Tuesday, July 23, 2013

World wide events and their protests in Brazil

Over the past few months Brazil has been gearing up for several international events as the country becomes more and more relevant in the rhetoric of development as "a growing world power". In a series of country-wide protests last month the entire world saw how such rhetoric backfired during the 2013 Confederations Cup, which failed as a sort of test drive for the much anticipated 2014 World Cup. Hundreds of thousands of mostly young, and I will argue, middle class protestors in nearly ever big city (and smaller cities in solidarity) stood up against the contradictions of development and the failure of the Brazilian government to serve its people with basic necessities.

These protests have been widely covered by major, international news sources so I will not repeat the basics, but rather explain my point of view on the uprisings as a platform to discuss not only the particularities of this Brazilian case, but also to connect the movement to similar manifestations that have been occurring since the Arab Spring in 2010.

Protest in Salvador, Bahia. June 27, 2013. I was surprised by the socio-economic make-up of the protest. In all honesty, I had never seen so many white, middle-class Bahians in one place together on the street. Usually the social make-up in Salvador is very different, and I didn't feel like the movement was particularly representative of the poor, working class of Brazil but rather the young, university students who represent a privileged position in relation to the majority of Bahians. In any case, they were standing up for justice and causes that, if listened to and reacted upon, would benefit everybody. 

Since arriving in Brazil (this time) in July 2012 I have been keeping my eye on FIFA and major corporations that sponsor FIFA in order to see their power and interventions in Brazil as they prepare for this major event in a country that has very little infrastructure to support it (see my post on Acarajé, Coca Cola, and FIFA). Since the early phases of preparation FIFA has expressed deep concern and doubt regarding Brazil's readiness and ability to complete all the necessary tasks and facilitate the influx of investment and tourism in order to successfully carry out the event. This appears all too obvious for me, and for many Brazilians, who love soccer and love the World Cup, but who see that the major cities are dirty, unorganized, dangerous and fully unequipped to host tourists in large numbers. If the city, state and federal governments cannot even facilitate transportation and traffic for its own citizens (the subway in Salvador, for example, has been in construction for 13 years and is still not running due to a series of engineering and organization snafus, while public money is blatantly being eaten up by corrupt politicians), then how will the host cities function during the events? And even if security and transportation are miraculously sufficient during the particular day or week to host visitors in a particular city, does that mean it will stay that way and help facilitate the day-to-day struggles faced by Brazilian workers and students? The protestors say no, with great reason. They say Brazil's focus is not on improving the health, education and infrastructure for Brazilians, but instead to invest in an idealized image of Brazil focused on it's culture of parties, music and open arms to brand to tourists. When the tourists go home and leave their party mess behind, the government will not clean up the mess but instead the people will walk through trash-filled streets, sit in hours of traffic to get to and from work, and pay high taxes for everyday consumer products.

A Coca Cola ad in Salvador, Bahia. During the Confederations Cup Coke launched a campaign entitled "Together, lets color Brazil". They were offering spray paint and stencils with Coke images and messages, encouraging neighborhood residents to "color their streets" as a sort of decoration to receive tourists with an iconic Brazilian vibrance. Photo by author.

Since 2010, much attention has been given to the "social networking" tactics of major protests in various cases throughout the world (including Arab Spring, the Occupy movement, and more recent protests in Turkey). This was certainly an important tactic in Brazil, as hundreds of thousands of people were mobilized largely through internet forums and networking between young adults. Although this strategy may have changed the focus and scope of the protests, I don't think it is particularly surprising as most of us access important messages and information through the internet world-wide. However, with such broad participation and space for free expression, it appears people interpret the "movement" as an abstract moment to propagate their own concerns regarding a variety of issues. In Brazil it started as a "free pass" movement for bus fare, and quickly escalated to include issues such as homophobia, healthcare, education and political corruption. People can access the movement and participate from their homes regardless of their social position or stance, contributing material freely without ever participating in a formal meeting or even going to the streets to protest. I believe this contributes to the size of the protests, but also to the apparent disorientation of the messages. It also allows small sectors, sometimes violent, to intervene and sometimes dominate the public image of the movement without the agreement of the movement as a whole. In this way, I felt parallels to my experience in and later frustration with the Occupy Movement in 2012 (where I participated at UC Berkeley and in Oakland). 

Although protests died down after the Confederations Cup in early July, they have sparked again in response to Pope Francis' visit to Rio de Janeiro. He is the first South American Pope to visit his own continent in honor of "World Youth Day" and has been deemed the "Pope of the People" calling to the poor, which is a popular and historic message directed towards Brazil's massive Catholic population. Once again, as a response to the incredible public spending for the Pope's visit (which has also attracted a world-wide pilgrimage of young Catholics to Brazil, aka more tourists), protestors are going to the streets. The media has unsurprisingly focused on the violence of the protests, while others have taken this event to confront Brazil and the Church's homophobia with public displays of homosexual romance on church steps. As a host to internationally relevant events such as these, and more to come in the near future (including the actual World Cup and the 2016 Olympics in Rio de Janeiro), I doubt such protests will subside unless some real structural changes are made on the part of the Brazilian government and their relations with major corporate investors. Brazilians have made it clear to FIFA and their own politicians that such lavish public spending will not be accepted laying down.

Within these many struggles, there has been a small victory on the part of the Bahiana vendors and their association ABAM, which through a series of petitions and negotiations have won their right to sell acarajé in a privileged area of the Fonte Nova Stadium during the World Cup in Salvador. However, they are still prohibited by the stadium's corporate sponsors from selling acarajé during regular season games. I look forward to following these development projects and international events as a side interest to my particular research project with the Center for Afro-Oriental Studies at the Federal University of Bahia.










Friday, June 14, 2013

June Parties

June is a delightful month in Bahia, there are many saint holidays, popular parties and celebrations (including São João and Brazilian Valentine's Day). The weather is cooler with intermittent rain storms, which is a relief after months and months of heat, sun and humidity. In the candomblé community, June is the month of public parties, as terreiros host open events in celebration of specific gods (orixás), which sometimes align with Christain saint's holidays. In service of my research, I have been attending these "parties", and opening up a new phase in my research experience.

In the past three weeks I've been to 3 parties at different terreiros -- Gantois, Casa Branca and Casa Oxumarê in Salvador. The parties have similar structures, depending on the orixá being honored and the general layout of the house. All parties include possession in the form of a "dance" facilitated by participants with several different roles, some of which appear to be divided by gender (but only through ethnographic interviews will I be able to better understand this potential division). In general, men (ogãs) play the percussion which "call" the gods in yoruba chants to be incorporated by the possessed "dancers" (I use quotations as rough translations of concepts difficult to express). I was interested in the role of the ekedis, who are the women that accompany the possessed and take care of them as they scream, cry, twitch, sweat, or run towards the door. They pat their sweaty foreheads, pick up pieces of clothing as they fall on the ground, give them hugs (carinhos), and generally guide them as they are driven by the spiritual force. This role appears particularly motherly, and necessary to maintain order of the ritual.

The decorations and adornments for the parties are striking. There are so many details, I could observe for years and not see (let alone understand) every intentional color, placement, object, accessory and article of clothing. Photographs are understandably prohibited, so I can only describe from a long-exposed mental picture. The color scheme and general theme are determined by the orixá being honored. The party for oxóssi, for example, focused on hunting, greenery and forestry. There were animal skins on the walls, bows-and-arrows, flowers and plants that created a fresh, green aroma. In one of the houses there was a large altar for oxóssi in the middle of the room, where the possessed would dance around in a circle. There was a painting of him-- a strong, dark warrior man with flowers all around him. The altar was encircled by old, regal wooden chairs where the possessed would take turns resting in a sort of musical chairs.

A general image of the orixá, oxóssi


I want to call the clothing "costumes" without undermining their spiritual and ritual purpose, but they certainly create a spectacle. As far as I could tell (and these assumptions are subject to change), the first round of dancing/possession is not for the honored god, but rather his/her "friends" to sort of warm up the party. The clothing is simple "baiana" dress, including long white dresses, skirts, as well as wraps/scarves, necklaces, head turbans coordinated with their god's color. In general, the possessed are women, with only a few male participants. The second round, however, is quite different. All at once a line of elaborately adorned men and women enter the room in honor of the orixá for that particular party. They use accessories associated with each orixá (for example, bows and arrows, masks, head pieces, staffs) and each is dressed specifically within the particular theme for the god. As this limited description shows, it is quite an affair.

My experience in these spaces have left me with many new research questions and directions, including, what is the value of studying gender in these rituals? My real interest lies in the social life of candomblé practitioners, begging the question, do the gender roles in candomblé have an effect on greater bahian society? The structure of the religion is different with every house, tradition, "nation", so it is dangerous to make any overarching conclusions. However, any way you look at it, these introductions into the world of candomblé have been incredibly interesting and useful in diving further into the field of my research, and exposing me to an entirely different world of spirituality.




Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Candomblé on Facebook

Last week I met with a local pai-de-santo ("Father of the Saint", or male leader of a candomblé terreiro) and discussed various aspects of the religion, his personal history, opinions on Ruth Landes and on gender roles in the religious hierarchy/leadership. It was a very interesting conversation, which I think lasted for about 2 hours and went in various directions to deepen my understanding (or at least my questions) on the subject.

As is very common today in Brazil (and throughout the world), I got in touch with him through facebook (after meeting through a mutual friend). There's an interesting phenomenon in Brazil in that access to internet has expanded incredibly throughout the country, but cell phone services are still very expensive. In general people use pre-paid phone plans and most of the time have little to no credit to make calls. In addition, calls between different operators are about 5x more expensive than between the same operator, so if two people don't use the same one, it's almost impractical to make a phone call. This, amongst various entertaining and time-sucking factors, encourage people to stay online and chat on Facebook to make plans, chit chat, keep in touch, etc.

Throughout our conversation, the pai-de-santo (I am keeping him anonymous for the purposes of this blog entry) kept mentioning other "houses" of candomblé, main religious figures and other references I was unaware of. Most of the names and symbols are in the West African language, Yoruba, which made it even more difficult for me to take notes and keep up (I am actually starting a Yoruba class later today so I can understand more of these conversations and the symbolism used in the religious chants and nominations). In order to explain and demonstrate the references, he turned to Facebook, which was already open on his computer during the entire conversation.

I was (perhaps wrongfully) surprised to see that beyond his personal Facebook "friends" he browsed through various pages of big, well-known terreiros in Salvador that have come up numerous times in my research. They had pictures of the house itself (a sacred space), mães and pais-de-santos, historical photos of the terreiro, and various political campaigns against religious intolerance and especially in response to a recent move by a city councilman in Salvador to prohibit the sacrifice of animals in the candomblé religion in the name of animal rights (a big scandal and honestly, a ridiculous request for anybody know understands the practice of this religion that has been threatened and persisted for centuries in Brazil).

https://www.facebook.com/casadeoxumare

When I saw this, and other houses/associations of candomblé on Facebook, I at first sort of laughed at myself, thinking "wow, even candomblé is on facebook". Then I thought to myself how incredibly useful this would be in my research, as a wealth of information and even contact to the houses I hope to further collaborate with. Sure, it's selected information and images for public display, but the fact they are accessible to this extent is exciting and encouraging in its own way.

The more I thought about my initial surprise and critique of their presence on Facebook, the more I began to deconstruct my own ideas and expectations about the religion, which on the surface level are very much grounded in a primitivist mindset, or a desire to freeze candomblé in a time of Slavery and 19th Century Africa. As somebody with friends who practice candomblé, who has lived in Salvador for almost two years now and has seen the reality of technology, modernity, capitalist development and lifestyle, why would this be surprising? Do I expect people of a certain religion to live in a certain historical time, peripheral to global developments and innovations? Where do these expectations come from and why, after so many studies and conversations on this subject, do I still have a shameful gut reaction?

My attempts to root out deeply engrained notions of a primitive or exotic "other" is a constant project for me as a developing anthropologist, as popular notions reinforced by the media or pure ignorance on a subject (and how could one really be adequately informed on all the "other" cultures foreign to our own in the world?) inform my conceptions rather than a more logical practice of recognizing a global "we" and shared experiences in a constantly changing world.




Thursday, April 11, 2013

Inauguration of the Fonte Nova World Cup Stadium

The inauguration of the awaited Fonte Nova (which literally translated means "New Source") stadium in Salvador welcomed big singers and artists from Salvador including Ivete Sangalo, Claudia Leite, and Margareth Menezes. It also hosted the first game between the two rival teams of Salvador -- Bahia and Victória (Victória won with a landslide 5-1 victory, pleasing many fans and certainly causing brawls amongst rivals).

Source: esportes.terra.com.br 


Despite the presence of these famous singers, soccer stars, and president Dilma herself, the inauguration on the morning of Friday 4/5 attracted another significant sector of the people of Salvador, the bahianas of acarajé. In a protest against FIFA's prohibition of the sale of their traditional afro-brazilian food, alternative news sources noted that about 50 bahianas protested at the gates of the newly completed Fonte Nova stadium. They marched with signs demanding their rights and freedom to sell their food and take advantage of the influx of foreign visitors and investments for the Confederation and World Cups.

Source: Paulo Cesar Reis, ABAM

The bahianas have created a petition and their association, ABAM (Associação de Bahianas de Acarajé e Mingau), is fighting against FIFA to secure their spot as benefactors of the World Cup. I have visited the ABAM office in Pelourinho, Salvador and am scheduled to have an interview in the coming weeks regarding their struggle and their opinions on this World Cup development in Brazil. I find this story to be fascinating and highly relevant, so I am pursuing it as a sort of side interest to my main research. Stay tuned for updates!


News Sources:
(note mainstream sources such as Globo Esportes and A Tarde did not cover the bahiana's protest, but rather the presence of famous singers to inaugurate the stadium)










Saturday, March 9, 2013

International Women's Day

"Women: Poetry, beauty, tenderness, intelligence, dedication, intensity and love. To you, every day." from Antônio Neto, Finance Secretary

I wanted to give a little update from Brazil on the passing of the International Women's Day. It is a highly discussed holiday in Brazil, though it lacks the expected partying and leisure associated with most holidays. Like Black Awareness Day, International Women's Day is a normal workday and more of a consciousness raising campaign than anything else. I was a bit underwhelmed by the amount of activities available in Bahia. There were a few book readings and film series offered by libraries in Salvador but in general I've just seen billboards, facebook posts and banners around celebrating women. They use overarching, bland phrase like "we love you, women warriors" or "respect women today, and every day" with a backdrop of pink and flowers. Overall I find it to be a lot of empty rhetoric and very little action.

That being said, I am more aware of this international holiday since living in Brazil. In the United States it appears to be celebrated only amongst progressives or feminists. Growing up I didn't even know March 8 had significance for women's movements, maybe because in practice it actually doesn't. The "One Billion Rising" mobilization initiated by Eve Ensler on V-Day seemed to exemplify real social intervention with the potential for results. I did see a bit of sympathetic participation in One Billion Rising on Valentine's Day in Brazil, though the momentum didn't quite match since Feb. 14 is not Valentine's Day, which is actually called "Boyfriend/Girlfriend's Day" (Dia dos Namorados) celebrated in June.

There is a fairly impressive scholarship on women's issues and feminist theory in Bahia, and I did have the pleasure of getting passed a reading list (in the spirit of International Women's Day) which could help me push my ideas of gender roles and women's movements in Bahia further. More to come...

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Acarajé, Coca-Cola and FIFA

Before about 2012, these three things didn't have much in common. However, planning for the World Cup 2014 in Brazil is in full swing, and competitions are springing up everywhere. From increased emphasis on English and tourism, new jobs, infrastructure, traffic and international attention--Brazil is a hot spot, and everybody wants a piece. To me, one of the most interesting cases in this process concerns a forming alliance between Coca-Cola and the Bahianas of acarjé, while Fifa alienates the Bahianas from reaping the benefits of the major tourist influx and foreign investment in preparation for the World Cup.

First, I will comment on the alliance between Coca-Cola and Acarajé. The Brazilian sector of the Coca-Cola Company has a huge presence in Brazil (as I assume many other countries in the world outside of the U.S.). They have strategically started forming relationships with the women who make the iconic cultural food of Bahia -- acarajé. Acarajé is considered the most unique food of Bahia - the ingredients and recipe come from an African ancestry-- some even associate the food with the Yoruban goddess Iansã. The women, "Bahianas of acarajé", sit on almost every main plaza or street corner in Bahia, selling their home-made acarajé for a very reasonable R$5. These women generally come from candomblé terreiros in peripheral communities, or learned how to make the food from family members associated with the religion. A recent study showed that "vender of acarajé" is the most common occupation amongst candomblé women in Salvador (Mapeamento dos Terreiros de Salvador, 2009).

I have quite a commute to arrive at my classes at the Center of Afro-Oriental Studies, UFBA in downtown Salvador. Along the way I see a broad array of billboards for products and happenings in the city. I also pass right by the new Nova Fonte Arena Stadium, which has been in construction for about 2 years. It is set to be completed by the end of March, to host the Confederation Cup 2013 before the main event, the 2014 World Cup. A few weeks ago on my commute I saw the following billboard and was very taken aback.


I was particularly struck by this image because a big part of my research has to do with the representation of Bahianas in the media and how they are employed in the "patrimonialization" of Afro-Brazilian Culture. This advertisement says it all. The ad calls acarajé the "imaterial patrimony of Bahian culture" and at the bottom in smaller print it says "preserve this culture".

I almost laugh at the implications of this last statement. It makes you wonder, do we need Coca-Cola to "preserve" a culture? Does slapping the Coca-Cola stamp on a cultural item like acarajé give it more importance, because of a certain visibility and capitalist privilege? Or, does this appropriation of Bahianas of acarajé change the very face of this cultural expression; does it alter it's value and purpose entirely? These questions intrigue me, and I find the whole situation very indicative of the use of Afro-Brazilian culture for tourism and international interests (a critique that is even attributed to Landes' international representation of candomblé women in 1938 as matriarchal fetish priestesses).

While Coca-Cola is happily holding hands with the "National Association of Bahianas of Acarajé", the partnership between McDonalds and FIFA is crushing the Bahiana venders and prohibiting them from selling their traditional food within 2 kilometers of the World Cup stadium (Bahia Notícias, 10/4/2012). As the official sponsor of the 2014 FIFA World Cup, McDonalds must secure a monopoly on food sales in and around the stadium to profit sufficiently from their contributions.

Also an official sponsor of the World Cup, Coca-Cola can happily support Bahianas, because Bahianas don't make their own sodas or refreshments to complement the food they sell. And trust me, in the hot muggy climate of Bahia, a cool refreshing beverage is essential while eating a hot acarajé rice cake. A Coke fits in perfectly to the mix. I even saw an official "Coca Cola Acarajé" stand at Carnaval in Salvador. They had a special price for an acarajé and a coke together-- it's a perfect combination!

Composition: David Mendes, Bahia Notícias

The National Association of Bahianas of Acarajé and their president, Rita Maria Ventura dos Santos, are continuing to fight for their space in the World Cup. Questions of sanitation, tourists preferences and safety codes are prohibiting Bahianas from competing with the behemoth of FIFA and McDonalds. Everybody wants a piece of the foreign investment and a rare opportunity to make extra bucks during this heightened season for Brazil. As a tourist, I sure as hell wouldn't travel all the way to Bahia to eat McDonalds in a stadium and watch a soccer game within a structure that could be replicated anywhere in the world. Why did FIFA choose Brazil in the first place? Isn't it the samba, the parties, and the colorful vibrance of the national culture? (Their slogan for Brazil after all is "all in one rhythm"). Well it doesn't take much to recognize that those elements are fundamentally related to the immense Afro-Brazilian presence throughout the history of Brazil. Erasing the Bahianas presence within 2 kilometers of the stadium just reinforces a socio-economic divide so characteristic of race relations and foreign relations in Brazil. It's disgusting. Almost as disgusting as paying 7 dollars (R$14) for an imported Big Mac. 

Sources:
http://www.bahiacomunicacao.com.br/news/veiculacao-coca-cola-e-abam-em-homenagem-as-baianas-de-acaraje.html

http://www.bahiacomunicacao.com.br/news/veiculacao-coca-cola-e-abam-em-homenagem-as-baianas-de-acaraje.html

Jocélio Teles dos Santos, Mapeamento dos Terreiros de Salvador. UFBA Editora, 2009. 

Friday, January 18, 2013

A Lavagem do Bonfim


Yesterday was the annual Lavagem do Bonfim, where Baianas of candomblé wash the steps of the famous Bonfim Church as a ritual for the spiritual cleansing of the New Year. Thousands of people do a 8 kilometer march (caminhada) through the lower city (cidade baixa) of Salvador, with bands, capoeira groups, samba circles and everything in between. The morning is a spiritual and family affair, but after the official "lavagem" or washing has ended, everything unravels into an aggressive, sexual carnaval-style party.

My photos are mostly from the beginning of the event, which was full of peace and positivity. It was very religious, and very crowded. The event is held in honor of Jesus, but for centuries members of candomblé have attributed it to Oxalá, the orixá deity that is syncretized with Jesus. But on this day, the Baianas rule the show. I saw no sign of Catholic priests or members of the church, but instead many Baianas performing cleansing "baths" of leaves and popcorn, of course for a small fee.


Participants fight their way to the gates of the church to tie on the ribbons of Bonfim, one of the iconic objects of cultural life in Bahia. Everybody makes wishes, or resolutions for the New Year.  It was quite a struggle to get to the front, but as Ruth Landes explained in her 1939 account of the event, it is a "bathing in the multitude" (a phrase by Baudelaire). The crowd kept growing and morphing as the day went along, as it continually became rowdier and drunker.



Much of Landes' account of the 1939 celebration has very little relation to the current one. Once you squeezed your way to the front and were pressed against the gate, the you could gaze over to see the baianas doing the washing. It was confusing, however, because maybe I got there too late, but there was little cleaning happening and the steps of the church really looked quite dirty. The church wasn't open, for obvious protective reasons, there were no speeches, but rather a huge speaker playing evangelic songs and repeating the anthem of the Bonfim Church. There were newscasters from the biggest national stations throughout Brazil, some foreigners, and many, many locals.


Up to this point I thoroughly enjoyed myself and felt connected to the event. But very quickly, everything turned. Instead of peace and love for Jesus, people were drinking, the crowd was swelling, libidos growing, and respect for others dwindling. Around 3 pm, the majority of the people there were Afro-Brazilian community members of the Lower City. In my life in Bahia, I spend most of my time in  in the downtown area or the "upper city" area of Salvador. These two designations of the city say just as much about the geographic space as the socio-economic division. It had been a while since I had seen the extent of the poverty of this city, and it was incredibly troubling. I wish I had a chance to take photos of this darker reality, but unfortunately those situations are also the most dangerous for me.

Children ages 4 and older, shoeless, with dirty ragged clothes, without parents, were picking up discarded beer cans and water bottles that the partiers throw on the ground because there are not nearly sufficient garbage cans (or bathrooms) to host the event. Disabled people in beat-up wheel chairs were begging for money. Men high on crack, were making advancements on young girls wearing barely any clothes.

I haven't been to carnaval in Salvador for 2 years, and I forgot the carnaval culture of Salvador. It is sexual beyond belief. The men value foreigners and white women, especially women with blue eyes, above all else. The ultimate prize is to win over a "gringa", and at this event, I felt like the only unaccompanied white woman, hunted by the masses. I usually go out in a group with men, which unfortunately in this culture is necessary protection. None of my male friends could go with me yesterday, my boyfriend was working, so I went with just another girlfriend. We were two single women, and we caught the attention of nearly every horny man in the crowd.

For some reason, these men at public parties assume the right to touch women's bodies without any permission. As I struggled to leave the crowd (about a mile long stretch to leave the Church site), men were constantly grabbing my arm, calling to me in horrible English, staring into my eyes and yelling things like "I want to steal your eyes" or "come here doll and kiss me". I tried to ignore them, but it was impossible. The lust for a white woman was a force so much greater than my own, and I was completely vulnerable and helpless in the situation. Beyond that, I was with a backpack, and my new camera, trying to desperately to protect them from pickpockets or thieves. There was absolutely nowhere for me to hide.

Luckily I got out of the crowd after about an hour of struggling and violation, and a lot of help from my friend. She is Bahian and black and understands these dynamics in a way I probably never will. It was one of the more difficult and traumatic experiences I've had in Salvador since arriving 2 years ago, and I learned many important lessons.

I will never go to a party without male accompaniment or my boyfriend again. No matter how much I resent that reality, it is simply not safe here. It was an intense reminder of the extent of my foreignness, and the fact that I absolutely do not belong in some situations here in Bahia. My body is an object of desire, descended from a historic social construction that no matter how hard I try, I still am subject to and must understand. Women don't have the rights in Bahia that I have the luxury of having in California, and that's the reality.

All in all I am thankful for the Lavagem, am happy I went, and that I got out without too much physical or emotional harm. Bahia is the land of parties, happiness, poverty and a culture I could try and study for my whole life and still be left with thousands of questions and contradictions.