Roda
listen...ya ya...yo yo
hearing the plaintive strings
of the berimbau...they gather...
who are these blue, brown, green eyed children
wild descendants of fierce Angolan slaves
gathering...they are called...
called to the roda
and this steamy, sultry
Bahian sand...
called from flat brown farmlands
and snowy white mountains
from deep gray canyons
and the littered streets of far away cities
listen...oh lay lay
who are these jumping twirling crouching warriors
limping and bruised
facing fear injury humiliation
from flying kicks and sharp elbows
beyond heat and sweat
beyond all wisdom... and reason
facing themselves in the fury of each other...
they are called...born of the ancient gods
Ogon, Oshun, Chango
they are called to dance
the unfolding history of
heart and courage and
freedom's yearning...
oh... if only their African ancestors could see them now
those whose roda was drawn with blood and toil
see the cool wicked gleam in the eye and that wide crazy grin
share that same mad leap as the
fire of capoeira claims theirs name
-Isa Davila
1/25/05
Bahia, Brazil
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