Dream of the Sea

I am so curious about the lack of beach life (hashtag beach life) in Recife. In Recife we are afraid of the sea. Because there are sharks. Shark Deaths.  A lot. 

It is properly dangerous.

That fear took some kind of hold of me when I first got here. Though I could see the sea. I couldn't go to to the sea. It seriously messed with my mind. I've had to slowly go to the sea. Keep on returning. Stand in the water. Dare to go to the Reef. To the Recife de Coral.

I am right in the belly of the Beast. On Boa Viagem Beach. This is the place I live for a month. With the Recife the dividing line between me and a watery death. Recife is a port town. Recife is a port town.

I arrived already with an idea of a project about Afrofuturism Under The Sea. Inspired and haunted by that so called Middle Passage - the beginning of a holocaust, one step in the normalising of a system of dehumanising Africans. Throwing the babies in the water. And mythologized by those searching for hope and answers as an underwater paradise - a safe place to be amidst all the brutality. 

The in betweenness becomes the nirvana. Resistance. The formulation of crucial identity. In Haitian Vodou there is a kingdom under the sea. The mixed race have been there - that is why their skin is lighter. They've been pulled under and been through tests. Oh the beauty one can find and mythologise in order to deal with brutality.

Frevo is a fire dance. A dance of fever, of boiling. The men who worked on the ports burst into dancing. Release and freedom. Amidst the brutality.