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Show THE ZEPHYR APRIL 1990 PAGE 24 After much hesitation Felipe pulled the car to the side of the road about 50 meters on past the parked cars. We climbed out of the car and Flllpe cautioned, "Let's go slowly" . What to worry? We were close to the City, so wild animals didnt really concern me. Maybe this was Just a ritual you needed to go through at a strange kegger In Brazil. Perhaps you the west side by Alan West The narrow mountain road wound through the cliffs. To one side was the setting sun and to the other the growing darkness of the night, broken by the twinkling light of the mysterious tropical city below, the waters of the Atlantic making the lights form a sharp outline far below. From the heights the wondrous city appeared as a narrow band of stars, Jammed between the soaring green cliffs and the void of the ocean. After viewing a towering statue of Christ, built on the point what appeared to be an unexcavated Aztec pyramid that scraped the clouds and standing In awe of the City of Rio de Janeiro below, we got Into the Ford, the likes I'd never seen In the United States, and started the trip down the mountainside In the dark. I was seventeen years old, the driver was a senior 23 years old, the oldest brother of the family I was living with during my year In Brazil. I had been In Brazil several months now, my Portuguese was Improving dally; however, the nuances of the language were still severely lacking. The road serpentined through the pyramids and down the steep cliffs. Trees and vines clung to the precipitous terrain, this was the Jungle, (well I hadnt made my trip to the Amazonas yet). Near the base of the mountains, but still several miles from the City, were many cars parked along the side of the narrow roadway that cut a tunnel through the towering trees. asked what all the cars were about, out here amongst all the trees, here In the midst of the Jungle. My brother advised that it was Just a "Festa". A party, my memories reeled. Just a few short months ago Id left Moab and I could recall a similar trip, sans trees, winding up the cliffs, passing the dump and climbing yet more and finally coming upon a spot where one would find many cars parked along the road. This was a "Brazilian" kegger. "Qeuro Ir", I exclaimed! My brother advised that he didnt think It was prudent to attend. I wasnt about to be satisfied with prudent My brother said that he didnt really want to stop because of "Macumba. I didnt know what kind of beer "Macumba" was, but that wasnt Important The social function Is what mattered here. I Insisted that I wanted to see this "testa da Macumba"! 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I noticed that Flllpe, however, hesitated at the sounds. Sounded like a kegger to me. We went another hundred meters or so and the drums grew louder, the screaming wasnt the typical obnoxiousness of drunks back home, but this was Brazil and everything was different here anyway. The closer we got, the more nervous Flllpe became. Another hundred meters and I could see the light of a bonfire flickering In the trees. I could see a lot of people, but I still couldn't see the keg. Flllpe was dragging his feet We were about 10 meters away from my first Brazilian kegger and Flllpe pulled me back of my shirt Into the bushes, and whispered to stay down and be quiet Well, he by the knew the customs better than I. Who was I to argue? There we knelt In the bushes and I began to study the goings on. This must be some party, drums, screaming, dancing. One gal was so drunk, you could only see the whites of her eyes as she danced and gyrated around the bonfire. A minute or so of observation and I was starting to feel uneasy as well. Was Flllpe Just getting to me? Hey wait a minute, I thought to myself. Ive never seen chickens at a kegger In not Moab, up behind the dump, not even at the falls. Something Is strange here. I regathered myself and realized they were Just going to cook them; these Brazilians do eat a lot of chicken. My powers of observation were In four wheel low, grinding so slowly. These folks were dressed differently, chickens, whites of eyes, convulsive dancing. Why am I thinking about James Bond movies? I'd never seen a chicken executed before. That singular tiling caused something to snap In my mind. I realized that this was not a "keg party" and that It was not In my best Interest to be where I was. "Bosta! I exclaimed to Flllpe. Why did I say that so loud? A couple of the participants heard my exclamation and peered outward from the circle of flickering light Into the Jungle. Flllpe and I ran down the path back towards the car. I could hear people yelling behind me, but I never did look back until we were In the car approaching the lights of Rio. se In my hotel room I read through my dictionary and found to Macumba be the Brazilian practice of Voodoo, a far cry from my definition. Engllsh-Portugue- |