I suddenly caught the Tropicalia bug again. There’s something in that music that niggles at me – like there’s something in it I need to know but it’s just beyond. Some of that is a function of language (my Portuguese is limited, to put it nicely), some of it a function of culture and history.
Brazil is the only country I’ve been to where the culture seems so familiar and so foreign. I know so little. I feel like I should know more than I do, more should be instinctive, but I’m so far behind. Growing up, I was taught or absorbed a fair amount of European history, and basics of Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Middle Eastern, African and North American. I was taught that to be well rounded and a citizen of the world (and you should be a well rounded citizen of the world), you should know a little something of the history of it’s people. And while a good chunk of what I was taught was from a decidedly Occidental, if not outright colonial, point of view, I felt I knew the basics of most places. Until I got to Brazil. I realized I knew nothing.
My knowledge of the country before I went – it had been colonized by Portugal; they grew coffee and sugar cane; once a year they have a big party with a parade; there’s some ocean; and there’s a statue of Christ somewhere. If you’d asked me before my trip was planned, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you the Amazon rain forest is there. But events? Nothing.
I learned a bit more before I went. But facts only teach me so much….
When we landed in Salvador, I was struck by familiarity. I saw people who looked like me, or like family. I saw food that seemed like food my family made. I felt a vibe that made sense. But at the same time, it was all new. How was that possible?
Slowly I’ve learned more – the slave trade there was different. I remember being told that families and village groups were more likely to be kept together. Language and religion from Africa survived longer. Despite those differences, I’ll bet that if my grandfather or my grandmother visited the Bahian countryside, they’d fit right in. Those things that I picked up about my own cultural history as an African American, I felt reasonate in Bahia. And yet –
I’d had no idea that there had been a military coup, no idea about the political censorship, no sense of the fights over land reforms, nada. Things that, while they may or may not have a direct impact on a modern Brasilan’s life, it’s in the culture. It’s why some things are the way they are, why some of the songs I love are what they are. É Proibido Proibir (Prohibiting Is Prohibited) is a great song, but even more meaningful when I know that it was written in a time of governmental decrees prohibiting many things.
Since I went, I’ve learned a bit more. Much of it prompted by the music I fell in love with. What little Portuguese I know is mostly what I learned reading the Portuguese lyrics side by side with the English lyrics. But poetry isn’t just about what the words mean – it’s also about signifiers, references, metaphors, allusions and so much of that is lost on me.
Perhaps if I listen to it long enough, and read enough, one day I’ll understand.
