| The walls
of the new and improved cathedral are so white they still smell of fresh
paint. The Easter egg yellow trim chosen to highlight the architecture
enhances the bright-summer-day feeling. The building is carefully proportioned,
with five equal windows on the second floor, bright royal blue French doors
and twin bell towers sailing high above. There are candles hung off railings
under the windows, and the effect is enchanting. The interior of the cathedral
is modest by the standards of the Vatican, but I imagine that in provincial
South America the Baroque gilding and ornate molding is overwhelmingly
impressive. The central figure of the Virgin, the Nossa Senhora da Gloria,
is a pale-skinned, dark-haired representation of the Virgin Mary dressed
in the blue and gold mantel of heaven and graced with a large silver crown.
Two cherubs, modestly dressed in a gold, red and blue wardrobe, gaze adoringly
at the Virgin, who stands barefoot on a pink and blue cloud with outstretched
arms and compassionate eyes. The figure is small for a central icon in
a cathedral, but the small size invites the visitor to approach closely,
thus giving a sense of intimacy and familiarity.
Brazilians
approach Catholicism with the same laid-back and casual attitude with which
they approach life. Surrounding the cathedral is a beautiful public
park, carefully designed with high, leafy trees to provide shade from the
hot sun, ponds spanned by bridges, elegant green benches, and cast iron
gaslights. Under the swaying palms, I while away the night in an atmosphere
of Bossa Nova and lanky heat.
The next day,
my hosts suggest I see another aspect of religion in Valença. There
is an Umbanda temple nearby. I do not know what Umbanda is, but I am interested
in the opportunity to experience it first hand. I am told that during the
days of Valença’s plantation past, African slaves were a large presence
in society. Slaves had been brought to Brazil from the 1500’s and by the
1800’s were openly allowed to hold religious ceremonies of their choice.
Macumba is a blanket term for African spirit worship. Candomblé
and Umbanda are the two most common forms of Macumba in Brazil. Umbanda
is a combination of African, Catholic and Amerindian religions and focuses
on the revelation of saints and ancestors through a medium during ceremonies.
Off the side
of an unassuming street in a hilly residential area, there is a long stairway
that twists and descends through waist-high overgrowth, flowers the size
of watermelons and trees encircled by parasitic vines. My friend points
out a large white flower called a “trumpeta” for its trumpet shape.
This flower can be ground up into a powerful hallucinogen that provokes
intense visions and hallucinations. A native flower to the region, the
trumpeta is very fragrant and stunningly beautiful. When I comment on how
the trumpeta could have become Brazil’s opium, I am set straight…the effects
of trumpeta are often permanent and none but the most foolhardy touch it.
I feel like I am in a state of constant learning, and with each shallow
step further down the path, I learn more about my environment.
Near the bottom
of the staircase, a one-story compound comes into view. There is a main
house, what looks like a workshop or conservatory, and a passage way that
leads to a building in the rear that I cannot yet make out. I am greeted
by an old man with a very bent back, who nods and beckons me to follow
him into the workshop. The walls and floor are all white. Outside, there
are maybe forty birds hung in cages, and their collective racket is distracting.
Umbanda ceremonies
are conducted by high priestesses, a result of slavery. Originally, the
ceremonies were held by priests, but as the men had to work in the fields
growing coffee, women began to replace them in spiritual positions and
gradually priestesses were the status quo. As the priestess approches,
I see that she is short, maybe 4’9”, and almost equally wide. Her skin
is a very dark black, almost as dark as her eyes. Her hands are twice the
size of a man’s and feel rough as she takes my hand in hers. She says she
is sorry that their calendar of ceremonies is completed for the season,
and that I will not be able to witness the spirits firsthand.
As she leads
me into the temple, which is a separate building at the back of the house
with a single, large room, there is a terrible smell. I try not to curl
my nose as I look around for the source, because I do want to appear disrespectful.
The walls are covered with images I recognize (St. George and the Dragon,
the Virgin Mary) and others I do not. The altar is covered with candles,
some melted all the way down with wax dripping over on to the linen cover.
I see four glasses of water arranged in a square, with rusted scissors
opened and balanced on top. I see the source of the smell at the foot of
the altar; several plates of food in various stages of decomposition being
enjoyed by a species of large fly. In one corner of the room, there are
two life size mannequins, one man and one woman. The priestess explains
that they are dressed in the simple costume of the African slaves in Brazil.
The slave woman is in a full white dress with ruffles and a bonnet; the
slave man in long pants and a button down shirt. The mannequins have realistically
arranged hair and brightly painted faces. The priestess tells me that they
are there to remind worshipers of the spirits of their slave ancestors,
who are often channeled in the ceremonies.
She points
to a large chair next to the slaves, more like a throne and entirely covered
in white linen, saying it is where she receives the spirits. From what
little I understand about Umbanda, it involves channeling spirits into
a ceremony in order to be in the presence of the divine. I ask her about
spells and Candomblé, which has a reputation for black magic. Umbandists
do not practice black magic, she explains, not because they cannot, but
because they believe that if you order something bad onto another person,
it must come back onto you tenfold. She discourages the practice
of dark magic among her followers, but indicates there are others in town
who perform such rituals. As I leave the temple, I notice a separate altar
outside. This altar is clearly to Satan, in his form of the Black Prince.
There are daggers, skulls and bowls of blood underneath. When I ask her
why she has an altar to Satan if they do not practice black magic, she
explains that they believe all spirits deserve worship, even those who
have gone astray. I thank her for her time and make my way back up the
staircase. As I emerge from this hidden world, I am significantly more
educated than I came, but somewhat relieved to return to the more familiar
environment of a borrowed home and a colonial cathedral.
Whatever it
was that I thought I would find in Valença when I drove away from
the rainy coast, I found it. While I was never the Girl from Ipanema, I
discovered a Brazil far away from a fashionable beach and a famous song.
There is a certain kind of traveler than cannot be content with checking
off “destinations visited” in their guidebook. Certain travelers need unexpected
events to mold their experience in a new land, to shape their relationship
with a people and a place. What really is a journey cannot be a destination;
for me, that is the essence of travel and the essence of coffee cathedrals
and slave spirits in Valença, Brazil.
The following
are the previous articles Elienne wrote for the magazine:
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