From Samba to Favela

by Mireia Perez (Spain)

I didn't expect to find Brazil

When we think of samba, the famous Brazilian music, we often think of feathers, drums and small bikinis. But this is just the surface, as I discovered on a recent trip to Rio de Janeiro in February. I was attending an international samba congress. It started with a night show, followed by 3 days of classes. It took place in a community center on top of the Cantagalo favela, one of the poor overcrowded communities found on the skirts of every hill in the city. To get there, there were 5 elevators that went from the rich neighborhood of Ipanema, to the top of the hill, but only one worked. It had no windows and only one stop, on the top. The views from Rio that welcomed us from up there were outstanding, thousands of houses, other hills, the sea. And the favela below. We went to a small amphitheater, with a colorful cardboard favela representation in the background. In the middle, playing, running, dancing and laughing, there were about 30 Brazilian kids. It surprised me because it was late and they didn't seem to be with any adult.They were dressed up, the boys with colorful suits, and the girls with sparkly dresses. Patrick, one of the organizers, came on stage, and the kids sat down. He explained that those kids were from favelas all around. He had created a community project, “Filhos do Samba” - Children of Samba - to give these kids an opportunity to do something through art, to spend time learning skills instead of on the streets, in gangs. They rehearsed every weekend. The show started and what we saw was an amazing piece of art and choreography, being the main characters the kids: from ages 4 to 15, girls and boys, all artists, feeling the music, dancing like professionals with years of experience. Their expressions, their movements, their interactions with the public, everything was magic. One of the girls was crying out of emotion while dancing. I was aware from minute one that I was witnessing something unique. When they finished, we clapped, we stood up, we congratulated them, some of us even cried, and for the 3 days that the congress lasted people could not speak of anything else. We took classes with great Brazilian teachers, which also came from favelas, but had been able to improve their lives thanks to samba. Some of them, such as Patrick had decided to invest back in the community, taking his now more privileged position to help children. One day I asked one of my teachers if favelas were safe. She said that they are not as scary as the media shows them. Most of them are safe, most of the time, and the majority of Rio population live there, and inside them, there are also richer and poorer people. The problem with some favelas are drug dealers fighting the police in the middle of the street. When that happened, usually because of a police ride, guns were shot, and some innocent died on the crossfire. I imagined those kids and my teachers, in the middle of that scenario. “But the police don't protect people?” I asked. “Police in Rio are only there to protect the rich that pass through poor areas. Government doesn't care about favelas, they just make Rio look dirty to them.You saw the elevators, right?” she continued “they never work during the year, none of them. They have “fixed” one for the congress, but after you are gone, they will close it again”. I felt very unsettled, but she said to me “We have each other. And we have samba”. Days later I visited the Sambodromo to see the big famous Carnival parade. Each one of the samba schools that participates represents a favela. The full community is there, 3000 to 5000 people per group, chariots, amazing effects, drummers and dancers. Each group sings a samba song, called Enredo, and each one, although happy, represents something deeper: they sing and dance against racism, bigotry, power abuse, to protect nature or the poor. I understood then. That Samba means Favela. Means community. Means art. Means rebellion, fight for rights, equality. And above all, samba means life.