Brasil

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Brazil
Equally as briefly... 1 month in Fortaleza in the North East of the country where i was a first completely overwhelmed by capitalism, communist, the big complicated city, inequality . To distract my broken heart (from Cuba) i got my initiation to Capoeira in the country of Capoeira itself. There i was with the group, GCAP, Fortaleza and Mestre Amandinho.... At first it was hard doing something that i associated directly with La Habana and my network of irreplacable friends there, but the small but lovely group of ppl in GCAP helped. I found a little volunteer work with an NGO linked to Action Aid, ESPLAR, and with them i went out into the sertão (the semi-arid interior of the country). There was a complete contrast to the LA like Fortaleza, much more poverty. We gave environmental ed workhops to kids in isolated rural schools. It was great fun and a total eyeopener. I got to see a part of the country unknown by most tourists. Infact my whole experience was very untouristy in Fortaleza, i didnt know any other foreingers and only went to the beach twice!
Leaving Fortaleza and yet more new friends behind, i went breifly through Olinda and Recife to break up the longass bus journey, before arriving in Salvador, Bahia. The mecca of Capoeira, land of spicey dende oiled food, Candomble (a religion almost identical to Santeria in Cuba), beaches, pretty colonial buildings and people trying to rip off gulible tourists. The similarities to Cuba made me feel instantly at home. I did a token two week portuguese course in Idioma, Barra where i met up with Adam from uni and i stayed with a local girl and an American in an apartment in Barra from where i could roll down the hill onto the sea. I spent most of my time in FICA (International federation of Capoeira Angola) with Mestre Valmir, a giant smiley, relaxed expert who dedicates his life to gingando and jogando. I had another equally fantasic female Mestre, Janja, with whom i did classes 2x per week at 7am i an all women group. In Salvador i was almost always the shittest Capoerista in the group, these ppl are 100% obsessed and most have been playing for years and years, but every1 had patience with my slow understanding, singing phobia and berimbau retardedness! In the 3-4 weeks i spent there i learnt so much and again didnt want to leave... but it was another slightly fake temporary lifestyle... so last thurs i left in search of fulfilling my curiousity about Rio de Janeiro, a city with multiple famous and infamous images.

So thats where i am now. Im in the Ypiranga Cultural Centre, Morro de Timbau, Complexo de Maré. A lil girl here told me that the ppl here dont consider this part to be favela, perhaps it is, perhaps not but it def wavers on the fine line and i think the Brazilians with whom ive spent time up till now would def consider it so. I guess i partly came here to see for my slef if that City of God image is myth or reality. I also came here to help in a very small way some kids who are part of that reality. Whereas C of G does exaggerate, unforchunately many of the elements are all too real.. Baile Funks with AK47s being waved in the air, lack of police prescence,drug trafficing, pregnant 12year olds, glue sniffing, overcroweded housing, water or elec shortages... all part of everyday life. The centre tries to provide an alternative future for the kids of this sometimes dark, gritty existence- its certainly got its work cut out. The building is in an old cement factory, very much still in the development stage, its like a building site (like most of the favela) with its instantly recognisable unfinished brickwork, precarious overabundance of wires and dust. Im staying in the back where Mestre Manuel normally stays, in my own dust and mosquito ridden apt complete with unfunctioning bathroom We only get water at night. The local boy vols stay in the front part. I dont know what id do without them here, they bring me water to have a cold bucket shower and accompany me everywhere coz its not really safe enough to wander about on my own. Capo is on the ground floor of teh centre, on the others there is Hip Hop, Jujitsu and music. And the top floor is roofless, with a spectacular sunset view of the twinkling lights of another favela on a hill, the Igreja de Pena and even in the far distance the postcard Sugar Loaf Mountain. The truth is that i dont know how long i will end up staying here, but it certainly wont be all of the 3 weeks i have left b4 heading back to the uk (Ahh!), its tough and the only reason im still here is for the kids... the Mestre is very hard work to put up with, the lack of water is frustrating and most of all the lack of independence is suffocating. Watch this space... i consider myself adaptable, tolerent and resourceful but this is a tough test and i think the biggest culture shock i have ever experienced.

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