Bamboo in My Soul
21 June 2005 (Tuesday) – Paraty to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
The streets of Paraty are strikingly lined with huge round stones that are tricky to walk on properly without looking. Yesterday, my thoughts had been – “Oh dear, I can’t really appreciate the architecture or look at the souvenirs hanging outside the tourist shops coz I have to pay attention on what I am stepping on, lest I twist an ankle or two.”
Today, after talking to José Efigênio about ‘The Way of the Gold’ last night, my thoughts on the same stones were somewhat different – “These are the stones laid down by the slaves…” and I appreciated them better.
Funnily, when I paid Aecio another visit at his studio, he brought up the same topic of ‘gold’ as well, and said, “Whenever I walk the streets of the centro historico of Paraty, I RESPECT the stones… they are built by blood and sweat of the slaves. Many, many, many slaves died because of them.” I raised my eyebrows at the coincidence.
He later related a story of the ghosts of Paraty. A friend of his had repeatedly dreamt of a slave telling her about a hidden treasure. For a while, she ignored the dream, but the dream kept recurring. Finally, she roped in a friend and they drove up to the mountains and hiked to the said place of the treasure… and FOUND the treasure!!” Thereafter, she was no longer disturbed by the dream anymore, and of course, she was also rather well-off by then. Amazing!
Then, Aecio went on to tell me how he came to Paraty. He is from a town up north. He had always wanted to move to Paraty, it was like a dream, although at that time, he had never been to Paraty before. Whenever he made plans to move, he would encounter some ‘road-blocks’ and he would postpone his plans.
Then, one evening, he was brutally attacked by someone with a knife. I would not go into the details, but basically, he remembered that he saw something very white, very bright, so bright it was blue… he felt so light, so clear, so happy, so free… and he did not feel much pain and was ready to let go… Then, he heard one cry from his friend nearby, telling him not to die… so somehow, he mustered his last remaining strength and pinned the attacker down.
He had been knifed 9 times, deep mortal wounds, all the while protecting his paintings. The hospital crew rushed to sew him up and somehow, he pulled through the ordeal.
Later, while still bandaged up, he took a bus straight to Paraty. Within 24 hours of arrival, he had arranged his art exhibition. That was 6-7 months ago, in November 2004.
When he finished with his story, I was in tears. I was very, very moved by his strength, his dream. And now, he is like the most cheery person in the world! He advised me that one should live one’s dream before it is too late. He was given a second chance in life, and that made him get rid of his ‘road-blocks’ and live his dream! And now, he is truly a very happy man!!
I was also very spooked by his description of the white light.
In 1999, when I was robbed in Peru, the guy had grabbed my neck with his arm and knocked me unconscious. For a while, what I saw was a beautiful white light, so so so bright… I felt like I was flying, spinning, floating… and I felt tremendously happy, problem-free and very, very light. It was a feeling that was utterly indescribable and it felt WONDERFUL!!
Then, I saw something blue spinning around, before a square of the sky came to a stop. I had regained consciousness. At the first instant when I got up, I still felt really happy and light. Then, slowly, the memory of being robbed came rushing back and soon, I was in tears.
I only recalled this ‘white light’ experience some time later, but I didn’t talk about it until a few years later. When I did, my friends asked, “Did you die and come back?” I don’t know. How would I know? I didn’t have anyone to share or check this experience with.
And now… Aecio described the SAME experience that he had. OK, I was not knifed 9 times. But, what I mean is… my heart nearly popped out when I heard his description of the ‘white light’, something that I had experienced myself, and which I had not been able to share with anyone.
I was utterly speechless when he finished his story. I think I must have looked like a fool. I was choked for words, and finally, I managed to tell him I had experienced something similar before. He was surprised by it, and winked at me, “You don’t cheat death. Death cheats you… you know, it is so easy to let go… so beautiful, so free… but we fought to come back.” I thanked him for everything, everything, e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g… and said I would come back later to say ‘good-bye’. I walked away, almost like in a dream.
Anyway, that aside… I spent the rest of the morning popping into art galleries. I really loved many of the displays, like mirrors or wall-hangings, etc… spectacular… but they cost like R200 to R1800 for the pieces that I fancied. If I buy them, I guess all I need now would be an apartment to go with them.
I wandered up to the fort of Paraty, which was not very interesting but on the way down, I spotted some bamboos. I stopped to admire them and took some photos. The photos did not look very nice, but still, I just felt that I wanted to keep them.
At 2pm, I returned to Aecio’s studio to say ‘good-bye’ but he was not around. I hung around, chatting with his assistants in portuñol (portuguez + español) and finally, with no sign of him still… I left.
Exiting from Rua da Lapa, I heard my name. Spinning around, I spotted my other amigo, José Efigênio, waving. I hurried over to check on what he had been up to. He had not started painting yet, as he was still waiting for someone to fix up the canvas to a frame. I mentioned that Aecio wanted to meet him, and showed him where Aecio’s studio was located. The area around his studio was flooded as it was right near the sea and it had been raining the whole of last night and today.
I took out my camera to show José Efigênio the flooded streets. He then scanned through my photos and stopped at the shots of the bamboo. “¿Te gusta bamboo?” (You like bamboo?), he queried. Odd question and I fumbled for an answer. He said, bamboo changed the DNA of men who then became the Chinese. What? I bet your pardon? He went on to clarify, eons ago, after men left the African continent, some dudes went to Europe and others to Asia. Asia was full of bamboos and those guys who headed East ate the bamboos. As a result, bamboos altered the DNA of these guys and hence, the Chinese race was born. He was serious, so I guess this was not a joke. “Tienes bamboo en tu alma… por eso, sacaste las fotos del bamboo…” (You have bamboo in your soul… that’s why, you took the photos of bamboo.)
I was once again speechless. I marvelled at these thoughts and experiences of mine that appear almost random but yet somehow all connected in the end by these chance (or are they chance?) remarks by these two men. Wow, bamboo in my soul… I like it!
Tags: 02) And God Created Brazilian Women, Paraty
swesn
September 17th, 2005 at 2:20 pm
giess i also have bamboo in my soul, was bron an hour away from where homo-erectus first made fire