Fourth Day in Salvador, part 3–Iemanjá pizza party
Today’s lunch entertainment was another party: a pizza fest in honor of Iemanjá and us. Carol had hired Ulysses to come in and do the pizzas–another master of the caliber of Sr. Itamar and Joasias. The pizza oven was the last piece of Cerqueira-la that had not been used on our visit. Like being able to use every bit of the pig but the squeal, we used every square inch of Cerqueira-la: all the chairs, all the tables, all the ovens, all the sinks, all the ping-pong tables, all the hammocks, all of the beauty and all the water. If we didn’t use all the dishes, Carol made sure to hire a Bahian to come in and lick what we hadn’t used, just to make sure it was all done correctly.
After my liquid prayer session at the altar of Iemanjá and my redemptive shower, I flopped back down on the bed, this time covering up properly. Once again, I took a little nap while the guests arrived. All I ended up having to do was bring down a chair, my camera, and my groggy self. The sprinkler had been on next to the steps to Cerqueira-la, so the granite was wet and potentially treacherous to this cotton-headed oaf carrying down a chair, a camera, and stepping gingerly like a hippo ballerina in new Havaianas.
I tried to enter the party as surreptitiously as I could, but was nabbed. Half the place turned to look at me (through a fisheye lens). I felt like a convict in the spotlight, and wanted to do a dance into the little kitchen and through the secret tube back to the bedroom. Instead, I pulled out the camera and started shooting while I figured out what to say. The nap had fried my brain, and it was harder to get it started than a crappy old Toro lawn mower.
Ulysses was the natural thing to photograph, especially after Robo prompted me by saying “Look at him do that.” Good simple sentence. Ben understand.
I was so proud of Daniel and the pizza oven named in his honor. I thought how clever it was of him to want the pizza oven, just knowing that we would one day come and enjoy it. A hot little igloo it was. Cute, round, enough to make Wolfgang Puck take a look. The ingredients were laid out on the table. The guests selected what they wanted, and Ulysses made half a pizza with that on it. Very neat.
Once my head cleared and I had chugged a couple of waters, I met some of the guests. Ruybela Carteado is a Salvadoran artist and espouser of the arts. She is producing the Bahia Afro Film Festival, and I believe she teaches with Nelson. Tall, lithe, and elegant in movement, she was kind of like a personification of Iemanjá when I first saw her. But an Iemanjá that was from Liverpool. So strikingly beautiful! (Not Nelson)
She gave me a card for the Film Festival which is very cool. It looks like Jimi Hendrix, first thing, and second thing, it has the Lacerda Elevator and an old church, probably Bonfim Church, reflected in his shades.
By this time, Ulysses was passing out gorgeous flower petals of assorted pizza. Daniel was puffy with pride at the delicious use of his oven. We all were. And here he is himself, along with Patricia, Jean, and Amina Dickerson.
