In the Community of Quilombola, in the countryside of the state of Minas Gerais, Brazil, the Mozambique Guard celebrates an ancient history. My celebration took place in November 2011
Of dirt, by leaps and bumps, the road seems longer. Under the noonday sun, forget it. I knew almost nothing of what was about to happen. It was when they arrived.
Who moved the weather and the wind? It was the drums, the guitar, the rosy pink or the smile of his mistress, who danced tapping her foot on the floor?
To preserve the memory of Congado is to be moved by such plural colors, songs, instruments and cultural elements that are still alive, a story that comes from afar. From father to son, son's son, his son's son's son. The captain is in charge, and he can be identified by a cane that belongs only to those men.
The roots are in Africa. In Congado, the ancestors, the souls of slaves, the founder of the brotherhood, kings, queens and captains deceased are remembered and revered. The “congadeira” culture is faithful to the ancestors. Every identity has a history, and mine, no longer was a picture ID in the wallet. Somehow, I felt part of the whole.
The Moçambiques, traditional congadeiros, sing songs of faith. Around their feet, they tied cans. Represent the people left behind by the sea called the Lady of the Rosary, singing songs without giving back.
When I made my way back, it was impossible to turn away from this amazing reality.