Bahia’s Afro-Latin Beat

SALVADOR DA BAHIA, Brazil —  The first time I heard the patter of bongos in the streets of this coastal city, I followed the sound down crowded Avenida Carlos Gomes. It took me up five flights of rickety stairs to a display of acrobatics so bold and poetic it made my heart jump. Two men were demonstrating the martial art of capoeira, facing off in a muscular show of power kicks, headstands and cartwheels, while a pair of drummers coolly tapped in the background.

For the rest of my stay, the drummers of Salvador would be my pied pipers. Whenever I heard the rhythmic bang of bongos or other drums, I tried to trace it to the source.

One morning it led me to a Catholic church where prayers were sung in a kind of Portuguese rap to the syncopated beat of a bongo. Another time it drew me to a tiny neighborhood restaurant where the chef served shredded beef with manioc root and played an impromptu drum concert. Another evening I followed the beat along an ocean-side trail to a jagged cliff; there a lone musician tapped out an homage to the blood-orange ball sinking into the horizon.

I had come to Salvador, in the northeastern state of Bahia, to explore its Afro-Brazilian heritage. About 70% of the city’s 2.5 million residents have African roots. This is evident in the skin tones that range from dark chocolate to milky coffee; in the long, white, ruffled skirts and flamboyant headdresses sported by matrons selling snacks on street corners; in many local dishes, from moqueca, a fish stew cooked in a clay pot, to acaraje, a bean fritter from Nigeria that Bahians gobble down quicker than Americans eat hot dogs.

But I wanted to dig deeper. Tracking the drumbeat to the source might help. After all, it was slaves from Africa, transported here by Portuguese settlers between the 16th and 19th centuries, who brought bongos and other drums to these parts. Their descendants continue to weave drum music into the songs, worship and other aspects of Bahian life.

One evening the drums called me to a service of Candomble, the religion Yoruba slaves brought to Brazil and practiced clandestinely until 1970, when a law lifted many of the restrictions imposed on its practice. The services, conducted to rhythmic chants and the constant banging of drums, can last for hours. Candomble means “dance of the spirits” in Yoruba. Typically, women wearing elegant white dresses of lace, linen and satin slowly and continuously circle the room while a group of men play bongos and chant. The participants commune with spirits, fall into trances and sometimes collapse in faints.

Dozens of Candomble houses, or terreiros, are scattered across Salvador; I went to one suggested by a Brazilian friend, and it was one of the most electrifying spiritual events of my life.

Apart from its vitality, Salvador, the original colonial capital, is one of the world’s grandest destinations. The stunning vistas and elegant buildings make an indelible impression, like a ballad you hear once and remember by heart.

On my first stroll through Cidade Alta, the hilltop upper city, I saw some unforgettable architecture: churches splashed with gold leaf and covered with blue-and-white Portuguese tiles; baroque mansions of fallen sugar barons; towering statues of poets and lawmakers--all remnants of the city’s 214-year reign (from 1549 to 1763) as a Portuguese colonial capital.

Salvador is on a peninsula; on the east is the Atlantic, on the west, the broad Baia de Todos os Santos (Bay of All Saints; the Portuguese landed here on All Saints’ Day, Nov. 1, 1501).

From my 10th-floor hotel room I looked out over a sandy shoreline that runs along the eastern edge of the city, encompassing at least two dozen beaches that go on for 40 miles--all seemingly packed with Brazilian beauties.

Then there were the Bahians, whose good looks and coquettish charm have been celebrated in song by Carmen Miranda and in prose by novelist Jorge Amado, also a Bahian. They seemed always ready to engage a stranger, even an American with only a scant knowledge of Portuguese.

Language aside, as an American of African heritage, I often felt a sense of the familiar in Salvador, sometimes pleasant, sometimes discomforting.

Colonial Brazil’s wealth was built on the backs of slaves; an estimated 3 million were brought from Africa to Bahia. (Brazil did not abolish slavery until 1888.) That bitter legacy left Salvador the only major city in South America with a majority black population.

Although Salvador’s style has been heavily infused with Portuguese and native Indian customs, the mark left by the Africans struck me as most prominent. Among the handful of strongholds of the African diaspora spread across the New World, Salvador seems to cling most faithfully to the traditions of the mother continent. Just as in Cuba, Bahian music and dance customs are punctuated with the syncopated drums and rhythms born along Africa’s Gold Coast. And like the people of the Gullah region in South Carolina, Bahians faithfully carry on African religious customs.

What distinguishes Salvador from any other city I know is the extent to which the population has embraced African cultural traditions. Regardless of race, almost all Bahians eat acaraje and know the lyrics to the tunes of Olodum, an Afrocentric musical group. A year and a half ago, the city fathers erected towering replicas of a half-dozen orixas, the gods worshiped by Bahians of African descent, in the middle of a pond in the Dique de Tororo, the most popular park in the city.

Back, if I may, to the drums. Early one evening, as I wandered the old colonial quarter looking for a place to eat, I heard a patter from an open window above the cobblestoned Rua Joao de Deus. I followed it into the Casa do Gamboa, a restaurant much loved by upscale locals that specializes in a blend of Bahian and African recipes. I dined on vatapa, a seafood stew made with manioc paste, coconut and dende oil--probably the best known of many Brazilian dishes that originated in Africa.

Afterward, as soon as I stepped into the street, I heard a drum overture coming from the nearby Casa Olodum, the headquarters of the music group. Known for its thunderous chorus of drums, Olodum is waging a campaign to combat racism and boost the image of African people in Brazil. The shop, which sells musical instruments and Afrocentric memorabilia, stages informal jam sessions and is a center of information for readings and artistic performances. A clerk there recommended that I talk to a man named Mele to learn about capoeira.

Capoeira is as much a pastime in Brazil as hip-hop dancing is in urban America. A graceful combination of acrobatics, aerobics and high-rolling body throws, capoeira captured my imagination. It was developed by slaves as a technique of revolt against their masters, Mele said, and its practice was banned until the 1920s, when tamer forms were introduced.

“It used to be that only people of African heritage practiced it at all,” Mele said. “But we’ve opened the doors for everyone to take part, and just about everyone has come in.”

The centerpiece of my tour through Salvador was Pelourinho, the core of the old upper city. The name, which means “pillory” in Portuguese, recalls the time when masters publicly beat their slaves in the area’s main square.

Constructed during the colonial heyday of the 17th and 18th centuries, Pelourinho fell into neglect in the 1920s and ‘30s. Now, with gentrification, the area somewhat resembles old Lisbon: houses bathed in mango orange, robin’s egg blue and other bright colors; cobblestones that echo the clatter of footsteps; cafes offering coffee, beer, souvenirs and desserts rich in coconut or tropical fruits.

With its breezy, youthful ambience, Pelourinho is the city’s tourist epicenter. The area also draws hordes of peddlers and beggars. While visitors should be wary of pickpockets and other small-time crime, Pelourinho is heavily policed and seemed as safe as any other city center. But extreme caution is warranted in areas not as heavily touristed.

Night life is the quarter’s biggest draw. I took a stroll there one Tuesday, one of the biggest nights of the week (Sunday is the other), when every square and public space seemed to be a concert scene. Most major music groups, and many minor ones, flock to Pelourinho to compete for crowds in free, open-air performances.

The next day I hooked up with Jorge Hage, an independent tour guide, who gave me a thorough discourse on the role Afro-Brazilians played in Pelourinho.

The airy, picturesque Largo do Pelourinho at the community’s center may be best known for its museum dedicated to Jorge Amado, Hage explained, but locals of African heritage think of it as the place where their ancestors were flogged. Underneath the plaza is a dungeon once used to hold slaves.

Across the way is Igreja de Nossa Senhora do Rosario dos Pretos, a powder-blue baroque church constructed by and for slaves, who were discouraged from worshiping in other Catholic churches.

A few blocks away is Igreja de Sao Francisco, the church whose gold-leaf interior has made it Brazil’s most celebrated example of baroque architecture; it, too, was built by slave labor in the 1700s.

“If anybody stopped to think about it,” Hage said, “it would be clear the elegance of Salvador could not have been possible without the sweat of African slaves.”

On my last day, I took a boat around the wide Baia de Todos os Santos. The 32-foot Juan Carlos, full of South American and European tourists, made short, pleasant stops at the picturesque islands of Dos Frades and Itaparica.

It was the return journey to Salvador that made the trip poignant. I could imagine the Portuguese explorers who first pushed their way into these waters, returning with boatload after boatload of slaves. It struck me that the only proper way to make an entrance to this city is not by plane but by ship.

As we chugged slowly toward the port, I listened closely for the soft sound of drums, but heard none.

*

Gary Lee is a travel writer at the Post.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

GUIDEBOOK

Rhythmic Brazil

Getting there: Varig has service from Los Angeles to Salvador with a change of planes in Rio de Janeiro or Sao Paulo. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $862 if ticketed by Aug. 15, $1,350 after.

Where to stay: The Othon Palace, 2456 Avenida Presidente Vargas, telephone 011-55-71-203-2000, fax 011-55-71-245-4877, Internet https://www.srs-worldhotels.com/brazil/salvador/hotel_ssabah.html. The nightly double room rate of about $100 to $180 includes a sumptuous buffet breakfast. Be prepared to add at least 15% in taxes and service charges.

Hotel Catharina Paraguacu, 291 Rua Sao Paulo, tel./fax 011-55-71-334-0089, e-mail [email protected], is in a small mansion in a fun neighborhood. Doubles, including breakfast, are $50 to $62.

Where to eat: Iemanja, 929 Avenida Otavio Mangabeira, local tel. 231-5770, a 20-minute taxi ride from the center of town, serves Bahian food in a romantic, calm atmosphere. Dinner for two, with drinks, runs about $50.

The food at Senac, a cooking-school restaurant (no phone) on Largo do Pelourinho, is just average but a good choice for sampling a range of local dishes. Buffet lunch ($10) and dinner ($18).

Sightseeing: Tours Bahia, off the Terreiro de Jesus in Pelourinho, local tel. 322-3676, is a good resource for changing money, organizing excursions and so on.

For more information: Brazilian Consulate, 8484 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 730, Beverly Hills, CA 90211; tel. (323) 651-2664. Useful Web sites: https://www.svnt.com.br/bahiatursa, https://www.svador.com.br, https://www.vivabrazil.com.