20 October, 2005
Bahia É Alegría
On a planet with a human population approaching 7 billion inhabitants, it has to be a rarity to meet somebody who is the most blank person in the world; the strongest, the smartest, the smallest. These superlatives can only apply to one incredibly outstanding individual. And it should be highly unlikely to ever encounter anyone with such an extreme or acutely developed attribute that they are more blank than everyone else on the planet. Yet, just last week I believe I met the happiest person on the face of the earth. His name is Mio. And, not surprisingly, he lives in Bahia, Brazil. Mio, a capoeira instructor (capoeira is an athletic and rhythmic martial art form developed by Brazilian slaves hundreds of years ago in order to defend themselves against their masters), a back country guide and a search and rescue volunteer, led a group – including three Swiss, two Germans and myself – on a difficult multi-day trek across a spectacular national park in central Bahia, singing, dancing and joking along the entire sweaty and blister-forming trail.
At this moment in my travels, there are not many things which can pull me away from the Bahian coast; you know, the one with the endless expanses of white sand beach. But rumors of steep, jungle-shrouded mountains, glistening natural pools of clean, drinkable and refreshing river water and towering grand plateaus off which plummet waterfalls of such great height that their water turns into a fine mist before hitting the earth all caught my ears’ attention. So after more than a month on the beach I gladly accepted the call of the wild and bussed directly west from the coast to the very cool town of Lençois.
Lençois' history has been dictated by interests as varied as the unique, geologically fascinating landscapes which surround the town on every side. The first historical interest in the Região Chapada Dimantina (Diamond Plateau Region) was diamond mining. Now, I am no geologist (although sometimes I wish I were so I would know what the earth is trying to tell humanity when she adjusts her back in the Himalayan region to the tune of 7.7 magnitude and kills 50,000 people, as witnessed recently), but I surely know this: Powerful forces from deep within the earth have combined, over billions of years, to form – through extreme heat and pressure – a diamond-rich area, whose precious stones have been forced through the earth’s outer crust and washed into riverbeds – creating Brazil’s most diamond-laden region, attracting feverish miners in search of a lucky buck since the mid-1800’s and leading to the construction of the mining boom town of Lençois. But other features of the area have, more recently, attracted another kind of folk. The Chapada Dimantina region is literally a diamond in the rough, entirely surrounded by the drought-stricken, dusty and nearly plant-less region called the Sertão, which receives much less rain than the Bahian coast. But the Chapada, at its higher altitude, attracts plentiful rainfall – and its cooler temperatures host fascinating plant and animal species in a pleasant tropical environment. Along with the diamond miners seeking riches, this wonderful combination of geography and biology, beauty and habitability, has attracted hippies and – more recently – tourists to the region.
Above: The Chapada Dimantina Region
For decades, the miners – with their high-powered water pump drills – and the hippies –with their omnipotent karmic threats and patchouli oil – have been in direct conflict with their own interests in the region in mind. The quintessential war of pillage versus preservation has ensued. Thankfully, for now the conservation movement has succeeded, as the area was turned into a national park in the 1980's and the highly destructive mining techniques banned. Now the park, without any infrastructure – apart from hiking trails and mining paths – is wide open for backcountry exploration.
Back to the story of Mio: Mio's parents worked for a diamond dealer throughout their lives. Mio described how difficult it was for the perpetually exploited underprivileged class to make a living in Bahia throughout the last century. His mom and pop labored effectively as slaves, working every day in the mines and handing over the obligatory 100% of the precious stones found to their boss, who in turn provided food and shelter but no salary. The filthy rich 'boss' owned, among other things, a fleet of 20 helicopters. A few years ago the local laws were changed and required that 2% of the profits from diamond extraction go to the diamond finder (enough for that person to live on) and 98% go to the dealer (so imagine how well one could live on that!). But Mio's parents had passed by the time this law came into practice. I asked him why his parents didn't pocket a few diamonds for themselves to ensure them a better life. He said he asked them the same question many times and they responded, "The diamond man is nice to us. He always provides us food and shelter, which we need. And he needs diamonds. So we give them to him." Mio explained that his parents just didn’t know they were being exploited. They were poor and simple people who were happy to have a guarantee of food and shelter. But, "Tudo bom" (It's all good) "We are in Bahia," he eventually resolved. This was not the first or the last time I heard Mio merrily chant this phrase. For Mio, it didn't matter if he was telling a story about having to carry a 250 pound gringo – who broke both of his legs jumping off cliffs into natural pools – for 15 hours ten kilometers down a seep rocky trail in the dark; it's still 'Tudo Bom, we are in Bahia! - and a big smile.
Mio led us this first morning of trekking on a relatively flat trail which followed a ridge line above Lençois, entered into the national park and progressed to a series of natural pools featuring a long, wide natural rock waterslide. On the way he pointed out herbs picked by the locals for teas and sticky leaves which can be used as natural band-aids. He once published a field guide to the region which focused on twelve different native plants which local women eat in order to induce abortion. Without saying 'Speaking of abortion…,' Mio then went into a story about a man who died last year at the age of 59. The virile and polygamous husband of three different wives and several mistresses fathered 54 offspring before his death. Obviously some of these children went hungry and Mio commented on the irresponsibility of both the husband and the wives. Apparently the father's profound fertility did not skip a generation: one of his sons already has 16 children of his own. We all groaned as these facts were spoken to us. Mio briefly paused. "But tudo bom, we are in Bahia. No problem," He quipped, smiling. And he began a catchy song. "I don't want to stay here; I want to go back to Bahia," he sang repeatedly for the next hour, whistling, skipping and hanging by his feet from tree branches during our much need water breaks and swims in the river pools.
Above: All that's missing is a stick of Juicy Fruit and some gnarly bros
Mio led us up over a steep incline on a trail carved right into the rocky mountain's side. No switchbacks to cross this mountain. The trail rose straight up and over as we climbed using both hands and feet. I couldn't help but crack a smile when watching the Swiss – who hail from such a steep, mountainous and high elevation country – stumble over large boulders and struggle to catch their breath at less than 1000 meters elevation. But then I remembered the blazing sun and the 90+ degree temperatures with humidity – not normal Swiss conditions. But I was digging it.
We came into a plain full of grasses, sharp shrubs and unfamiliar looking trees. Mio scattered off with his machete in hand. He came back a few minutes later with a long rod of sugar cane, wild strawberries and a native fruit called acerola, which has a sweet and sour taste and supposedly 25 times the vitamin C of citrus fruit. As we made a snack of his bounty and continued walking he pointed out a cajú tree (which produces cashew nuts and edible fruit) and another wild fruit tree called jenipapó. A few minutes later we stopped at a stream to refill our water bottles and Mio ran off again upstream. He came back holding several potato-like roots which he had dug up near the stream. "Mountain potatoes." He washed them off in the stream and tossed them to us to eat. "Take a bite. This is what the prospectors eat when they can't find water." Having bitten into a raw potato before, I was a little apprehensive. But I dug in and found it to be mildly sweet and incredibly moist, with the consistency of a potato but the moisture level of celery. Tasty and refreshing. Mio was now working on a new song, looking as distant and peaceful as a kid walking home from school by himself. "Bahia é alegría," (Bahia is happiness) he sang, practicing some capoeira kicks on a nearby tree.
We continued through a lush and dark jungle-filled valley fed by a slow-flowing river before ascending up another mountain to the spot we would make our night's campsite. The slope was steep, the trail really a series of meter thick slate-like slabs stacked on top of one another. We used our hands to pull ourselves up to the next level of rock, climbing at a crawl of a pace but still gaining plenty of altitude, until we reached a rocky overhang resembling a cave, where we decided we would stay for the night. It was nearly dark anyhow. A stream ran past the Stone Age quarters and cascaded over layers of rock into a rust colored pool of refreshing and clean water.
Above: Cave and cove
Mio made a fire and cooked us dinner, humming all the while. He was shirtless now, revealing a deep scar on the right side of his ribcage. He said it was from an intense capoeira fight he found himself in years ago. The more aggressive style of capoeira – called regionão – is one in which actual blows can be landed. Mio, who is not a big man, was challenged by a juiced-up beefcake of a dude who didn't actually know capoeira moves and was just intent on showing off his strength. When Mio realized his opponent was out for blood he went on defense but was still able to pin the bigger man to the floor in order to subdue him before the fight got out of hand. But the bigger man's 'roid rage kicked in, as he was furious about being pinned by his smaller opponent, so he pulled a desperate Mike Tyson-style move and gnashed a huge chunk out of Mio's side. Finally, I thought, I get to hear about Mr. Cool losing his temper over something terrible. But no, that was the end of the story. There was no yelling, no retribution, and no regrets. "Weren't you angry at this man for what he did to you?" "No problem. Tudo Bom – we are in Bahia," he said. This guy is unreal, I thought.
Above: Not so big but oh so bad!
After a little campfire and cachasa with the Europeans I drifted off to sleep to the sound of the stream spilling over the rock ledges and echoing below in the dark pool. I wondered to myself how anybody could be so happy, carefree, peaceful, tranquil and satisfied with everything, no matter how bad things can be. What is behind the 100% felicity and positive attitude? Wondering first from my American perspective I pondered: Is he so well off financially that he doesn't have to worry about money or anything else? Definitely not! He can't make more than 15 dollars in a day maximum. And of course money isn't the key to happiness. Well, maybe his glee is innate. He was born with it and that is how he will always be. How else could anyone be so consistently jovial? But sometimes it just seems like a state of mind Mio puts himself into; an attitude or philosophy which preaches only 'Be happy.' And he follows this creed with the fervor of a religious fanatic, not allowing anything to bring him down or stress him out.
I was reminded of my time in SE Asia, home to Zen Buddhists who are known for their passivity and tranquility. During my months in Thailand, Malaysia and Indonesia I never once, for even one syllable of one word, heard a Southeast Asian raise their voice aggressively at another person. It was an amazing and addictive mentality. The one time I absentmindedly made the mistake of raising my voice to a man in Indonesia, the guy looked at me like I had just stabbed him in the back or kicked his dog. What was even more fantastic was that these people were not all die hard Zen Buddhists deep in cathartic meditation. They were just everyday people. Muslim Malays, Christians from Singapore, and Hindus from Bali all exhibited this behavior. They may not know this but their mannerisms and tranquility go far deeper than their religious beliefs. It is their culture; a culture of calm and of cheer. I thought back to a conversation I had with a girl when I was traveling in Southern Thailand. She was a westerner (Australian actually) and had noticed and appreciated the fact that Southeast Asians were so pacifistic. But she was also torn between her own culture and beliefs and the foreign ideas she was absorbing. She said, "They all say 'Okay, no problem, no problem!' for everything no matter what it is. Well you know what? Sometimes there is a problem! Sometimes it's not okay!”
Ever since she spoke those words to me I have wondered, when a difficult situation arises, 'Is there a problem? Is it okay?' Take two different people looking at the exact same situation. To one, it is a huge problem. But to the other, it is 'Sem problema.' So is one of these people being realistic and confronting a real problem while the other is delusional and causing harm through repression? Or is the one of these people accruing unnecessary stress points which will lead to a heart attack and an early grave while the other one silently comprehends the issue at hand and considers it harmless? And do either of them have control over their perceptions or are their reactions uncontrollable and framed within a cultural context? Deep down I want to believe that in the end there is no problem; that it is okay. But often times this mentality is difficult to arrive at coming from a western society where life is fast paced and split decisions seem like life and death choices because the outcomes can seemingly affect one's present and future so greatly, financially or otherwise. But I think it may just be possible to look at the big picture and realize that 'Tudo bom. No problem, we are in Bahia'. There seems to be a huge cultural crevasse between the millions of western people who are intense, stressed, worried and unhappy for many hours in the day, and those in the rest of the world, who just let everything slide. So maybe those in the third world are extremely poor. But it seems like for the most part that they are legitimately content. I realize I am a product of my culture, but if I could spend a larger proportion of my life trying to live like Mio – to realize that a vida é alegría – I believe I would become a calmer, less-stressed person. This is all really easy to consider while sitting in this reclining beach chair, overlooking the waves crashing on a white sand beach this sunny afternoon: I didn't have to brave LA traffic twice today. But if lessons can be gleaned from life and its experiences, then surely I learned something valuable and important from Mio.
The next day was a fairly intense hike up onto a high ridge and eventually a huge plateau. The flat terrain atop the plateau collects water which flows toward what looks like the edge of the earth, and plummets over a nearly 400 meter high cliff, turning into steam on the way down and giving the waterfall its name Cachoeira Fumaça (smoke waterfall). The view was stomach-churning and leg-numbing.
Above: The mouth of Fumaça
As if to add to the intensity of the breathtaking view, Mio told us that eight people had either committed suicide and/or been washed over the falls by the river's swift current and slick rocks in the last five years. Of course he added, "But tudo bom. We are in Bahia." The falls were effectively dry during this time of year so we were able to slowly and carfully crawl to the edge of the sheer ledge and look directly down about 1300 feet to the rocky base. The smoothed stone top sloped just slightly down toward the edge of the falls, so we felt as if some strange force was trying to pull us over the ledge. Mio said that guides refused to go to the falls for a period of time after the suicides and accidents because this pulling 'force' was so strong that they were frightened. Spooky. Looking down, it seemed like if someone behind us so much as sneezed, it would be enough to cause us to slide over the smooth sloped stone and fall to our deaths. Morbid, indeed, but tudo bom.
Above: Looking off the edge of the earth
At sunset we descended into a small village on the western side of the park and drank a few much needed celebratory cervejas. I didn't have time to do much more than say 'prost' a few times to the Germans and Swiss and give an unfortunately quick goodbye to Mio, my mentor of merriment, before it was time to catch a series of vans, buses, motos and ferries back to the Bahian coast. But I took with me the new philosophy – Mio's Way – in hopes that I can live more contentedly with less worry and less hurry. Without proper time to even shower before my departure from Lençois, I also took with me the dirt and grime and smell of several days of tropical hiking, which a few unfortunate bus riders were going to have to endure during my overnight transport. But if someone on the bus asks me about my tear inducing stench I will just say, "Tudo Bom, we are in Bahia. No problem."
Above: Me and Mio
back to top | back to archives
home | writing | photo gallery | archives | where am i | about | contact
