What a day, what a night, what a morning!
I was up yesterday around 7:30 – hair and makeup were scheduled to be at Marnie’s apartment by 8:00, but were (no surprise!) late. I had offered to be photographer for all the festivities, so once I had downloaded all the pictures from the memory card of Marnie’s 60D, I began documenting the process of Marnie’s hair & makeup, interspersed with trying to get ready myself for the wedding. Marnie’s friends Luciano & Whilliam did a fantastic job making my sister even more beautiful than she usually does.
Isn't she lovely?
The wedding was officially supposed to begin at 11:00, but Marnie wasn’t ready yet, so anyone who showed up on time would just have to wait. Nobody seemed to concerned, and given what I’ve learned over the past few days about Brazilian culture, neither was I.
I had been appointed Marnie’s chauffeur, and we arrived at the church around 11:30. The building was about half-empty, but I was assured, “Most of the people will just come to the reception – all weddings here are exactly the same, so people are mostly interested in the party.”
The wedding was lovely, and went off without a hitch – except for me! About 1/3 of the way through the ceremony, I tripped over the tulle draped along the left of the aisle, taking down all the decorations on that side! In retrospect, I view it as taking Marnie’s bad luck, but I was mortified at the time. The clumsiness runs in the family – apparently when Yan looked back and saw what I’d done, he whispered to Marnie, “Yep, he’s your brother!”
The reception was right next door to my sister’s apartment, on a partially covered rooftop. When we arrived, the buffet table was already laden with foods, and various meats were being grilled on the un-sheltered section of the roof, and people wasted no time in filling their plates.
As I still had the camera slung around my neck, I quickly discovered something else about the citizens of Manaus – they’re wild about having their picture taken. Every few minutes someone requested that I take pictures of them, their friends, or their children. I also discovered what it is to be exotic – everyone there thought that I was irresistibly handsome, and my sister passed along the word to me that several thought I looked like a movie star! Children swarmed around me, asking me how to say certain english phrases, or asking what others meant (including “fuck you”), and teaching me their various handshakes.
Me and my biggest fan Hiram!
My cup was never empty – as soon as I started running low, either the groom, his father, or one of the waiters would be there to replace it with another glass of Brahma beer.
Towards the end of the reception, the invitation was extended to me by a group of Marnie’s friends – Luciano, Whilliam, Marcelo, Angelic and Erick – to join them at Alvorado Vermelha – “Red Dawn”. It was explained to me that this is a taste of the Boi-Bumbá festival that Marnie is studying for her PhD research, and a tribute to the way the festival used to be held. Until the 80s, the festival took place in the streets, as a sort of combined parade and team music & dance competition, but due to several traffic-related deaths, it was changed to a static event, held in a stadium. This event would begin with a concert, starting at 10:00PM, and end with a 3-mile walk to the beach, ending around 7:00AM.
The poster for Alvorada Vermelha - "Red Dawn"
Marnie assured me that they would make sure I got back safe the next day, her new husband lent me his cell phone, I ran back to the apartment to quickly change, and I was off – heading into a foreign city, with companions I’d know only a few hours, and me completely unable to speak the language. Why not?
Six of us piled into a small car, and we were soon speeding through the twisting roads of Manaus, to the other side of town, while Boi-Bumbá music blared from the Chevy’s speakers, and my companions sang along at the top of their lungs. We rested for a few hours at Marcelo’s house, and I attempted to sleep but had little luck. At around 9:00, everyone started getting ready – dressing in red and white outfits, which I learned were the colors of Garantido (“Guaranteed”), the bull team for which they cheer at the annual festival, because apparently everything in Brazil is a competition! I unfortunately had no red clothing to change into, but was happy that I was no longer wearing the blue shirt I had on for the wedding. Blue is the color of Caprichoso (“Capricious”), the arch-rival bull team to Garantido.
We headed to a venue called “Amazon City Hall” (the actual name, not a translation), and even before we went inside we were walking through a sea of red & white as the same music I’d heard on the drive boomed through the doors. Once we entered, on the stage I saw scantily clad men & women, adorned with colorful feathers, dancing intricate choreographies to booming latin music. “This is Amazonas music! The best music!” Angelic told me. What was fascinating was that the majority of the audience seemed to know these choreographies, and performed them along with the people on stage.
A Boi-Bumbá performer.
It took me about 20 minutes to get the basic step, and after a few hours I started to be able to follow the general patterns to the choreography. When a few of the most popular songs repeated, I was able to join in singing and dancing at a few spots. When my companions noticed this, they were ecstatic, and I was recipient of many enthusiastic high-fives.
The Boi-Bumbá festival is a celebration and retelling, through music and dance, of a traditional folk tale. From what I’ve gathered, Catirina is a pregnant woman, who asks her husband Pai Francisco, a ranchhand, to kill a bull for her. She insists that he must do this or their unborn baby will die. Unfortunately, the bull he chooses is a favorite of the ranch owner and the villagers, who turn on him and then bring the bull back to life through drumming and dance. This story was acted out, over the course of the evening, by the performers.
Garantido!
The show lasted until 4:00 in the morning, at which point the crowd (I hesitate to call them an audience, as that sounds so passive) poured out into the street. Garantido, the white bull with a red heart on his forehead, emerged a few minutes later (a performer or course, not an actual bull), and was escorted to the top of a large truck. The bateria – the traditional drum corps of the festival – followed about 50 paces behind, right in front of another truck, atop which stood an enthusiastic group of dancers, and an MC who lead the songs on the march. The next two hours were a slow dance-walk the three miles to the Rio Negro. We arrived at sunrise. I was thoroughly exhausted, and my feet were throbbing. I sat down on the steps overlooking the river, and nearly fell asleep right then and there.
My companions had had the foresight to park one car near the final destination. A few minutes later Angelic returned with her car, and drove me back to Marnie & Yan’s apartment. After a few minutes of pounding, the door was opened for me. I stumbled upstairs and within a few minutes I was fast asleep.
“Miscegeneção” – the smash hit from this year’s Boi-Bumbá competition in Parintins.
