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By Brazzil Magazine
My mental journey into Brazil began on Christmas Eve 1999 when I bought a 2,000 page
book called Africana: the Encyclopedia of the African and African-American Experience. I
had been into studies of the African Diaspora for some time but I never knew anything
about Brazil except for soccer, Pelé, the movie Blame It on Rio and bossa nova. As I
flipped through the pages of this incredible book, I became totally amazed at how many
articles there were about Brazil and the contributions of Afro-Brazilians to Brazilian
society.
When I discovered that there were anywhere from 70 to 105 million black people in
Brazil, my obsession was official. A country with 2-3 times more black people than America
and I never knew anything about it. From that point, I began an endless search for
information about "my people" in this, the largest country in South America. I
found two books by legendary Afro-Brazilian activist Abdias do Nascimento, read probably
more than 1,000 pages of internet articles (thank you, Brazzil) from hundreds of sources
and began to invest in Brazilian LPs and CDs.
The history of Afro-Brazilians sounded all too familiar. Africans captured, enslaved
and brought to the New World and forced to build a country while being excluded from full
status of citizenship. The similarities between Afro-Brazilians and African-Americans were
amazing. Too many to name here, but do the research.
I had read many articles about Brazil written by people who had been there but very few
by people of African descent like myself. I live in Detroit, Michigan, a city that has a
deep history of racial animosity between blacks and whites. Detroit is one of America's
"Chocolate" cities, having a population that is 80-90 percent black. My
interactions with whites in Detroit's surrounding suburbs give me enough reason to believe
that at times, interpretations of society can be very different when comparing black and
white perspectives. For instance, compare how differently blacks and whites viewed the OJ
Simpson fiasco.
When speaking of Brazil, many people speak of beaches, beautiful women and Carnaval.
But my research also informed me about crime, poverty and racial discrimination. I decided
to first visit Salvador, Bahia, another city with a 80 percent black population and also
the center of Afro-Brazilian culture. Through determination and luck, I made a few
contacts on the Internet with two people who I will forever consider to be my brother and
sister in Brazil.
Without Danielle and Marcus and Brazzil magazine's own Kirsten (thank you so much!), my
voyage to Brazil would not have been possible. In the beginning, there were as many as
five other people who wanted to make the journey below the equator with me. But as
September (the month I was leaving) approached, I became the "last man
standing". I must admit, the idea of 15 hours on an airplane solo was a little scary,
but my people in Salvador reassured that they would be there for me every step of the way.
My flight took me from Detroit to New York to São Paulo and finally to Salvador. On
the plane from New York to São Paulo, I noticed that I was one of only three black people
on the airplane, but soon the people on the plane made me feel very comfortable. Many were
Brazilians returning home. The guy sitting in front of me, who I will call Sergio eased my
spirits by telling me stories about his adventures in Massachusetts. He engaged me in a
conversation about racial politics in Brazil. I had read about terms such as moreno and
mulatto and the myth of a "racial democracy" and here was Sergio assuring me
that having dark skin in Brazil would not be a problem for me. I thought to myself,
"another victim of the myth."
Loneliest Ever
My arrival in São Paulo was another shock to my system. I had just left New York and
was now in Brazil's equal to the Big Apple. At JFK airport, I noticed blacks, whites,
Asians and Latinos everywhere. The airport in São Paulo was a stark contrast because of
its lack of blacks. A city of 16 million people, a third of which are black, and I saw
only two other black people in the entire airport and they WORKED there. This must have
been one of the loneliest feelings of my entire life.
I remember when the guy at the baggage check-in asked me if I was going to Salvador.
When I asked him how he knew, he politely answered that he could tell by "how I was
dressed". O.K. When I finally arrived in Salvador, I was greeted by my new Internet
"sister" Danielle and her friend Marli. Being American, I had to adjust to the
traditional Brazilian greeting of the kiss on each cheek. Danielle was a pretty,
dark-skinned "sista", but I couldn't quite figure out what Marli was. She lacked
the pinkish skin tone that categorized most white people by American standards, but she
wasn't quite black either. It turned out that her grandfather was black. Brazil... the
land of miscegenation.
We loaded my bags into Marli's tiny blue car and started the drive into the city. My
Portuguese was nowhere near perfect, but they were quite impressed with my usage of the
language. During my three week stay, I felt a little shy about using my elementary
Portuguese, but after the first week, Danielle began demanding that I stop using her as a
translator because "você fala Português". After all, we were communicating
just fine and when we weren't, we both carried dictionaries.
Salvador reminded me of photos I had seen of Jamaica, Cuba and Florida as well as my
birth state of Georgia. Plenty of palm trees, red dirt and hot weather. It is no secret
that there are some beautiful African-American women at home, but here were their
beautiful "sisters". Before I arrived in Salvador, I had seen many of my
beautiful "sistas" in the pages of Raça Brasil magazine, and here they were;
walking home with bags of groceries, standing at bus-stops and chasing soccer balls. Like
in America, the skin tones varied from the highest-yellow to the darkest blue-black. But I
must say, I have never seen so many dark-skinned black women with straight or curly hair
in my life.
It's a shame, but many black women would kill to have this "good" hair.
Indoctrination at its finest. The women that don't have straight or curly hair wear... you
would never believe what is a very popular hairstyle in Brazil right now for
Afro-Brazilian women. The hairstyle is called an "Afro Permanente" but
20 years ago in America, we called it a "Jheri Curl". Wow, this hairstyle has
been hot with women for a few years here and every now and then you see a
"brotha" with a fresh, wet, straight out of a 1979 Michael Jackson photo album
"Jheri"...I mean "Afro Permanente".
The three of us were trying to decide upon a decent hotel and after visiting a few, I
decided on a little hotel on a street called Rua Sete de Setembro. The street was named
after the Brazilian day of independence in 1822. I won't mention the name of the hotel,
but my new friends kept asking why I was staying there. I wanted a hotel where I could be
in the middle of the action and blend in with the common folk. This place provided me with
the perfect view of the street and was only a 20-minute walk away from the historic
Pelourinho District that I had read so much about.
Every morning I witnessed hundreds of Baianos walking to their destinations. People
drive in Salvador, but I think that probably 75 percent of the city catches the ônibus.
On an average day, these bus stops are packed with up to 50 people waiting for the bus
that will take them to where they are going. I rode the bus more times in my three-week
stay than I have since I was about 15 years old. But I loved it. These buses have cashiers
who will make change for you if you don't have exact change. Interesting concept.
Little Pay
The most popular car in this city was the 1975 Volkswagen Bug. I couldn't figure out
why this car and its minivan model were so popular and how so many of them were in mint
condition. Then I learned that Brazil still manufactures this car. The majority of the
people who live in Salvador can only dream of buying a car some day. Danielle has a
college degree but only earns $300 per month. As a matter of fact, 2 of her 3 sisters and
her brother all have college degrees (a rarity for blacks in Brazil) but all earn between
$300-350 per month. Her oldest sister is an English teacher with a Master's Degree and
earns around $18,000 per year. She is working on earning a Ph.D.
Industrialization in Brazil happened geographically opposite than it happened in
America. Economically, the Brazilian North is equivalent to the American South. In
America, during the past 50 years, people and families migrated north to cities like
Detroit, Chicago, New York and also west to places like Los Angeles. In Brazil, people
migrated south to cities like Rio, São Paulo, Porte Alegre and Belo Horizonte.
I had brought two dress suits and shoes with me for my extended stay in Salvador. I
don't dress very extravagantly by American standards, but this was a whole other game.
When Danielle saw my clothing, she asked why I dressed so chic. She told me that people
would immediately know I was American because of my FILA shoes and jogging suit, articles
I had been wearing for four years.
Walking the streets, I realized what she meant. The everyday apparel of people in
Salvador reminded of America in the 1970s. But once again, I loved it. I was ecstatic to
get away from "Big Wille", "appearance of money syndrome" that plagued
my community in Detroit. In Detroit, people might live paycheck to paycheck, but you would
never know it. SUV trucks and fashion names like Coogi, Tommy Hilfiger, Roc-a-Wear and Air
Jordans are everywhere in Detroit. In Salvador, you don't see much name-brand material.
Many of these people live on $150 per month or less, thus clothing is the furthest
thing from their minds. Danielle was anxious to take me to her church. It rained in
Salvador nearly every day I was there, even if only for 10 minutes in a day, the rain
always made an appearance (I understand that September is the rain season). The rain was
too strong to brave the elements the first week I was there, but we made it in my second
week.
Once again, I was pleasantly surprised. At this Catholic church ceremony, people were
dressed in jeans, slacks and plain shirts, a far cry from the $1,000 suits that seemed to
be part of an unofficial dress code in many churches I had attended back home. These
people take the words of GOD to heart because they come to church as they are.
Meeting Danielle's friend Marli turned out to be a preview to an interesting and at
times disturbing view of race in Brazil. Many of the people that Danielle labeled as being
white in Salvador would not have been white by American standards. There were of course
many people of obvious African descent and I saw very few white people in Salvador,
excluding the many tourists from America and Europe. I had read that the black population
in Brazil was approximately half of the total Brazilian population. The skin complexion of
many of the people that Danielle considered to be white had the complexions of what
Americans would consider to be Hispanic.
They were not white because they possessed a light brown skin tone and usually had
either straight or curly hair. But in Salvador, as Danielle explained, they were
considered white. After nearly two weeks in Salvador, I finally met my friend Marcus, a
short guy with light skin and dreadlocks, who was very talented. This guy is a Capoeira
master and a musician and seemed to know everybody. Originally from Rio, Marcus had moved
to Salvador a few years ago. We had conversed through e-mail for about six months before I
arrived and we discovered that we were both fascinated with the history of Africa and the
African Diaspora.
He wanted me to meet the neighborhood kids that he worked with on Saturdays teaching
African history. So we met in the Praça Onze, a little park that was about a 10-minute
walk from my hotel, and had a little lunch at a restaurant. As we looked at all of the
people walking by, Marcus explained to me that these same people that Danielle called
white and I referred to as Hispanic/Latino, were actually black also. In the same way that
Mexicans are considered to be descendents of Native Americans, these people were
descendents of Africans, thus, black also.
He reminded me that not all of these people will tell you that they are black and went
on to prove his point. When he asked the fair-skinned cashier taking our order what race
she considered herself, she became offended as she explained that she never categorized
herself by race. America has been notorious for its racial problems, but the negative
image of blackness in Brazil has been so influential upon the people that many don't
accept the fact that they are of African descent. This is one of the main reasons why
Brazil has lacked any kind of strong, mass black movement for equal rights in the same way
as the Civil Rights Movement in America and the wars of independence in many African
countries of the 1960s.
Blacks Despite All
The idea of "enbranquecimento" (whitening) and "racial democracy"
has stripped the Brazilian population of color of any kind of unity to protest against the
invisible force of racial discrimination that is so obvious in this country. When many of
these Brazilians of color visit America, they experience culture shock when they discover
that in America, they are not considered white. It is a shame when people are in denial of
self. I
Marcus and I caught two buses across town during the next hour and I saw parts of the
city that I would not have seen any other way. One thing I noticed about people in
Salvador is that most of them are poor, but also very happy. Entering one of the many
favelas (shantytowns) in the city, I asked Marcus if he thought it was dangerous for me to
be there. He told me that as long as I didn't speak, my skin categorized me as a local,
thus I wouldn't have any problems.
People of European descent were more at risk because they are obvious outsiders and
associated with wealth. We finally arrived and entered into a house whose backyard
featured a beautiful view of a lake surrounded by palm trees and tropical scenery. It is
amazing how Salvador has so much natural God-made beauty surrounding so much man-made
poverty. In this house I met senior citizens that reminded me of my relatives in Georgia.
They spoke Portuguese, but I felt an instant bond of family. The house was very old but
possessed a warmth that made me feel right at home. After introducing me to several
people, Marcus led me into the backyard where the rambunctious sounds of several drums
being pounded was also deafening. There were about 20 neighborhood kids organized in an
Ilê Aiyê-styled percussion ensemble. When I say "kids" I mean young adults
aged 16-23. The guy leading this ensemble looked exactly like NBA star Penny Hardaway, but
with dreadlocks. They all greeted Marcus and took notice of the tall stranger that
followed his every move.
Needless to say, my video camera was working overtime that day. After a few greetings,
they became aware that I was an American. After a 10-minute lunch break, Marcus organized
the people for a short prayer session. I was filming everything but two of the girls
insisted that I join hands in the group. It felt good to be accepted so quickly. After the
short prayer, the group all sat on the floor in a circle and Marcus began to talk to the
group. My Portuguese was not good enough to understand what he was saying, but I managed
to hear "Americano" and notice all of the eyes turn in my direction.
Many of the young people were asking Marcus questions when he turned to me and said,
"Marques, will you do me a favor?" He explained that usually he teaches African
history during this session, but their questions about their African-American
"brother" were so numerous that he wanted to know if I would participate in a
short interview session. I was obliged to accept. I gave my video camera to one of the
girls who filmed the entire session for me.
As I sat in the middle of the circle, the people began asking all sorts of questions.
They asked Marcus the questions in Portuguese, Marcus interpreted in English for me, I
answered in English, he translated back into Portuguese. They asked questions about the
difference between racism in America and Brazil, what I thought about American Rap
artists, American views of inter-racial marriages…
Later on that night I met Marcus's girlfriend and also met Kirsten and her husband for
the second time. You all may know Kirsten as a frequent contributing writer for this
magazine. Kirsten is a wonderful person who is also fluent in Portuguese. We all met at
their friend Dani's apartment. We listened to some great Brazilian music and ate a pizza
made with cream cheese and scrambled eggs. Sounds strange, but it tasted great. I forgot
to mention that after two weeks I was totally hooked on Baiano food. I was eating acarajé
with vatapá and feijão everyday. If restaurants are closed you can always get delicious
Baiano delicacies just walking the streets.
A few hours later, Marcus, his girlfriend, another friend and I all went to the Ilê
Aiyê concert. The scene at this show was similar to what I had seen in "the
'hood" in many black communities in America. Hundreds of young folks having a good
time, dancing, eating and drinking. During my vacation and especially at this show, I saw
a "copy" of nearly every black girl I had ever dated in America. I saw
"copies" of myself and all of my friends back home. It seemed as if Salvador was
saying to me "welcome home, Marques".
I wanted to film this event but wasn't sure how a musical group with CDs on the market
would react to me filming their concert. The guy who led the drumming ensemble earlier
that day was a member of the Ilê Aiyê. He talked to his musical director who told him it
was OK. Soon, "Penny" was leading me through the crowd offering great video
footage of the crowd and the singer on stage.
I couldn't believe it, at one point I was onstage with the singer. I met the founder of
the group and most of the members in a backstage area. At the gate, people were also
passing out flyers endorsing candidates in the upcoming city elections. I had seen photos
of city council nominee Olivia Santana all over town and here she was in the flesh. This
was a day I will never forget.
I made several new friends while I was in Salvador, including Paulo and Adilson (why
does everyone in Salvador seem to have the name da Silva, Santos or Rodrigues?). I
actually saw Adilson on my first day in Salvador. He worked at the tourist agency where I
exchanged my American dollar for the Brazilian real. At this time in September, my dollar
was worth 1.94 real.
Adilson knew I was American because, as he said, my clothes had hip-hop written all
over them, and he loved hip-hop. He especially liked slain American rapper Tupac, or
"Tupacy" as he called him. Adilson was 25 and Paulo was 31. Adilson was also an
important part of my trip because he represented the aspirations, confusion, hope and
despair of the Afro-Brazilian male. He worshipped America and dreamed of coming to America
some day and enjoying life in ways he didn't think were possible in Brazil. When he
thought of America, he thought of mansions, big cars, luxurious clothes and beautiful
women. American culture dominated Brazil and it made me sick. But through television and
movies, that is all he knew about America.
I would explain to Adilson everyday that life in America is nowhere as simple as the
media would have him believe. Yes, there are many successful Americans, but there is also
tremendous poverty in America, even though some levels of poverty in America would be
considered decent by Brazilian standards. No matter how much I tried to explain, he
couldn't seem to grasp the idea of poor people in America. All he wanted to do was come to
America with me. Then I explained to him the reality of trying to come to America.
Adilson did not graduate 2nd Grau (High School) and earned two minimum
salaries per month at his job ($150). It would be near impossible at this point for him to
come to America. An airplane ticket alone would cost about $1,000, he would still need to
get a passport, visa, have double the spending money (to equal American dollar rates) and
that still doesn't include lodging for a week or two. The job market in America is highly
competitive for those with a college degree. Imagine someone trying to survive in America
from another country when they don't speak English and have little education.
Many people wish to just come to America and work for a few months at a place like
McDonald's (which is very popular in Brazil), earn a couple thousand dollars and come back
home. The government of Brazil refuses to do anything about the desperation and poverty
that is a daily part of life for many Brazilians. Adilson is the product of this society.
It is difficult to try to coerce someone into finishing school when there are people with
college degrees that earn only 4 minimum wages per month. Everyday I saw middle school
aged kids walking around in the Pelourinho either begging for money or trying to sell
something for money. Word on the street is that many of these kids use the money they get
to buy crack.
I remember many of the deep conversations Danielle and I had about the differences
between our people. She asked me if people would look down on her if she came to America
wearing the plain clothes she wore that were considered normal in Salvador. I hated to
admit it, but many people in America are very materialistic and this could cause damage to
the psyche of someone who was not accustomed to this mentality. There were times when we
went places and did things that Danielle felt the need to explain to me that she was poor.
In the best Portuguese I could muster, I sincerely explained to her that the experience
she was giving me was worth more than any material possession. We are all just people
trying to survive in a world full of inequality that we have no control over. The value of
her heart and soul were priceless and money had no place in our relationship.
Discussing Race
Danielle had taken me almost everywhere. Beaches (look out "sistas" in
America, you have competition), shopping malls, restaurants, etc. It seems that everywhere
I went, people wanted to discuss the issue of race. When I visited Danielle's apartment,
it was a full house. Not only were her two sisters, brother and mother who she shared the
apartment with there, but also three friends. I met her friend who I will call Alexis.
Alexis was tall, pretty, had a light skin complexion and thick, straight, black hair.
When I asked Alexis why she didn't consider herself black, she said it was because she
didn't have the large derriere that was associated with most black women. Danielle's
brother had a fixation with white and light-skinned black women. Why? Dark-skinned women
reminded him too much of his sisters. One of Danielle's sisters, Fátima had company, a
German man twice her age who was staying with the family while he was in Brazil. I have no
problem with people of different races who genuinely fall in love, but at times there are
other reasons why people date outside of their race. Fátima, also a very pretty,
chocolate colored girl, wore a long curly weave because "black guys in Salvador only
like women with hair like that".
Another of Danielle's sisters, Maria, commented that if they had "good hair"
like mine, they wouldn't wear perms or weaves. Five hundred years of oppression and black
people are still saying "bad hair" and "good hair". Where is Malcolm X
when you need him? Again, this whole scene seems very familiar. Fátima said she was
dating her current beau because black guys in Salvador don't seem to notice her. In the
black community at home, many black women continue to point to average black men as well
as celebrities and athletes like Tiger Wood, Quincy Jones, Ving Rhames, Kobe Bryant and
Cuba Gooding, Jr as "sell-out" brothers who would do anything to get a white
woman. With the indoctrination process going strong in Brazil, "sistas" in
America can't complain.
I experienced a little bit of everything in my first journey to Brazil. I saw many
Capoeira demonstrations, visited the famous slave dungeon beneath the Mercado shopping
market, and even saw a Candomblé ritual. The strangest thing I remember was being in the
street one night on my way back to the hotel from the Pelourinho and being propositioned
by one of several prostitutes walking the streets. Well, maybe it wasn't so strange. Like
I said, this seems all too familiar.
This was a short journal of my first of what will surely be many more visits to Brazil.
Many people have a misconception about Brazil because of lack of knowledge. If more people
took the time to research these things, they would realize that the people of the African
Diaspora are the same everywhere. Whether in Jamaica, Cuba, Brazil, America, Martinique,
Haiti, Puerto Rico or the Dominican Republic, we are them and they are us.
Mark Wells is an Anthropology major at the University
of Michigan and has a deep interest in Brazil and the African Diaspora. He
can be reached at:
Quilombhoje72@yahoo.com
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muito triste ver os irmaos c auto discriminando!!