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Rio started off with bad energy. One of our tour mates fell as she was getting off the plane. It was decidedly whiter. It felt like being back in California. The only Black people I saw at the airport were my tour mates. Our tour guide was amazing. Like, he gave us an Afro-Brazilian History lecture on our commute to our hotel that was absolutely Ugh… EVERYTHANG! I would take a class with him. Shouts out to Carlos! Then we arrived at our hotel…dun dun dun. They took copies of our passports and kept them on file then distributed room keys. With a group of damn near 40 people it took like…an hour. Then we had to go on a hunt for our luggage because the bellhops didn’t put all of our luggage in the same place and also didn’t tell us exactly where they put the shit.
Then we get to our rooms and shit hits the fan, goes through the fan, and splatters on the wall. The hotel’s air was damp and smelled of sewer and sulfur. My bed sheets had stains on them and a hole. The button to flush the toilet had green build up on it like it had been immersed in water for a prolonged period of time and our shower didn’t drain well. Oh and in Brazil they don’t give you face towels at all and they never supply a room with two people in them enough towels to shower twice. So anyway, I had to call down for housekeeping to come change my sheets and help us work the air. We tried opening the window for air, but the sewer smell was so strong. Then our neighbor’s toilet wouldn’t flush, another tour mate had dirty standing water in his shower that would not drain, another tour mate’s room smelled so strong of sewer-ness and their beds were like that of your 12 yr. old brother in 1984 that they asked to be moved, some others hated their view and I am sure there were more people asking for better rooms when I wasn’t around. This went on til like 3am and we checked in around 10. The Golden Tulip Regente was under renovation and they knew good and damn well they were giving us rooms on the wing of the hotel with plumbing problems. Do not, I REPEAT, DO NOT EVER, EVER EVER EVER STAY THERE. It’s directly across the street from Copacabana Beach and that couldn’t event save us from the fuckery. Oh and to boot I had to keep requesting towels because they were giving us dry off towels that were so old that they had thin patches in them that I could see light through. At home that shit would have been taken out of the bath rotation and used as a rag, but NOOOOOO the Golden Tulip Regente were still placing these towels in guest rooms and they were dingy as fuck. Ok, let me try to find something positive to say.
Our first day was coo. We started by going to where the first slave ships docked in Rio and seeing the Travessa do Comercio. It is an alley across from the Portuguese Royal Palace and the dock where business was done and slaves were traded. When you look it up online nothing will tell you that as Brazil does not embrace and atone for the experiences of the Africans who were enslaved there. Our tour guide, Carlos, said that the usual touristy tours won’t take you to places of significance to African history and if they do they don’t know about its ties to the diaspora. Carlos my man! You have to seek the knowledge. At the alley we poured libation to the ancestors and walked the small cobble stoned alley ways. We even stopped by some place Carmen Miranda used to live. Carlos said Samba was illegal for Afro-Brazilians to sing/dance, but she could do it because she was white. She acknowledged her privilege and performed for all of those who could not.
Then we went Cais do Valongo which is where millions of enslaved Africans landed in Brazil. It was re-discovered in 2011 and has been submitted to UNESCO to be a world heritage site. The ancestors were with us this whole morning as our next stop was Pedra do Sal where we learned it was a large slave trade market and is now a hub for Afro-Brazilian culture and life. The graffiti there is amazing. We even took a pic with a random sister who was walking by with co-workers from a community center not far away. This area in Rio felt good to my soul kinda like everything in Salvador did.
Then the ultimate experience of being with the ancestors. We went to IPN (Instituto de Pesquisa e Memorial Pretos Novos/Research Institute and Memorial of The New Blacks) which is a residence that was discovered to be the burial place of an estimated 50,000 Africans who died before they could be sold. We were literally walking above the bones of our ancestors. Much love to Merced and Petruccio who are did not build their home; instead they turned it into a museum and cultural center and are keeping the memory of the ancestors alive. They only get 1 grant from the state; otherwise they depend on donations from the public to keep the place open and the cemetery intact. More info to come on how you can help…
BTW slavery lasted in Brazil from 1500-1888. We then went off the ancestor path and visited Sugar Loaf Mountain. It was a cool experience. Kind of scary going up that high in a lift, but the views were gorgeous. Got fucked over by our “travel agent” and had to pay out of pocket for the experience, which was supposed to be included in the cost of the trip. Took some pics, peed, and came down. Been there, done that…NEXT! Great moment #2 …we went out Samba dancing at Sacrilegio. Ugh, those drums were sick. I danced, but kept wanting to break out in West African Dance. It was infectious and damn it I am going to learn how to do that fancy footwork that is Samba.
The next day we got up early to go to the beach. It was nice. I just wish we had more time because our schedule was so hectic. There are such beautiful views at Copacabana. I didn’t get all of the way in the water. Saw a dude playing with his cute dogs, brothers kept trying to sell us shit which made me feel antsy like they were watching us and waiting to steal our shit. I don’t need no shades, shrimp on a stick, capirhinias, sarongs, swimsuits, kiddie toys, etc. Nobody looked like that propaganda they be trying to sell us on TV. Women had regular bodies. I saw a sista about my size with hips and cellulite just like me; out with family and enjoying herself in a thong bikini. It made me reflect on my own body image issues. Sista was fierce and looked damn good and real and I need to own it and stop being afraid to live in my truth and be free.
From there we went to Christ The Redeemer-The White Jesus Dude and it was a great experience. It was raining and I didn’t have na’an umbrella, but I was so thankful for rain because LA is in a drought chile! The ride up in the funicular was fun. We really went through a rainforest and up a mountain. I saw jackfruit in trees and that’s about it. The higher we climbed the foggier it got and by the time we got to the top you couldn’t see shit. We were higher than the trees and I didn’t care nothing about seeing white Jesus dude anyway. I was so happy for the mist. We couldn’t see a good 20 feet in front of us. It was a special day. I felt like a day and view like this is rare and we were blessed to be in it. Just looking down into a misty abyss was awesome. On the way down- right at the bottom where apartment building start to line the rail line- I saw street art of Eazy E. It was so quick and in an obscure place low on the building, but it was there. So for my people in Compton, Eazy done made it all the way to the Christ the Redeemer rail line in Rio de Janeiro.
It was the eve of my best frann’s birthday so I made sure she felt special at our dinner that night. Every place we went to was a buffet. This restaurant happened to be a churrascaria, but we had to flag people down for meat. My beef was so rare there was blood on my plate and I could taste the iron. We finally got the long awaited lamb, but it was underwhelming. I just stuck with the buffet, which was tasty. I also have a new international fave. Guarana soda. It’s the Brazilian version of ginger ale with a little tainch (yes, tainch) of sweetness. My best frann decided she wanted to stay in for her birthday eve so we had passion fruit liqueur and got crunk to Crucial Conflict in the hotel room. And our lil bitch ass new neighbors knocked on our door and ran then called the front desk to have them tell us to quiet down.
On our last day in Rio was the best. We added a tour of a favela and Lapa/Saint Teresa to our final hours there and I had my second moving moment. Our tour guide allowed us to ride the train to the Alemao Favela. It is a pacified/police controlled favela and they built a gondola to ride above the favela. Pacified means the police went in and rounded up/shot/killed drug dealers and gangs to gain control. It was so humbling to look down on the homes and people. My tour mates and I had a great conversation about how resilient our people are and INSPITE OF we endure. There was such beauty and I had to bat back the tears. There were locals at the stop we got off on and we were able to buy goods and some of my tour mates (against out tour guides’ wishes) started giving kids money. I didn’t…yea he is 7, but you don’t know! He might go back home and get Junebug nem. Some of my tour mates were all in an uproar because one little boy was riding on a rim. He seemed perfectly happy. I’ve played with many of broken toys and he wasn’t letting the lack of an inner tube keep him from riding around and getting it.
FYI, favelas are illegal settlements and are not included on maps on Rio. It wasn’t until a recent census (2010 or later) that census takers even went into the favelas to count the people who live there. The city doesn’t provide them with any services and anything they have (houses, electricity, etc.) are all made or cultivated somehow by the resident who live there. According to Carlos, 70% of Afro-Brazilians live in the north zone in favelas and 55% of the population of Brazil identified as Black or of African descent.
We then went to Lapa/Santa Teresa to tour the streets and see Escadaria Selaron. It was gorge, but I wish we had more time to really look at all of the tiles. It’s where Snoop and Pharrell shot that Beautiful video. The city was looking to tear it up because the artist installed the tiles illegally and his neighbors were complaining about the traffic it brought. Amazingly enough that video brought the stairs to national attention and it became difficult to destroy the art due to the world’s eye being on the city so it is still there. The artist, Jorge Selaron, passed on the stairs in 2013. I hope they come up with a way to protect his legacy.
As you know I Michael everywhere I go and I was delighted that our tour guide showed us a vista from the Santa Teresa neighborhood where we could see the Santa Marta favela that Michael Jackson filmed They Don’t Really Care About Us at. It is not pacified and was too dangerous for us to go. Carlos says there is a statue dedicated to Michael there. Point of clarification…
They filmed the street scenes with the colorful buildings in Salvador da Bahia and the scenes in the favela/slums in Rio de Janeiro. AND HAYLE NAW I JUST REALIZED I BOUGHT THE SAME RED OLODUM/DASHIKI INSPIRED SHIRT MICHAEL WEARS IN THE VIDEO!!!!! See, he works on a spiritual level man!
The last thing we did was go walking to buy shoes. Funny enough my last meal in Rio was bland pizza. I bought some shoes and then we hot tailed it to the hotel to catch our bus to the airport. Cletus and Clavis clanked it up in wine bar and had champagne before parting ways. Brazil was nice. I probably won’t be going to Rio again unless I meet someone who lives there who can get me out into the city and amongst the people more, but Salvador will be happening again within the year. I’d also like to caution every person reading this to not book a trip through a company called Access Africa. The owner, Betty Ray, is highly unprofessional and dishonest. I don’t care if it’s the trip of a lifetime…find somebody else to save you the stress, depression, nervousness, and rage we experienced. From making payments to being on the trip and being put up in a horrible hotel, brushed off, and straight lied to about what all was included in the cost of the trip it was a nightmare interacting with her.
I contemplated taking the refund she threatened me with, but decided I was not going to let that underhanded cretin keep me from Brazil. I’d been dreaming of going there since I saw City of God and although I could not catch up with Phellipe and Jonathan Haagensen eu viveu- se o melhor que pude.
I gotta send a shout out to the cast and crew of City Of God (Cidade De Deus) because without you I would still be living in ignorance of my brothers and sisters in South America. Without you, I wouldn’t have found a place on this earth that speaks to my soul.
Asé!
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