A single bolt of white light tears through the night sky, prising apart the inky shroud that hangs over the arena. For a split second the frenzied faces of the crowd are illuminated, a roar rising from the stands, building into a crescendo. The audience is ravenous, hungry for their team to take home the crown.
It’s Capulets versus Montagues, a battle for the ages between two teams with a long-standing rivalry: the blues, Caprichoso and the reds, Garantido.
Each year in June, in the small Amazonas town of Parintins, Brazil, they compete in the Boí-Bumbá folk festival, in a surreal and fantastical display of song, dance and gargantuan handcrafted floats, which tell Indigenous and Afro-Brazilian folk stories.
Residents are assigned a team at birth, depending on family allegiance, remaining furiously loyal until the end of their days. The town is split almost down the middle around the festival- which runs for three days, with almost non-stop partying during that time – with the streets awash with the teams’ colours. Some queue for days in the hopes they will be able to enter the stadium to cheer on their beloved team.
The headquarters for each are even located on opposite sides of town, but it’s all good clean fun. It’s also the only place on the planet where for a handful of days you can find blue coke cans –even global brand goliaths can’t afford to show any favouritism.
Boi, boi,boi!
Down in the standing pit of the arena, I’m almost eyeball to eyeball with some of the dancers, only a low wall separating us. Isabelle Nogueira, a celebrity-level Indigenous Brazilian dancer, and Guarantido sweetheart, turns her head and makes eye contact. A slow smile spreads coyly over her face, before she snaps back to attention, jostling her way back into the fray of undulating dancers.
Those deemed worthy of the front row, including photographers, journalists and influencers clutching camera phones, flick sweat off their bodies as they push closer to the barrier for the perfect shot.
The bull, or Boí-Bumbá, the central character of the celebration, dips his horns to be caressed by alternating female dancers, while behind him a plethora of resplendent floats depicting Indigenous deities and characters breathe smoke in time to the glowing of their glassy eyes.
Later, from our private box up in the skies, I spot the bull being tossed around on a giant flag by a sea of bodies in the crowd, moving under him in a never-ending wave. Their song reverberates in worshipful ecstasy: “Boi, boi boi” they chant, as fireworks rupture the darkness.
It’s a spectacle of dizzying colour, extravagance and passion, echoing the deep cultural significance the festival represents. It is a testament to how Indigenous culture is an integral part of the Brazilian experience.
First peoples
There is, however, more to learn about – and from – Brazil’s first people.
The following day we head into the jungle, taking slate-grey freeways which diverge into dusty roads, where the small convenience shops and clusters of houses turn into infrequent farmsteads and remote communes.
Where the road ends, we turn into Anavilhanas Jungle Lodge, secreted away among the dewy vegetation on the banks of the Negro River, and adjacent to the Anavilhanas National Park, a Unesco World Heritage Site.
Miles of preserved forest unfold in the surrounding environs, while the dark, acidic waters of the river watch on – mosquitos are not welcome here.
We take a jungle walk with a local Indigenous guide, Roberlan, where we discover how ill-equipped we are to survive among nature.
He shows us plants that can be used as medicine, how to climb a tree using only palm leaves and upper-body strength, and how hitting the trunk of a particular tree echoes for up to 10km to alert kin to your location.
“All you need in the jungle to survive is a machete,” he intones, as he crafts a fire seemingly out of nowhere and proceeds to char several fat grubs.
I am told they taste like bacon but politely decline. One volunteer tries a raw live one and describes how it bursts in his mouth releasing “a coconut flavour.” I’m not even a little tempted.
The flooded forest
The river offers up a multitude of fascinating nature and glimpses of endemic wildlife. With the help of our guide we spot alligators, birds and fireflies, plus a sloth, almost invisible in his lethargy, on a night boat ride.
Only the chirp of the distant cicadas and the rhythmic slosh of the oars breaching the water break the silence.
The following day, a sunrise cruise offers the stillness to contemplate life, the universe and everything in between. We float in the centre of the river, as the milky sun kisses the horizon.
Perhaps most calming is kayaking through the submerged forest, where only the tops of trees are visible.
Heavy rainfall causes the river to swell creating a vast flooded forest, or igapó, where the trees have adapted to survive. My imperfect navigation is in stark contrast to the pristine surface of the water, with uninterrupted reflections of the forest canopy stretching out forever through the sunlit breaks in the haunting tree tops.
It is here that I reflect on the resilience of the Amazon and its Indigenous people; how the richness of their culture, customs and traditional way of life are not dependent on the rules of capitalism. When all else is gone, they will still be here.
Book it
Audley offers a 12-day Brazil in a Nutshell: Iguaçu Falls, Amazon and Rio trip. Priced from £5,650pp, it includes a visit to the Amazonas capital, Manaus, and a stay at Anavilhanas Jungle Lodge.
