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Brazil’s
Drumbeat
By
Teo Ballvé, Z Magazine
If
Brazil’s pulse were audible, it would be a drumbeat.
Undoubtedly, music breathes life into many of the country’s
traditions: there’s the percussive twang in the
martial arts dance of capoeira, the batu-cada drumming
in the soccer stadiums, and the world-famous samba of
carnival. But Rio de Janeiro’s Grupo Cultural AfroReggae
takes the concept of creating life through music to new
heights.
“AfroReggae was born out of chaos,” says José
Júnior, the unassuming founder of the group, which
is now a full-fledged NGO. The chaos he refers to is the
violence of everyday life in Rio’s shantytowns,
known throughout Brazil as favelas, where drug gangs made
up of teenagers—some even younger—battle with
semiautomatic assault rifles in broad daylight. |
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Júnior
grew up in a poor neighborhood and made a name for himself
as a DJ in Rio’s funk scene. He founded AfroReggae after
police massacred 21 people in the Rio favela of Vigário
Geral in 1993. Most residents suspect the massacre was in
retaliation for the murder of four military police officers
by dealers allegedly based in Vigário Geral. Júnior
was determined to use what he knew best—music—to
draw youth away from crime, drugs, and violence by introducing
them to music, dance, and performance. As George Yúdice,
who examines the development of the group in a section of
his new book The Expediency of Culture, writes: “At
the heart of Júnior’s initiative was the idea
that music could serve as the platform on which favela youth
would be able to dialogue with their own community and the
rest of society.”
The most public face of the NGO is Banda AfroReggae, the group’s
flagship music group, whose members are drawn exclusively
from some of the first favela youth participants in the project.
With socially mindful and politically charged songs and performances,
Banda AfroReggae not only entertains, but also informs themselves
and others about favela life—their experiences, frustrations,
and outrage. One song addresses the miserable conditions in
prison, which they act out on stage with props resembling
the bars of a jail cell. Another performance dramatizes a
war between Rio’s two biggest drug gangs, the Red Command
and the Third Command. Clad in the colors of each gang, the
performers battle it out as they rap the lyrics. At the end
of the song, no one wins, both sides are defeated. A video
they produced set to their music documents police brutality
all over Brazil. The video fades to black and text appears:
“Dedicated to all the good cops.” It’s a
sincere message, recognizing that not all cops are abusive.
AfroReggae presents reality as it is, not black and white,
but gray. Whether addressing police brutality, drug trafficking,
or racism, the group does not airbrush their subject matter
and are unapologetic about expressing the hardships of being
young and poor in Brazil.
The
social mission driving the work of AfroReggae is severing
the symbiosis between young people and narco-traffic. Severely
lacking in opportunities of any kind, “children turn
to the gangs to make money, to be part of a group, and to
gain status,” says Júnior. Pointing to a group
of AfroReggae members probably in their late teens or early
twenties, he says, “None of these guys are young enough
to sell drugs with the gangs,” in part, because many
drug gang members don’t live beyond adolescence. Júnior
believes AfroReggae can show youth that alternatives to drug
trafficking do exist by giving them the opportunity to prove
to society that they are citizens, stewards of their communities
and not criminals. Getting favela youth to realize this for
themselves is often the biggest challenge, because daily events
suggest otherwise. (In mid-April, police in Rio launched an
all-out offensive against the city’s largest favela
in an effort to curb drug trafficking and defuse a war between
rival drug gangs. Twelve people died in one week of violence.)
AfroReggae first started in the drug-ridden favela of
Vigário Geral, the site of the 1993 massacre, but
they now have projects in several of Rio’s other
poor communities, including Cidade de Deus, the favela
at the center of a book and a hit film by the same name—City
of God. The music and dance workshops are what first gets
young people’s foot in the door, but they are then
also taught about civic action, AIDS awareness, and human
rights. Favela youth receive instruction in everything
from capoeira and drumming to acrobatic performance and
job training, making them better equipped to find an existence
outside the drug trade. |
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Júnior
likes to tell the story of a teen who said he was leaving
the group to go back to selling drugs: “At that moment,
an older dealer was walking by and told the kid, ‘Don’t
be dumb. If I would’ve had the chance to get out and
do what you’re doing, I’d have done it in a second.’”
He relishes the anecdote, because the boy stayed and is now
a performer with the Canadian-based Cirque du Soleil. Another
alumnus is now with Ringling Brothers.
READ
THE FULL ARTICLE PUBLISHED ON Z MAGAZINE,
an
independent monthly magazine dedicated to resisting injustice,
defending against repression, and creating liberty. The Spirit
of Resistance Lives!
www.zmag.org
www.afroreggae.org
(in Portuguese)
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