Reflection and Afro-Brazilian Religion in Salvador

April 4, 2017

Last week, I traveled Salvador, Brazil’s first capital, in Brazil’s blackest state, during a trip organized by my study abroad program. Though there were several incredible moments on the trip, I will talk about both a reflection I had there and the Afro-Brazilian religion of Candomblé.


Upon arriving to our hotel in Salvador at 8:30 a.m. on Saturday morning, most group members decided to sleep well into the afternoon. Anita, a student in my program, and I decided to explore the city instead, by walking up and down the promenade and going to the beach. Despite the light drizzle and gray clouds over Barra beach (pronounced “Baha”), the 80-degree heat and huge waves made up for the “blah” weather. After lying on the sand for a few hours and listening to the waves crash along the rocks close to shore, we talked about our impressions of Brazil since first arriving in February.

One thing that I have found challenging since coming to Brazil is how difficult it has been to make Brazilian friends. (Seeing as how I speak Portuguese well and have no trouble speaking, this has nothing to do with my language ability). In my Pontifícia Universidade Católica de São Paulo classes, for instance, I have people that are friendly to me and will chit-chat, but our relationship ends there. Sure, people may say, “Let’s get a beer!” but this is out of politeness rather than sincere interest. It was a relief to find out that I was not alone in this sentiment; a Hoya currently abroad in Rio de Janeiro echoed this opinion, as did someone in my program. After speaking to an American who studied abroad in Rio during college and has lived in Brazil for six years, I received a likely explanation. She said that because Brazilians usually attend college in the same city or area that they grew up in, which is not necessarily the case in the United States, they already have their networks there: their family and friends that they have had since childhood. Therefore, in her opinion, they are not looking for more friends, and if they are, why try to create a bond with a foreigner who will leave after a few months?

In addition to this reflection, our group had several opportunities to learn about Candomblé. Although the exact origins of this religion remain unclear, religious scholars do know that African slaves brought over their already existing gods, goddesses, and animistic beliefs to the New World when they were stolen from Africa. A god or goddess in either religion is called an orixá, for example. Hence, for those who are familiar with Santeria (largely practiced in the Spanish Caribbean), there are many parallels between the two religions, as many of the associated gods are the same. Besides being polytheistic, a significant difference between Candomblé and Christianity is that in the former there are no “good” or “bad” ways; things just are, and as much as the latter has tried to convince the Brazilian people for centuries that the former is “demonic,” there is no devil in Candomblé.

As Bahia is the blackest state in Brazil, it is unsurprising that Candomblé is heavily practiced there. While there is no accurate number of how many practice the religion in Bahia (or Brazil as a whole), because it has long been stigmatized and was made illegal during the dictatorship, it is clear from the manner people dress in Salvador that it has many followers. One of my tour guides, Marcos, explained to me that in Candomblé there are four days of the week, and each one of those days is associated with a particular god or goddess. In order to honor that god or goddess, one wears the color that represents them, so, since it was Tuesday, that meant that Marcos wore dark blue, in reference to Ogum, god of war.

Once he told me that information, I kept a lookout around the city to see just how many people were wearing that particular shade; within 10 minutes I lost count. However, not only was dark blue a popular color that day, but also bright red, and clearly not by coincidence. When I asked Marcos about this discrepancy, he told me that some practitioners of the religion believe that Ogum can be represented by red, but that this is comes from a West African way of thinking about the god. As an outsider to both Candomblé and the city of Salvador, there is of course only so much information I can know or will be told, but I did find what I have gathered so far fascinating.
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