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When winter arrived in the Japanese city of Nagoya during the late 90s, a samba instructor named Yukachan would teach her weekly dance classes in the central plaza while dressed in leg warmers and sweatshirts. Yuka will need much lighter attire later this month, when she debuts as the co-symbol of the world's largest popular festival, the Carnaval held in the capital of the Brazilian state of Bahia, Salvador.
The decision by the municipal government to select Yuka, a Japanese citizen who has lived in Salvador for most of the last five years, as the official symbol of Carnaval sparked an intense debate in this northeastern city. Critics in the media and political opposition questioned the legitimacy of choosing a foreigner to represent a festival historically linked with the African roots so prevalent in Brazilian and Bahian culture. Yuka was chosen as the co-symbol along with a native Bahian, the dancer Antônio Cozido, to represent the theme for this year's Carnaval, "The world's heart beats here." Soon after the announcement was made, an editorial criticizing the decision was published in O Correio da Bahia, a daily paper associated with the PFL (Liberal Front Party), which is in opposition to the current city government. Besides questioning the wisdom of selecting a foreigner, the paper also cited rumors that Yuka was an illegal immigrant and had danced as stripper in a nightclub. The first accusation was deflated when Yuka (through her lawyers) revealed that she has possessed a resident visa since 2001, when she married a native Bahian. The relevancy of the second charge was never clear (since when is Carnaval about moral purity?) and it faded when no testimony surfaced to turn the quickly stale rumor into fact. The story of how a Japanese woman fell in love with samba, migrated to Salvador, and eventually became the official symbol of Carnaval is compelling in and of itself, identity politics aside. Yuka first saw samba while watching a video of Carnaval during a visit to a Brazilian restaurant located in the center of Nagoya. "It was principally the rhythm that attracted me," says Yuka, in an interview with Brazzil magazine conducted at the Japanese Consulate in Salvador. "It was as if I found something that I was missing, something I had lost a long time ago." Despite the recent controversy, Yuka arrived at our interview with an air of confidence, an attitude highlighted by the pastel beads of her long necklace, and her bright orange and white skirt, which was short enough to reveal the powerful legs of a professional sambista. She could afford to be carefree though, as her lawyer sat next to her accompanying every word, only interjecting once to say that Yuka, like other aspiring pop stars, models, and singers, "likes to work with children in poor neighborhoods". After her initial exposure to samba, Yuka studied the dance with the passion of the recently converted. She borrowed tapes of Brazilian concerts from her friends at the restaurant. "I watched Daniela Mercury, because she dances while she sings," says Yuka, recalling the nights she spent dancing in front of a television. After three months, she had mastered the basic steps, and decided to offer Nagoya's first samba classes in the city's central square. "The people thought I looked like a butterfly, and that the dance was cool, but very hard." Yuka pauses, looks beyond the interviewer and delivers the next line to the Consulate staff and supporters in the room, "but I would tell them, 'you didn't know how to walk when you were born, did you? Well now that you know that the rest is easy!'" Yuka first came to Brazil after accepting an invitation from a friend who was vacationing in Salvador. A two week stay in Bahia de Todos os Santos would change the course of this young woman's life, as after returning to Japan for five months, she decided to return to Brazil, and this time for good. "The first year was very difficult," says Yuka, when asked about how she adapted to her new surroundings. She learned Portuguese with the same method she used to learn Samba - by watching television. "I would watch the dialogues of the telenovelas and write down what I could understand. I kept a notebook with me and created a day to day dictionary." Her parents supported Yuka's decision, but not to the point of sending her money. "I began to sell necklaces. I had already married a Bahian man, and we had a small store in Pelourinho." The going was tough, but Yuka persisted and continued to study samba. The drastic change in lifestyle was a shock, and in the beginning she missed the conveniences of life in a hypermodern Japanese city, "I would sometimes think about what I didn't have here, for example in my city you can eat any kind of food you wanted 24 hours a day, things like that. But now I valorize more non-material things. If you're talking about material life, there is a lot missing here, but quality of life is more than that. With music and rhythms, life improves." Her first breakthrough came when she was invited to dance on stage during a concert of the singer and Brazilian pop icon, Jorge Benjor. At the end of the show, Yuka was given a sash and a ribbon for "Miss Simpatia", a title given to the best dancer. Throughout the next year, Jorge's production team asked her to participate in other shows, including a New Year's concert held in Rio de Janeiro's Copacabana beach in 2003. It was through Jorge that Yuka received the chance to realize a dream she had cultivated since watching tapes of Carnaval in Nagoya - she auditioned for and won a spot as a dancer with Salgueiro, a respected samba school that participates in the Carnaval parade of Rio de Janeiro. "When you step onto the avenue, everyone is applauding for you. You could be nobody before you enter the parade, but the second your foot touches the avenue everyone is looking at you, and they want you to dance beautifully. It's marvelous, all that energy, it's a pleasure," says Yuka. Yuka participated in the Carnaval of Rio de Janeiro for three years, from 2003 to 2005. Her chance to participate in the Carnaval of Salvador came unexpectedly. When her agent called with the news, Yuka didn't believe it because she is "too much of a realist". When the "test" or audition, came, she relaxed "enjoyed the moment", and passed. Then came the controversy. "I was sadden, very hurt..." Yuka pauses to gathers herself, "I can take the criticism, but what really surprised me was how many people supported me - the Consul, my friends, everyone." As the co-symbol of Carnaval, Yuka, along with her partner, will visit the important points in Salvador where the festival occurs, from the historic center district to the parade route, where bands play atop specially equipped trucks called "trios elétricos" as thousands of participants jump, shake and step to the rhythms emitting from the truck's giant, fifteen foot tall speakers. Yuka's goal for the festivities reveals the essence of what makes Salvador's Carnaval so internationally popular - the music and rhythms may be regional, but the feeling they communicate is universal. "I want to communicate joy, happiness, and excitement to everyone who sees me. People, this is Carnaval!," says Yuka, sounding like a true Brazilian. The writer would like to thank the Consul of Japan in Bahia, Mr. Emilton Rosa, for making this article possible For more info on Yukachan, go to www.flogao.com.br/yukachanmusa. She can be reached at yukachan2006 [at] hotmail [dot] com Jared Goyette scrapes by as a freelance writer and English teacher in Santo Antônio de Jesus, a city in the interior of Bahia, Brazil. He can be reached at jaredmgo [at] gmail [dot] com.
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