we all meet at a hostel that one of the boys is staying in, have drinks and take photos on the balcony. it overlooks a small harbour and has a beautiful starscape.
we change into our abadas here at the hostel, not wanting to risk having them stolen. for the short walk to the hostel, I have tucked mine into the waistband of my shorts, covered by my vest top, creating what can only be described as a muffin top look. when I meet my two official carnival chaperones at the end of my road, as normal, they have a different approach. they have stashed their t-shirts into their short pockets and instead of the hassle of "where they will leave their spare t-shirt for the night" (as I am worrying about), they just go without, and are walking along the street topless. I hasten to add that they are both boys...
on the way to Campo Grande we see all the other bloccos on the circuit getting into position. the one in front of ours is a drum band. they wear fuscia pink costumes and hats, reminiscent somewhat of China... the drums are amazing, and the band has some simple moves that are so effective. just turning to the left and the right in unison in time with the music. a pink wave undulating to the rhythm.
as I approach our blocco I am tapped on the shoulder by a friend who tells me that someone is trying to get my attention. when I turn around I see that there are two women, in candomble costume, both of which are albino. when I turn to them I see their faces drop a little, I think they are disappointed to see that I am not an albino, I just have very pale skin and blonde hair.
our blocco is lead by women in traditional candomble costume. the skirts are huge! how they intend to dance for six hours in them I don't know.
we eventually get moving and the energy is high. amazingly this does not seem to ebb away. even at four am when I am ready to go home. converse all stars were not made for this, so how is that woman surviving in four inch wedges???
everyone is so friendly in the blocco. Jailson keeps the beers flowing, even passes around a plastic water bottle that contains anything but water. but it helps to keep us dancing and energetic. at one point Jailson throws down a hat in front of me, I can see that it is some kind of challenge, like a gauntlet. but I have not quite figured out what I should do yet. so he shows me, I am to samba around the hat. it's a bit of a dance off I guess... don't worry, I didn't let any of you down...
the candomble women dance in front of the blocco. they make circles and take it in turns to dance in the middle. with their big smiles and wide spinning skirts, they remind me of young girls at a party who are unaccustomed to the movement of their posh frocks. spinning them around, looking down to see the patterns they can make with such ease. the women are so friendly, they invite me to dance and teach me some steps. this is hard for me, as I cannot see their footwork under their huge skirts!
the mood does shift a little as we enter "downtown" Campo Grande. this is the point at which I feel it necessary for us to get back within the safety of the rope and behind our human shield. it's not long before we can see something brewing in the pipoca.
all I can see is the end of a scuffle then a great surge of people running towards it. and almost as quickly as it has started it scatters again, knocking our ropes men and women as they go to avoid the very strong arm of the law.
the police here do not hold back. there is a fear that the people have of them. do whatever they tell you to do and do not get in their way, as they will not stop to consider whether they should use violence.
at this point I am ready to go home. so keeping close to the police and walking quickly up to the old town of Pelhourinho to try to find a taxi.
it's not long before I am in bed thinking about the night's adventures before I zonk out, aware of the nine am class that awaits me in the morning.
[candomble sketch courtesy of soberanayemanja.blogspot.com]
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