RIO DE JANEIRO
I've been Catred
The
descent into the world of Rio de Janeiro's prohibited
funk.
by chiara rimoldi
pastapunx(at)hotmail.com
Rio
de Janeiro was stolen from the forest.
Sandwiched between Guanabara Bay and the last vestiges of the Atlantic
rain forest, Rio de Janeiro is a city that does not pass un-noticed.
If Brazil were a movie, Rio de Janeiro would be its leading man;
glamorous, seductive and not without a dark side.
A centre of new trends and fashions, today, more than ever before,
it serves as a template for the rest of the world to copy.
Though remaining forever synonymous with Rio, its music and football,
dance and attitude have proliferated, both widely and wildly, across
continents.
Rio, studied so intently by sociologists and anthropologists for
being the worst, most unparalleled example in the world of unequal
division of wealth and social disenfranchisement, is now, additionally,
renowned as the stage for the carioca funk movement, hedonistic son
of Miami bass and soundtrack to the ghettos.
Understood, by the masses, to be the legitimate voice
of the favela, carioca funk has become the music, if not the lifestyle,
of choice for the urban marginality.
A privilege that once belonged to samba, that genre has moved increasingly
further and further away from its egalitarian roots, victim to the untrammelled
commercialisation of carnival and, moreover, the desire of the middle-to-upper
classes to take, as theirs, what used only to be the simple tales of suburban
carioca.Using an original fusion of blistering rhythms and intoxicating
melodies, carioca funk reveals the often hidden daily minutae of favela
life, including living side by side with the drug traffickers and the
adulation, among the youth, for the drug barons (os donos dos morros);
being witness and victim to police abuses; the punitive measures visited
upon the X9, or grasses; the on-going wars between the different criminal
factions who, essentially, control pockets of the city; the infidelity
between the sexes; and the sexual initiation of underage girls (novinhas
o filezinho) by the drug traffickers.
Consequently, it is easy to understand how the majority of funk lyrics,
and other related texts, are considered illegal (proibidão)
by the authorities and, thus, can only be bought in the favelas during bailes (funk
parties) or in the streets, from complicit street vendors.Every weekend,
inclusive of Friday, Saturday and Sunday, the cartels organise illegal
parties in most of the city’s slums (which to date exceeds over
500).
Over-night, derelict basketball courts are transformed into 'funk raves'.
In these hypnotic dens of writhing bodies, literal walls of speakers
serve as backdrops before which djs and Mcs do battle for the crowd’s
devotion.
The girls take hours to get ready. Scented and dressed in tight, revealing
corsets and micro-skirts, they grind their sweaty, waifish frames in
an explicit and provocative mime. Meanwhile, the boys choreograph sophisticated,
though no less sexual, group dance sequences.
Throughout the night they spontaneously form the 'bonde', a
human train which represents the violent attacks made by one favela’s
armed faction upon the hated rivals from an opposition slum.
The ´soldiers´ of the cartels, armed with stolen, bought
and imported AK47s and M15s, defend the baile’s entrance and, usually,
place themselves next to the dj and in front of the speakers.
The crowd is local. The parties are for the inhabitants of the favela
and for the followers of the various criminal factions, including Commando Vermelho (Red
Command), Terceiro Commando (Third Command) and A.D.A. (Amigos
dos Amigos, Friends of the Friends), which rule them. A follower of one
group is strictly prohibited from attending the party of another. This
is not a matter of perceived loyalty of mere bravado.
The punishment is death.
Commonly, the offending individual is trapped inside a tire, taken to
an isolated location and burned alive. There is no centralised location
at which these retributions are fulfilled. However, one such place is
the Complexo Do Alemão, specifically an area known as
Microwave, which was made famous in 2003 for being the site of the murder
of Tim Lopes, a journalist with the newspaper O Globo.
Lopes was not a follower of any criminal element nor a favela dweller.
Rather, he was executed for researching an article in which he planned
to expose the sexual initiation of young girls at the bailes. Over
the years, the nature of the funk parties shifted in a dramatic and uncomfortable
direction. Beginning as an explicitly sexual, though ultimately harmless
and good-natured party, it soon became an undiluted apology for crime,
a structure in which to foment wars between the rival factions and a
means with which to glorify the actions and lifestyles of violent criminals.
It is for this reason (the lyrical content of their work and, more presciently,
their involvement with the gangs) that the state has, of late, attempted
(unsuccessfully) to prosecute some Funk Mcs.
[to be continued ... for further info please contact the Author or Alex bi.]