I've gone native and I've never even been there
I was all set for Alô Brasil to be a letdown. At 2045 hrs when I swept into Upper Tarble, it was hovering around 40ºF outside and the dark hall was full of unfamiliar faces. They were supposed to go up at 2030 hrs but at the time all I heard was sound check and recordings. I spent a little while combing the crowds (they skirted walls and seating darkly, like Hayao Miyazaki's soot spirits, as newly birthed crowds are wont to do) for acquaintances, and thought it sad that so few of my geeky friends like to dance. Alô Brasil were supposed to appear at 2030 hrs in Upper Tarble; in the sacred tradition of Brazilian time, it was 2130 by the time they showed up.
I've never seen Swatties so happy. Most of the music was samba or samba-compatible with other genres mixed in. There were lots of drums and tambourines, a keyboard, guitars, bass, and various vocalists, and gorgeous samba dancers. Oh my God. Now anywhere else in the world, you'd look at a woman clad as flamboyantly and scantily as a samba dancer, and watch the sexualized motions of the dance, and you'd think it exploitative. But samba is different. There's a special power in the music that has radiated from Candomblé houses, from the docks, from the orixas themselves. So I look at this woman dancing, at crucial motions in her feet that are so subtle I can barely sense them, at gyrating hips and shoulders, and I feel that these motions are not meant to titillate or seduce me, not now: this dance is power, this dance is strength, and I look in her eyes and I see that this strength is born of joy. The crowd surged with sloppy, unpracticed samba, but it didn't matter because the beat was everywhere, we all had it, we all felt it. Hands were seized and kids from the audience were pulled forward to dance on the stage or among the samba women. There was a higher power in the music. So much joy. Such joy.
I got tired really quickly--so did everyone--but we couldn't stop because the music was too good. Some musicians took a rest, and a Swattie seized the microphone and began to freestyle. Then someone armed a berimbau and began to play the toque de Angola and with the first chorus of "Parana é" the tension and pain drained from my muscles and I crouched at the foot of the stage, singing, waiting, alone. I looked into the halfcircle of people around me--they didn't understand--what was I doing, what were they singing, what was this twanging thing? Story of my life. And then a beautiful woman materialized before me and we pushed back the crowd (as if with pure axé) and we played Capoeira and it was brilliant. We were both nervous but it didn't matter, the moment and the music were greater than we were. And I realized, this is Capoeira: not just this game, not just this woman, but the divinity that is in this music, this night and every night like it, this rapture in the beat and the friendship and the belonging with people I've never met before and may never see again. I ask you--what other martial art can survive in this space, between antagonism and love, and fighting towards love? I truly understood the power of Capoeira tonight. It comes from this culture and this music and these people and the force of all their joy, rippling through your body, making you love and understand and keep fighting even though your arms and legs and soul are tired. So until those beats and those smiles fade from my memory, beware of me, for I fight with the force of sound waves, I strike with the rumble of drums, my knife surges and dives like a silver fish between beats, and if I die I will die with a song in my ears.
The band played on and on and on: Samba, Maculele, Capoeira, Reggae … more beauty than I could contain. I went home so happy, so full of life …
I love you all, and I invite you all to play Capoeira with me. I want you all to feel the power I feel right now. Capoeira is beyond defense and attack: it creates, it loves. Where other martial arts cultivate the mind of Destruction, Reason, Balance, or Peace, Capoeira is the mind of Joy.
I can't wait for Sunday. Capoeira in Upper Tarble, 1300-1600 hrs. I want to see you guys there. I know you don't have to come and I know most all of you won't, but I'm just saying, I'm too happy just right now to contain it in just one person.
I've never seen Swatties so happy. Most of the music was samba or samba-compatible with other genres mixed in. There were lots of drums and tambourines, a keyboard, guitars, bass, and various vocalists, and gorgeous samba dancers. Oh my God. Now anywhere else in the world, you'd look at a woman clad as flamboyantly and scantily as a samba dancer, and watch the sexualized motions of the dance, and you'd think it exploitative. But samba is different. There's a special power in the music that has radiated from Candomblé houses, from the docks, from the orixas themselves. So I look at this woman dancing, at crucial motions in her feet that are so subtle I can barely sense them, at gyrating hips and shoulders, and I feel that these motions are not meant to titillate or seduce me, not now: this dance is power, this dance is strength, and I look in her eyes and I see that this strength is born of joy. The crowd surged with sloppy, unpracticed samba, but it didn't matter because the beat was everywhere, we all had it, we all felt it. Hands were seized and kids from the audience were pulled forward to dance on the stage or among the samba women. There was a higher power in the music. So much joy. Such joy.
I got tired really quickly--so did everyone--but we couldn't stop because the music was too good. Some musicians took a rest, and a Swattie seized the microphone and began to freestyle. Then someone armed a berimbau and began to play the toque de Angola and with the first chorus of "Parana é" the tension and pain drained from my muscles and I crouched at the foot of the stage, singing, waiting, alone. I looked into the halfcircle of people around me--they didn't understand--what was I doing, what were they singing, what was this twanging thing? Story of my life. And then a beautiful woman materialized before me and we pushed back the crowd (as if with pure axé) and we played Capoeira and it was brilliant. We were both nervous but it didn't matter, the moment and the music were greater than we were. And I realized, this is Capoeira: not just this game, not just this woman, but the divinity that is in this music, this night and every night like it, this rapture in the beat and the friendship and the belonging with people I've never met before and may never see again. I ask you--what other martial art can survive in this space, between antagonism and love, and fighting towards love? I truly understood the power of Capoeira tonight. It comes from this culture and this music and these people and the force of all their joy, rippling through your body, making you love and understand and keep fighting even though your arms and legs and soul are tired. So until those beats and those smiles fade from my memory, beware of me, for I fight with the force of sound waves, I strike with the rumble of drums, my knife surges and dives like a silver fish between beats, and if I die I will die with a song in my ears.
The band played on and on and on: Samba, Maculele, Capoeira, Reggae … more beauty than I could contain. I went home so happy, so full of life …
I love you all, and I invite you all to play Capoeira with me. I want you all to feel the power I feel right now. Capoeira is beyond defense and attack: it creates, it loves. Where other martial arts cultivate the mind of Destruction, Reason, Balance, or Peace, Capoeira is the mind of Joy.
I can't wait for Sunday. Capoeira in Upper Tarble, 1300-1600 hrs. I want to see you guys there. I know you don't have to come and I know most all of you won't, but I'm just saying, I'm too happy just right now to contain it in just one person.