Dance in Honor of Gods — Galega’s Quirky Brazilian Days ep 4
About Candomblé, Divine Trance, and Sexy Drummers.
A beautiful black man slaps on the atabaque and I feel as if he drummed on my brain. The rumbling hypnotizes my nerves. I want to let it go, leave my body, and spin until everything disappears. But I stop myself. This is not my home, not my custom. I’m just a guest here. So I pull my soul back into my body and only my fingers tap discreetly on the drum of my chest and abdomen, only my feet make tiny steps back and forth under the veil of my long skirt.
The woman next to me stretches her arms in sudden convulsion. Her face twists in an inhuman grimace and she squeals. Two helpers are already next to her, taking off her heavy earrings and bracelets so she doesn’t hurt herself or the others. In a few moments her arms and legs will fly up and down in a ferocious dance. She’s been chosen by an Orisha to flow Its divine energy through her. She closes her eyes and joins the other dancers in the holy ritual.
Candomblé, aka “dance in honor of gods,” is an Afro-American spiritual tradition practiced in the Northeast of Brazil. It fuses the beliefs brought to Brazil by the African slaves with the Indigenous American and Christian practices. The most important element of the religion is the sacred drumming and dancing, resulting in the divine trance and embodiment of Orishas, deities resembling Catholic saints.
I’ve experienced many unusual spiritual ceremonies, from Thaipusam, an Indian procession of pain, to sweat lodges and all-night Ayahuasca voyages, to quiet full-moon meditations on the beach. But the Candomblé ritual has excited me more than anything else and the reason for that is simple. It’s all about DANCE and it’s all about DRUMS.
I’ve always had a weak point for the conga, since that one party when I was too high to take my eyes off from the mysterious drummer in the corner of the room. He seduced me with the magical slaps of his palms and I knew I found my kryptonite. Since the only instrument I can play on is my body, I let the current of notes flow through me, lightning up my soul. I am the last chick on the dance floor, the witch hopping around the bonfire, the crazy lady throwing herself into inspired whirl to a busker’s concert on the street. I can’t help it. I’m possessed.
The idea of spirit possession has terrified many, causing Candomblé to be hidden from the public eye for two centuries. Only now the adherents speak openly about their religion, slowly shifting the minds of those who pejoratively call it macumba or witchcraft. For some incomprehensible reason, there are still religions in the world that forbid their devotees from any form of dance, regarding it as sinful, causing impure thoughts and feelings.
But the only thoughts I have when I dance are NO thoughts. The only thing I feel is JOY.
So next time when you spot me in the crowd, come and join me in the mad Saint Vitus Dance. Let the Gods of Music take over our minds.
Magically Yours,
Galega
