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Capoeira landed on
Brazil’s shores centuries ago with the forced
arrival of Angolan slaves. Through super-human ingenuity and despite their
captivity, the Africans transformed their traditional dances into a powerful
fighting art. After thriving as a self-defense during 400 years of colonization,
Capoeira has since become a world famous sport. In recent years, Capoeira
has gained international popularity through Hollywood films such as “Only
The Strong” and “Quest,” as well as through a regularly
aired segment on “Sesame Street.”
Capoeira’s history - rich with the traditions of both Brazil and
Africa - makes training this unique martial art an unparalleled experience.
Its movements are graceful, acrobatic and allow for plenty of individual
expression. In addition to a physical discipline, Capoeira students also
learn percussion and a vast repetoire of traditional Brazilian song and
dance.
Our group and my personal history are inseparable. My father, Leonidio
Leonardo de Sá, was an Angoleiro who introduced me to Capoeira before
I was even old enough to remember his early teachings. Although historically
Capoeira has been a forbidden sport, feared by the authorities and shunned
by most Brazilians as derelict, my father proudly stood by me when I received
my mestre cordel from Mestre Touro. Pictures of him show his already strapping
chest
puffed
up even more, and a smile revealing a pride he could never express in
words. My mother, Celina Estevam de Sá, was and is perhaps more of a Capoeirista
than me or my father, although early on she worried incessantly I would
get hurt. For years, she ran my academy in my absence, a petite woman
in braids ordering around men and boys twice her size and attending Capoeira
federation meetings with the most notorious of mestres, as they hurled
chairs at each other and argued over beer and barbecue. Although she does
not ginga, Dona Celina holds an official title with the Capoeira League
of Rio de Janeiro. And my mother became the mother of all my Capoeira
students. Many lived in her home, ate her food and shared her company
for years even after I left for America. She has sewn wedding dresses
for their fiances, held their babies, and in some cases attended their
funerals. I was about 14 years old when I decided to get a group of youth
together to train Capoeira in the hard-scrabble land around the housing
project where I lived with my parents and my brother Roberto.
Quitungo was a rough neighborhood at the time, with towering apartment
buildings and lots of movement on the streets. Our group was viewed with
suspicion and gangs
of other kids were continually challenging our abilities as street fighters.
But the challenges backfired. Eventually, more and more people joined
us and our enemies became our comrades. Others in the community, particularly
the mothers, still mistrusted us, though. They thought I was training
a band of gangsters. But when we started performing in clubs, schools,
city events and on television, those same mothers sent their kids to my
classes. Our first real support came from Conceiçao Ferreira Ramos, my
music teacher, who collected money for us to buy T- shirts and fabric
for pants. We had performed in her school for only a week, but she admired
our work. I hand-drew the design on each T-shirt, two figures playing
Capoeira and our group's name "Grupo de Capoeira Besouro" In 1977,
I joined the Army, where I stayed for seven years, earning the rank of
sergeant. And in 1979, I earned my mestre degree from the Corda Bamba
school of Mestre Touro. I began teaching at a Rio de Janeiro college and
the group shifted locations several times over the years.
But in 1986 we built our own academy, literally hauling the materials, pouring concrete and laying the floor ourselves. The school is located in Manguariba, Campo Grande, about a half-hour drive from downtown Rio. Classes are held there even today, despite my absence of almost 12 years. In 1988, I won our group's first state Capoeira federation championship, and my students are still winning that title even today. Grupo Besouro members have been named state champions almost a half- dozen times in the last decade, also competing nationwide. Unlike many mestres here in the United States, I have a thriving group of students back in Brazil. Thus my allegiances have been torn over the years. I want to support them and my students here equally, and it has not always been easy. I have four students in Brazil who have earned the title of mestre, and each has their own school. These were the boys from the Quitungo projects who joined me as little, skinny kids.
Now Kinha
, Sardinha, Anjo
and at one time Sidinho, are all mestres themselves, leading hundreds
of students of their own and supporting their families with Capoeira at
a time in Brazil when unemployment has skyrocketed. Each of theses mestres
has under their direction as many as six graduated students with classes
of their own. These are young people who have made Capoeira a profession
against great odds and children from neighborhoods where there is little
hope. One of my student's student is already a mestre: Mestre Batata in
Vitoria, Espirito Santos. Mestre Batata teaches homeless kids in orphanages
and works with nuns to reach children living in the slums above his home.
Mestre Kinha trains the city transit cops. Mestre Sardinha has students
who are state champions before they reach 18. Mestre Anjo has just named
a contra-mestre. So, in our group we have a special connection, and a
mission to improve society and our art form, to create a lasting tradition.
Go to "Mestre Biquinho: A Capoeira Brother"
Which brings me to my final, but perhaps most important point. I want
to do good with my Capoeira, to improve
the lives of you, my students, and your families. Thus my group this year
for the first time bears the name and symbol of a spiritual philosophy
that has helped me make the most of my life. The teachings of ancient
India, and my personal faith in God, who in my religion is called Krishna,
guides my work. The name Narahari, which means half-man, half-lion, is
from the Sanskrit language and is a meaningful symbol for me, bringing
together my spiritual beliefs and my life's work as a Capoeira teacher.
I do not expect you to follow my religion or all of my principles. But
I do want you to know who I am and to share with you how I have managed
to persevere in a world that is often unkind and unyielding, but one that
also holds great promise.