Dear reader, a small grammatical error? My apology!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SEARCH IN BLOG
Zoeken in blog
RAMBLIN WAYN -- ART
Music- Poetry- Paintings LIVIN' IS AN ART - VIRTUAL GALERY
THE CIRCUS OF THE CAFUZ -SHORT STORY TOLD BY WAYN (part 1)
Circo do Cafuz ---pen-drawing Wayn 2002
The Circus of the Cafuz
Cajari, Maranhâo, Brazil, 1957
The bells of the white church were ringing, because in the distance they saw the circus approach. There were four wagons drawn by mules and after the last one were some slow strolling animals. Cajari was full of enthusiasme, because once a year the circus visit the small village. The children screamed and joyfull sounds escaped from their mouths. When the travelling ensemble entered the little square, Benedicto stood in the crowd. He was twelve and his desire has always been to travel with the circus. It was not that he wanted to hurt his grandfather, the old man Deuszinho (small god), but he wanted to be free and roam with the colorful company. As an orphan, this was an unthinking desire in his little soul. His father died when in a knife-fight in a dark bar and his mother Marcela died one year later on dengue, transmitted by mosquitoes. But they thought Benedicto died of sadness and it was his grandfather who took care of him. He lived with the old man now for five years, with love and care. He helped his grandfather on the small farm where manioc, maize and herbs growned, and helped him with baking of maniocbread, which they sold. But his little soul longed to see that beautiful gypsy dancing girl again. Now Benedicto stood at the old square and looked at the old painted cars and mules.
How long ago was it, thirteen months? Yes ... she was a dancing around the fire; she was young and beautiful, sixteen and was known as Lailadrinha. He saw the old Lama, the six peccary, and the small white pony where Lailadrinha balanced on. He also saw the old black wool-monkey Utopia, which was yelling on the front of the wagon. On the first wagon holding the reins, was the Cafuz (half Indian-Negro), son of Koub and a Indian woman named Jessusa. He was the boss of the company, a rugged, medium-sized man with a golden ring through his nose. It was told that he had ruined many lives with his knife, a blade he called 'amigo'.
Yes, Cafuz was a notorious bandit, but he had been converted when a holy vicinity appeard to him. He said: ' ... it was the Black Madonna who was crying red tears and spoke to me by saying that I do understand that I was led a murderers life and my odds that there no justice existed in this country was refuted by her, saying: "Why do you think I am crying? I am crying for the poverty of the wildlands of Brazil! I am crying against exploitation by hallucinating imbeciles. One day all will be getting better and there will be blowing a breathe of Justice, of fresh air; and you are a man of strength. You need to lead people, not kill them. You will serve God and gender equality. It is hypocrisy on the greedy, but he will have sunk to a crying beast on the day that he will meet Cain," and then disappeared the Madonna, as fast as she came. From that day on Cafuz changed. A few years befrore he had traveled with a carnival company and because he loved it, he decided, in name of the Madonna, to do the good thing and entertain people with the circus. He bought a wagon and Utopia, the monkey, who was then still young, approximately four years, from an old Gypsy and felt in love with Tamari , a little woman who could be directly abandoned a Paul Gaugin painting. She had an oval face, Tahitian pointed breasts and short regular legs with small feet, only the pearls were missing.
He took her and started to perform. He was fire-eater and learned how to bending steel and Tamari danced and and sang old songs. They met two dwarfs Zilda and Pascoal which joined them with a clown act. In addition, there were: the woman with the four breasts, whom the Cafuz had met in a small village; Saikaku, a small fat Japenese, who swallowed swords and stuck needles of half a meter in to his body; and later the troubador Antonio joined them, he who sings that stories from old Brazil, and then
there was the youngster Chico Bobo, the boy without arms or legs, which Cafuz picked up in his group when they were in a small town, were he saw that Bobo was at the point of being murdered by his foster parents, who thought the young boy was only a burden. Further there was Taticus, the half-indian with the tapir face and
elephant feet, and last but not least Grandâo, a giant of almost two fifthy. In the meantime they had four wagons and they were beloved in the many villages that they visited. An old Gypsy mother asked the Cafuz to take her granddaughter Lailadrinha along with them. She could cook and dancie like the best. "Please take her with you, Cafuz," she begged: "because I am about to die and am expelled from the tribe." The girl was ten years back then, but now she was a beautiful slim woman, and in all places the men were silent and stared at her with their mouths wide open, to her moving body, her firmly round young breasts and her skin soft as a peach. She was the beauty which God did descent in the wilderness of Maranhao in the Brazilian north-east. And here in Cajari she would dance, she would dance, and dance.
Benedicto stood still and looked for the right moment to find the gypsy girl, who held a small boy in her arms, her son, Zumbizinho, small-Zumbi. The caravan stopped at the square next to the Church where they marked a spot. The monkey ran glaring over the church-square and the folks laughed and clapped their hands. They circus would remain one week in Cajari, and Benedicto was determined to continue with them. He had already warned his grandfather and the old man had wept, but gave his blessing to Benedicto.
At six o clock, after the fall of darkness, the show started and the old lama kneelded to the public and the peccary ran through the lama's legs. The giant man Grandâo took the two dwarfs in his coal-shovel hands and raised them high into the air, and the people looked surprised to the man with a mouth so great that you could put easily a watermelon in it. Then came the gypsy Tamari and danced around the fire and Cafuz itself spat fire and bended thick irons bars. The Japenese Saikaku was swallowed his swords and made strange jumps; then came the woman with the four breasts and some have been allowed to feel whether they were real. Than the people stood back as the man with the tapir head appeared: Taticus. Where his nose should be, was now a trunk-like thing and his hair were high and prickly as a 'porco-espinho, a porcupine. In his arms he held the torso of Chico Bobo, who was a-chewing on quid with the result that black tobacco juice dripped from his mouth when he laughed. And the people screamed as he began to sing for Taticus, which then made his gruesome dance-steps on his horrible feet. Then came Lailadrinha seated on the small pony named 'passarella', and she went on her feet at the pony's back while the people clapped and cheered and then, flying like a cream-angel she jumped from the pony's back and danced wild and passionated in the shadow of the tamarind tree among the fire. Her skirt rolled up and two artistic coffee-brown legs appeared, while the men went mad and wanted to touch her, but the Japenese defended her like she was his treasure.
She, the flower of Brazil, the 'sertâo', the wilderness.
O BANDEIRANTE and METAMORFOSE a poem for children by Cassiano Ricardo
BY CASSIANO RICARDO (1895 - R de Janeiro 1974)
Meu avô foi buscar prata / My grandpa went to get silver mas prata virou Indio / but silver turned in to Indian
Meu avô foi buscar Indio / My grandpa went to get Indian mas Indio virou ouro / but Indian turned in gold
Meu avô foi buscar ouro / My grandfather went to get gold mas ouro virou terra / but gold turned land
Meu avô foi buscar terra / My grandfather went to get land mas terra virou fronteira /but land turned border
Meu avô, ainda intrigado, / My grandfather, still intrigued foi modelar a fronteir: / was to model the boundery
E o Brasil tomou a forma de harpa / And Brasil has taken the form of a harp
Em: Martim Cererê, Cassino Ricardo, José Olympio:1974, Rio de Janeiro, 13ª edição.
Domingos Jorge Velho, o Bandeirante (The Pioneer) detail by BENEDITO CALIXTO (1853-1927, Brasil)
Velho was one of the most brutal Bandeirante and responsible for the repression of several Indian Indian nations in Bahia and for all Piaui in Brazil. But he's most famous for the extermination of the negro settlement Quilombo of Palmeras in the hinterland of Alagoas. He did not speak Portuguese, but free language, which was based on the Tupi Indian, and had a few Indian wimmin as lover. What to say!
PARAGUAÃU - WAYN Pieters, Brasil 2009 (oil on board) - Poem by Raquel Naveira
WAYN - OIL ON BOARD - 20~~28 CM NOV. 2009 ITABORAI, RJ
Índia tupinambá. -India Tupinamba Apaixonou-se por Caramuru. -Felt in love with Caramuru Caramuru era um peixe. -Caramuru was a fish Alongado como uma serpente -Elongated like a snake
De mucilagem azul, -mucilaged blue Era a alcunha de Diogo Álvares Correia, -It was the nickname of Diogo Alvares Correia O náufrago português, -the shipwrecked Portugese O homem de fogo -Man of fire
Capaz de matar aves do céu; -Able to kill birds of the sky; Saíra por encanto -leave for charm Das águas do mar - the water of sea Gotejando pelos poros -dripping pores Pequenos brilhantes. -small brights
Por esse deus misterioso, -for this mysterious God Cheirando a pólvora, -smelling of gunpowder Enamorou-se Paraguaçu, -Felt in love with Paraguacu Índia de olhos grandes, Indian with large eyes Negros como um turvo rio. -black as a muddy river
Caramuru e Paraguaçu -Caramuru and Paraguaçu Partiram numa caravela -went on a carvel Rumo à França, -heading for France Lá ela se tornou Catarina, -There she became Catarina Nome de rainha e santa. -the name of Queen and santa.
Cobriram de tulherias e sedas -Covered with tuiliries and silk Seu corpo nu -her body naked De selvagem menina, -the wild girl Entre livros e castelos -between books and castles Sua alma se estilhaçava -her soul shattered Entre dois mundos. -between two worlds.
Regressaram à Bahia, -Returning to Bahia Diante de injustiças -facing injustice E desmandos, -and desobedience Caramuru prisioneiro, -Caramuru get prisoned Paraguaçu virou guerreira, -Paraguaçu turned warrior Flechas zumbiram nos ares, -arrows zoomed in the air Depôs e matou o donatário Pereira. -Deposed and killed the donee Pereira
Paraguaçu, -Paraguaçu Índia tupinambá, -India Tupinamba Mulher, terra, nação, -Woman, land, nation Submeteu-se por muito amar. - Undergoes herself for long love.
NÃ, THE MYSTERIOUS INDIAN WOMAN - a short story AS TOLD by Wayn Pieters -END
'I know the woman Ná... she lives far from here in the forest,' says the fisherman. I ask him to bring me over there, but he said to be affraid of the wood-spirits. 'But, i can bring you to an old woman, her name is Gurgatuba,' he says. 'She lives on the side of the forest.' For more then a hour we walk on a narrow path, till we reach a palmleaf cabin where the old woman lives. When she stand in the doorway she smiles slightly and the old fisherman runs off quickly. It's quiet, unspoken silent, outside the twittering of the birds. I ask her for Ná. She knows her, Ná is a sorceres, a magical whore who can make men crazy and leads them to the abyss. 'Where does she lives,' i ask her. She laughts and says: 'When you purify my wounds, i will show you the way...' I look at the wrinkled old face of the woman, a cabocla, half indian. Her grey hair is fastened in her neck and her face full of tumors. She stripped of her dirty dress and stands naked in front of me. How old can she be? Ninethy? Older? Her breast are two sloppy meat sacks hanging down to her deep navel while tasteless meat masses hanging around her waist. The abcesses are as big as plums and a green pus dripping out. She says: 'If you want me to bring you to Ná, you will have to be my lover... you must fuck me... my darling..." I must be crazy. Was i really mad? an idiot on a thin wire that was connected to the moon. But my desire for Ná was too big, so immense that i fucked Gurgatuba. Damn! It's like a anesthetic, a coma, i must have a lack of oxygen in my brains. How to explain it in other way. Can you tell me Siegmund Freud? Or any other fucking psychologist? Can they give me a explanation? Gurgatuba lays gasping on a bench of tree branches and she calls for the holy Zachary and the twins Cosme and Damian. Far away, somewhere in outer space, a million stars away, i hear her whisper: 'I'm happy... i'm the mother of forest... the vestibule of Ná...'
Next to me i see black rats chewing on something, something that must be dead and a little monkey searching fleas on his hairy body. Am I not wrinkled in my soul? God? I'm a Christian? Am i honest agains my ego? Is the old Gurgatuba a arteficial withering flower? This is malicious, inhuman. If it had been a crazy person, lost in the jungle, a sense of bewilderment in his mind, who yearning of desire was fucking the withered body of a old woman. No! Shit! This was me! Crossing the will of my freedom! What is freedom of man? Is there control? No, i'm longing for the love of Ná.
I need Ná, I want Ná.
I jump off the old woman and run outdoor. I have to puke. I walk back inside and beg Gurgatuba to bring me to Ná. The old woman keeps her promisse. We walk and walk and as darkness falls we reach a ruin, it's like the shadow in the moonlight. Then appears Ná, more beautiful then when i saw her last time, she gave the old woman a kiss and called her mother. Then, suddenly Gurgatuba dissapears between bushes and palmtrees. I'm confused and ask Ná why she no longer lives beside the rivier of parrots and that she answer that she never lived there and that i met her in a dream. An illusion, which just like a pearl shimmers, but in reality it' just a trivial stone. An riverstone. She says: 'The only thing you dreaming of is the humidity of my love... in the womb you had already this desire, the love of a Indian woman, no compromise, no sound from the real world, an exclusive love, the happiness that could never be erased...' And she is the woman, at this place in the Brazilian Mato Grosso, which is chosen to meet her. The road has long be sealed. It's a destination.
This is no dream, this is real! And I am in the wood along the river Paraquai.
She takes me with her inside the cabin en gave me honey thea sweet as her lips. In the dark corner laying, intertwined, tree snakes, hiding their lovely red whit black colours and now and then one unrolles herself and i can see the little golden eyes watching me. In an other corner i spot four parrots sitting on a branch next to each other, as they were petrified. The howler monkey put his claws between his legs and let his cock rolls, like he was kneading bums. He looks bizar at me and cries when he reached orgasm. Ná undressed herself and sit down beside me. She sings a song that drives me mad while she brings me into a world of glory. The ultimate journey,the beginning of everything, the world of afterlife and paradise there where angels making love with devils. I don't give a fuckin' damn, because now the jaguar is in peace with the lamb and the anteater licks the head of the anaconda. This is the nirvana. We cherisch each other a long time and her hands touch my face, my body feels like wax. She brings her nipple in to my mouth. Time is dead.
Her legs are spread out for me.
We roll around and i feel her wet flower. My penis penatrates softly, there where mother earth lives. In the deep of mother earth. Never i was that happy, but the next morning she tells me to leave, her just like in the dream. She says that i may never come back to this place, otherwise i will die with my sperm in her. She gaves me the the tail-end of a armadillo, for it will joins me on my world travels. An amulet. Then she calls the old Gurgutuba and tells her to bring me back to the real world, and I wonder if dying with my penis in Ná would be the ultimate pleasure before death. The death-blow, that will darkened life, like the confluence of the sun.
NÃ, THE MYSTERIOUS INDIAN WOMAN - a short story AS TOLD by Wayn Pieters PART 1 OF 2
I'm in the Brazilian Mato Grosso and longing for the love of an Indian woman. Then I met her: Ná, which in de Tupi language means 'direction of flowing water'. I's afternoon along the Paraquai river. Ná is older then me, ten years. She is fifty-eight, a descendant of the Umotina tribe and her grandparents still have the pure tribal-blood. Her mother is somehow mixed with a 'Cafuz' resulting in negro-blood flowing through her veins. But her Indian look is so magical that it neglected the black influence. Ná is beautiful. Her age does not hurt her appearence, and she have a appeal that only, someone who's attracted to the Indian woman, perceives. Her smell is so strong that no one can refuses her. Never i tell you, never could anyone withstand her, because he will be attracted by a higher atmosphere into space. Her past plays further no role in this concept because it's so immensely sad, that this made her stronger and incouraged her. Ná is lonely. She is a whore. I see her sitting near the water, close to her cabin, and i feel that something in her attracted me like a fly to a carnivorous plant. Ná invited me in to her cabin when the sun allready sets. In the cabin are four hammocks, four parrots and a red-faced monkey. The matress is made of different types of leaves and grass and i smell the sweet scent of flower-oil. I wonna say something but she brings her finger lovely to my lips. Then she strips of her blouse with red lace and little dancing figures, which reminds me of Asian dancers. Her breast are of a colour i've never seen before and they were shining because of the evening sweat. Her hair falls down her oval face, a face without a wrinkle, as polished by forest fairies. Her mouth looks like a carnal pearl. O my God. This is what i thought. Her nipples were swollen like the red colour of the Kaki fruit and clamped on two hills of flesh. When she strip of her dress my world turns in to a paradise, a no longer existing world, a blurring of masses, utopia, a sleep where dreams blossems into enchantment. Her stomach, the valley to the higher spirits and her tights are full of large scarves, they seems like wounds of affliction compared with het beautiful face. Each leg is tattooed with two snakes in vertical form. Her feet are small and on top tattooed with butterflies and hummingbirds. Then she walks to me like a female deer, undressed me and put a penetrating turtle oil on me, so that my penis was a gleaming in the twilight of the cabin. Then she let the monkey and parrots outside into the world of nature. After that Ná is ready for love and i knew that only death can make me forget her. It seems a dream, a long trip with no destination, hoping that the journey will never end. It is the transcendental reality of humanity, surrealism in a naive form, led to positions of full enjoment. It was fate that guide me here, to the woman along the river Paraquai. Just to Love. Outside i hear the sound of falling rain and the river will be ready soon for bathing, as the sun rise again. She makes a herbal thee and I get crushed alligator bones, which are nutritious and against infections. I will never leave Ná. How could I? But she shakes her head and says I must leave her. 'Women are ruthless,' thas what i tought, but it was an important moment in my life, an apotheosis, a huge journey, how could I go? My dream has lived, but now? I look one more time and see her sitting along the river combing her hair. She don't looks back. It's a scourge for me and I know that talk to her again no longer make sense. It's over and i go my way.
I wake up chaotic and my head is hot and dizzy. My mouth is bone dry. The alcohol has swept me away in a dream of bright moments. My subconcious has been so intens it defies reality, even beyond. I lay naked in bed. It's damn hot and the humidity of the unconcious love-act soaked the cloth. There's a sense of longing I never felt. Yes, the woman i can recall, i saw her this morning in the city. It was her. I'm sure of that. She is the woman who called herself Ná in my dream, and this dream continues haunting me, just like those greedy stimulations. I drink a bottle of white rum, which Brazilians call 'cachaça or pinga' and end up in a cheap rotten motel accompained by a young whore. But i'm fuckin' impotent of mind and body and feeling sick, no, this is not real, this is bizarre. Beside lies the young hooker Ximxim and Lord, she's beautifull in her nudity, a girl of the forest, suckled by white and indian blood, a beauty handed over to the cruel world of prostitution. But she does it all for her sick father, only for him, she says. The world is rotten, a filthy shit-hole. I kiss her, be nice to her, but she's motionless, a inexperienced hooker without a will. I think back to Ná and the reason i can't explain. Then Ximxim tells me her short life story. The death of her mother, raped by loggers, hanging from her legs to a tree and chopped in half. Here sisters were raped and beaten to death by drunk men without brains and hearts. Her father was not at home and went crazy of grieve. She maneged to escape te barbarians. It happened one year ago, and now she lies in my arms, damned! Petrified with tick eyes of tears. How must i consider this? Is there a concept for such a life? I stay with the girl untill the first rays of sun came through the dirty window, put my clothes on and thinks of Ná again. I gave Ximxim some money and leave the stinking hotel.
I walk to the river, the one i saw in my dream. The place and the little cabin. Is this a shadow? It's a foggy day and morning mist floating between the trees. Cobalt blue angel ghost. Or they are just fucking bullies, ignorant and desillusionment. I going to doubt myself. I come to the river and my head is empty. I feeling sick and my my heart runs like a pressure hammer. I find the cottage and call her name. No answer. The cabin is still in decline and i see colorful birds fly out and pigs and anteaters running out the frontdoor. Yes i was there. Yesterday afternoon, and everything was like i see it now. The cabin... Ná... why? I sit down beneath a tree and cry. Nobody mourn for me, just the animals on the waterside and a fat sloth in a hig tree-top. As an old fisherman pass by i ask him for Ná.....