November 18, 2012
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My Hips
Where I live you say hello to everyone you pass. Everyone. This took me awhile to learn because half the time when I am walking I am day dreaming and don’t even notice when people pass by. Then they think that I am rude. But it has paid off and now I wave or “Oi” or “Opah” or “Bom dia!” They wave back and think I am muito simpatico. I also recognize all the motoqueros (motorcycle taxi drivers) and have gotten plenty of free rides for my trouble. Being friendly is a good way of life.
I’ve gotten to know many of the kombe drivers as well. I like sitting up front, but still pump the ‘brake’ when we get centimeters from the next car (the engine is in the back). The kombe drivers like brega or traditional music most of the time. Music is much more than rhyme and words here. They love American music, but it is all lumped into the “love song” category since they don’t understand the words, and the rhythms are similar. Music is all about rhythm.
Brazilian rhythm meets white girl. I tell them my hips don’t work right. They laugh and try to teach me once again, to samba or forro. And soon they look at me and say “Ha-kel, your hips don’t work right.” But they have hope for me yet.
The kombe driver is talking. I look and see I am the only other one in the kombe. I guess he is talking to me. Clueless to what he has been saying, I smile and nod. He continues. “Brazil may be one of the few places on earth where it is possible to socialize by saying nothing more than “ah,” “e?” or simply nodding one’s head every so often.” –Tobias Hecht
