Nation, the Terena Nation, and 30 other indigenous tribal nations.

BRAZZIL - JUNE 1999


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Brazzil - Year 11 - Number 162 - June 1999  

Brazzil - Year 11 - Number 162 - June 1999