Latin America, the United States—and Syria

For various reasons, I have become interested in Latin American history.

First, I’m interested in history generally.  In college, in addition to standard history requirements, I also studied German and Russian history, and the history of the modern Middle East.

Second, I have a few Facebook friends from Latin America.

Third, the United States seems to have a unique relationship with Latin America.

Fourth, and connected with the third:  I became aware, a decade or more back, that in the United States people are generally not taught about Latin America.

Anyway, I have been poring over histories of Latin America, Brazil, Mexico, and Argentina—and I’m still quite confused, although Mexican history is beginning to jell; meaning that I now have a general sense or outline in my head of how Mexico has developed.  In the case of Brazil and Argentina, there are still large gaps in my understanding.

I feel that perhaps I’ve been wrong to neglect the period of colonial Spanish and Portuguese rule; perhaps the key to understanding everything that has happened since lies there, in the earlier history?

On the whole, at the moment, I feel a bit depressed.  Thinking of Latin American history, I’m aware of great social inequalities, imperfect democracy, and a long-term disregard for human rights.  Thinking of Latin-U.S. relations, I’m much clearer now on why Latin America feels antagonism towards the United States.

Meanwhile, in the wider world, I wonder what is about to happen in Syria.  It starts to occur to me that certain aspects of the Arab World may bear comparison to Latin America—including how the United States relates to both regions.

Much more to study, and learn, and think about!

Anthems (7) – Latin Interlude

My original interest in anthems came about because of my love of the Russian anthems, my history with the German/Austrian anthems, and my discovery of the wide-spread distribution of God Save the Queen (more of which later).  I’ve discussed the Russian anthems and I’m holding the other business for the end.  Pending the end, I wanted to get an idea of what else was out there, lurking in places I usually don’t inhabit.  Thus this temporary interlude.

I’ve always felt that white United States folks have been raised to neglect Latin America, so I went off to explore those national anthems.  I came back only with preliminary impressions.

I quickly explored Mexico, Costa Rica, Venezuela, Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay, Chile—and Puerto Rico.  What I remember is mostly Brazil.  I have a friend there, and I’d listened to the anthem before.  The others I’ve heard only once even now—and Venezuela disconnected half-way through.  I remember the Mexican anthem seemed rather bellicose—but that’s from my U.S. perspective (more of that later).  But Brazil I was actually on the verge of learning.

The Brazilian anthem struck me the first time (and later on) as a Verdi opera.   Sources tell me that the style is actually more that of a Rossini opera.  Someone online commented that “it’s so much fun to sing!”  And it probably is.  I just haven’t attempted to learn the words yet—I don’t know the vocabulary, and I’d have to learn how to run all the vowels together.  It’s a future project.

For reference, I also listened to the anthems from Spain and Portugal—and Italy (someone had said it was the prettiest); I’m left with a general sense that they sound “Latin”; they generally don’t sound like Verdi operas, and yet…somehow they remind me of Italian opera—and is that really so surprising?

I guess I’m only half surprised.  It’s Brazil I remember, which does sound like 1830s Italian opera—and in fact the anthem was written around that time, so why shouldn’t it?

I explored other world regions too—more of that shortly.  I intend to return to many of the places I’ve only glanced at; you really do find surprises out there.  I found myself rather touched by what I found in Puerto Rico—though perhaps that was because the singer reminded me of a girlfriend.  (And which “anthem,” actually, was she singing?  Puerto Rico is a commonwealth within the United States.  I think after her I stumbled onto a Puerto Rican revolutionary song!)

Yes, I’ve found many surprises.  Stay tuned.

Pantheacon (6) – Pomba Gira

After the poly workshop I headed for the big Pomba Gira dance, scheduled to begin at 11 p.m.  This is a ninety-minute dance in honor of Pomba Gira, a figure in several Brazilian Afro-Catholic traditions (Umbanda, Candomblé).  At Pantheacon she is referred to as the “Sacred Harlot of Rio De Janeiro.”  To what extent this is true I do not know.  Is she thought to protect prostitutes?  Does she promote sacred sexuality?  I don’t know.  From online reading, I see that she is probably insatiable sexually, and that “you don’t want to make her mad.”  She is noted for her connection to women and to gay and effeminate men.

 

Pomba Gira apparently is actually a type of spirit, so there are many different incarnations; some of which are definitely promiscuous and vulgar.

Again, as at the Blues/Voodoo talk, I wondered how much of this presentation has been distorted by outsiders.  In the introduction to the dance, we are told that Pomba Gira will give you anything you want—as long as you are willing to pay for it.  I could not determine to what extent the presenters were Brazilians themselves or familiar with the Brazilian culture which gave rise to this tradition.  However, the annual dance to Pomba Gira is a very popular event at Pantheacon; this is the second year I have attended.

People attending are asked to dress in red and black, the colors associated with Pomba Gira.  All participants are checked for IDs on the way into the hall.  No cameras or recording devices of any kind are allowed.  Although I heard a report last year of a fondling “incident,” I noticed nothing of the sort—and noticed no incidents this year either.  I wasn’t aware of any nudity or any sexual activity.  Nevertheless, IDs are checked—no one under twenty-one is admitted! (I keep waiting for something to happen—it doesn’t).

Well—Let’s clarify that.  The dancing happens.  I dance for ninety minutes to the beat of the drums and the chanting, and I enjoy it.  We’re cautioned to drink plenty of water (but I’m never aware of any particular dehydration).  The drums continue, the chants go up to Pomba Gira.  From time to time I recognize someone in the crowd.  But my lovers aren’t there; the people I recognize are either casual friends or people I could conceivably feel attraction to—and I do feel attraction to them.  My mind goes into a weird space.  I suppose I’m in a light trance since time becomes timeless and the dancing goes on and I allow myself to feel the attraction towards certain people I have always found interesting or been attracted to or fantasized about.  This happened last year and happens again this year.  I open myself up psychically; I look into the eyes of these few people—and nothing happens.  They acknowledge my glance; but our eye contact is momentary.  Either we both feel too weird, or we’re both too unwilling, uncomfortable, or uninterested.  But I do feel like we have at least opened ourselves to honestly looking at one another.

So, as has happened earlier in the day and will happen again, I end up feeling alone and a bit let down.  I have again failed to connect with people.  But this is only the first day of the conference, and I did spend some time away in order to facilitate the writers club open mic elsewhere.  Perhaps tomorrow?