Capoeira is a fairly obscure martial art that’s been gaining
popularity for the past few decades.
The reactions I typically get from those who’ve actually heard of it are
“Isn’t it more of a dance?” and “Really? How intimidating can a cartwheel
be?” And yes, it looks like a dance, it
was meant to be thought of as a dance
since the African slaves who first invented it meant to hide their fighting and
training from the slave owners so they wouldn’t be suspected of trying to revolt
– which they eventually did, revolted I mean, not uncovered the art. Aha, good job slaves, your ploy worked!
I have no
excuse for the cartwheeling (or au as
it’s called). But I can tell you,
it’s crazy fun to do.
There are a lot of wonderful things about Capoeira and I can
go on and on and on about it, but then, that’s what my Whatsapp group is
for. What I can tell you is that
what got me sooo excited about restarting Capoeira again (I did it seven years
ago with poor results) was getting my name or apelido. You see in the days of the slaves, fighters never used their
real names, they were given names by their teachers to describe anything from
how they look, how they acted, how they fought or even a strange piece of
clothing they wore during the Roda (or the game) – I have a friend named
“headband,” for reals. This is
because back then, if the authorities ever caught you, you wouldn’t get to give
the names of your fellow fighters even if you wanted to. And so, the tradition continues until
today.
My classmates have awesome names, other guys from the other
groups had weird names. My
classmates had names like Urso Branco (White
Bear), Da Terra (The Earth), Mare (The sea or the tide), Vaidosa (Vain), Malungo (Bro) and so on.
I was so very anxious about my name, because I knew that my Contra
Mestre named Tucum (Palm Oil) would
give me an awesome name. I also
know he watched all of us very closely and I always felt really exposed and vulnerable in class. I
always felt out of my depth – I’d always been good at picking up new things,
learning new songs, learning new dances – but with Capoeira, my learning was
tough, my progress slow.
So the months passed and I got a lot of feedback that I
looked like I was dancing and not fighting – well I was a dancer for a long
long time. I was too “pretty” in
the game, not mean. I’d never
gotten pretty as an anti-compliment before, LOL. Okay, fight uglehhhh. I was
too easily distracted and talked too much – well anyone who’s known me for two
seconds knows that. What? Bacon? Where?
I started dreading the possible names – Esquilo (or Squirrel) or Chihuahua
(self-explanatory). These were
not unreasonable fears, one of our seniors was named Rato (rat). And there
was a mestre in Korea named Esquilo.
Finally the day came, and out of the blue, Contra Mestre
Tucum said, ahhh, Anama, I have your name. I wrung my hands together – which you’re not supposed to do
in Capoeira, you block the axé (or I like to think of it, “good vibes”). He said it’s GiraSol – it sounded fancyyy and tough. I knew sol was “sun.”
He said it’s sunflower -- due to
the fact that I’m always sunny, smiling and positive even when my butt was
getting kicked. He’d seen me
suffer and smile and be giddy through the months of hard training. He said, it’s gonna get tougher and he
hopes I don’t lose my sunflower attitude.
I loved it. I jumped up
and down and smiled my sunflower smile and laughed my sunflower laugh. I loved how he saw this part of me despite me having a hard time. Anyone who knows me for two seconds
knows that I’m a sunflower through and through. And that I love bacon. Omigod, thank God he didn’t name me
bacon. What’s Portugese for bacon? Lardo?!?
Jesus Howard Christ, I dodged a bullet. Lardo
is soo not sexy.
(Photo credit from Visit Brazil on Flickr)