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Sunday, 16 November 2008

The Call of Brazil's Capoeirista

Ch-ch-ching-dong-dong. As soon as the familiar notes start, ears perk up. Ch-ch-ching-dong-dong. Within seconds, eyes start to flick around the room. Ch-ch-ching-dong-dong. Smiling people start to form a circle while clapping and swaying to the beat. Pavlov was right. It doesn’t take much. A bell for a dog, or five steely notes for a capoeirista, and off they go.


Published in interchange
Wednesday, 29 August 2007

Volunteering in NE Brazil

This year I made my fourth pilgrimage to the Nordeste, Brasil’s northeastern coast. Although my travels in Brazil have taken me into both the rough interior state of Goiás and the urban sprawl of southeastern cities Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo, the state of Ceará on the northeastern coast has been my first and faithful love. It is the Brazil that I know best and that has had the greatest impact on me; it is the land of red dirt, brown skin, and white smiles. I am drawn not just to the foreign terrain, or the luau of exotic fruits, or the sweet sway of the samba. I am called to the children. I need to go back and see how Wellison is doing. Has Dalmo been taking care of his sister? I wonder what Tayane thinks about the pictures that I sent her.

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