A New Year - by Regina Casé

See what Regina Casé (mentioned in the previous post) wrote about culture, people and slums, as the last episode of her "Periphery Central" went on air.


A New Year
Regina Casé
transation by Ronaldo Lemos

Having viewed some of “Periphery Central”, you have probably noticed that I often look like I’m raving mad, foaming at the mouth, amazed and delighted with the slums, the poor folk, the black folk…

If you allow me to explain myself, it’s just that the favelas offer a wide variety of drugs, and I’ve become addicted to the strongest, single most mind-altering drug there exists. This is the same drug that makes the boys from the favelas to be eyed with suspicion when they cross the frontier into the city to buy bread; the frontier that separates the slums from the offices where they work; the frontier that makes these boys speak differently, stare differently, and walk differently if they don’t want to be fired.

Such frontiers are like battlefronts, sometimes with actual concrete barricades. Crossing over, the women who work as cooks in the city stop walking with their usual swinging gait, and lower their tone of voice. The men who work as waiters cease to vocalize the opinions they have of the clients they serve. These frontiers are the same frontiers that thousands of taxi drivers in Paris, Mexico City or NYC cross every day when they leave their homes, to follow our orders, to take us places. We don’t get to see much more than the back of their necks; they don’t get to suggest us a destination in the peripheries we might just need to see. Every one of these people’s thousand aspirations and dreams completely disappear when the boundaries that separate the periphery from the center are crossed, along with substantial parts of their cultural backgrounds. If the inhabitants of the periphery are invisible, their dreams and aspirations are even more ethereal.

That is, if you don’t take that special drug I’ve mentioned earlier. It’s very easy to do. It’s equally invisible, and extremely fast-acting. All that it takes is to cross the frontiers into the periphery but a single time, and see one of these ghosts back in the flesh, as a whole person, different from anyone else. Unique, and not as part of another figure in social exclusion statistics. It’s impossible not to be carried away, it’s unconceivable to feel this rush and be left unchanged. Sometimes I feel embarrassed to look so insane, so in love with all of this. But there’s no other way.

And it empowers you with a different set of sensorial skills. You start noticing that when you see the Carnival parades as you always do, only this time you recognize the lady who serves you coffee shining like a queen in the middle of the street. Or when you go to a Brazilian rap concert and hear the same beat of the samba schools’ percussionists in the voices of an enraptured audience, singing all the songs, not missing a lyric, getting every syllable right in sequences that are much harder to memorize than the usual samba lyrics. When, likewise, you see those terrible pictures of living conditions in prisons, with those hundreds of pairs of arms reaching out from behind bars, and immediately realize how each hand holds so many different wishes, hatreds, fears and passions, but a common desire: that the favelas cease to be an extension of the prison, and that the prison ceases to be an extension of the favelas.

We still believe in an old fashioned illusion, much along the lines of some traditional Brazilian soap opera scripts, whose protagonists are white, rich, beautiful farmers with different personalities, surrounded by a supporting cast of black slaves who are interchangeable and expendable - with the exception of a single token evil slave among hundreds of indolent mates. Not much different than American westerns with their white characters, and Native American caricatures. Even today, when stories are set in the peripheries, and written by well-meaning people, actors are almost always split into two groups: one with “society’s victims” and another with those who have managed to escape from a life of crime.

After a year traveling around the world, visiting the peripheries of different countries looking for similarities - and sometimes finding enormous differences - I feel that none of these roles is representative of anything. But what to make of this discovery? And what to make with all of this invisible power? How to close the year, to review what has happened, and to wish for a better New Year?

There is only a single image that comes to me. In Moçambique’s countryside, we found a village that I believed to be the most remote place I had ever set foot on. No one spoke a word of Portuguese, English or French. The chief had many wives...there was no asphalt…a woman was cooking in front of a hut made of mud. I couldn’t stop saying “Shoot that, shoot that!” to my cameraman. I was amazed with myself and my surroundings, with how far away my universe was from that place. But suddenly, the woman stopped working, and picked up a cell phone. My world fell down. And from its debris, I can build my wishes for a different kind of New Year.
I don’t know if “the periphery” is the same periphery everywhere in the world. But that day, I realized that “the market” is “the market” absolutely everywhere. What we need to do now is pray. Pray for Saint Market. Pray for Saint Market to lose control, to carry these masses someplace else, where things are fairer and everything is beautiful. Let “God” become this chaotic intelligence; and let’s surrender to randomness, and let randomness surprise us. May a revolution come with these home appliances and cell phones that are reaching the hands the poor, and may this revolution be plotted in the thousands of LAN houses that are hidden among the drug outposts in the slums. May the pamphlets of this revolution be the billions of pirate CDs and DVDs that are flowing through the veins of the favelas. May these weapons be used against the weapon makers. When that happens, we will all finally have a New Year.

Source: http://www.reginacase.com.br/sec_textos_list.php

Popular Culture

Last Saturday on TEDxSP Regina Casé talked about the prejudices we carry when we judge legitimate cultural movements, such as funk, technobregra, kuduro and others around the world. Although these movements gather hundreds of thousands, we rarely acknowledge their importance and tend to consider them low class, not good enough to receive attention and investment. Therefore, we never see them on the official media, never offer governmental support (we send the police instead) and don’t even consider it culture.

Well, this Friday I had the pleasure of going to the São Cristóvão markets in Rio and experience other amazing undervalued expression: Brazil’s northeastern culture.

As soon as Hanna and I got there, we felt the different atmosphere. The place was not in a fancy suburb, the tickets cost only a dollar, most of the visitors were northeasterns living in Rio and everybody was incredibly welcoming, smiling all the time.

Inside, there was not only one stage, but perhaps 20 of them: 2 bigger shows, karaoke, forró playing at every corner and live 3-family-members’ bands at their relatives’ restaurants.

On top of that, the food was amazing and one could find fresh northeastern cooking ingredients, particularly manioc flour types (apparently, the flour gets thicker as we go north).

Enjoying the shows were people from all ethnicities and ages, all dancing together, respecting each other and having the best time. One of the top moments was to hear the forró version of the song Rise Up (My dream is to fly / Over the rainbow so high). It goes like this:

Gatinha, tu gosta mais
De red label ou ice
Pra mim tanto faz
Ou red label ou ice

For me, the São Cristóvão markets represented some of the coolest things about Brazil: diversity, creativity, receptiveness and fun.

Considering the world needs a lot more equality, respect and widespread opportunities, maybe we should privilege the São Cristóvão markets model rather than big one-artist shows for a small rich audience.

Therefore, we might be able to redefine what popular culture really is.

Feeling foreign

When I came back from Australia to Brazil after just 16 months overseas, various people asked: Why?

The easy answer was “I intend to build my life close to my family and close friends”. Although that is partly true, there was another feeling I could never express clearly, a sensation that I would never totally understand the context and fit in another culture.

Today, as part of my preparation for a 3-week backpacking trip through Chile, Bolivia and Peru, I was reading Isabel Allende’s “My invented country”. She is Chilean but has been living in the US for many years now. At some point, I found the description I could never articulate as well:

“I understand the language, but I lack the keys. When we meet our friends, I can’t really participate of the conversations, because I don’t know much about what had happened and about the people they are referring to, I had not watched the same movies when I was young, had not danced to Elvis’ epileptic guitar, had not smoked marihuana nor had I protested against the Vietnam war. How can I not be a foreigner if I don’t feel any fascination for Clinton’s sexual scandal? […] Baseball is another mystery for me; I can’t understand so much passion towards a group of fat people expecting a ball that never comes.”

Brilliant people

Brilliant people break with society’s concepts, not only in their art but with their behaviour. Drugs, unhealthy relationships, self demand, depression, extra concerns with image – all situations and feelings which tend to bring pain to the ones ahead of their time and shock the conservatives.

I would really like to understand the neuroscience behind all that. Do brilliant people create unique synapses? Do they have bigger doses of some kind of hormone? Or are they just more daring than others to expose themselves to new situations and break with current paradigms?

Well, one way or another, people like Michael Jackson do live more intensively, suffer a whole deal greater and leave profound marks in the way everybody else sees the world.

Madonna

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to do something I was wishing for for a few years: go to a Madonna concert.

Since I understood what she represented - especially for women and the gay community, I started to pay more attention on the way she is extreme and controversial about issues like religion and sexuality. The liberation, pleasure and individuality messages shot through overwhelming performances at the very least make us think about ourselves and society from a different angle.

The show itself is really impressive. The lights, clips, the dance and especially Madonna capture the audience's attention and keep everybody breathless, wondering how a 50 year old can possibly dance the way she does. The kind of bizarre moment happened in the Latin music section, which apparently was intended to be a tribute to the place hosting the show, but had nothing to do with Brazilian culture whatsoever. She won the audience back, though, by singing a song chosen by a fan and ending the show with a Brazilian t-shirt.

Simple Women in Extraordinary Times

Last weekend I went to Caixa's Cultural Centre and saw a great exhibition called Simple Women in Extraordinary Times. The idea was to give women from Brazil, Cuba, Israel and Palestine a camera to shoot what they loved and what the hated. The result was followed by an interview and is kindly (and sometimes strongly) touching.

E.g.: Abiail, from Brasília, talking about she loved, said:
"To get married to the partner I choose. To see my children well, and with a conscient and independent sense of freedom. To travel heaps. To live in a better country, where citizenship, conscience, solidarity and cooperation thrive. I want to be kissed when I'm 80."

In the International Women's Day, I'd like to thank all the determined, loving and inspirational women for their example and wish every single woman strength to keep fighting for their rights and the respect they deserve, so we can build our own destiny our way.

How does it feel to be back?

How does it feel to be back to Brazil after 16 months abroad, mainly in a developed country, where everything seems previously thought, organised and easier? Not an easy question!

Certainly, some “normal” facts are now annoying and uncomfortable. Taking precautions in order to avoid being mugged bothers me profoundly; constantly seeing the wealth gap between rich and poor feels really wrong; and the big-brother-star success concept is frustrating.

On the other hand, the list of great cultural and personal aspects doesn’t seem to end soon. Meeting family, being surrounded by long term awesome friends and realizing the power of the networks in my job hunting effort are bringing me comforting happiness.

Amongst the cultural and natural things, highlights go to:
- Ever green scenery;
- Tropical fruits;
- People aware, discussing and acting upon social issues;
- A good number of companies, individuals and media channels engaged in the sustainability dialogue;
- Client oriented services and kindness;
- …and, to top it up, the feeling of being one in the crowd of an Ivete Sangalo’s show, what should probably be considered the most energetic spectacle on Earth!

Wanna feel a little bit of it? Play below, enjoy and start planning your trip to Brazil!



The lyrics, by Jorge Ben, say (free translation):

"I live in a tropical place
Blessed by God
And naturally beautiful
How wonderful!
In February
There is carnaval
I've got a beetle and a guitar
I support Flamengo and have a black sweetheart called Tereza"

See you here!

New Zealand - Small is Beautiful

As I spend time in New Zealand, I quite like what I see. A place where:

- the Maoris (indigenous, who migrated from Polynesia 12 centuries ago) are acknowledged, respected and integrated in society;
- any person, independently of age or nationality, can have his/her opinion heard before a bill is introduced to be discussed in Parliament;
- economic freedom and transparency rates are amongst the highest in the world, while bureaucracy and taxes are relatively low;
- skilled foreigners (from builders to engineers) are super welcome;
- environmental conscience and practice is very advanced.

Noticing New Zealand combines some of the most important things a society could value - ethics, respect to nature and social integration - I started to wonder why it developed that way, differently from so many other places which struggled with corruption, wealth concentration, environmental disasters and violence.

I'm certainly not knowledgeable enough to have an answer for that, but it seems to me that the isolated environment, the small population, and especially the combination of the Maori deep respect to nature with the European ethics and hard work has a lot to do with that. More important than the foundations facts quoted above is the way they were integrated, with both Maori and Europeans fighting to maintain what they considered fundamental virtues, but also negotiating and giving in when it came to everything else - notably in the last 4 decades.


The inside of a Maori meeting centre

Beautiful Waiheke Island, a 35 min ferry ride from Auckland




The Parliament and the National Library




And here comes a story to illustrate the Maori relation with nature.

One day Rata
went into the forest
to cut down a totara tree
to build a canoe.

When he had finished
he went home to sleep.
During the night
the birds and insects
and fairy people of the forest
helped put Totara upright.

Again Rata cur him down
and again he stood up.
So Rata hid nearby and watched
then asked the children of Tane
"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because you disobeyed
the laws of the forest.
First you must have a good reason
then you must ask permission
to cut down a child of Tane."

Rata was ashamed
and begged their forgiveness.
And so the children of Tane
helped Rata build his canoe.

Exploring amazing museums in Hanoi

Women's Museum

This morning I went to the Women's Museum in Hanoi, an experience that touched me quite a lot.

I knew women participated in the Vietnam war, but I didn't have any idea about how crucial their role was. Besides being soldiers on the battlefields, women led associations; planted and transported almost all the food; sewed the clothes; built 10.000 km of tunnels for protection, transport and education; took care of the wounded; and delivered messages to soldiers pretty much everywhere.

The most amazing thing, though, is not what they did, but how they did it: with love, without losing the tenderness, in spite of the terrible circumstances (as we can perceive from the pictures, objects and diaries in the exhibition). They sewed while in prison, wrote letters to elders and loved ones, served food with a smile and, with all that, kept everybody connected, hopeful and enjoying brief moments of joy.


Museum of Ethnology

In the afternoon it was time for the Ethnology Museum, with information, pictures, objects and constructions - both in and outdoors - from the various ethnic groups that formed the Vietnamese nation.

The part that I liked the most was the open-air exhibitions, particularly one building: the Central Highlanders' communal centre.

For those tribes, the highest, biggest, most beautiful and most important construction was the space that hosted spiritual ceremonies, parties and community gatherings, which also represented the male power.

Although the villages remain nowadays, these sort of spaces are rapidly disappearing, whereas other symbols of status (e.g. the individuals' house windows) are more evident than before, probably showing us that we've not always been taking the wisest path.

Back to the Essence

Some days ago, I had the incommensurable pleasure of reconnecting to the essence of life, taking a 2 days trek north of Luang Namtha, Laos.

The nature was exuberant, and showed us its beauty and power. The rain was pouring down, the terrain was super slippery and the greenest sights, forest-like smells and gentle touches from life in the mountains were breathtaking.

In the evening of the first day, after 7 hours walk and many falls on the mud, we arrived to the harmonious Akha village. Its 175 inhabitants were pretty excited to see us (they only see visitors about once a month) and taught us simplicity stands hand by hand with happiness. The dwellings were really basic, but everybody was always welcome. The rice based food was yummy, children had a lot of attention, romantic love was encouraged, and gates and ceremonies kept the bad spirits outside (as well as the community united, I must say). No wonder the Akha people go to the town every week, but always come back to the village.

A big thanks to Green Discovery (who promotes low impact eco tourism), to our amazing guy (who knew all about the forest and connected us to the culture of the village) and to my 3 fellow trekkers (the best company I could wish!)


The Akha village



In our sleeping hut



Yummy mountains food

A taste of Lebanon in Sydney

Last Sunday I was invited by Manny to visit Punchbowl, the suburb where she lives. I knew it was a mainly Lebanese region, but it's more: it really feel like a little Lebanon in Sydney. People speak Arabic, the markets have a different display, the posters on the walls are from Lebanese singers, Arabic styled clothes are sold and people eat the most yummy Lebanese food and sweets.

In order to live a little bit of all that, Manny showed me around, we bought some really good sweets and went to have lunch with her brother and father. I'm very glad we did, as I learnt a lot of things.

As you might know, Lebanon was created to be the Christian state in the Middle East. So around xxx% of the population is Christian, but another xxx% is Muslim.

Therefore, there's an ongoing tension. Formally, it is one country, but the education people receive at home segregate them into Christian Lebanese and Muslim Lebanese.

Discontent with this situation, Manny's father (who is Christian married to a Muslim wife) joined a political party which advocates the creation of one secular state comprised not only by all of Lebanon, but also Syria and Jordan. The idea is to acknowledge the difference but unite people around a bigger dream and, in his words, "let God decide whose religion was wrong when we die".

Full moon festival

Back in Sydney, I continue learning about Asia. Last Monday, Joey invited us to play Mahjong, a very popular Chinese game which mixture some elements of dominos and poker. It was quite fun, but the first challenge was to read the pieces, as the symbols were in Mandarin. In the picture beside you can see SuSu with the symbols of good luck.

After playing, we ate full moon cakes, a very, very, very (can’t say very enough) dense cake, made of lotus seeds, with a yolk inside, not salty, not sweet. At this point of the year, Chinese people give each other this sort of cakes as part of the celebration of the full moon festival.

This festival happens because of the following legend:

“The earth once had ten suns circling over it, each taking turn to illuminate the earth. One day, however, all ten suns appeared together, scorching the earth with their heat. Hou Yi, a strong and tyrannical archer, saved the earth by shooting down nine of the suns. He eventually became King, but grew to become a despot.

One day, Yi stole the elixir of life from a goddess. However, his beautiful wife, Chang'e, drank it in order to save the people from her husband’s tyrannical rule. After drinking it, she found herself floating, and flew to the moon. Yi loved his divinely beautiful wife so much he did not shoot down the moon.”

Indian culture

Last weekend we had an awesome Indian Cultural Day. Organised by Siddharth, we started with an Indian movie, followed by discussions and high quality Indian food.

Some things that I learnt:
- India produces around 800 films a year (almost 3 per day!)
- Going to the cinema is the typical Indian program for the weekend, as it’s quite affordable. The films are the equivalent to the Brazilian soap operas and generally show an imaginary world, very rich people and a happy end.

More than that, something that called my attention again about Indian culture is how they are serene when they take decisions. In one part of the film, the boyfriend of the main character said she shouldn’t talk to other men. Instead of swearing at him, she said she needed to think about their relationship, and it would be helpful it he did the same.

Darumas

Tonight, I went to a Japanese restaurant with AIESEC and had a bit of a class with Kana about Japanese culture.

Kana’s parents are Japanese, she was born in Australia, speaks Japanese and is going to live in Japan for the next 5 months.

The most curious thing I learnt today is about the Darumas (picture beside). Daruma is a wooden made doll, without arms or legs and with white / unpainted eyes. In New Year’s Eve (the most important family occasion), people paint one of the eyes and make a wish. When the wish comes true, they paint the other eye and, in the next New Year’s Eve, burn the “complete” Daruma, which brought some king of happiness to the house.

More info: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daruma