4. Candomblé Nagô
Introduction
Audio: Som da Massa, “Transcontinental Baião”
JCV: I’m Juliana Cantarelli Vita.
SW: And I’m Schuyler Whelden.
JCV: This is Massa, a podcast about Brazilian music and culture.
SW: Juliana and I are music professors and musicians. In each episode we dive into a specific genre, song, artist, or issue in Brazilian music to try to understand how it works and what it means. What’s on the agenda for today, Juliana?
JCV: So today I am really excited because we are going to talk about people who I know!
SW: Wow, that sounds great.
JCV: Yeah, I think it's gonna be great. You know, we’ve been talking about the importance of candomblé in Brazilian popular music in these past two episodes, and how it plays a part in some Black Brazilians’ struggle for justice and equality. And today we'll hear some personal stories. In the last episode we zeroed in on some specific percussion instruments and rhythms of candomblé.
SW: For those who might have missed it and are not familiar with the term, candomblé is the name for a number of Afro-Brazilian religions that survived with enslaved people who were brought to Brazil from West and Central Africa.
JCV: Exactly. So, I'm thinking we could dive into a particular region today, specifically the city of Recife, the capital of the state of Pernambuco. What do you think?
SW: I think that’s a great idea. In the last episode, we focused on the candomblé practiced in the state of Bahia and while that’s the form of candomblé that is most widely known, it’s certainly not the only type. When various African religions blended in Brazil, they were codified into different sets of beliefs and practices depending on the region. It makes perfect sense to look at how candomblé is different somewhere other than Bahia. Also, the fact that you are pernambucana and have connections to a particular ilê—
JCV:—the place where candomblé worship happens—
SW:—seems like a good opportunity to share some specifics.
JCV: Yes! And to be clear, I’m not a candomblecista, but I play in a maracatu ensemble housed within this ilê.
SW: And just to make sure we don’t lose the listeners, maybe we should explain what maracatu is?
JCV: Good idea. We'll have a few episodes about maracatu soon, but just to give listeners an idea, maracatu is a music tradition from the state of Pernambuco. There are different types of maracatu, but here we are referring to maracatu de baque virado, which is an Afro-Brazilian strand primarily practiced on the coast.
SW: Great!
JCV: Would you like to hear a recording of the maracatu ensemble I was just talking about?
SW: That sounds great. What’s it called?
JCV: This is called “Nagô é minha nação” by the group Nação do Maracatu Porto Rico.
Audio: Nação do Maracatu Porto Rico, “Nagô é minha nação” (Spotify) (Youtube)
SW: Wow,I love that. Who’s singing?
JCV: That’s Mestre Chacon Viana, he’s the leader of that maracatu ensemble. We’ll talk more about him in a bit.
SW: We’ll have time to get into the specifics of those instruments and rhythms in the near future. For now, let’s translate the lyrics.
JCV: Alright, let’s start with the title. The title is “Nagô é minha nação.”
SW: Which means “nagô is my nation.” But that probably doesn’t help the listeners very much.
JCV: Remember that last episode we were talking about aspects of nação ketu?
SW: That’s the form of candomblé in Bahia?
JCV: Yes! Well, today we will focus more on some terreiros that identify as nação nagô.
SW: Aha. So Mestre Chacon is proclaiming his affiliation to a specific type of candomblé.
JCV: Exactly.
SW: What’s next in the lyrics?
JCV: Then he says,” A vocês eu vou apresentar / Sou da Nação Porto Rico / Faço no apito os tambores falar.”
SW: So: “I am going to present this to you / I’m from the Nação Porto Rico / I make the drums speak with my whistle”?
JCV: Right, yeah, right on. He’s introducing the school and he’s saying that he is the leader of the music.
SW: That’s interesting. It’s not like the other examples we’ve heard that weave in the names of the orixás.
JCV: Yeah, not in this example, but other songs do that. I wanted you to hear this one recording because, even though there are no orixás named, he highlights the connection to candomblé right at the beginning by proclaiming his connection to the nagô tradition.
SW: Well, let’s explain that a little more. So, the term nagô is sometimes used as the generic designation for all Yoruba groups.
JCV: Yes! But, other times it is something more specific. According to the scholar Larry Crook, a few candomblé nations that emerged from Yoruba groups persist today, and those are ketu, ixejá and nagô.
SW: So in this example, when Mestre Chacon says “nagô,” he is showing that he’s part of that tradition?
JCV: Yes, his candomblé house in Recife is part of the nação nagô tradition. Larry Crook has also noted that the candmoblé houses there, in Recife, are “less researched and publicized than their Bahian counterparts, but also represent a major religious community.”
SW: Well, let’s take a small step toward correcting that.
Ylê Axé Oxóssi Guangoubira
SW: Let’s talk a little bit about this ilê. How exactly are you connected to it?
JCV: So I’m a member of the group Nação do Maracatu Porto Rico.
SW: Which is the group that we were just listening to.
JCV: Yes, though I didn’t play on that recording. Nação do Maracatu Porto Rico is associated with a terreiro called Ilê Axé Oxóssi Guangoubira.
SW: Alright, let’s get into that name. Can you break down for us what all of those words mean? Ilê we already explained, right?
JCV: Yes, ilê means house. It refers to the terreiro, the place where ceremonies happen.
SW: And we talked about axé in the first episode of this series, but I could use a refresher.
JCV: Axé is the energy, the life force that inhabits all things.
SW: I know “Oxóssi”! Oxóssi is one of the orixás. Is Oxóssi the patron of this particular terreiro?
JCV: Yes! Good job.
SW: You’ll have to help me with Guangoubira. I have no idea what that is.
JCV: Well, this is how, Rumenig Dantas, a member of this ilê, explained it to me:
Rumenig Dantas: Guangoubira é a qualidade do Oxóssi. A gente tem um orixá. Vou dar um exemplo com uma Maria. Eu tenho o nome Maria, mas tem vários tipos de Maria. Tenho Maria Julia, tenho Maria Clara, tenho Maria Antônia. Outros e outros tipos de Maria. É o que dá a qualidade da Maria porque nenhuma Maria é igual a outra. Então é a mesma coisa são os orixás. Exemplo: Oxóssi. Oxóssi é o orixá daquela aldeia. Dentro dessa aldeia, existem vários tipos de Oxóssi, variás qualidades de Oxóssi. Por isso que Guangoubira é uma qualidade de Oxóssi.
SW [translating Dantas]: Guangoubira is a quality of Oxóssi. I’ll give an example with the name Maria. There are lots of different kinds of Maria. There is Maria Julia, Maria Clara, Maria Antonia. All kinds. It’s the same thing with the orixás. For example, Oxóssi. Say, Oxóssi is the orixá of a particular village. In that village, there are lots of kinds of Oxóssi, lots of qualities of Oxóssi. Guangoubira is a quality of Oxóssi.
SW: Ok, I think I understand. Oxóssi can take many forms, and the orixá of this particular ilê--
JCV:--is Oxóssi Guangoubira. And it’s worth noting that because this word, “Guangoubira,” comes from Yoruba, it doesn’t have a standardized pronunciation. Rumenig pronounced it in two different ways just there.
SW: It’s an example of the living nature of the Yoruba that exists in the ilê.
JCV: Right.
SW: Could you describe a little bit about what the ilê looks like? I know we talked about this in sort of generic terms in the first episode, but in this particular ilê, like imagine you're coming up from the street, what do you see?
JCV: Right, so if you're coming from the street, the first thing you see is this garage that has been transformed into like a parlor, like a party space. They have tables set out for birthday celebrations or weekend secular celebrations. Just a place to sit down and have a beer while you're listening to music. Right next to this room, there's a narrow hallway.
SW: And are there things you see as you're going down the hallway, or is it just a hallway that gets you to a place?
JCV: So, in this very narrow hallway, you'll see a lot of statues of orixás, some made of metal, you see some statues of the amalgam with Catholicism, you see some of the statues there. It only fits one person at a time, but right on the wall you'll see all these things, the orixás, and the plants, and some offerings to the orixás. And then at the end of this hallway, there's this big room, that they call the salão, the big room where, because it's covered in tile, it’s very echo-y. And that's where the ceremonies happen.
SW: Right, so, tile is a very reflective surface of sound so the whole room has tiles everywhere, the walls, the floor, everything. So as the music is played in there the sound just bounces around and amplifies itself.
JCV: You see pictures of the important people who we're gonna talk about in a minute!
SW: So, in the past, I haven't been to a lot of terreiros, but there's usually a big pillar in the middle of sort of the round space that serves as the center of the worship practice. Is that the case on this one as well?
JCV: Yes, there is a huge pillar right in the middle, and it's a circular pillar. And ceremonies happen in a circular way. There isn't an altar that everyone is facing; it's more of a circle. On the Fridays that they have ceremonies, they'll put their offerings right by the pillar and at the end of the ceremony they will eat whatever they offered.
Ceremony: Who’s there?
SW: Got it. So, in our first episode about candomblé, we talked about the people that participate in the ceremonies, their various roles.
JCV: First, let’s recall that there are the eguns.
SW: Eguns are the ancestors of the people of the nação. Those who have been part of that terreiro and those that practitioners carry with them.
JCV: Next, are the people who organize and execute the ceremony: ogãs, who are the men, and ekedis, who are the women. The ogãs responsible for the music, in this particular ilê, are called alabês.
SW: Got it. So, in the case of Ilê Axé Oxóssi Guangoubira, who is in charge?
JCV: That would be Rainha and Mãe Elda Viana.
SW: Rainha means queen and mãe means mother.
JCV: Rumenig Dantas explains that she is the pilar, meaning pillar or cornerstone, of the ilê
RD: A tabela de hierarquia seria primeiramente Mãe Elda, que é a ialorixá, que é nossa pilar, é nossa base de tudo.
SW [translating RD]: “The hierarchy would be first Mãe Elda, who is the ialorixá, who is our pillar, who is the basis for everything.”
JCV: She is the ialorixá, as Rumenig just said.
SW: That’s the word we use to refer to the spiritual leader of that specific terreiro.
JCV: —if that spiritual leader is a woman.
SW: At the risk of oversimplifying, the ialorixá is the priestess, more or less?
JCV: Listeners might remember that she might also be called “mãe de santo", which means “mother of the saint.”
SW: Does this terreiro have a male spiritual leader as well?
JCV: Yes! Remember when we talked about Mestre Chacon Viana before, at the beginning of this episode?
SW: The leader of the maracatu ensemble?
JCV: That’s the one. He is Mãe Elda’s son. And he is also the babalorixá of the terreiro.
SW: Aha. The term babalorixá is the male equivalent of ialorixá.
JCV: Exactly. Or you could say “pai de santo.”
SW: meaning “father of the saint.”
JCV: Mestre Chacon—or Baba Chacon, as he is called in the candomblé context—is currently running things, including the ceremonies at this ilê, now that Mãe Elda has mostly moved on from these duties.
SW: A couple of episodes ago, we mentioned that many ilês have a “second in command,” either a iakekerê or babakekerê. Does Ilê Axé Oxóssi Guangoubira have one?
JCV: Yes. There is a iakekerê or mãe pequena: Mãe Leu da Oxum. And she is also the princesa of the maracatu group.
SW: The fact that Baba Chacon is also the mestre of the maracatu group and Mãe Leu is the princesa seems to indicate just how closely connected the maracatu side and the candomblé side are.
JCV: Yes, the maracatu ensemble is, essentially, the public facing side of the ilê.
Many of the maracatu songs are about and for various orixás.
SW: Aha, but I assume there is still an aspect of the candomblé worship that is not for the public?
JCV: There is.
SW: Let’s talk about that.
Ceremony: The Instruments
SW: How about we start with the instruments in the ensemble?
JCV: Sure, that sounds great. As with the other form of candomblé we discussed in the last episode, all of the music is made with voices and percussion. We’ll get to the voices in a moment.
SW: Fair to assume that the percussion consists of three hand drums, one bell, and one shaker?
JCV: Yes!
SW: Are they the same drums as in candomblé ketu?
JCV: Actually, no. The kind of drum played here is called ilu.
SW: Ah, yes that’s different from the atabaques we heard before.
Each of the three ilus has a name, depending on the role it plays in the ensemble. The least complicated pattern is played by the melê. Once the worshippers begin a song, the melê player picks up the appropriate toque—
SW: —which is a rhythm or groove—
JCV: —to accompany them. Then comes in the biancó, which plays a slightly more elaborate pattern. And finally the yan, which is the most elaborate. It sounds almost like improvisation, though the rhythms are taught and learned.
SW: Got it. So there are three ilus and each of them plays a separate role: we have the melê, the biancó, and the yan.
JCV: Yes, right on.
SW: Great. In the other candomblé tradition, the drums are different sizes. So what about here?
JCV: In this case, the melê, biancó, and yan are all similar in size and shape, but are distinguished by the roles they play in the ensemble.
SW: Got it. Well, let’s hear a short example. This is from the musician and Youtuber Glauber Alabê de Xangô from the house of Mãe Betinha de Yêmanjá Sabá, which is in Recife. He’s playing one of the ilus. And the rhythm that he’s playing is from an alujá for Xangô.
JCV: Listen for how he uses his palms to create a variety of sounds on the drum. You’ll hear that he starts slowly and then speeds up once the groove settles. We'll put a link to his video in the description.
Audio: Glauber Alabê, “Toque Nagô Alujá pra Xangô” (Youtube)
SW: What about the bell? We talked a lot about two-headed bells last time: the gan and the agogô.
JCV: This bell is also called gan, but it only has one head. It sounds like this.
SW: Ah, cool. So, what else?
JCV: There is also a shaker, called agbê. It is made from a dried gourd, with shells and seeds strung on the outside.
SW: Like a Cuban güiro, or xequerê?
JCV: Yeah, like that. Here’s a sample.
SW: So I noticed you said “voices” before instead of singing. What’s up with that?
JCV: Ah, well practitioners don’t use the word cantar—
SW: —Portuguese for “to sing.”
JCV: Instead they use the word "zuelar."
SW: I don’t think I’ve heard that word.
JCV: Well, it refers to the act of invoking the orixá with the voice. We actually have a recording of Baba Chacon zuelando—
SW:—vocalizing—
JCV: —for Xangô.
Audio: Baba Chacon zuelando for Xangô, recording from November 2020
SW: That’s great. So, what’s the difference between what he is doing—zuelando—and singing?
JCV: In terms of technique, really, nothing. The difference is in the intention and the effect. You will even hear practitioners sometimes mistakenly use the term cantar instead of zuelar to then correct themselves.
SW: Ah ok. That makes sense. We should probably also point out that this music is not just interspersed throughout the worship ritual, like say in a Catholic church.
JCV: No, the music is the ceremony. It’s what invokes the orixá, it’s how spirit possessions take place. The music never stops.
SW: So maybe we should explain who is the one vocalizing, zuelando.
JCV: It depends on the ceremony itself and the order that the orixás arrive.
SW: Different members of the community are associated with or protected by different orixás. So, the ones that are “prepared”—
JCV:—preparados—
SW: —they have been made ready through a particular spiritual preparation, hence: preparados.
JCV: Yes. They vocalize for their orixá.
SW: Are they the only ones that vocalize?
JCV: They initiate and often vocalize solo, but the congregation will respond.
SW: Fair to call this “call and response,” then?
JCV: Yeah, totally.
SW: People who have studied African or Afro-diasporic musics will recognize this as a common feature. Call and response (also known as antiphony) is frequently a feature of everything from traditional Ewe music to African American gospel to many Brazilian and other Latin American genres. The scholar Samuel Floyd has written about this with respect to Black American traditions, and we can link to some of these articles as well. Here's another example of Baba Chacon vocalizing for Xangô, this time with accompaniment.
Ceremony: The Xirê
JCV: These songs are not randomly assembled, but happen as part of a worship sequence called a xiré.
SW: Aha. How is the sequence determined?
JCV: It can vary depending on the occasion. Some ceremonies may happen in worship of orixás associated with particular seasons, day, or event. When I spoke with Rumenig Dantas, he told me that what is “typical” has shifted in the last few years.
RD: Foi criado com Mãe Elda que toda sexta-feira, ela canta por um orixá, e canta por orixá Oxalá. Hoje, no tempo de hoje, o nosso Baba, Mestre Chacon, ele não canta só por Oxalá. Ele canta o xirê completo, que é de Exu a Oxalá, que é a sequência que se tem.
SW [translating RD]: “ With Mãe Elda, it was established that every Friday night, she sang for one orixá, specifically the orixá Oxalá. Nowadays, our Baba, Mestre Chacon, doesn’t sing exclusively for Oxalá on Fridays. He sings the complete xirê, which is from Exu to Oxalá. That’s the sequence we use.”
SW: So we could think of the xirê as kind of a sequence of orixás, right? It’ll start with, say, Exu—
JCV:—always starts with the orixá called Exu, as we explained last time.
SW: And then moves on to a number of other orixás…
JCV: At this particular terreiro, the most common xirê is Exu, Ogum, Oxóssi, Oxum, Iemanjá, Xangô, Iansã, and Oxalá. It always ends with Oxalá.
SW: So as the xirê continues, these various songs are vocalized for each of the orixás, and some of the orixás arrive and possess ogãs.
JCV: Yes, this could take one to three hours, depending on how long each possession takes.
Toques
SW: I think, at this point, we have enough background to talk about some specific toques. What do you say?
JCV: Awesome! How about we highlight a couple of these orixás? I don’t think we have time to talk about all of them, though. Let’s start with Exu?
SW: As we mentioned in the last episode, Exu is first in most worship sequences because he is the orixá associated with opening doors between the visible and invisible worlds.
JCV: In my conversations with Ialorixá Elda Viana she used to advise that if you are going to make an offering, start with ones for Exu or Bobojira—
SW: —Bobojira is the feminine aspect of Exu.
JCV: So you start with them because they can get upset if you don't give them the attention they deserve and expect.
SW: This has led to some misunderstandings, with opponents of candomblé using these qualities of Exu to associate him with satanism, but candomblé doesn’t have anything to do with Satan, or even with the idea of a battle between good and evil.
JCV: Right, it’s about balance. I think he’s vain, not evil.
SW: Right! Listeners might remember that the saudação—
JCV: —words of praise—
SW: —associated with Exu are “laroyê.” What exactly does that mean?
JCV: Laroyê means "salute the messenger," a greeting for Exu.
SW: Each orixá also has their own toque, the rhythmic groove that accompanies the vocalizing.
JCV: Yes, the drums themselves also act as voices that communicate with the orixá.
SW: So what do we call the toque for Exu?
JCV: So, in nação nagô, it’s called a mazuca. This particular mazuca comes from a different Recife terreiro called Sítio de Pai Adão.
SW: As we listen, notice the call and response we mentioned before. The leader vocalizes alone to start and the chorus responds together. The whole ceremony continues in this fashion.
JCV: Also notice how the instruments come in one at a time. The gan starts quietly quietly behind him and the ilus and agbês enter later with the group.
Audio: Sítio de Pai Adão / Terreiro Obá Ogunté, “Mazuca” (Youtube)
SW: It occurs to me that one thing that may or may not have been clear is the fact that the percussion instruments tend to play ostinatos—
JCV: —loops, or rhythmic cells.
SW: Yes. So once an instrument starts playing a rhythm it continues over and over with occasional variation depending on the exact instrument.
JCV: Right.
SW: So what can we say about the lyrics?
JCV: Well, there is no literal translation. The words relate to the request for Exu to open the doorway, but given that this music has survived in the diaspora and was fostered by people who came from different ethnolinguistic groups, a word to word translation isn’t really possible or even desirable.
SW: So, which other orixás would you like to highlight from this xirê?
JCV: Let’s talk about Oxóssi next, because he is the orixá for whom the terreiro is named.
SW: Good idea. I know that Oxóssi is the hunter.
JCV: Yes. Specifically he hunts axé, so he brings positive energy to the ilê. His saudacão is “oke arô.”
SW: Which probably means something similar to “laroyê” but in relation to Oxóssi. Like, “hail Oxóssi.”
JCV: Yup. He is known for being contemplative. “Children of Oxóssi,” or the people for whom Oxóssi is their personal orixá, tend toward the creative, contemplative life and can even risk laziness. But keep in mind that because he is the hunter of axé, too much contemplation means not enough axé.
SW: Like every orixá, he is both made up of the positive and negative aspects of his personality.
JCV: For this next example, let’s go back to the lIlê Axé Oxóssi Guangoubira. We’ll hear Baba Chacon vocalizing. This toque for Oxóssi is called aguerê.
SW: So, listen again for the ostinatos and call and response, which should be pretty evident here.
Audio: Ylê Axé Oxóssi Gangoubira, “Aguerê” (Youtube)
SW: Okay, I have questions.
JCV: Okay, go ahead.
SW: That loud drum doesn’t sound like the ilu we just talked about.
JCV: Oh right, I should have explained. So, this is a recording taken from the street in front from the Ilê. Because this is a demonstration of candomblé through maracatu, it’s not possible to fit everyone inside. This particular ilê is a little different in that they have a maracatu ensemble as well. And because they are playing outside, some of the drummers are using atabaques—
SW:—which are the single-headed hand drums with a West African origin that we talked about in candomblé ketu from Bahia.
JCV: Yep. Atabaques are louder and more portable, so they are useful for playing outside. Now that was just one question.
SW: I have more! Well, one more. I can clearly hear Baba Chacon singing in Portuguese here. That’s different than the last example, where I think it was Yoruba or a version of Yoruba that has lasted through the generations.
JCV: Yes, in this recording you'll hear that he sings the introduction in Yoruba and then switches to Portuguese.
SW: Why?
JCV: This happens a lot when candomblé goes into the street. When he vocalizes in Portuguese it creates a “way in” for the people who aren’t part of this congregation to participate via call and response.
SW: Aha, so this is a version that is more outward facing.
JCV: Yes. Baba Chacon emphasizes accessibility, to a degree, both to make these practices welcoming, as well as to make sure they continue on.
SW: Okay, let’s go through some of these lyrics.
JCV: He starts, “Eu vi, foi no meio da Mata / Caboclo tocar aguerê pra Odé.”
SW: Okay, let’s try to translate that. It’s something like “I saw, in the middle of the forest, a caboclo (which probably references an indigenous person)—
JCV: Yes.
SW: —playing aguerê (the music for Oxóssi) for Odé (I don’t know what that means, but I guess it has to do with Oxóssi.)
JCV: Right. Odé in this case means “hunter,” so yes, it seems to refer to Oxóssi, who is a hunter.
SW: So, even if most of this part is in Portuguese, there seem to be a few Yoruba terms mixed in.
JCV: Yes, yes, totally. And it’s not all translatable.
SW: Got it.
JCV: He goes to sing about Oxóssi and how he is connected to other orixás, what he does (he shoots arrows) and how he is connected to this ilê specifically.
SW: We’ll put a link to these lyrics too, on the website.
JCV: So, can we talk about Oxum, who comes a little later in the xirê?
SW: Yes! Here’s what I know: Oxum is a female orixá. As we mentioned in the last episode, she is associated with fresh water, for fertilizing the earth, maternity and young children. She is known for her sweetness and beauty, and she always wears yellow and bracelets.
JCV: The saudação for Oxum is “ora yê yêô,” which kind of means "hail the benevolent mother"
SW: Got it. And last time, we listened to a toque for Oxum that was called ijexá, but here in this nation, this nação, it's called abatá. So we’re gonna go back to Pai Adão, to Sítio de Pai Adão to hear this version. Before the leader, Manuel Papai, starts to vocalize, he actually lists a number of different aspects of Oxum.
JCV: Yeah, just like Oxóssi can have many qualities, including Oxóssi Guangoubira, so can Oxum.
SW: And after listing these qualities of Oxum, he starts to vocalize alone and then the chorus responds.
Audio: Sítio de Pai Adão / Terreiro Obá Ogunté, “Abatá” (Youtube)
SW: Comparing that to the other Pai Adão example before, the music for Exu, this one is a bit faster. Is that because it comes later in the xirê?
JCV: In part, yes. It also makes sense that it would be faster, because, remember, Oxum is the fresh water orixá. She has this quality of movement. Rivers, waterfalls, these things move. So the music has to move, too.
SW: That makes sense. Other than that, though, I can imagine that the first time hearing this, it might be hard to distinguish from the mazuca for Exu that we heard before.
JCV: Right, it’s the same format, same participants, same instruments, etc.
SW: However, in addition to the difference in lyrics, the rhythm is part of what calls the specific orixá, and the rhythm here is different.
JCV: Even without going into the specifics of the rhythm that the musicians are playing here, you can tell that these examples are different because they have different metrical cycles. The mazuca for Exu has eight pulses per cycle.
SW: And the abatá for Oxum has twelve.
SW: This allows the musicians to feel the pattern in multiple different meters. We discussed this in detail in the last episode for those who want a more in-depth discussion.
JCV: The difference here is that we don’t have that vassi or West African standard bell pattern.
SW: No, in fact, the gan seems to imply a 4 beat compound meter, sort of a "1 and a 2 and a 3 and a 4 and a" feel. Because the gan plays a steady pulse rather than a more complex pattern.
JCV: This is another way that this nagô tradition differs from the ketu tradition that we discussed last time.
JCV: I think we could go next to Iemanjá, who is one of the most popular orixás in all of Brazil.
SW: She’s Oxum’s mother, right?
JCV: Indeed, yes. Iemanjá is the orixá of the sea, the queen of the ocean.
SW: I know that in Bahia there is a "Festa de Iemanjá" every December 2nd, when people send offerings to her in the sea.
JCV: And in many other parts of Brazil, people also offer to her on New Year’s Eve. Iemanjá always wears blue and white and her saudação is “odoyá.”
SW: She is often syncretized with the Virgin Mary, especially in her form as Our Lady of Navigators, which makes sense for seafaring nature and the kind of protection that seafaring folks need. I also remember you telling me something about her popularity and the fact that she is the only orixá who is often portrayed as having white skin.
JCV: Yes.
SW: So, I remember you telling me that Baba Chacon talked about the fact that because Brazil is a country made up of people with lots of different skin colors that as part of the amalgam that candomblé participates in, it makes sense that some orixás would have different skin tones and that is sort is a way in for people who have less connection to their African heritage or maybe you don't have necessarily African heritage.
JCV: Yes, yes, that sounds accurate. Of course we can problematize that as well, but as my friend Rumenig Dantas says:
RD: Porta de Axé não se fecha, se tem aberta pra quem quiser entrar e quem quiser sair.
JCV: Meaning, “the doors to the terreiro, the ylê are never closed. The doors, to those who are looking to participate in the ceremony, are never closed.”
SW: Interesting. I’m sure that there is some criticism of the fact that the most popular orixá happens to be white, though?
JCV: Yes, it’s no secret.
SW: In future episodes, we will be devoting time to discussion of this and many other efforts to “whiten” aspects of Afro-Brazilian culture, especially music. But we'll leave it there for today.
JCV: Let's listen to another toque? The toque for Iemanjá is called “inxé.” This is also from Sítio de Pai Adão.
Auido: Sítio de Pai Adão / Terreiro Obá Ogunté, “Inxé” (Youtube)
SW: Just to follow up on our earlier comments, this is also a 12-pulse metrical cycle.
JCV: Right! And if you listen to the agbê, you can hear how the musicians play with the meter.
SW: You mean the agbê player takes advantage of the 12 pulse cycle to imply different meters by diving the 12 into either 3 or 4 or 6?
JCV: Exactly! Listen.
SW: Ah, I see. So you either have four main pulses divided in three, or three divided in four, or six divided in two. So the musicians mix back and forth.
JCV: For me, I hear that as a kind of reference to Iemanjá. She is the orixá of the sea and just like the waves can move you along, they can also trick you and capsize your ship. If you’re asking Iemanjá for her protection and help, it’s against these kinds of misfortunes.
SW: I love that reading.
JCV: That’s just my interpretation, though.
SW: But it seems possible.
JCV: How about one more orixá?
SW: Seems like we should talk about Xangô, since our discussion of candomblé orixás began with him a couple of episodes ago, and also because Xangô is Baba Chacon's orixá.
JCV: Yes! That makes sense. In case you don’t remember, Xangô is the orixá of justice and thunder. His saudação is “kabiecilê.”
SW: Here’s a toque for Xangô, which, once again, is called alujá.
JCV: This audio is from a video taken at the terreiro of Sítio de Pai Adão. As you listen, you’ll hear the microphone moving around the room and picking up different instruments in the ensemble. You will be able to hear the different ilus very clearly and at other times, the agbê and the gan.
SW: We’ll link to this video as well, so that you can see what these instruments look like.
Audio: Sítio de Pai Adão / Terreiro Obá Ogunté “Kabecile/Alujá” (Youtube)
JCV: Ok, so what have we learned?
SW: Well, I think that, even if we don’t understand the technical aspects in the case of every toque, we learned that these rhythms and songs are the manner in which candomblé worshippers not only communicate their devotion, but also invite the orixás into the worship practice.
JCV: And we also dipped our toes into the water of interpretation, thinking a bit about how the toques reflect the personality of the orixás.
SW: This reinforces the fact that the music is not “in addition” to the worship, it is the worship. So when musical characteristics from this tradition go on to influence and serve as the basis for myriad Brazilian musical traditions, they can’t help but bring other aspects with them, even if people don’t always recognize that fact.
JCV: This brings me to one final musical example before we wrap up.
SW: What is it?
Obaluaê
JCV: Each episode so far, we have highlighted the presence of candomblé, either musically or in the lyrics, in a recent recording, so I thought we could listen to a bit of a song by the singer Zé Manoel, who is from Pernambuco.
SW: Sounds good. What’s this called?
JCV: It’s called “Adupé Obaluaê.”
SW: So, for context, Obaluaê is another orixá, one that wasn’t part of the xirê we talked about before. He is associated with health—both illness and the cure for the illness.
JCV: When practitioners dance for and are possessed by Obaluaê, they typically wear straw covering their face and torso, because Obaluaê is bright like the sun and humans can’t look upon him safely.
SW: What does “adupé” mean, then?
JCV: It basically means “thank you” in Yoruba.
SW: Got it.
JCV: Let’s listen to “Adupé Obaluaê” by Zé Manoel and see if we can hear some of the elements that we’ve discussed in these episodes about the music of candomblé.
Audio: Zé Manoel, “Adupé Obaluaê” (Youtube) (Spotify)
SW: Wow, that is very different. I don’t really hear the drums we discussed.
JCV: No! In fact, it seems that Zé has transformed the rhythms into piano parts. If you listen carefully to the piano, you can hear that it’s actually polyrhythmic
SW: Ah, the right and left hands play small rhythmic loops as if they were two drums in the ensemble!
JCV: Exactly!
SW: The left hand plays [audio] and the right plays [audio], which together becomes [audio].
SW: So how closely do these rhythms correspond to the rhythms of a candomblé toque? Do they have anything to do with Obaluaê, specifically?
JCV: Not specifically. I spoke with Zé Manoel about this and he told me that it was more a question of being inspired by candomblé rhythms.
Zé Manoel: As referências são mais gerais. No Brasil, existem muitas variações. Samba, quando você fala samba, cada um toca de um jeito. Não foi unificado, né? Então, o meu piano também não é diferente disso, assim... Eu sei que eu tou fazendo referências ali em muitos momentos a ritmos que são ritmos afro-indígenas, mas não necessariamente algo muito específico, é uma coisa mais geral mesmo assim.
JCV [translating ZM]: “The references are more general. In Brazil, there are many variations. For example, when you speak of samba, each person plays in their own way. It's not standardized. So my piano part is no different. I know I am making references to Afro-Indigenous rhythms but they aren't necessarily something that's very specific. It's more of a general reference.”
SW: Right, so he's talking about something that will certainly come up in future episodes. But it's worth mentioning here. The rhythmic patterns associated with Brazilian traditional and popular music vary widely. Unlike, say, the clave in Cuban music, which is standardized, the rhythms played on bells like the agogô, have regional variations and sometimes even the players improvise and modify the parts during a performance.
JCV: We saw this in our last episode when we talked about ijexá and vassi. Not only do those rhythms often occur in different ways under different names, but sometimes they don't have the same meaning or use. For example, the ijexá rhythm we studied last time was associated with Oxum, but today we talked about the abatá for Oxum.
SW: Exactly. So, it sounds like Zé is drawing on the importance of polyrhythm, whether in candomblé or Afro-Brazilian music more generally.
JCV: Yes, I'd say so.
SW: I am curious about Zé's relationship with Obaluaê, and candomblé. Did he say anything about that?
JCV: Yeah, he did.
ZM: Obaluaê, ele é o meu orixá. Eu não sou praticante do candomblé porque diferente do que se fala - que é uma religião envolta de muitos estigmas e muito preconceito, diferente do que se fala, é uma religião muito séria, muito séria e ela é muito rígida com quem pratica. Por exemplo, quando você vai fazer o santo, você fica dentro do terreiro de candomblé por meses sem contato com ninguém, muitas vezes. As pessoas que fazem parte dessa religião são pessoas que se dedicam muito à religião em si. Mas como fala um amigo meu que é do candomblé, Paulo Esteves, ele me levou no terreiro dele em Salvador e com a mãe de Santo, eu fiz a consulta de búzios para descobrir quem é meu orixá. Então eu tenho uma relação muito próxima com o meu orixá, eu me vejo absolutamente identificado com ele, com a história dele, com tudo. Eu comecei a sentir essa vontade de trazê-lo pra minha música porque "o orixá é vivo". Ele se comunica com você a todo tempo através de mensagens, de acontecimentos… e assim, o orixá é vivo.
JCV [translating ZM]: “Obaluaê, he's my orixá. I am not officially a candomblé practitioner. Contrary to the stigma and prejudice that often surrounds the religion, candomblé is a very serious religion, very strict for practitioners. For example, when you go through the process of discovering who your orixá is, you often have to be isolated in a terreiro for months. People who are part of this religion are very dedicated to it. But one of my friends, Paulo Esteves, took me to his terreiro in Salvador and I consulted the mãe de santo, who used cowrie shells to find out who my orixá is. So I have a very close relationship to my orixá, I see myself absolutely identified with him, with his story, with everything. I felt like I needed to bring him to my music because ‘the orixá is alive.’ The orixá communicates all the time through messages, through events… and thus, the orixá is alive.”
SW: Oh wow. It’s very clear that, even though he is not, in his words, a “practitioner” of candomblé, he is so respectful of the religion.
JCV: Yes, he’s very clear that even though he’s been through the practice of discovering who his personal orixá is—
SW: We’ve mentioned this before, but just to clarify: everyone has an orixá. So when Zé says “meu pai Obaluaê” meaning “my father Obaluaê” he is referring to the fact that he is a child of Obaluaê specifically, that Obaluê is his personal orixá.
JCV: Yes, but in spite of his dedication and proximity to Obaluaê, he recognizes that he has not dedicated himself to the practice of this religion and doesn’t want to claim any special knowledge.
SW: Got it. Well, since I talked about the lyrics a little, let’s see what else is there. Did he say anything about the lyrics?
JCV: Yeah! He told me:
ZM: A música, inicialmente surgiu num sonho, ela surge como uma homenagem a esse orixá que é o orixá das doenças e da cura - é um orixá muito misterioso, muito respeitado… Eu sonhei com essa música, então eu sonhei com o refrão.
JCV [translating ZM]: “The song initially arrived in a dream. It came up as a tribute to this orixá that is the orixá of diseases and cures. He is a mysterious orixá, highly respected. I dreamed of this song, the refrain:
ZM: [sings refrain of “Adupé Obaluaê”] Eu sonhei com isso. Eu não sei a quem creditar, a quem dar o crédito. É algo encantado. É uma música que veio no sonho. Eu fiz a segunda parte.
JCV [translating ZM]: I dreamed this. And I don’t know whom to credit. It’s something enchanted, a song that arrived in a dream. I wrote the second part.
ZM: [sings verse of “Adupé Obaluaê”] Essa parte é minha. É uma música que já tem um significado muito forte por ter vindo dessa forma, por ser meu orixá.
JCV [translating ZM]: “That part is mine. It’s a song that already has a strong meaning for having arrived in this way, for being my orixá.”
SW: Wow, that’s so interesting. He describes it as a collaboration. Between him and?
JCV: Well, he’s careful not to attribute that first part to Obaluaê.
SW: Right, he doesn’t “know whom to credit.”
JCV: Exactly.
SW: So about the lyrics.
JCV: Actually, he explained those a bit:
ZM: Sendo que a segunda parte eu fiz durante a pandemia. Então ao mesmo tempo que é uma música que eu tou homenageando o orixá, eu tb tou pedindo proteção, contra a pandemia também. Porque ele é o orixá que traz a doença também, que traz a cura, que traz a transformação. [sings] E adupé é obrigado, né? "Atotô" é a saudação. É muito bonita essa saudação, pede silêncio.
JCV [translating ZM]: “I wrote the second part during the pandemic. So at the same time that it’s a song that pays tribute to the orixá, I am also asking for protection against the pandemic. Because he is the orixá that brings the disease and the cure, brings the transformation. And “adupé” means “thank you.” “Atotô” is the saudação. This saudação is very beautiful. It requests silence.”
SW: Aha. I was hoping he’d get into this. It’s one of the reasons this song seems so relevant right now.
JCV: Yes, we’re recording this at the tail end of 2020. At this point, the COVID-19 pandemic has taken hundreds of thousands of lives in Brazil.
SW: So we thought it would be appropriate to highlight Obaluaê because of his significance in public health.
JCV: Zé is pretty careful about how he addresses Obaluaê. He uses the saudação “atotô,” which asks for silence.
SW: And the title lyric is literally “thank you Obaluaê.” That almost seems strange, given that the orixá is responsible not just for the cure, but the disease as well.
JCV: He dreamed it, so it’s probably not something to mine for intention.
SW: But it does speak to the idea that candomblé worship is about balance.
JCV: Right. We talked about Oxóssi and his positives and negatives. They may have seemed rather abstract, but this is an example of a much more tangible manifestation of these ideas.
SW: You know, we highlighted candomblé because it’s so foundational to Brazilian musical practice.
JCV: Actually the track before “Adupé Obaluaê” on Zé’s record deals with this.
Audio: Zé Manoel, “Escuta Letieres Leite” (Youtube) (Spotify)
JCV: It’s not exactly a song. Instead, Zé leaves space for the composer, saxophonist, and bandleader Letieres Leite to talk about how Brazilian music is all Afro-Brazilian.
SW: Yes, everyone should listen to that! But I happen to know Zé talked to you about this as well. Would you mind sharing what he said?
JCV: Of course!
ZM: Essa música popular brasileira, ela é toda afro-brasileira e ela quase toda vem também de dentro do candomblé. O Maracatu vem dos terreiros de candomblé, o samba vem dos terreiros de candomblé. Eu sempre me interessei pela cultura do candomblé porque além de ser uma religião, eles são guardiões da fé e eles também são guardiões da cultura… Um baú cheio de tesouros, tesouros ancestrais, tesouros de cultura do povo preto.
JCV [translating ZM]: “All Brazilian popular music is Afro-Brazilian. And almost all of it comes from candomblé. Maracatu comes from the terreiros of candomblé. Samba comes from the terreiros of candomblé. Candomblecistas are guardians of the faith and also guardians of culture. A treasure chest of ancestral treasures of the culture of Black people.”
SW: Beautifully put.
JCV: I say we take that as our cue to start investigating this musical offspring of candomblé...
SW: Let’s! Would you like to move next to maracatu?
JCV: Seems like a good idea since it came up so much in today’s episode!
SW: Well, I think we know what our next episode is about.
JCV: Right! Thanks, Schuyler!
SW: Thanks Juliana! I really enjoyed this episode!
JCV: Esse foi massa!
Credits
Audio: Sammy Bananas, “Transcontinental Baião (Carioca Remix)”
SW: Massa is written, produced, and edited by Juliana Cantarelli Vita and me, Schuyler Whelden. Special thanks this week to Rumenig Dantas, Baba Chacon Viana, and Zé Manoel. For episode transcriptions and links, please visit our website essefoimassa.com. That’s E-S-S-E-F-O-I-M-A-S-S-A dot com. Our email is essefoimassa@gmail.com. Please join us in two weeks as we introduce the music of maracatu. Until then, esse foi massa!
*Photo by Juliana Cantarelli Vita
