Monday, October 27, 2008
Bia, Giovana more goodbyes
I was continuing the beginning of Goodbyes- Immediately with these two women I want to be laughing, and then I am, we all are. I have a buoyancy around them. Peanuts, acarajé, beer, coke and abarrá we littered the table and filled our bellies at dusk in Rio Vermelho, perto de Barraca da Dinha. This time too many itinerant snack sellers and beggars came looking for resources, a handout or a point of sale. The only thing missing was Paulo, another designer and Bia’s colleague. He couldn’t get a babysitter. We ended up leaving to see an opening of their friend, a former Sacatar fellow inside the Farol de Barra.
Their friend’s work was focused on the sea environment, garbage and recycling. She swam, dove and collected waste left behind. The dives yielded glass, wood and metal. Swimming and scavenging brought the plastic detritus that she had carefully packaged and labeled as if it were a consumer item for sale. The name of each item was the same {Dev} olvido do mar. Simply and effectively executed, the juxtaposition of saturated rainbow colors and consumerist packaging targeted our disposable culture and our lack of reverence for the sea ; a resource and home to Orixa.
Looking for a spot for xixi , I found the terrace or I guess cannon battery that overooked the corner of the Bay, (Baia do Todos Santos) and the Atlantic. The imposing Farol light pulsed red and white beams into the water and the four turrets, now chained must have been former lookout or sniper spots. I made some murky pictures in this inky night occasionally interrupted by floodlights highlighting the lighthouse as an icon.
Getting out of the Jeep at Eneida’s where we were crashing to say goodbye back in Rio V. wasn’t difficult, but it tugged at me. In that moment of transition these two women had made themselves available to Michele and me. Bia and Michele sketched dreams of future collaborations. We all quickly learned to have fun together, enjoying each other despite a lack of shared language.
Quarta Feira-Back to Opo Ofonja:
Luckily for me at this point in my day, Tracy suggested that we take a cab and not the sixty minute bus ride back to Ilê Axé. Tonight’s ceremony was for Iansa. She was senuous almost hedonistic. Suffered degradation from her abusive father, fell in passionately in love with Ogum and controlled the winds.
The hilltop Terreiro is spacious, simple and rustic. There is little attempt to disguise the concrete slab building materials. Today’s decorations are reminiscent of Junior High School class art projects, all glitter and glam. There is a beautiful life size image of a Musk Ox behind the thrones at the head of the space. One of Iansa’s iconic images is this animal. As we enter the barracão a portly black man bumps into us, and quickly says Hi, in English. So much for Tracy’s thought of our blending in. He turns out to be John Mason, a colleague of both Danny and Robert Thompson. We talk briefly of his research into Yoruba roots, and mine in Culinary. A Brooklyn native, he is in town for the full cycle of ceremonies. We exchange info and he gets escorted to a VIP area.
Against type the ceremony is delayed. This Terreiro generally runs on time. We watch as several large kettles and stew pots are carried in by muscular men. A group of tweens in oversized hot pink T-shirts walk In and climb to a stand above the Atabaques. They have a youth chorus to sing the Yoruban songs. The service began about 45 minutes behind schedule.
After the initial prayers to Orixa, several people begin to trance in the center of the circular procession. They seem buffeted by the ring of hands and bodies. This group seems to be shaken or thrown into their trance, a metaphor of Iansa? A few young people under seven trance too. One young girl, becomes a major focal point in her ecstatic mounted dance.
At the break, I see Raul Lody who had directed the Dende seminar. Glad to see me again, we talk briefly about my work. He offers to stay in touch and inform me when the book from the seminar will be published. I keep making more goodbyes with the people I first met here.
I step outside to find my smoking friend. Kathy is taken by the power of the ceremony, the rootedness of Africa in Baia. She gets it, as I knew she would. Kathy also saw why I have become so intrigued by this culture. Why I am so intent on learning more, and more. Tracy appears to have come to terms with the practice, but it is not his schtick.
Food is being served. I retrieve a plate to share, but they want two. Passing out food to the several hundred people in attendance is a feat. We all eat some and then head back inside. The ceremony resumes with the dancing of many Iansa’s dressed in pink and red gowns. There were a few shirtless Ogums, with fabric wrappers tied across their chests.
We have all just about lost our seats in the crush of new arrivals. Kathy had said that her stamina was limited. I looked at the time, and knew that Henrique should be in the yard. I found him dozing in his car, and promised that we would be done shortly. Driving home, I shared jabs with Henrique. We laughed about Augusto’s devotion to his church, MacDonald’s. And Henrique told me how his grandmother had been a Mae de Santo when he was growing up. He had helped her with her duties, but nobody, not his mom or siblings had ever taken up the call. It was a great last evening for Kathy.
The hilltop Terreiro is spacious, simple and rustic. There is little attempt to disguise the concrete slab building materials. Today’s decorations are reminiscent of Junior High School class art projects, all glitter and glam. There is a beautiful life size image of a Musk Ox behind the thrones at the head of the space. One of Iansa’s iconic images is this animal. As we enter the barracão a portly black man bumps into us, and quickly says Hi, in English. So much for Tracy’s thought of our blending in. He turns out to be John Mason, a colleague of both Danny and Robert Thompson. We talk briefly of his research into Yoruba roots, and mine in Culinary. A Brooklyn native, he is in town for the full cycle of ceremonies. We exchange info and he gets escorted to a VIP area.
Against type the ceremony is delayed. This Terreiro generally runs on time. We watch as several large kettles and stew pots are carried in by muscular men. A group of tweens in oversized hot pink T-shirts walk In and climb to a stand above the Atabaques. They have a youth chorus to sing the Yoruban songs. The service began about 45 minutes behind schedule.
After the initial prayers to Orixa, several people begin to trance in the center of the circular procession. They seem buffeted by the ring of hands and bodies. This group seems to be shaken or thrown into their trance, a metaphor of Iansa? A few young people under seven trance too. One young girl, becomes a major focal point in her ecstatic mounted dance.
At the break, I see Raul Lody who had directed the Dende seminar. Glad to see me again, we talk briefly about my work. He offers to stay in touch and inform me when the book from the seminar will be published. I keep making more goodbyes with the people I first met here.
I step outside to find my smoking friend. Kathy is taken by the power of the ceremony, the rootedness of Africa in Baia. She gets it, as I knew she would. Kathy also saw why I have become so intrigued by this culture. Why I am so intent on learning more, and more. Tracy appears to have come to terms with the practice, but it is not his schtick.
Food is being served. I retrieve a plate to share, but they want two. Passing out food to the several hundred people in attendance is a feat. We all eat some and then head back inside. The ceremony resumes with the dancing of many Iansa’s dressed in pink and red gowns. There were a few shirtless Ogums, with fabric wrappers tied across their chests.
We have all just about lost our seats in the crush of new arrivals. Kathy had said that her stamina was limited. I looked at the time, and knew that Henrique should be in the yard. I found him dozing in his car, and promised that we would be done shortly. Driving home, I shared jabs with Henrique. We laughed about Augusto’s devotion to his church, MacDonald’s. And Henrique told me how his grandmother had been a Mae de Santo when he was growing up. He had helped her with her duties, but nobody, not his mom or siblings had ever taken up the call. It was a great last evening for Kathy.
The beginning of Goodbyes
Time tough. In a recent email, Danny suggested that I had the pre-Saudade Saudade in reference to a statement I had made regarding my displeasure over my imminent departure. Yeas, a deep, and moanful blue(s). Melancholia nervosa. I have many, many thoughts of this place I have begun to know, Baia do Todos Santos; Cachoeira, Itaparica & Salvador. I feel like my feet have sprouted interstitial root hairs, looking for a place to take hold, grow and come into flower.
It is by no means perfect. The poverty is omnipresent. But the culture and the manera de ser of the people is transcendent. As almas da gente da aqui, têm um sol reflechindo ao mundo. Que beleza; beleza. The soul of the people holds a sunshine reflecting out to the world. How beautiful; beauty.
Coming and leaving. I have looked up several times randomly and realize that I have found myself in places where I had began this journey. First, it was coming back to Rua Doutor João Ponde e Edificio: Paul Cezanne with Kathy and Tracy. The same apartment that Michele and I had rented in July and August.
Originally, I had planned to take a trip and travel to another region to see a new view and gather information from another point of reference. I am glad I stayed local. More things became evident as I became more and more familiar with Salvador. It may be a street corner that comes up out of nowhere, or a concerted effort to reconnect and say goodbye to a new colleague or budding friendship.
I had asked Danny what if anything did he need to be brought back to NYC? All he wanted as Valdina’s Pemba. A special chalkish powder. She harvests it once a year in late May or early June. It is dried and ground fine. Then it is used as an aspect of ritual practice.
I had decided to try and nail down all of the stuffs that I needed to bring home before I left for Cachoeira on Friday morning. I also thought that it would be a good idea to go to Tanuri Junçara, Valdina’s Terreiro. We had never managed to coordinate my visit during my residency. The Terreiro was close to her house in Engenho Velho de Federacao. Wednesday’s and Thursday’s they were open to the public.
I had had a full morning already running between Dois de Julho for an interview, Liberdade, Sao Joaquim and Mercado Modelo before coming to Federacao. I got the wrong cabbie from the Mercado. When I told him where I thought it was, he acknowledged that he knew where to go. To insure success, I borrowed his cell to call Tracy. He was able to give me the exact address that I had in my computer, Rua Apolinário Santana, #146. I looked down to check my notebook for something and then I saw that he went into the wrong part of the neighborhood. We had previously discussed where to enter this large district. At the next traffic jam, I jumped out and threw 10 reals in his lap, discounting money for his mistake.
Walking down the main avenue I passed a Manicure-Terreiro combo business. I guess you have to know that you can pay the rent. I asked a few blocks later and was asked which one of the three major Terreiros’ just ahead did I want? This group of women was not familiar with the name I had given, or my pronunciation of it. Then, one woman stepped forward from the group I had stopped and she said she had an idea. She pointed, explaining the location and landmarks to me before I continued on down the hill.
At the first doorway, she appeared again, and dissuaded me from ringing the bell. Let’s try the next one, she said. Suddenly, I had a partner. I knew already that the third one was Bodum, Urania’s Terreiro, so I was confident that middle choice would be Tanuri.
The heavy wooden door opened up to a large courtyard and driveway with a large, old tree in the middle of it, (memories of my Norwalk home). A carved, wooden plaque, was painted in primary colors: Terreiro Tanuri Junçara. The yard was ringed by a few two story houses and the Barracão or ceremonial room. A boy was folding clothes just inside the open second floor window on my right. I asked him for help and his mother appeared. She said that Valdina was probably at home, but I was free to look around, “Fica vontage a ver o que voce quer.”
I stepped into the dark, squarish room, stacked with chairs and other stored items which suggested that they were in between ceremonies. A large image of Yemanja was the only décor. As I walked back into the bright midday sun, a thin, jet colored man appeared to greet me. He had a halting Portuguese that I had to work on to comprehend. He led me to each offertory shrine, and each house of Orixa, explaining who was being honored. Since I had never been to a ceremony here, I had not realized that it was Angola or Fon Terreiro, until he explained that if I was Ketu, I would call it this name in Ioruba and if I was Nago-Jeje I would call it that. The layers and interconnections run thick and deep. I took one picture and left to find Valdina.
Ten minutes later, I walked through the back door of the ad hoc thrift shop into the yard that her house shared with half a dozen others. She was home and just as I had found her, at her computer. Her head wrapped in a beautiful coil of fabric. She had a long short sleeved cotton shift, decorated with a bit of lace. Funny she said, after we embraced. I had just returned your email, when you walked in.
We talked for a bit about my research, and she invited me to a Palestra, she called an Abara. I guessed that they borrowed the name of the steamed amalgam of ground black-eyed peas, ginger, Dende and grated onion wrapped and cooked in a banana leaf as a metaphor of the joining of ideas involved with culture, politics and food. Unfortunately, it would occur while I as in Cachoeira.
I sensed in this conversation how she was renewing her invitation of welcome to her community and culture. We laughed together when I asked for the Pemba. She told me that everyone who comes from NY to Salvador is required to bring back Pemba for Danny. He’s gotta have it. Shrewd dog. She wished me well and we both looked forward to my return.
This time I found a cab who knew how to get to where I was going. When I walked up the ramp to the driveway of Paul Cezanne at 3:00 PM, Henrique, Tracy and Kathy were anxiously waiting for me. I ran up, grabbed my things, shut down my computer and said goodbye to this oasis. Henrique dropped me and my stuff at Zeno’s and took Kathy to the airport. I had to switch gears and go back downtown to São Joaquim and meet the TVE crew for my interview on connections between African-American and Afro-Baian foods. Time was tight.
It is by no means perfect. The poverty is omnipresent. But the culture and the manera de ser of the people is transcendent. As almas da gente da aqui, têm um sol reflechindo ao mundo. Que beleza; beleza. The soul of the people holds a sunshine reflecting out to the world. How beautiful; beauty.
Coming and leaving. I have looked up several times randomly and realize that I have found myself in places where I had began this journey. First, it was coming back to Rua Doutor João Ponde e Edificio: Paul Cezanne with Kathy and Tracy. The same apartment that Michele and I had rented in July and August.
Originally, I had planned to take a trip and travel to another region to see a new view and gather information from another point of reference. I am glad I stayed local. More things became evident as I became more and more familiar with Salvador. It may be a street corner that comes up out of nowhere, or a concerted effort to reconnect and say goodbye to a new colleague or budding friendship.
I had asked Danny what if anything did he need to be brought back to NYC? All he wanted as Valdina’s Pemba. A special chalkish powder. She harvests it once a year in late May or early June. It is dried and ground fine. Then it is used as an aspect of ritual practice.
I had decided to try and nail down all of the stuffs that I needed to bring home before I left for Cachoeira on Friday morning. I also thought that it would be a good idea to go to Tanuri Junçara, Valdina’s Terreiro. We had never managed to coordinate my visit during my residency. The Terreiro was close to her house in Engenho Velho de Federacao. Wednesday’s and Thursday’s they were open to the public.
I had had a full morning already running between Dois de Julho for an interview, Liberdade, Sao Joaquim and Mercado Modelo before coming to Federacao. I got the wrong cabbie from the Mercado. When I told him where I thought it was, he acknowledged that he knew where to go. To insure success, I borrowed his cell to call Tracy. He was able to give me the exact address that I had in my computer, Rua Apolinário Santana, #146. I looked down to check my notebook for something and then I saw that he went into the wrong part of the neighborhood. We had previously discussed where to enter this large district. At the next traffic jam, I jumped out and threw 10 reals in his lap, discounting money for his mistake.
Walking down the main avenue I passed a Manicure-Terreiro combo business. I guess you have to know that you can pay the rent. I asked a few blocks later and was asked which one of the three major Terreiros’ just ahead did I want? This group of women was not familiar with the name I had given, or my pronunciation of it. Then, one woman stepped forward from the group I had stopped and she said she had an idea. She pointed, explaining the location and landmarks to me before I continued on down the hill.
At the first doorway, she appeared again, and dissuaded me from ringing the bell. Let’s try the next one, she said. Suddenly, I had a partner. I knew already that the third one was Bodum, Urania’s Terreiro, so I was confident that middle choice would be Tanuri.
The heavy wooden door opened up to a large courtyard and driveway with a large, old tree in the middle of it, (memories of my Norwalk home). A carved, wooden plaque, was painted in primary colors: Terreiro Tanuri Junçara. The yard was ringed by a few two story houses and the Barracão or ceremonial room. A boy was folding clothes just inside the open second floor window on my right. I asked him for help and his mother appeared. She said that Valdina was probably at home, but I was free to look around, “Fica vontage a ver o que voce quer.”
I stepped into the dark, squarish room, stacked with chairs and other stored items which suggested that they were in between ceremonies. A large image of Yemanja was the only décor. As I walked back into the bright midday sun, a thin, jet colored man appeared to greet me. He had a halting Portuguese that I had to work on to comprehend. He led me to each offertory shrine, and each house of Orixa, explaining who was being honored. Since I had never been to a ceremony here, I had not realized that it was Angola or Fon Terreiro, until he explained that if I was Ketu, I would call it this name in Ioruba and if I was Nago-Jeje I would call it that. The layers and interconnections run thick and deep. I took one picture and left to find Valdina.
Ten minutes later, I walked through the back door of the ad hoc thrift shop into the yard that her house shared with half a dozen others. She was home and just as I had found her, at her computer. Her head wrapped in a beautiful coil of fabric. She had a long short sleeved cotton shift, decorated with a bit of lace. Funny she said, after we embraced. I had just returned your email, when you walked in.
We talked for a bit about my research, and she invited me to a Palestra, she called an Abara. I guessed that they borrowed the name of the steamed amalgam of ground black-eyed peas, ginger, Dende and grated onion wrapped and cooked in a banana leaf as a metaphor of the joining of ideas involved with culture, politics and food. Unfortunately, it would occur while I as in Cachoeira.
I sensed in this conversation how she was renewing her invitation of welcome to her community and culture. We laughed together when I asked for the Pemba. She told me that everyone who comes from NY to Salvador is required to bring back Pemba for Danny. He’s gotta have it. Shrewd dog. She wished me well and we both looked forward to my return.
This time I found a cab who knew how to get to where I was going. When I walked up the ramp to the driveway of Paul Cezanne at 3:00 PM, Henrique, Tracy and Kathy were anxiously waiting for me. I ran up, grabbed my things, shut down my computer and said goodbye to this oasis. Henrique dropped me and my stuff at Zeno’s and took Kathy to the airport. I had to switch gears and go back downtown to São Joaquim and meet the TVE crew for my interview on connections between African-American and Afro-Baian foods. Time was tight.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
can i get a witness
I will soon be back in the States. Truthfully other than voting, seeing my girlfriend Michele, my Dad, my Godfather who is doing poorly and a few assorted dear dear friends, I am not interested in being back. Timing is everything, so here I come. I need all of your juju, white light and hidden magic. 48 hours after I get in I am scheduled to take the GRE's. I have been reviewing data that I learned first 30 years ago, and learning new stuff I have never seen before. Yeah, its a trip. I am hoping for good scores in verbal, writing, etc. Math is a crap shoot. So, cross fingers, toes and spaghetti for me. thanks Scott
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
