|
 Tieta,
Teresa Batista, Gabriela, Quincas Berro Dágua, Vadinho
and Dona Flor. For many of us they are all like family.
We heard through their ears, we suffered and enjoyed life
with them, we learned to watch the world with other eyes.
The man who created all of these people has gone,
but his creations, though, live with us for good.
By Brazzil Magazine
The following interview
was conducted with Mr. Nelson Mendes, Cultural Coordinator of the internationally known Bloco Afro
Olodum of Salvador, Bahia, Brazil. Mr. Mendes has worked with Olodum for over a decade and develops projects and
organizes communication between Olodum and other
Afro-Brazilian institutions in Bahia, as well as other national and international
organizations. This conversation took place on
March 15, 2000 in Mr. Mendes’ office at the “Casa do Olodum” located in the Pelourinho neighborhood of Salvador.
The interview was
completed entirely in Portuguese and tape recorded.
At the time I was in Salvador completing an Independent Studies course on Bahian
Carnaval and the blocos afros of Bahia. In the translation process, I took some liberty
in creating a “flow” to the conversation, as opposed to a direct translation,
which, in my opinion, sometimes creates text difficult to follow. I was more interested in the “feeling”
of what was being discussed rather than a word for word translation. This project was funded in part by a Research,
Projects and Travel (RPT) grant from the University of New Mexico.
Definitions of some Portuguese terms used during this
interview:
Maciel-Pelourinho/Pelourinho—Neighborhood in
central Salvador where Olodum originated. Previously
run down and ignored by the city government, today it is the center of tourism in the city
Centro Histórico—Another
term for the Pelourinho
Largo do Pelourinho—“Pelourinho
Square” located on a steep hill in the center of the Pelourinho where Olodum used to play free weekly
concerts and still performs on occasion
Casa Do Olodum—Olodum’s headquarters,
located in the Pelourinho
Bloco Afro Olodum—Formal name of Olodum. A bloco
afro is simply an Afro-Brazilian based Carnaval and/or community group
Ilê Aiyê—Another famous bloco afro of Bahia
Male Debale—Another famous bloco afro of Bahia
Filhos de Ghandy—A
famous afoxé group of Bahia
Povo—“Common people,” understood to mean
the less privileged classes
Mestre—Musical leader, director or teacher of a
Brazilian band, or musical style
Camarote—Grandstand of sorts used during
Carnaval for people to sit above the festival in the streets below. Sometimes quite expensive
Trio Elétrico/Bloco Trio—Common Carnaval
group in Bahia, distinguished by a more pop orientated sound, sometimes sponsored by big
businesses in Bahia
Brazzil—Speak
about the history of the bloco. How was it
formed? What was the vision at the beginning?
NM—The Bloco
Afro Olodum
is a group that originated with the inhabitants of the Maciel-Pelourinho,
where we are right now, which was the most marginalized area [in Bahia.] There were just poor people, these houses were
abandoned, but many families lived in them. At
the end of the 1970s, the Bloco Afro Olodum
appeared as a cultural expression of the inhabitants of the Maciel-Pelourinho,
to take to the streets and express their Afro-Brazilian identity. In the beginning the group united people
principally from the Centro Histórico
neighborhood. Later it grew and people from
other neighborhoods came to participate. At
this time, Olodum was one of the first
[Carnaval] groups to bring together over three thousand people. It was founded on April 25, 1979. Their first Carnaval was 1980.
Since then, during the
1980s, we grew into a Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) to include discussions about the
fight against racism… we became an NGO with the objective of centralizing and to give
a perspective of consciousness for black culture in Bahia, for people who lived
principally in the Centro Histórico, but also
for the entire city of Salvador. We organized
lectures about Africa, about blackness, what racism does, how racism manifests itself. We did seminars, film exhibitions, and created a
newspaper, all at the beginning of the 1980s.
Later our work grew and
we formed a band—the percussion that accompanied the Carnaval group already
existed—later, we formed a band for shows and private parties as a way to earn money
to sustain the organization. This band was very
successful in Bahia and Brazil. They were
able to do shows all over Brazil. Then Paul
Simon arrived in Bahia to shoot a video for a song from an album of his, called “The
Obvious Child.” So this video was done
here in Salvador in the Pelourinho and
afterwards Paul Simon invited Olodum to play in
New York’s Central Park during one of his shows. This was when Olodum first appeared in the international scene. (Note: When asked about the date, Mr. Mendes
wasn’t sure as he was out of the country at the time. He thought it was in the early or mid-1980s. “The Obvious Child” by Paul Simon was
released in 1990, so this show in Central Park was probably 1990 or 1991.)
From that moment on we
received several invitations to have Olodum play
outside Brazil. Today, Olodum is a band that has done shows in Europe and
the USA for over ten years. The United States
is more difficult—we’ve done several shows there, 1998, 1999, this year we
should be there also, we’re more organized now.
But in Europe, continually for the last ten years, Olodum goes to Europe in June and July—the European summer—to play there. The reception is very good, the European public,
for Olodum.
Besides Olodum, we also created an education project
called “Olodum’s Creative School” (Escola
Creativa Olodum) which in the beginning was set up to take care of the children of the
band’s percussionists—those [kids] who also wanted to learn how to play
percussion. But… we thought this was
insufficient, too little, just percussion classes. [So
we also created] a project so that these kids could also get immersed in the art of
percussion, dance, theater, and also citizenship classes about what it means to be a
descendent of Africa. This project now has been
going for eight years.
Several percussionists
who today play in Olodum as professionals
graduated [from this school.] We’ve also
just started a computer course. Our concern now
is that these kids, these adolescents from seven to nineteen years also learn, besides
percussion and dance, learn how to use computers. It’s
important for them to have a profession so that if they leave Olodum, if they don’t want to play anymore,
that they have a way to enter the work market. So
today we’re seeing a lot of this. We’ve
set up [computer] courses, in a short period of time, to train these kids. Also, we’re setting up a course for the
adult percussionists. It’s also necessary. Today, much world communication is done via
computers. So this is our concern.
We also annually
organize an “Olodum Music & Arts Festival” (Festival de Música e Artes Olodum—FEMADUM) during which we select the
songs for Olodum’s Carnaval appearance and
to record on the albums. Some of the songs
come out of these festivals. They’re
public festivals, free, that occur once a year in January here in the Pelourinho. To
participate in this festival songwriters register and participate in a pre-selection
process. Until the final arrives when we give
out the prizes, select the mestres, money, etc. This is the “Olodum Music & Arts
Festival.”
Brazzil—So in
these festivals the songs that are recorded and played in Carnaval are written?
NM—Yes.
The process is like this: the songwriter signs up here at the “House of
Olodum” (Casa do Olodum), brings copies
of his lyrics. We have two categories of
compositions. “Samba-Poetry” (Samba-Poesia), which is an open theme—he can
talk about Bahia, about being black, about racism, about Olodum. This
is called “Samba-Poetry.” Then
there’s the “Samba-Theme” (Samba-Tema),
which is a samba about the theme that Olodum is
going to use during Carnaval. For example, this
year we marched with the theme, “From Egypt to Bahia: The Road to Eternity” (Do Egito à Bahia: O Caminho da Eternidade).
So the songwriters need
to write about this theme. How do they write? We prepare a written example, a research project,
and we deliver it to them. They read about
this research project and then compose songs around this theme. This is the “Samba-Theme.” Each songwriter can write one composition in each
category. Also, they generally like to write a
“Samba-Poetry,” which is the open theme. This
year, 2000, we had one hundred and fifteen compositions written for the
“Samba-Poetry” and forty-seven written for “Samba-Theme.”
So these compositions
go through a process of public evaluation in the Largo
do Pelourinho, with a commission of judges made up of people from the community,
musicians, the percussionists. We select
fifteen compositions… for the day of the festival where they are presented publicly
on stage in this big festival, which is the “Olodum Music & Arts Festival.” So you have this concert of Bahian bands—afro groups, samba groups, pagode, reggae. Then we have this contest, it’s a great
night. [We] select three songs, three
“Samba-Theme” and three “Samba-Poetry.” These are the big winners of the festival.
Brazzil—Why was the name “Olodum” chosen, or what
does the name “Olodum” mean?
NM—“Olodum” is a simplification of
the name “Olodumaré”, which signifies “God of the Gods.” It’s a Yoruban word that means “the
creator.” So we use the simplification of
“Olodumaré,” just “Olodum.”
Brazzil—For
Olodum, what does Carnaval represent?
NM—Carnaval represents a space for the
expression of Afro-Brazilians. We’ve
lived in a Brazilian/Bahian society in which the presence of black people is the majority,
in terms of population, however our expression in the spheres of power, in the media is
still small. We still don’t have a
dignified expression of our black Bahian population.
So this given, we understand that there still exists racial discrimination in Bahia. Carnaval signifies the occupation of that space. It’s when we sing, when we wear African
clothing… we already wore more African-type clothing. Today due to the reflection, or the adaptation to
Bahian Carnaval [we don’t use as much African clothing]… We haven’t lost our Afro-Brazilian identity,
but we don’t dress anymore—at least in Olodum—in
traditional African clothing, we already did that. But
it’s the space where we sing our songs talking about racism, speaking about black
pride, about black consciousness, about black beauty and we wear clothes with African
themes.
This year we marched
with a theme that was divided into three phases. The
past, which is the Egyptian past. Because Olodum is one of the groups responsible for
discovering that Egypt is in Africa! And we passed this information along to all of
Bahian society. Many people here in Bahia did
not know that Egypt was in Africa! Nor that
many black people built the pyramids in Egypt. So
through Carnaval we can express this idea. So
many people obtain historical information through the themes of Olodum. On
the Friday [of Carnaval] we marched with the theme of Egypt. On Sunday and Monday we reflected Brazil, which
signifies the present, with the theme, “Five Hundred Years of an African
Invention.”
Brazil is celebrating
five hundred years of discovery. But we want to
valorize, we want to speak about the contributions of blacks in the construction of
Brazil. So for us, Brazil is also an African
invention. Then on the last day we marched with
a costume referring to the future, of what is to come, the next millennium. Nobody knows how to predict it. There exist some predictions but nobody is the
owner of the future. We predicted that there
would be a bug in the computers and it didn’t happen, right? So the truth is that human beings don’t have
control of their destiny because we don’t know what is going to happen. The main proof of this was when everyone said
that at the end of the year, “the computers are going to crash, they’re going to
crash!” Banks, etc… and nothing
happened. So we are without knowledge of
what’s going to happen to us. Within that
theme, we wanted to say this about projecting ourselves into the next millennium.
So Carnaval for us is a
moment of the plastic expression of African-ness.
A moment of political expression as well because Carnaval has a political element in
the fact that there are groups of non-black people with more economic power, that have
more privilege in the space of Carnaval. And
there are black groups that have less economic power and also have less space in Carnaval.
Brazzil—I spoke
with Vovô [the president] of Ilê Aiyê this morning and he was saying how difficult it
still is for the blocos afross to gain their own
space, although they are the heart of Carnaval. They don’t march until two or three
in the morning, or not at all because there’s so many trios elétricos and the city gives more preference
to the trios. I myself was there waiting and
waiting to see the blocos afross and…
another trio… another trio. I was like, “What is this?! Where are
the blocos afross?!”
NM—Yeah. The dominant population in Bahia is black. But we have problems of sponsors to produce the blocos afros.
Many of the blocos trio start to organize one year before Carnaval. It’s because they have the help of big
business, money to help organize Carnaval. And
sometimes the blocos afros—not Olodum, Ilê Aiyê, Male Debale, who are more
organized and have more economic leverage—all the same, we still don’t even
receive that much assistance, but we’re able to organize and create ways to have
resources to organize Carnaval. But the
majority [of blocos afros] organize fifteen days before Carnaval. It’s very difficult. It’s very difficult. The problem is that big businesses don’t
want to associate their images, their brands with a small, poor bloco. But
these groups have a plastic expression that is very beautiful. Olodum,
Ilê Aiyê, Male Debale, Filhos de Ghandy, we’re more established and more
daring, so we have more capacity for articulation and we’re able to create something
to present ourselves in Carnaval. All the same,
it’s still too little.
Brazzil—What do
you feel Carnaval means to the common people (povo)
of Bahia?
NM—Carnaval to the common people (povo) of Bahia signifies a party… the common
people of Bahia are very happy people, very extroverted, communicative, and Carnaval is
the expression of the communication of the Bahian. The
Bahian, by himself, lives very poorly in social terms. He lives with poor transportation, housing,
education. It’s difficult to explain how
a population that has such a precarious social situation is able to express happiness; is
able to be happy, in their day to day [lives] as well as Carnaval.
The whole world
recognizes that we’re considered the biggest popular festival in the world. I don’t think there exists any other
festival in the world similar to that of Bahia’s! This is because… so many people in the
streets, more than a million people in the streets.
And this party is so large because of the popular participation. The common people of Bahia who go into the
streets and celebrate Carnaval, celebrate with costumes, music, dances… it was
because of this that it became an internationally recognized festival. Well known throughout the whole world.
Nonetheless, the mayor and the businesses are restricting this space. It used to be just a huge popular festival. Today, you should have noticed a very strong
presence of private businesses that are privatizing Carnaval. Taking up spaces with the big stands (camarotes) for the middle class, the people who
have money, to watch Carnaval. These spaces
used to be more popular, but this isn’t happening anymore. Those who created the party, or who gave it the
greatness—the common people (povo) of
Bahia—are losing space. This is a
problem because the public powers—those
who organize Carnaval in Bahia are the mayor’s office and the state government; they
invest the money and create the infrastructure.
There have been
improvements in the organization of Carnaval, in terms of stages—they have various
stages set up for shows, public bathrooms, which they didn’t have before. So there has been some improvement in the
organization of Carnaval. It’s just that
as a consequence we’re seeing less space for the common people, the principal actor
of this party! You have Carnaval in Rio de
Janeiro, which is a Carnaval for tourists—fancy, money, only for those who can pay. Here in Bahia, and also in Pernambuco, are the
only places that have a more public Carnaval, more participatory. People take the streets with costumes, without
costumes, joke around, have fun twenty-four hours, all night long until morning. So the government is in some ways limiting this
space. It’s necessary to take another
look at this so that the party returns to one that has more public participation.
Brazzil—In your
lifetime have you seen a change in how the blocos
afros are viewed, or how the black population in Bahia is viewed here in Bahia?
Compared to how the situation was before, before the blocos
afros emerged?
NM—The change is still very small. Bahian society still views black people as poorly
educated, like bums who don’t have good manners or good education. Nonetheless, beginning in the 1970s the organized
black movement in Bahia did consciousness raising work, as a result of which a good part
of the black population today has more black consciousness. And this made society, governmental
organizations, the universities, come to see blacks in a slightly different manner. There is still prejudice. But the situation is getting better because today
we can publicly express ourselves to society, to the government, to institutions… in
a way for which we’re not punished.
For example, in Bahia
we commemorate May 13th as the day of the liberation of the slaves. But we were able to change the dialogue and go
into the streets to suggest that May 13th is not our day. We had big marches and we weren’t
repressed [by the police.] This, to mark our
presence regarding the history of Bahia because until then, before the blocos afros you had a history of repression. You didn’t use to talk about Zumbi of
Palmares, who was an important black leader who wanted to found a republic in Brazil. You used to praise the document of Princess
Isabel—who was a princess of imperial
Brazil—who, due to people in the English government, signed the law giving freedom to
blacks. It’s just that the freedom she
gave was not unrestricted or extensive. The
social situation of blacks in Bahia is still bad.
You can’t give
“freedom” without education, without housing, without a proper diet, what kind
of “freedom” is that? So the people
in schools, in clubs, used to speak highly about Princess Isabel. After the black movement, after the emergence of
the blocos afros, we came to criticize the
official history and say, “May 13th is not our day.” And we also came to praise, to honor Zumbi of
Palmares, and to honor the 20th of November, the National Day of Black
Consciousness.
So throughout Brazil,
the non-governmental organizations (NGOs) of the black movement, of Afro-Brazilians like Olodum and Ilê
Aiyê set up activities to honor and pay tribute
to Zumbi of Palmares. This contributed to
these organizations [of the government] coming to see blacks a little differently, to
respect us a little more. The proposals, the
political activities, the legislative assemblies… so, for a short time we became
protagonists in this history. Actors, not
showing up only to have someone speak in the name of the black community. The difference is that now we have a discourse,
we have representation and we can speak in Parliament about our history. We no longer need some studious type, be he black
or not, going to speak about our history. This
changed a little, improved the vision that people have about blacks in Bahia.
Nonetheless, the social
situation is still really bad. Because
we’re lacking the political will that would give us equality and a true “racial
democracy” in Bahia. Because we are the
majority and we don’t have representation.
Brazzil—It’s
interesting, the difference in how people speak about racism, equality… for example,
many white Brazilians who travel to the USA say, “ah no, we don’t have racism in
Brazil.” Because in the USA it’s really bad. All the races are pretty
separated… it’s really bad. So these people are saying, “No, in Brazil we
don’t have this,” when the truth is very different. It’s because of this
that I think your work is so important.
NM—Well, these people don’t live here
[in Bahia.]
Brazzil—How has
your music and your vision changed or evolved since the beginning?
NM—The music of Olodum emerged as popular music from the streets of
Bahia. It’s simple music, extremely
percussive, with its base in percussion. Also
in the 1970s and 1980s, mainly in the 1980s we were… it was the height of the black
movement. [A lot of] political protests
because we lived in the military dictatorship, at the end of the military dictatorship. And so this contributed to the songs, the
content of the songs had a lot to do with protest. Speaking
out against the situation of poverty, of misery, of racism, the lack of help against
corruption, all of that. So the composers of Olodum created songs with a lot of political
significance.
It’s just that
when democracy arrived—our democracy is on paper, we have a long ways to go to have
an actual democracy—these songs lost a little of the context. These same people, here in the Largo do Pelourinho during Olodum’s rehearsals, came to not worry so much
anymore about protest music. Not that the
vision of Olodum changed, just the social
situation. However, because of the political
and cultural situation the same composers, without guidance from Olodum—not
like, “write like this…” It
wasn’t like that. It was understood that
they were writing songs more to the liking of the public, with less political content. But the music didn’t stop talking about
racism, about discrimination. Just in a less
intense way. But it continues being
[political.]
There were some
concessions because of the recording of albums… generally the record companies
aren’t interested in having music with social messages. Because the vision of a record company is
commercial, to sell records. To sell records,
you sell songs with a sort of easy acceptance. So
there were some concessions on part of the group to record, because it’s necessary to
record albums to gain the resources for the organization; to register the work of Olodum, to professionalize the musicians. So the
music of Olodum did suffer a lightening, a
slight change in the sense of content. Nonetheless,
the percussive base remained all the way to the last album, Liberdade.
The press’ assessment of this album [25
Anos] is that it has less percussion. We
have a new record company who also, for economic reasons, suggested that we use less
percussion, to use more technological resources instead of percussion. This is something that we’re thinking about
for the next album because it wasn’t to our liking. Because the style of Olodum is the percussion. And because of the record company and the
economic questions we had to reduce the percussion a little, it has more electronic
sounds.
Brazzil—What do
you feel or what does it mean to see Olodum pass by during Carnaval?
NM—I can’t speak as a spectator because
I’m inside the group, but what I hear people say, those who are outside the group say
that a good, positive energy passes by. Strong
percussion, people singing together, giving the idea of unity, of strength, of pride to be
Afro-Brazilian. This is important for the
consciousness of people. That we bring the idea
of unity—in Olodum not just black people
march, it’s blacks and non-blacks. We’re
not worried about that. If we struggle against
racism, we can’t practice racism. Even so,
we have a predominance of Afro-Brazilians in the group that gives a certain unity in the
dancing, the singing. The people who hear this
percussion in Carnaval are very excited, very enthusiastic. The proof of this is every Friday when Olodum
marches out of the Pelourinho, the first day of
Carnaval, Friday we march out with the percussionists and see so many people from Brazil,
from outside of Brazil, Bahians… to watch the entrance of Olodum, which they say is very powerful, very
emotional.
Brazzil—The
first time I saw Olodum, it was just the rehearsal…but all the drums… it was
very impressive. I bought that T-shirt that says, “Olodum é bala” (Olodum is a
bullet) because… it’s right on and it’s the truth. Because the power of the
percussion is impressive. The other blocos afros as
well, Male Debale… they really blew me away during Carnaval.
NM—Yeah, it’s the African beat. We have the pleasure of maintaining this African
root. Not to remain in poverty or return to
Africa, but to affirm our African heritage in today’s society.
Brazzil—Of all
the things that the group has done what gives you the most pride?
NM—Without a doubt, it’s
“Olodum’s Creative School.” To
teach adolescents African pride, to teach percussion. Because this is the continuation of our work. We’ve already done a lot with this work,
we’re not tired and we won’t stop. But
we need this continuity so that the next generation also does this work. So the most pride, the most pleasure is to see
the adolescents, the new generation, kids from ten to fifteen years old playing, singing
the music of Olodum, learning how to work with
computers, learning about the history of Afro-Brazilians.
Brazzil—If you
could say one thing, about the music, the culture, the work of Olodum, to the people of
the United States, what would it be? A message to the people of the US?
NM—We have a really good relationship with
African-Americans, and American people in general. Last
year we did a tour for twenty, no thirty days in the United States, in fourteen American
cities. Colorado to New York, to Boston,
Washington… and the reception was very good.
So what I would say is this: that African-Americans and Americans in general continue
enjoying Olodum, respecting our work. Because we also really enjoy American culture. We have common ground because we have important
references like Malcolm X, Martin Luther King who taught us that it’s important to
have pride in our race, that it’s important to maintain our traditions, our roots,
without losing our identity. So the American
people are also a people that have contributed to our struggle. We’re always very well received and we
really enjoy having these exchanges, the sharing of experiences between black American
culture, particularly, and Bahian culture, in particular, black culture.
Brazzil—One
thing I always see, as a musician… wherever I go I always seek out the music I like,
music with a lot of percussion. One thing that always unifies the countries [of our
hemisphere], I feel, is the African influence in popular music. From funk, hip-hop, blues,
jazz, reggae, samba, mambo, salsa…
NM—Yeah, there’s always that African
link. Independent of whatever person,
there’s always that feeling, that link between these rhythms.
Brazzil—I think,
as a musician… if you’re a musician in the Americas, of whatever color, you have
to believe in this African power.
NM—Yes, this is very important because you
musicians identify a lot with each other. You
bring your experiences and also want to absorb our experiences. There’s always an exchange between
musicians. We perceived this in the United
States at these festivals. Musicians would
come to talk to us about the songs, the percussionists. When you all come here, you take the percussion
workshops. We had the experience of this
American musician who lived in Bahia for more than two years. I don’t remember his name, but he played
percussion with Olodum and marched with us
during Carnaval for several years…
Brazzil—Yeah…we’ll
see if one day I march with you all! …Brazilian music fascinates me and, as a drummer
it’s kind of like… the heartbeat. Well, that’s everything I have, if you
have any other comments or anything to say… I’m very satisfied!
NM—I’m satisfied also. Thanks for the attention and I hope that your
work is very successful. This contributes to
register Afro-Brazilian music in the world. Your
work, like all the others, is important because it’s a reflection of what we’re
doing. This will be around for eternity. We’re going to die but the work is going
to stay!
Jeff Duneman is
currently finishing his Masters thesis on the Mangue music and cultural movement of
Recife, Brazil. He is in the Latin American Studies department at the University of New
Mexico. Jeff is a musician (drums & percussion) and full-time music fanatic.
Originally from the Midwest, temporarily transplanted to New Mexico, he has lived and
traveled extensively in Mexico as well as visiting other parts of Spanish Latin America.
Recently Jeff spent several months in the Brazilian states of Pernambuco, Bahia, and Rio
de Janeiro studying Afro-Brazilian music. You can reach the author at: jduneman@yahoo.com
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I AM VERY MUCH INTERESTED IN KNOWING MORE OF MY AFRO-BRAZILIAN BROTHERS AND SISTERS IN BAHIA.
AND I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW MORE OF YOUR ORGANIZATION.
PLEASE SEND ME INFORMATION
EMAIL: linknet29@yahoo.com