And so it begins

After over a month of settling in and getting through the crazy amount of paperwork and government bureaucracy to register and get married to a Brazilian, I am now ready to dive into my research (but don't think our bureaucratic nightmares are anywhere near over! I could write many long and frustrated blog posts about my experience at the Federal Police, Consulates and notaries...). 

Last Wednesday I went to my first Candomble "party" (festa) of the season, officially marking the beginning of my Ph.D. fieldwork as a Fulbright-Hays DDRA scholar. I was fortunate to have my newly-wed husband accompany me to the party (having a male escort is always helpful in Brazil). We went by car up and around the curvy hills of Salvador, getting lost a few times along the way, making u-turns down dark back streets, missing speed bumps and flying over them, going the wrong way down one-way and dead end streets, screeching the brakes and wheels of our compact Honda Fit. Our road adventures through Bahia have been like that since I got my car over a month ago. It requires some time to understand the rules of the road here and the complicated caminhos, or ways to get around. Google Maps can provide a general orientation, but doesn’t have the precision or know-it-all to navigate seamlessly the streets of Salvador da Bahia.

After a short, but somewhat chaotic ride to the terreiro we arrived and were greeted by a police car with flashing colored lights and a large spotlight at the entrance of Ilê Oxumare, signaling the party for the two female gods to be honored that evening, Oyá and Obá. Both are considered strong warrior figures. Obá is associated with rough fresh waters and is considered stronger than many male orixás. Oyá, also known as Iansã, is the goddess of lightning and big storms. She is mother to many other important deities. Yoruba myths are similar to those of the Greek Gods, with complicated familial relationships, love spats and incest. There are many iterations of Yoruba legends, depending on the particular tradition and historical practice of each terreiro (religious site/house). 

Women in white dresses and turbans were descending down the hill to the terreiro, where many cars were parked outside. I found a parking spot on a curvy hill, where I paralleled parked uphill with fair precision. We entered with no greeting or questioning. These public Candomble parties are surprisingly open and unassuming. There are few rules or judgments; everyone who shows respect for the orixas may enter and observe. Nobody asks who you are or why you’re there. Many people, young and old, show off their varieties of tattoos and piercings. It’s the perfect space for an anthropologist to enter and anonymously observe at the beginning of the research process. Because of the loud drums and the captivating ceremony, few people talk. Most interactions are visual; everybody checks each other out in subtle ways, though most of the time all eyes are on those in the center of the barracão (large ceremonial house), accompanying the ritual and anxiously awaiting the arrival of the orixás, when they descend into select mediums as a form of spirit possession.

To start three male ogãs began playing the drums. One was a young boy, around 12 years old, another a much older man. The main drummer, perhaps in his 20s, lead the beginning of the ceremony. He wore a bright red hat, the color for Oyá, and began all of the chanting in Yoruba. The songs were the typical call and answer style in Yoruba, or rather a Brazilian version of Yoruba sometimes mixed with Portuguese. At the University of Michigan I took a a semester of Yoruba with a Nigerian professor, but unfortunately I was able to pick up very little at the ceremony. I need to practice the way Yoruba is used and pronounced in the Candomblés of Brazil, which is a very different variety. Most of the other observers around me knew the proper response to the chants and participated in small ways, like bending down to touch the ground and then the top of the head, just like the mediums were doing in the center of the room—a way to prepare the space for the orixá to descend through the medium’s heads. Most of the observers at the party are also practitioners of Candomblé at other terrieros. They come to big, historically famous houses such as Ilê Oxumarê to witness the extravagance and beauty of the party and to honor the particular orixa celebrated that evening. 

About 20-25 women entered following the initial drumming. They formed a large circle around a central altar for Oyá and lightly danced in a circle for about thirty minutes, chanting with the ogãs, preparing for the impeding possession. The space was intricately decorated with hanging ornaments and straw on the doors and windows to welcome the orixas and encourage them to enter the ritual center. Each iao (bride of the god, member of the cult) went to the front door and kissed the ground, then returned to the dancing circle. About five men were on the outside of the circle, sometimes seated, and always observing the mediums. After 45 minutes to an hour of light dancing and preparation for the orixa, the leading priest entered alongside about 7 older women, presumably the leading ekedis. They appeared to be the oldest, most experienced and respected “secretaries” of the priest. The priest (pai de santo) made a short speech in which he welcomed everybody to the party and made a few remarks to honor Oyá and Obá in that particular house that evening.

During the next song one of the mediums keeled over and began screaming. Most everyone began yelping and clapping because the first spirit had arrived. One by one several people became possessed and the ekedis (the women who accompany the possessed, but do not become possessed themselves) cared for them, changing their turbans and adjusting their clothing, leading them to the front door and back. The crowd became very animated with the arrival of spirits and the drumming intensified. At one point a man in the audience fell in trance, which is a common, but grave offense, as he could jeopardize the carefully planned ritual. 

The room was very hot and at times overwhelming, with so many sounds, sights and sensations. My husband and I needed a break, so we went to a nearby bar and ordered a cheap beer and water. Quickly my husband overheard that the woman at the next table was a priestess (mãe-de-santo) from a nearby city. One of the older, drunk men in front of the bar declared that he was the brother of the priest at Oxumarê. After a group of young people sat down at a nearby table, the priest's “brother"quickly began making comments about viados in Candomblé. The term “viado” is a derogatory term for a male who supposedly receives penetration during sex. The term is often used as an insult and a stand-in for anything negative. Perhaps responding to the presence of what he considered gay men at the bar, the priest's “brother” loudly asserted that he is a “real man” in contrast to  the viados or the "effeminate" men who receive deities during possession. A woman was trying to defend her friends, claiming that the "brother" was discriminating and that such discrimination is a crime. The drunk man didn’t seem interested in stopping, so the whole table went away and back to the party. That interaction showed me how common these aggressions are, and how sexuality is a frequent topic in discussions of Candomblé. The "brother" of the Candomblé priest, who did not participate in the ceremony, based his gender expectations on a Brazilian ideal of masculinity, which Candomblé subverts. The contrast between the gender and sexual expressions cultivated in the terreiro during the ritual and those persecuted at the bar was stark. Despite being a few meters away, the bar was occupied by heterosexual, drunk macho men and police.  Perhaps the terreiro provides a temporary reprieve from such prejudices and potentially violent aggressions (a theory offered by previous researchers on this topic). 

On the subject of gender and sexuality, the priestess at the next table claimed that only men can be ogãs (drummers), but conceded that there have been “polemic” cases where a zapatona (term referring to what in English may be described as a “butch lesbian”) played the drums, reflecting recent changes in Candomblé. This idea about the corruption of Candomblé from its pure and proper ritual form is an old discourse, similar to other religious practices that value tradition and are skeptical of changes and innovations. This particular priestess affirmed that although a zapatona may be homosexual, she is still a woman, and therefore it’s not appropriate for her to play the drums. In "proper" Candomblé practice, women are ekedis and men are ogãs. Those who receive the spirit and dance (rodantes) may be either male or female, as this role is determined by the orixás and the particular relationship with the medium, regardless of gender or sexual orientation. Despite the freedom of sexual expression in the terreiros and the non-binary nature of the orixás (something I'll write about later), few people seem to question the division of both ritual and social roles on the basis of what they consider to be a physically identifiable, biological sexual identity of men and women. 

Towards the end of our time at the ceremony, the "true" Oyá arrived in what seemed to be an unconvential form. I wasn’t present to witness the following, though my husband told me the sequence of events. About two hours in people outside were commenting that “the real Iansã hasn’t arrived yet”, despite the fact that many mediums were possessed by various orixás in the barracão. I wasn’t sure how to identify the “real Iansã”, or the most important and honored medium for the evening, but apparently she arrived late and from far away. People from the bar saw a possessed woman coming down the hill, accompanied by a woman helping her walk and leading her towards the towards the terreiro. Her body was contorted and her eyes upturned. My husband said he got the chills seeing her. Apparently she was a member of the terreiro, though she didn’t attend the ceremony. Perhaps there was some sort of conflict—the reason for her absence in the ritual is unclear— but Oyá’s force, provoked by the ritual, was so strong that it reached her in her own house, where she fell into the saint (became possessed by the spirit). She was lead into the back of the terreiro to be prepared to enter the ritual as “the real Iansã”. After witnessing this event, one policeman at the bar commented (a pair of them were drinking along with the bar owners), “Candomblé is like a wifi signal, once the drums start the network connects at a distance!”. 

The terreiro posted some photos of the party on their facebook page. I will take the liberty of sharing some of them, since observers aren't allowed to take photos at the party, and the terreiro makes them available publicly (who doesn't like to share photos on facebook after a good party?). Enjoy! And please feel free to leave any comments or questions-- I'll update this blog as I get further into my research, or as interesting topics come to mind. There's plenty to observe and contemplate here in Bahia, and I'm looking forward to having over a year to do it. 

The following photos are available at Oxumarês facebook page.

Pai de santo second to the left and the ekedis. The background portrait is of the current pai de santo of Ilê Oxumarê. 

Women dancing in the circle to begin the ceremony around the altar for Oyá in the barracão.

Here is a direct link to a video taken during the ceremony. 

7-1?

The World Cup in Brazil 2014

I’m sure nearly everybody watching the semifinal game between Germany and Brazil on July 8, 2014 experienced a similar feeling of shock and awe about midway through the first half. We could analyze forever why and how this happened and still not really understand or believe it. As somebody who experienced the excitement and disappointment throughout the past week, I’d like to share my take on Brazilian’s engagement with the World Cup, before and after this horrendous match.

I arrived in Salvador, Bahia on July 3, 2014. My plane was completely full, the Miami airport was decorated with FIFA paraphernalia, kids were juggling soccer balls in the gates. We were all going to arrive in Brazil right in time for the quarterfinals. Brazil had just beaten Chile in overtime with penalty kicks, and was still fairly strong in the competition. Everywhere I turned there were Brazilian flags, uniforms, green and yellow decorations, FIFA stickers and plaques. There was no escaping the World Cup—nearly everybody was wearing, representing, or talking about it in some way or another.

Despite these displays of excitement, I wondered how this compared to other World Cups, independent of Brazil being the host country. Because I’m from the U.S., I don’t have a frame of reference for ostentatious national pride in international soccer competitions. What do I know, maybe people put Brazilian flags on their cars, outside their houses and businesses for every World Cup and root for their teams just as intensely, whether in South Africa, Europe or in their own country? Because unless you’re directly in contact with a host city, a game, or in close proximity to a stadium, it appears to me that being Brazilian doesn’t privilege you at all for this World Cup (after the semifinal game it is actually just embarrassing...). The only way main difference I see is the incredible media coverage of the events and public responses to them. Every time you turn on the television somebody is commenting upon a game, a player, a host city, a protest, a party, etc. The commentators and programs are nonstop, serving as a way of rallying the country around soccer and their national team (especially around the martyr Neymar—but I’ll get to that later). This is especially necessary after the incredible resistance to FIFA and the Federal Government’s management of public funds to pull of this World Cup.

Despite the protests from July 2013 during the Confederations Cup and June 2014 in anticipation for the beginning of the World Cup, once the games began it most people, militant activists or not, stopped their screaming and fighting, bought some beer, put on a jersey, called up some friends or went down to the local bar and cheered for their team. (A study done by “Globo”, the conservative media monopoly in Brazil, said that something like 70% of Brazilians supported the World Cup after it began, compared to around 40% before it started).  I don’t mean to suggest that protests were not real or valid, they absolutely were. And it's important to note that the Federal Government declared that anybody protesting during the World Cup would receive 30 years in jail, an order that can only come from a near-dictatorial state. But as commentator John Oliver pointed out on his political show, football is like organized religion. You can hate and love FIFA at the same time for doing what's necessary to pull off such a spectacular event-- uniting the best players in the world and administrating it all despite local complications, regional differences, and logistical nightmares. However, in order to do so they'll crush anything in their path.  

The quarterfinal match Brazil x Columbia was on a Friday afternoon, and spirits were high. I went to the “FIFA Fan Fest” at the Barra Lighthouse in Salvador to check out the scene. It’s basically a huge stage and screen set up by FIFA in strategic spots around major cities to encourage collective viewing and partying. They had a full line up of local musical celebrities, and security at the entrance with FIFA’s own police force checking for weapons to ensure the viewers’ safety. It was an impressive operation, and certainly a festive one. It seems from the games and the celebrations that Brazil successfully attracted a huge tourist presence. And why not? Brazil has so much to offer to tourists, first of all its incredible nonstop seductive party hard attitude, not to mention its beautiful beaches, delicious food and natural wonders. I’m almost certain nothing productive has gotten done throughout this World Cup season to really advance Brazil in any way. I only hope some people made good money off the tourists. Though even if some did, it’s nothing near a majority.

I stayed at the Fan Fest just for a portion of the Germany x France game, knowing that it would get ridiculously crazy and crowded during the Brazil game. I went to a friend’s house with good food, drinks and company to watch the game, which was great fun and a very positive atmosphere. With a quick goal in the first half, we all felt good about Brazil’s chances to continue on. We cheered and hugged and danced for each goal, opened beers and passed drinks merrily.

Until Tiago Silva, the Brazilian team’s captain, got his second yellow card and at the bottom of the screen appeared a notice that he wouldn’t appear in the next game. I don’t think we quite understood the severity of that absence until the 7-1 loss, especially since this small blip was vastly overshadowed by Neymar’s upcoming injury.

So... in my opinion, Neymar had been flopping and getting fouled all over the place the entire competition. He hasn’t been playing his best, nor has the entire Brazilian team. All in all, I think Brazilians and their sympathizers have been pretty disappointed despite their wins. So much so that I (and probably others) have started to come up with conspiracy theories about the outcome of games to appease and please which parties. Conspiracies aside, Neymar’s injury had some very critical effects and outcome for the Brazilian team, and its supporters...

When Neymar went down, I wasn’t surprised or particularly worried. He seemed to always put on a painful show to sell the foul. Of course the medical team would come out right away for their best player and take him off the field in a stretcher –just in case. When he didn’t come back in the game I just figured it was because they were obviously winning and it was better for him to recuperate. I honestly couldn’t imagine that he would be so injured as to not return for the rest of the World Cup.

When the Globo announcers stated with great remorse that Neymar would not be returning, we were all shocked and I think deep down knew that Brazil was screwed for the next game. Neymar has become Brazil’s soccer superstar, scoring the most goals and dancing around nearly any defender with grace. He has been the face of commercials, figurines, and the most sold jersey. Even before he went down I noticed that nearly everybody was wearing #10 with Neymar Jr. to celebrate their favorite player.

With this tragedy, the media went wild. I can’t tell you how many times I saw the clip of him getting hit in the back and falling on the ground, his leg twitching and his face wailing with pain. It was as if that moment were the biggest tragedy and the most relevant event of the century, to be discussed nonstop. We heard from his doctor, clips and updates from his treatment, animated replays and diagrams of his injury. Neymar produced videos for the “Brazilian people” to rally them for the semifinal game. Globo published polls and opinions from people optimistic about the team’s future. There were multiple interviews with the head coach to determine the new line up, the new strategy without Neymar and the team’s captain. We were told to play the game “for Neymar”, to honor his absence with a win that would put Brazil in the final match at the Rio de Janeiro stadium Maracanã.

These 3 days of media overload successfully brainwashed viewers into believing that the Brazilian team had a chance to win the semifinal game. We got ready for the game same way as the quarterfinals –elaborate costumes with Brazil’s colors, flags, businesses closing at noon on a Tuesday, friends and family gathering to watch the game, bars and FIFA Fan Fest filling up in anticipation with excited, drunk supporters. During the warm up Tiago Silva, the captain, roamed in and out of field in his street clothes, there to support his team and encourage them through the game. During Brazil’s national anthem David Luiz and Cesar (the golie) held Neymar’s jersey in solidarity. People were crying with pride and cheering with all their heart.

It’s with this all this build up that we, Brazilians and their supporters, experienced the greatest deception with a 5-0 first half and a 7-1 final score. After the 3^rd goal I knew it was over, but couldn’t imagine how bad it could get. It was as if the team had gaping holes that the German players could just poke through with no problem, and Cesar couldn’t stop a single shot from entering the goal. After the 5^th goal it became clear the score could be astronomically, embarrassingly high—a blowout of proportions never before witnessed in World Cup history.

How could this happen in the host country? Hadn’t Dilma and the Federal Government successfully bought out the refs or other teams to ensure peace and contentment for the Brazilian people, after they had dealt with the terrible consequences of building stadiums, redirecting resources, and nearly bankrupting local funds to put on the World Cup for a foreign audience? And if they didn’t, why did the global media manipulate us into thinking that, without Neymar and Tiago Silva, the Brazilian team even had a chance? Maybe, just maybe, it’s related to the fact that Globo –the media monopoly in Brazil—is against Dilma and her party PT, maybe they wanted Brazilians to be so disappointed and upset with the outcome of the World Cup they will surely vote Dilma out during the upcoming October elections... Or maybe Germany is just an incredibly strong team and will easily beat Argentina for the title? Maybe Neymar is really hurt and can’t play, maybe he needs to recuperate despite the fact he’s now walking no problem and after the media ploy, has become a bigger star and more important Brazilian figure than ever...

I could go on about my ideas of conspiracy, because it’s hard for me to imagine that these turn of events were, in some way, without planning. There is too much money exchanging big hands. But all of that aside, this is where we’re at with Brazil in the World Cup. I am shocked and nervous that the Brazilian team has to play for 3^rd place this coming Saturday. I only hope this time the team and the coach realize the gravity of their situation and revise their game plan to at least put on a respectful loss for 4^th place. Who knows, maybe they’ll surprise us. Maybe with their captain Tiago Silva back in the mix, a few substitutions, and a more realistic attitude they’ll pull of a win for 3^rd place. In any case, that semifinal game will surely go down in soccer history as the biggest upset and embarrassment for any host country—or probably any country at all.

Yesterday everybody was talking about the game as if it were a bad dream. Most were just laughing in deception, as if to throw their hands up in the air and say, “Look at our joke of a country!” Supposedly the “country of football” Brazil is now an international embarrassment, what do they have now? With heads in between their legs, remorsefully heading home, getting back to work, and simply pushing through it like the innumerous other challenges of being Brazilian because despite it all, “a vida continua”. Life goes on...

And now I root for Argentina. VIVA AMÉRICA LÁTINA!!!

Are you ready for the World Cup?

I know everybody is talking about Brazil at the moment, so I thought I'd give an update as the World Cup approaches this coming month. I will arrive in Bahia on July 3 and be there for the quarter, semi and final rounds. I'm looking forward to getting a better sense of how people respond to the games and the event as they happen. For now, I can only write about what I see and understand from a distance regarding the anticipation of and preparation for the 2014 FIFA World Cup.

The bottom line is that, it's not going well. Massive protests to government spending and mismanagement have swelled especially in São Paulo, Brasília, Rio de Janeiro and other cities throughout the country. A recent study showed that only 22% of Brazilians will even root for their national team (a statistic I have a very hard time believing). This public mural has gone viral as the simple message presents a Brazil unwilling to face its true problems of poverty, income inequality, and access to resources while graciously preparing for foreign media and visitors.

Mural by Paulo Ito

On Tuesday groups of indigenous peoples and their supporters protested outside of the newly constructed arena in Brasília, a stadium that cost $1.2 billion (USD) of federal spending. The protestors were met with tear gas, rubber bullets, and violent police repression. This looks a lot like the response to protests last year during the Confederations Cup, but the iconography of this protest and the symbolic messages of oppressed peoples uniting against government corruption are particularly striking.

Image source

Not to mention the incredibly violent military invasions of favelas in attempts to restructure and "sanitize" the city of Rio de Janeiro. I still don't understand the breakdown of all the different types of police units, but clearly the municipal and federal governments are in on displacing thousands of families from their prime real estate homes, as quickly as possible. Because favelas are squatter communities, they have precarious land rights, and are often the first to be displaced as disempowered communities. The urgency put on by the strict timetables of FIFA and the disorganization of infrastructural development throughout Brazil has left many families in vulnerable situations. They are being violently forced out of the way in order to construct new highways, hotels and parking lots to receive international tourists and teams.

Meanwhile in the United States I'm seeing various corporate manifestations of Brazil's comoditized image. I walk into an athletic store and see a Nike ad using Brazil's soccer repute to sell cleats. On ESPN I see a commercial of young Afro-Brazilian women walking through colorful favelas to promote tourism and a gritty yet sexy Brazil. Drunken partiers wear Brazil's national t-shirts at Bay to Breakers, flags are sold as accessories at Forever 21. iTunes sells the official album of the World Cup, with shockingly few Brazilian artists featured. I think these and numerous other examples point to the obvious question of who wins and who loses from such international sporting events (hint: the U.S. soccer team is not the only loser).

Politically, this all looks incredibly bad for Dilma and PT (the leading Worker's Party) in the upcoming federal elections in October. When former president Lula agreed to host both the 2014 World Cup and the 2016 Olympics in Brazil, undoubtedly he envisioned celebrations and success that would bolster his party's credibility and notoriety. The opposite could not be more true. In a truly multi-party political system such as Brazil, I would not be surprised if an alternative candidate rose in opposition to Dilma in the wake of this mismanaged World Cup fiasco. That being said, I do not claim to have great political expertise or foresight in this matter.

Despite all of this mess, I'm still rooting for Brazil and am almost certain they will win the World Cup by merit or otherwise... If they don't, I can only image the anger and mobilization that might follow such failure and disappointment. It will be an interesting summer.



Want to read more?

http://www.slate.com/blogs/the_spot/2014/05/20/paulo_ito_world_cup_a_brazilian_street_artist_has_created_the_world_cup.html

http://revolution-news.com/armed-state-uniforms-wage-open-war-brazils-poor-largest-favela-occupied-2-kids-killed-37-arrested-en-mass/

http://www.slate.com/blogs/behold/2014/04/16/marc_ohrem_leclef_olympic_favela_documents_the_brazil_s_slum_residents_being.html

http://www.democracynow.org/2014/5/22/brazils_dance_with_the_devil_dave

Leaving Bahia (for now)

This year+ experience in Brazil has been extremely rewarding and important for me to revise and rethink previous notions I had regarding Brazilian academia and how to transit within it. Not only did I lack a theoretical foundation (which I will continue to build at the University of Michgan) but also practical experience as a “gringa” within this field. I had considered the power dynamics between myself as a researcher and my subjects, but not necessarily between my academic colleagues.

Throughout my classes at CEAO and research I have become a bit baffled by the concept of Feminist Anthropology, especially in Brazil. It appears to me that nobody knows exactly what it means, yet many are chasing after it, trying to find some sort of militant discussion of gender, of women, of sexuality in order to get past common sense notions of separation and difference between the “sexes”. Yet in this field I’ve encountered politics typical of any site of power and competition for career success that do not necessarily value the production of knowledge or consensus as linked to any sort of social movement/basis.

My relationship with fellow students however has been generally positive. I found it was easiest to connect with people from my own positioning (despite my foreign nationality), my own generation and I feel we have a common interest in treating each other with kindness and respect, to help one another in producing the best work possible. I am optimistic in this respect, and have faith in the possibilities for change as we grow and seek common goals to direct academia towards living subjects and think about the consequences of representation within an educated and diverse society.

As for my ethnography, I am still in the process of preparation. My M.A. project will stick closer to historical research utilizing letters and photos that explain Landes’ fieldwork experience in Brazil, and then place her legacy within the context of Brazilian anthropology. I believe this to be a feasible task, and will expand the project further as I develop my Ph.D. research, which as of now will probably include ethnography of gender and sexuality in Afro-American religions such as candomblé.

I’ve created significant relationships within the candomblé community, not as strictly informants, but academic students themselves, friends of friends, and new acquaintances.  However, the religion itself presents many difficulties as a field of study. I believe it to be extremely important to understand the history of academia within terreiros and how they have negotiated relationships with the public over the past century. Not only are these power dynamics important to consider, but the actual functioning of the spiritual forces within candomblé present different obstacles and considerations. It’s absolutely necessary to understand how the people in the religion interpret your presence and your possible place within their cosmology as a foreigner, as a researcher. This exercise is much more delicate and at times abstract, requiring sensitivity and time to consider various perspectives in relation to your specific research objectives. Having the luxury of time (about 15 months) has allowed me to dive into these methodological questions with the intention of creating and executing a worthwhile project in the near future.

As of now, I’m off to begin my Ph.D. at the University of Michigan in a joint History and Anthropology program with advisor Paul C. Johnson. I’ll return to Bahia from May – August 2014 to finish up my M.A. research and plan on continuing with this blog whenever relevant.

Oh, I’ve also been published in Portuguese, if you’re interested take a look http://www.prp.ueg.br/revista/index.php/revistahistoria/article/view/1585 .  It’s a translated and revised version of my undergraduate History thesis regarding the relationship between Edison Carneiro and Ruth Landes.

Thank you to my readers, and please keep in touch!

Grande abraço,

ajamie@umich.edu

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.

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.

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.