Camarada, venho de longe, trazendo meu berimbau

[Marie-Claire]

"...Gunga é meu, gunga é meu
Gunga é meu, foi contra-mestre que me deu..."

Capoeira is an art of many facets...not just a fight, but a dance, a game, a puzzle, and a world of music.

Further entwining myself in this world, I have acquired one of the tools of my art, the berimbau.

"The berimbau is a single-string percussion instrument, a musical bow, from Brazil. The berimbau's origins are not entirely clear, but there is not much doubt on its African origin, as no Indigenous Brazilian or European people use musical bows, and very similar instruments are played in the southern parts of Africa. The berimbau was eventually incorporated into the practice of the Afro-Brazilian martial art capoeira, where it commands how the capoeiristas move in the roda.The berimbau consists of a wooden bow (verga – traditionally made from biriba wood, which grows in Brazil), about 4 to 5 feet long (1.2 to 1.5 m), with a steel string (arame – often pulled from the inside of an automobile tire) tightly strung and secured from one end of the verga to the other. A gourd (cabaça), dried, opened and hollowed-out, attached to the lower portion of the verga by a loop of tough string, acts as a resonator.

Since the 1950s, Brazilian berimbaus have been painted in bright colors, following local Bahian/Brazilian taste; today, most makers follow the tourist consumer's quest for (pretended) authenticity, and use clear varnish and discreet decoration.

To play the berimbau, one holds it in one hand, wrapping the two middle fingers around the verga, and placing the little finger under the cabaça's string loop (anel), and balancing the weight there. A small stone or coin (pedra or dobrão, respectively) is held between the index and thumb of the same hand that holds the berimbau. The cabaça is rested against the abdomen. In the other hand, one holds a stick (baqueta or "vaqueta" – usually wooden, very rarely made of metal) and a shaker (caxixi). One strikes the arame with the vaqueta to produce the sound. The caxixi accompanies the vaqueta. The dobrão is moved back and forth from the arame to change the tone of the berimbau. The sound can also be altered by moving the cabaça back and forth from the abdomen, producing a wah-like sound."

It's a surprisingly difficult intstrument to learn. You're essentially balancing this tricky, unwieldy stick (in my case, one that is taller than I am!) on your last pinky joint. You must keep your fingers wrapped very specifically around the verga because even the smallest margin of error changes the sound for the worse. And don't even get me started on trying to do all that PLUS sing at the same time.

Jesus.

Yes, it does hurt. I chose the largest berimbau that Paulo was selling, not because I'm a masochist or a size queen, but because the sound of this particular gunga was absolutely stunning. The tone is deep and rich, and on the rare occasions I am playing it correctly, I feel this unexplainable connection to life, the universe, and everything.

Remarkable.

The challenge of playing a larger berimbau...well, I suppose it's a bit like the difference between playing soprano and contra when you're marching drum corps--yeah, it sucks having to lug around a Volkswagen when your peers are at attention with paperclips, but if you love what you hear, you will persevere and get stronger, to carry that Volkswagen with PRIDE, dammit.

I'm not very good at playing. It's frustrating. As I've talked about before, I'm not good at being terrible at things. Some of the best things in life start out as daily disasters, and the only way to make it better is to keep at it. In theory, I dig it. It's a "death and taxes" sort of certainty. In the process of improving, you WILL make mistakes and you WILL look stupid. But despite all my philosophy about it, I am, in practice, a real jerk about being a beginner. If I can't be a instant expert, I don't want to be arsed. Screw this. I feel dumb. I'm taking my ball and going home, because this sucks.

And so on.

But I seem to remember, just a few months ago, having the same kind of frustration with the physical aspect of capoeira as well, and so far I have managed to temper my self-conscious immaturity with a determination to not let this become another one of my "flavour of the week" type whims. Sure, I still get those occasional "fuck this noise!" moments, especially when I err on the same move...over and over and OVER again...

"Não, não, NÃO, Maria! You must LOOK...do that again. Do not just SAY 'yes' like you understand...just do the sequence."

But even just six months after I began, I can tell that I have made leaps and bounds of improvement, and even more importantly, I've started to learn that sometimes, it's perfectly alright to be an uncoordinated spaz of a n00b. That's a long-needed lesson that I value more than any physical improvements or nuggets of wisdom from instructors. It will serve me not only in capoeira, but in the wider roda that is my daily life.

[Leão]

Ten verdade, Marie! I remember my first capoeira classes, though only recently have things begun to make sense... I've done movements for years and six months ago I changed how I do it and it seems my entire game has changed. And it is always good to remember what you've learned here months from now (because everyone hits a plateau once in awhile).