tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80024747370429289172024-02-18T19:02:40.035-08:00omolu dancingThis blog chronicles my journey through part of the continent of South America. It is the continent which initiated my fascination for travel nearly twenty years ago, when I stayed a year in Brazil at the tender age of twenty two. It has never left me. This is an exploration of soul; of the life that flows beneath.captainskybluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05677629061212741977noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8002474737042928917.post-45652944945593191592011-03-13T20:44:00.000-07:002011-03-13T20:44:39.755-07:00sketches<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyj2D5t2_-cH2o2NK_jWE5rPTN8pjI1zwwdX8pivxKRJtZwfJsxPS69SVF4cm4KRtV8p_4WyNFqs5k1dgWDNps8OcUEyWBFYcB18czzswOXu2SLJp2uhFM06n1trmcypfAsvoSufKjQic/s1600/P3148686.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyj2D5t2_-cH2o2NK_jWE5rPTN8pjI1zwwdX8pivxKRJtZwfJsxPS69SVF4cm4KRtV8p_4WyNFqs5k1dgWDNps8OcUEyWBFYcB18czzswOXu2SLJp2uhFM06n1trmcypfAsvoSufKjQic/s320/P3148686.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU5J7GmAgRWdwsmcr2B_yUIaLRinPAx0dP-FovU1vttwu6SWqaAGqV7jwKvuKqp0NOIjcSpjMYRxbht-7yEWUy6mB7JrLff1Y2Bx01AwFBGuOqcA6TQsgskYGKpdxr1OUv_MJurqvatro/s1600/P3148687.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU5J7GmAgRWdwsmcr2B_yUIaLRinPAx0dP-FovU1vttwu6SWqaAGqV7jwKvuKqp0NOIjcSpjMYRxbht-7yEWUy6mB7JrLff1Y2Bx01AwFBGuOqcA6TQsgskYGKpdxr1OUv_MJurqvatro/s320/P3148687.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>captainskybluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05677629061212741977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8002474737042928917.post-68547690716355037172011-02-05T12:48:00.000-08:002011-02-05T12:48:29.723-08:00Colalao de Valle<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Colalao e Valle</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Roughly the same distance away from Quilmes as Amaicha but to the North, Colalao de Valle had none of the exuberance and spirit of its neighbour. Senora Gallega’s house and garden where we stayed was a bucolic bower of vines and ripe grapes, but an enclosed, private space. The rest of the village was dull with a faint sense of disquiet. We were served the worst meal we had eaten in Argentina by an unsmiling indigenous couple, most unlike the hospitality we had experienced before in the region.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Later I saw a crowd of children and adolescents being led by young people with the European looks of Southern Argentineans’ carrying guitars and singing evangelical songs. It seems the missionaries have not given up their business of convertion, except rather than Jesuits backed by conquistadors, it is the North Americanised version of this old tune. It had been pleasant in Amaicha not to see the buildings with banners advertising salvation, which have become a new epidemic in South America, but instead together with the town church a cairn of stones, altar to Pachamama in the main plaza.</span></span></div>captainskybluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05677629061212741977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8002474737042928917.post-12569896177282291342011-02-05T12:42:00.000-08:002011-02-05T12:42:49.080-08:00Sacred City of Quilmes<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Sacred City of Quilmes</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">We took the bus to the nearest point on the Road to Quilmes and walked the 6km along the track that winds its way through the desert to the entrance of the sacred city. It seems strange that the conquisadors should have had any interest in this dry unfertile land let alone enough to spend 150 years before taking it.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Only parts of the buildings and fortifications remain today. The low dry-stone walls marking where structures were rise in tiers up the slopes of the semicircular ring of hills that is the backdrop to the city.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I took the fortification route, a path that circle around the city and along the ridges behind, which include fortified vantage points from which defenders could hurl missiles down on intruders. From above, the layout of the city looked like a strange alphabet with different shapes of oblongs connected to a few circular constructions by slender walkways. The meanings of these shapes eluded me. It was difficult on the whole to perceive what use each area might have had.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I made my way back down the hill to meet up with Paola and to hear how her route through the centre of the city had gone.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">We have been in Amaicha de Valle for a few days now. Reaching this town of <metricconverter productid="5000 in" w:st="on">5000 in</metricconverter> the middle of an arid valley <metricconverter productid="2000 metres" w:st="on">2000 metres</metricconverter> above sea level you follow the mountain Road through what is known as ‘El Infernillo’, inhabited by liitle more than goats.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Amaicha is the oldest indigenous community in Argentina, having been granted the, land through a government charter in 1953. It is a short distance from the ruins of the sacred city of Quilmes, which resisted occupation by the Spanish conquisadors for 150 years before the remaining inhabitants were shipped to Buenes Aires. Now days, the feeling is that this defeat is being reversed. In fact, Amaicha has the feeling of a victory being celebrated. The bright patchwork ypala flag of the Pan-American indigenous movement flies proudly from commercial establishments and private house all over town.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The town’s proximity to Quilmes has allowed tourism to flourish, adding an extra income to the traditional ways of making a living, but unlike similar places that attract tourism, there is no encroachment by large hotels and other big money. The ubiquitous blandness of corporate cultural sanitation has been kept at bay and the energy of community enterprise and individual creativity has been allowed to grow unchecked. It is illegal to buy or sell the land, a situation, which has prevented the dubious benefits of large outside investment. The town is not mentioned in the Lonely Planet guide, but word of mouth brings plenty of visitors.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The place has a strong feeling of soul. The combination of a nearby sacred site and a large whiff of freedom and self determination has made the town a minor mecca for bohemians, artists, romantics and a young Argentine hippy set. A large museum of indigenous art dedicated to the earth-mother goddess Pachamama is being built at entrance to town, an ambitious project of the sculptor Hector Cruz, which may catapult the town into being a major artistic centre. A sizable part is already open to the public. It is a maze of terraces built with traditional stonework embellished by Cruz’s own work. It is impressive on the outside like an indigenous Gugenheim, if -at least for the time being- a little lacking in exhibits on the inside even more so than its counterpart in Bilbao.</span></span></div>captainskybluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05677629061212741977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8002474737042928917.post-91401875487908839292011-01-27T17:52:00.000-08:002011-01-27T17:55:59.550-08:00El Mollar continued..<span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.6px;">I took Lucho’s advice and walked the 9 km to El Rincón, ando n arrival set off up the side of the ridge following the quebrada Português. On the way I passed three circles of Stones. Following a hunch, I continued to the top. On the top of the ridge, I found another of the circular constructions in much better condition than the others, with a dry stone wall still to great extent intact, as IF some efforts had been made to maintain the structure in the relatively recent past. At two points on the circumference it had larger Stones. This was a place with a strong resonance. There was a feeling of calm. I rested and looked down on the deep valley below on the other side. I felt sure that this was one of the places Lucho had talked about.<br style="line-height: 17px;" />It seems a happy coincidence or perhaps a with a little serendipity that I met Leiliana the next morning, who gave me a little more information. She is a very enthusiastic lady in her fortys with a broad indigenous face and an even broader gapped smile. She seems like someone you might meet at a healing gathering in Wiltshire. She runs one of the stalls selling local craftwork and hás the title of shaman. She is from El Rincón, her land being one of thge places that one of the more important standing stones with a craved shaman’s mask was removed from. <br style="line-height: 17px;" />She told me a little of her people’s history, how the survivers of the Spanish conquest had hidden from the conquisadors in a deep gulley in the general area of the place I had climbed to above El Rincón.<br style="line-height: 17px;" />She also told me how the Spanish estancia owners had cut the indigenous workers’ tongues off. I took this to be at least partially metaphoric perhaps for the loss of their language. She told that there was however a small group Who spoke this language living in Atacama, and told me that if I passed that way I should tell them about the monoliths in Tafi valley.<br style="line-height: 17px;" />She was interested that I came from Britain and knew about standing stones there and wanted to know the approximate size of them. She told me that there was a belief that the original builders of the valley’s stones had perhaps come from overseas. The unearthed remains of the ancestor builders had revealed an abnormally tall race of people up to 2 metres in height. Many of the more recent generation, she told me, were also tall, for the reason she believed that they would need strength and power like the ancestors to deal with times of big changes.<br style="line-height: 17px;" />I bid her farewell and promised to send her a photo of Avebury stone circle. She gave me the name of a shaman at Quilmes acarving moving aroundnd asked me to say hello.<br style="line-height: 17px;" />The night before leaving El Mollar, we spent the evening sharing a bottle of wine with Lucho. He was in conversational mood and recounted more stories about his experiences with the stones. Many of the stones, he told us, were partially or wholly submerged, and that it was not unusual for people, especially when tending cattle in more remote mountain places, to excavate a little.He went on to retell how a friend of his had dug up a rock with four carved faces and had left it in Lucho’s house. The rock had stayed there three nights, during which time, the family had been unable to sleep due to the noise of what sounded like the carving moving around. In the end they took it back and buried it in the exact same place it had come from</span> </span><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8i-QDeVPlia5ozXqx-athFfVCLcdnYdqHtENGgl8AIiZ2PzaT4sa5Vwj9tHXOEBYry7H9og_otnpsUAEI3VhM28heUMPwyhYGh0tnC0R5lvsxQGsrfJKMYTJQhR9kxPvWEy1jXEXHWM4/s1600/P1124706.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8i-QDeVPlia5ozXqx-athFfVCLcdnYdqHtENGgl8AIiZ2PzaT4sa5Vwj9tHXOEBYry7H9og_otnpsUAEI3VhM28heUMPwyhYGh0tnC0R5lvsxQGsrfJKMYTJQhR9kxPvWEy1jXEXHWM4/s320/P1124706.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">shaman's mask carved onto standing stones</div>captainskybluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05677629061212741977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8002474737042928917.post-44150239746642735652011-01-25T17:08:00.000-08:002011-01-25T17:53:18.692-08:00Casasa Viejas and standing stones continued<div class="MsoNormal"> <span lang="PT-BR">19th Jan 2011</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="PT-BR">It always seemed unfeasable that the story of the monoliths with the archelogical park in El Mollar. There is a fair bit to catchg up on.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="PT-BR"> The other evening, I found an opportunity to chat to Lucho our host and Estela’s husband. He had come across us strolling down to the lake to see the sunset on his way to his herd Astride a horse and with the usual gaggle of dogs of different shapes and sizes in tow. He offered Paola a ride on his horse and walked along with me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="PT-BR"> I was interested to hear his opinion about the menhir park. The Stones, he told me, had been ‘robbed’ from various locations in the valley and put above the main Road, and then moved again to the archiological park. He echoed my sentiments about the lack of any feelingf of presence in the park. ‘It is the place that is important’ He Said. He advised me to Go to El Rincón where He assured me that there were places where you could ‘really feel something’ El Rincón I knew was where a great deal of the monoliths had been removed from.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="PT-BR"> Lucho also confirmed something I had already discovered, that there were important archiological sites near his house including standing Stones that had not been removed. The name of the indigenous community ‘Casas Viejas’ of course means ‘old houses’ in Spanish. The land on which Casa Viejas is strewn with boulders, perhaps I had thought cynically why it had been set aside for the Indians ; ‘rock growing country’as Paola put it referring to her family’s in joke about their ancestral land in Northern Italy. With some time and observation however, the land becomes more than ajumble of rocks and reveals the remenents of human constructions – ancestral dwellings, the most striking being the two or three circles of Stones of about ten paces in diameter. One had a large upright Stone placed at what seemed to be the entrance. We found a cluster of three on the mountain side off the Road to Tafi, the next town. There is also one in Lucho’s garden, where I am sitting writing this with a pear tree planted in the centre, whose shade I am enjoying very much in the heat of the afternoon.</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: center;"><span lang="PT-BR"> upright stone . Part of a circle of stones at Casa Viejas </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span lang="PT-BR"><br />
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</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: center;"><span lang="PT-BR"> circle of stones, remnants ancient building , Casas Viejas </span></div></div>captainskybluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05677629061212741977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8002474737042928917.post-16459561559304936362011-01-20T11:31:00.000-08:002011-01-20T11:49:39.043-08:00Travelogu: Argentina, menhirs, tribes and Shamans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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Archeological park El Mollar<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwsUQzkjssStkL1HRzakJiDYhIoHxcCkE6uQFrmKoJMMutqVaNk0E3uAeb1AaMilhfI3XxHr7q9PkveYzVi_5S0SrfcP1amb-4lrDfB1lbVJ0ZJTrop-sWNmX6IYKDBk9Dq_ZcG79A_3U/s1600/sP1124729.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwsUQzkjssStkL1HRzakJiDYhIoHxcCkE6uQFrmKoJMMutqVaNk0E3uAeb1AaMilhfI3XxHr7q9PkveYzVi_5S0SrfcP1amb-4lrDfB1lbVJ0ZJTrop-sWNmX6IYKDBk9Dq_ZcG79A_3U/s320/sP1124729.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> casas viajas indigenous communitycaptainskybluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05677629061212741977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8002474737042928917.post-56387451030002291112010-11-24T15:33:00.000-08:002010-11-24T15:33:46.026-08:00A long journey for an Indian godessAfter crossing the water from the jungle that was the focus of the last post, it was almost impossible not to notice the official shrine put up by the local council. It had an official place for lighting candles and for leaving offerings, as I guess a sensible move to try to minimise damage to the nature reserve.<br />
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</a></div>What really caught my interest was the name of the saint: Santa Sara Kali. Being and old India head I immediately recognised Kali as a Hindu godess and amazed to find her in Brazil. She is the black one, consort to Shiva lord of death most often portrayed in her destructive form. She is the godess of time and change. In Brazil, she is the patron saint of the gipsies.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrhyEoudf32AjKwn7cmWwWv57GZi0vQN7HGbNh3Sfi7kiwyGPg_e0gMgqcSKzjvuG5Qz5IMDw8nZLplAflxRDiwZPZF-D8P9phYyHwVq6z-tac02AgyxS87dXFaiJF29aHLFE9qOGBpe4/s1600/275px-Kaliposter1940s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrhyEoudf32AjKwn7cmWwWv57GZi0vQN7HGbNh3Sfi7kiwyGPg_e0gMgqcSKzjvuG5Qz5IMDw8nZLplAflxRDiwZPZF-D8P9phYyHwVq6z-tac02AgyxS87dXFaiJF29aHLFE9qOGBpe4/s320/275px-Kaliposter1940s.jpg" width="217" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Indian 1940s Kali poster</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAs34ealxU4N7E9pvkjq1Wxgirs6RZRqpg4QwwWgH8F6MslMx2PpZlgfAts1jXl5EVPV2D551SkTF3RyFhmKFc4KAVdX5NETSXVlJ37l8_y5eQw1uDcObptr1Ji_DYK8EFXYDEp66Vals/s1600/DSC00750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAs34ealxU4N7E9pvkjq1Wxgirs6RZRqpg4QwwWgH8F6MslMx2PpZlgfAts1jXl5EVPV2D551SkTF3RyFhmKFc4KAVdX5NETSXVlJ37l8_y5eQw1uDcObptr1Ji_DYK8EFXYDEp66Vals/s320/DSC00750.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Santa Sara Kali</div>captainskybluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05677629061212741977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8002474737042928917.post-76573040876572022952010-11-22T11:02:00.000-08:002010-11-22T13:45:19.543-08:00saints in Santos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU4o0bJZEHThqbC_wZXIAKsO6Am6i6onUW-4Vx6cjRz5ESVoeEidfLQu2TRT63THWD4rNg4287kkTPuWL-fn1ehjoL30iMlINh8NWN5ggiFw6YVFRbIFnwz13ABL6qIXLyzMMYt8Zqd6c/s1600/bedroom+window+028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span id="goog_2006296754"></span><span id="goog_2006296755"></span></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> Continuing on with my ritual site spotting walks, I have extended my area of operations to Santos on the coast of Sao Paulo state. A walk into the forest by the edge of a recreation lake and nature reserve uncovered an area extensively used to give offerings to orixas and for working charms. The site's proximity to water and abundace of rocks and different types of tree make it ideal for ritual activities.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSFLr-rvyymJNYUGPvh5sLKvr1lWyqtiITWWmaTYVGXImKBrhY3Y4348-bbsldcgR9QHPDxV_nMeTjj0GbiaCcq99S50kwNhAcfQGtYh5cf-1kA07ENof4fnR26hURebtItBuPCqd5msM/s1600/bedroom+window+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSFLr-rvyymJNYUGPvh5sLKvr1lWyqtiITWWmaTYVGXImKBrhY3Y4348-bbsldcgR9QHPDxV_nMeTjj0GbiaCcq99S50kwNhAcfQGtYh5cf-1kA07ENof4fnR26hURebtItBuPCqd5msM/s320/bedroom+window+015.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"> On the forest floor stands Nossa Senhora Apericida the patron saint of Brazil originally said to have been found by fishermen in the sea. She has ebony skin and is supposed to be responsible for numerous miarcles. At some distance apart in the bole of the tree stand two entities connected with Umbanda: a 'preto velho' (old black) who is the spirit of a wise old slave, who would normally be called in to give advice on such things as domestic disputes and a caboclo, representing the spirit of a deceased free indigenous indian.</div><br />
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On a rock stands the figure of Moses with a candle in front.<br />
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Candomble and Umbanda use a number of saints and biblical figures taken from Catholicism to represent orixas, gods of mainly (but not exlusively) of African origin. This system would no doubt have been useful for slaves to hide disaproved of non-Cristian pantheistic practices. Indeed, persecution of such religions continued until well after the abolition of slavery. According to many historical sourcess, it was not until the 1970s that Candomble and associated religions were able to come completely out into the open. This religious 'syncretism' as it is mostly reffered to by acedemic,s with its use of parallel systems of ritual symbols, is also an exaample of the flexibility and inclusivness often a hallmark of pantheistic religions and illustrates the ease with which one culture can find ideological equivalents in the traditions of another.Catholic saints are as much part of Candomble as African deties. Although there is a movement to do away with Christain symbols in the religion, it has not seemed to have made much headway.<br />
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Moses stands for Xango <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1572853776">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shang</a><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shango">o</a> (also sometimes spelt `Shango' `Sango' or 'Chango'). He is the sky father and undergod of lightening and thunder. In the Yoruba tradton, from which he comes, he is the royal ancestor. He is depicted holding a double headed axe representing swift and balanced justice. It is not difficult to see the connection between one ancestral law-giver and another. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpM08W6nLNEFKzEID00nj6TFZ7ofxIZ03fnsOa46nQNTWFXm7VIEAaS3iraay38gAIXlHwfsZfAgFsn8METOzHs8a3dl1VIuWPBrCzxwfFRkTLMCOhyphenhyphenx7DMGOesFBIRzQ08tobeS8biyM/s1600/ibirapuera+027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpM08W6nLNEFKzEID00nj6TFZ7ofxIZ03fnsOa46nQNTWFXm7VIEAaS3iraay38gAIXlHwfsZfAgFsn8METOzHs8a3dl1VIuWPBrCzxwfFRkTLMCOhyphenhyphenx7DMGOesFBIRzQ08tobeS8biyM/s320/ibirapuera+027.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> offerings left beneath a tree</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbhwk_SXp8aMAjuy9xLWLBCFbl_qceZ59B-aPuLmN9v_g8CbhOJ_glxMBJAiCO3yqVe86IF1lxzB2PPifM8qfZQxEeW_ALlN065pmPUSo8hSIPeEKOAt69ZqB0OrNoRZfSRXkwYiMp34/s1600/ibirapuera+029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbhwk_SXp8aMAjuy9xLWLBCFbl_qceZ59B-aPuLmN9v_g8CbhOJ_glxMBJAiCO3yqVe86IF1lxzB2PPifM8qfZQxEeW_ALlN065pmPUSo8hSIPeEKOAt69ZqB0OrNoRZfSRXkwYiMp34/s320/ibirapuera+029.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Ideograph made from beer-bottle tops embedded in the ground. Probably the sign for Exu (sometimes written 'Eshu') . <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eshu"> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eshu</a> Exu is the trickster god, the orixa connected with roads, ways and decisions. He is the orixa that I have had to deal with more often than others in my life so itt's probbaly a god idea giving him an honourable mention early on in this blog.<br />
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A miniture coffin put under the cementary gates surrounded by popcorn, which is a food normally offered to Omolu (also called Obaluaie or Babalu Aye). Omolu, who is the patron saint of thsi blog, is the orixa most connected with healing and illness. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omolu">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omolu</a>captainskybluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05677629061212741977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8002474737042928917.post-78456840678008858282010-11-09T11:35:00.000-08:002010-11-10T06:07:07.986-08:00São Vincente and Ze's mythic creatures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL13_JE2QSnGTUsS3BUEwrafeyUyq_R1RssZy4g_YomFSzYr5jyFHPZx2b4eC929OG9CG-iYezUR5YxgvM8eTV7Gdnl_VXj5dRKbqBRcmPHDIkf_fneyDLOCcota1b1JNOf4p-WWHPYHI/s1600/tom+025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="83" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL13_JE2QSnGTUsS3BUEwrafeyUyq_R1RssZy4g_YomFSzYr5jyFHPZx2b4eC929OG9CG-iYezUR5YxgvM8eTV7Gdnl_VXj5dRKbqBRcmPHDIkf_fneyDLOCcota1b1JNOf4p-WWHPYHI/s320/tom+025.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
After a little break on the northern coast of Sao Paulo, I am back to blogging, and my journey has moved further north and inland into Minas Gerias. The first stop is São Vincente, a small town in the interior of rural Minas, to visit an old friend, Ze Geraldo.<br />
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While I am introducing people, it would be a convinient time to introduce also a new project, which will feature in this blog. This is to create the likeness of a mythical being or group of beings suggested by people on my journey incorporating, as much as possible, something from the place where these people live.<br />
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First up is Ze, who when requested to suggest a mythical beast offered a winged unicorn. When it later became clear what I what I meant to include by using the term 'myth'; the word didn't have an intimidating granite portal replete with clkassical columns, and did not exclude on terms of origin, class or anything else and would include what he had termed 'folkloric', he decided to add a more local being called Curupira. He is the guardian of the forset who has back-to-front feet and therefore presents to any pursuers hunters reverse tracks thererby leading them the wrong way. We decided that he should be leading the unicorn.<br />
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This elevation of Classical European myth above any other is perhaps unsuprising in a country with such a history of European colonial hegemony. Although Brazil is some time after independence, and has been preaching and practising a cosmopolitan culture reflective of its ethnic diversity, there is still an evident conservatism which looks toward old Europe, in fact a Europe which in reality has long become dated.<br />
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It is not difficult to see in a place like São Vincente a vignette of Brazila nd it's historical relics. It is a town whose skyline is dominated by its two catholoic churches, one on each of its hills and the surrounding vast fazendas (farms) and peopled by the decendents of land owners, slaves and indentured workers. It is, I guess, what would be descibed as a typical small town, keen to preserve more than anything else.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj33B3OZlVyMkWVduGiKV0FkuIyyjJ0bTnfxJ10OrOp7l1C8IxkBe1UWSvLik9a9Y-9fdd2PglO81ZWzqGdl2iEHMhim699LMPlvq8Pf9uUsfO2YT7grEERbdF8X7tQfY7f0o6KhP4GZ44/s1600/tom+028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj33B3OZlVyMkWVduGiKV0FkuIyyjJ0bTnfxJ10OrOp7l1C8IxkBe1UWSvLik9a9Y-9fdd2PglO81ZWzqGdl2iEHMhim699LMPlvq8Pf9uUsfO2YT7grEERbdF8X7tQfY7f0o6KhP4GZ44/s320/tom+028.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> <span style="font-size: x-small;"> broken statues of saints left as offerings at a crossroad crucifix </span>captainskybluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05677629061212741977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8002474737042928917.post-31898087501513759992010-10-22T18:54:00.000-07:002010-10-22T18:54:36.421-07:00pauba<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheYA8YROGiaSgHrF_GF2UZiTkkOESb1jSQ3paPOWR4-XfhlH64pWMzvcRJmU1i1MlvRjr-xBDSCm5VMJiUvI9fQsOVn1aPgaO_kTM8OvE82YKQS4wQ07JryoMtnIbAaYG7WxvYCMWecVU/s1600/pauba+s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheYA8YROGiaSgHrF_GF2UZiTkkOESb1jSQ3paPOWR4-XfhlH64pWMzvcRJmU1i1MlvRjr-xBDSCm5VMJiUvI9fQsOVn1aPgaO_kTM8OvE82YKQS4wQ07JryoMtnIbAaYG7WxvYCMWecVU/s320/pauba+s.jpg" width="138" /></a></div>captainskybluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05677629061212741977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8002474737042928917.post-24328116730176357492010-10-13T12:26:00.000-07:002010-10-13T12:31:01.552-07:00ethnography<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJnaGhZS_fEaKX7If15HsBavCxqmTJIYTauYcSE-zerx-FlrZ7ZdS6x0x-b9hzFA3RGcBmwltDstHsxXiUfGOhmH9oI9yWezlJVX_wOjdjLdsXw5FafIWhs4B7PsrDsdnt6rPsLbVyo_U/s1600/DSCF0241.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJnaGhZS_fEaKX7If15HsBavCxqmTJIYTauYcSE-zerx-FlrZ7ZdS6x0x-b9hzFA3RGcBmwltDstHsxXiUfGOhmH9oI9yWezlJVX_wOjdjLdsXw5FafIWhs4B7PsrDsdnt6rPsLbVyo_U/s320/DSCF0241.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Tq6DZBTcCiPs2QURt48SHzKXc7NEU3mKHofrzuQxffhw2v5OyaK2oRMixVtkZtjQSON_M81gV15_5lJyTQCWHZv_SHmnlGY4Q6iEVpFZe7x8T03E-pYAXbvzw0ENef0Cz9QdTqEBQTY/s1600/DSCF0221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Tq6DZBTcCiPs2QURt48SHzKXc7NEU3mKHofrzuQxffhw2v5OyaK2oRMixVtkZtjQSON_M81gV15_5lJyTQCWHZv_SHmnlGY4Q6iEVpFZe7x8T03E-pYAXbvzw0ENef0Cz9QdTqEBQTY/s320/DSCF0221.JPG" width="240" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The ethnographic museum at the university of Sao Paulo proved to contain some real treasures. It's collection of ritual objects and costumes is wonderful. The exhibits still exude power even imprisoned in their glass cases and mounted on rather cheap looking dummies. I had to sign a paper saying I wouldn't publish my photos, but I thought I'd sneak one or two into this blog.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Perhaps more interesting and a more telling about indigeneous people's story in Brazil were the walls of the city on my way to the university.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1YO_4Iiep3xTQU2PobbBCjin_qHWVg-1_OVAGgu6QIkmnlvi9F5WjltibsP-eYyqSmN4T9YhMgaweiH5f-4vIZHiN8HhqF86t-fft_wJF-LajTfxvsdp8MiaAno3CJNFs9gF2S7515sk/s1600/DSCF0185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1YO_4Iiep3xTQU2PobbBCjin_qHWVg-1_OVAGgu6QIkmnlvi9F5WjltibsP-eYyqSmN4T9YhMgaweiH5f-4vIZHiN8HhqF86t-fft_wJF-LajTfxvsdp8MiaAno3CJNFs9gF2S7515sk/s320/DSCF0185.JPG" width="202" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On the walls of a school, a mural depicts the official church version of the civilising process. The graffiti ideographs encroach and the uiquitous red paint bombs of protest shout perhaps for another version of the story, daubing symbolic blood on the patriarch and his pupils.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYh6t7LNbdOEKJW3VHHhjW_PvqJx5aq3DuF_RxU3IUmoSz1dFYQSiQxJdqIsrC8UVxEK7nDdXR2WzU6oaWz5wrlBjX3dQstBqK30Kbhhfosb0hSO4dmeMY5f8NgeIDdORY2HY4aTuLOlY/s1600/DSCF0258.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYh6t7LNbdOEKJW3VHHhjW_PvqJx5aq3DuF_RxU3IUmoSz1dFYQSiQxJdqIsrC8UVxEK7nDdXR2WzU6oaWz5wrlBjX3dQstBqK30Kbhhfosb0hSO4dmeMY5f8NgeIDdORY2HY4aTuLOlY/s320/DSCF0258.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Further down the road, a second mural on the side of a shop shows an indigenous man bending to pick up bank notes amongst the severed heads of the dead with a bottle marked poison dangling from his hand.<br />
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The display of trial objects in the university museum is at least a tribute to their vitality through adversity and ability to retain the power to enthrall and inspire.<br />
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</div>captainskybluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05677629061212741977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8002474737042928917.post-76509732187202317652010-10-12T12:55:00.000-07:002010-10-12T13:00:02.098-07:00Concrete and ink<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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The images on the walls of Sao Paulo city are mysterious powerful and polytheistic. The tags are almost cabalistic looking appearing on the concrete like shamanistic messages to and from the underworld. <br />
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Lost indigenous tribes live on on the subway walls.<br />
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Street artists quote scripture to the homeless who sleep beneath the flyover.<br />
"You know for certain that you are the temple of God and the spirit of God lives in you" Cor.3.16<br />
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The gods of distant ancestral Africa give voice alongside.<br />
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<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Omolu or Obaluãe is a shaman-healer orixa connected with mysteries and the fire beneath the earth. He bridges between life and death. His equivalent in Catholicism is Saint Lazarus. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The recipients of his spirit in this ceremony are covered in popcorn, the food associated with him. They symbolise small pox which his legend says he contracted as a child.</span></div><br />
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