"They tell you to go to Rio, to Sao Paulo, to Salvador. They never tell you to go to Maranhão." Marcio was fiercely proud of his home state and especially so of his hometown, São Luís. He, his son, Kaiki, and I were spending a week in the city as part of a mini-vacation. On this particular day, we boarded a boat to cross the Baía de São Marcos and visit the municipality of Alcântara. "There's a lot of history here. European, Indio, African. They are all part of the culture." Throughout our stay, Marcio had proven to be a knowledgeable and insightful guide. He could recite the history of the area without fail and explain how the past still resonated deeply within São Luís culture. He wasn't afraid to admit the area had experienced hard times but also never ceased in believing that better days were ahead. We disembarked at Porto Jacaré and joined a tour group led by a volunteer. Between Marcio (who translated) and our guide, hints of the past could be found everywhere. "You see the Portuguese tiles? There are also French and Dutch influences. Look at the different buildings." We ventured inside an old church. A solemn-looking man approached us and offered a whisper of a greeting. He began to slowly note how the church was centuries old and that it was once a place of worship for slaves. Kaiki sat quietly, a rarity for him, taking in every word. His eyes locked on the elderly man. Similar to many other aspects of Afro-Brazilian history, the story of Igreja de Nossa Senhora dos Rosarios dos Pretos is one of survival and perseverance. The value of the church stems from both its longevity and durability. Whereas many other places of worship were destroyed because of their being frequented by Afro-Brazilians or from their being connected to religions such as Candomblé or Macumba, this church had survived. Not only had it bested the test of time but also the weight of unrelenting prejudice. I was beginning to realize how Alcântara was more than just a sleepy port town. It was and remains a testament to Brazil's complex past. The ports. The churches. The roads. The various buildings. All in some way connected to the institution of slavery. At the same time, there were young men practicing capoeira in the street and young women learning Samba de Roda under the watchful eye of an elder. Like the church, these too were testaments of resiliency. Once scorned because of their affiliation with slaves, these Afro-Brazilian cultural touchstones were now considered national treasures. Towards the end of the tour, we ended up in the main plaza containing the Ruínas da Igreja de São Matias. The guide became quiet and his cadence slowed. The gravity of the topic was not lost on anyone listening. "He's talking about how there were many slaves here. How the post in front of the church is where they were beaten in public. The Pelourinho." At first glance, it looked rather regal. Maybe that was part of the point. A seemingly beautiful structure was once the sight of countless atrocities. This in contrast to what had previously appeared to be an unremarkable church ultimately signifying triumph and survival. The soul of Alcântara is laden with contradictions. The guide finished the tour by soliciting donations for the preservation of the various sights. He acknowledged how discussing such history could be painful, but that it wouldn't disappear even if the physical remains were neglected. "We cannot celebrate our present without acknowledging the sins of the past", he explained. Marcio and I looked at the Pelourinho in silence. Kaiki ran up to it and gave it a thorough look over. "Papai, is this where it happened?" "Where what happened?" "The bad things." Marcio walked towards Kaiki. "It happened all over, Kaiki. This is just one of many places." Kaiki stared at the Pelourinho for a few more seconds. "We should tell other people", he said. "Then it won't happen again." Brazil's future saw the wisdom of acknowledging the nation's at times painful past. He then turned around and ran to get some ice cream. He too would persevere.