Brazil, Part III: Sunday Bloody Sunday

I felt I was ready to explore the city of Salvador beyond the little beach area where I was staying. The travel guides all recommended a day trip to the historic center, the Pelourinho. Feeling slightly more confident speaking “Portu-Span-Glish” I opted to take the local bus into town. The bus wound along the beach front and then inland. We made our way past nicely manicured high-rise apartments and museums. About 10 minutes into the ride, the street changed. The landscaped pavement gave way to street vendors, crowded streets, traffic and condemned buildings. I was now in the Brazilian equivalent to the Tenderloin (TL).

Similar to the TL, there were the junkie zombies whose eyes were barely open as they nodded while they asked for just about anything; money, food, water, etc. There were the young men on the corners all dressed alike playing some sort of gambling game. On the opposite corners were the working ladies, dressed in next to nothing. Many of the buildings were boarded up and oddly there were tons of stores selling musical instruments. My Portuguese was still too limited to determine if these were pawn shops or whether I just happened to be in the musical instrument sales area.

I was determined to see at least one “historical site” before I left the area, so I made my way to a palace in the center of the Pelourinho. While the palace hadn’t been cleaned in a while, it certainly had been restored at some point. As I perused the museum now in the palace, I came to realize the area I was standing in was utilized for slave auction. I came to learn that the slaves were whipped in the square and sold. I began to think about how I am unaware of any sites in the United States similar to this that remind us of our atrocious history. While I was uncomfortable and could feel the intensity of the history of this area, I stopped to take in the environment. I remembered the last time I felt this way was years ago visiting Bergen-Belsen.

I became distracted by drum beats, so I decided to make my way up the street to see if I could find the drum circle. As I approached the drum circle, two men were running towards me followed by two more. All four of them were shouting and when they crossed to the same side of the street that I was standing on, they began to fight. I crossed the street to get away from the fight and started to head back toward the area where the bus had originally dropped me off. After turning to walk, 6 police officers were running toward me with their guns drawn. I do believe this marked the first time in my life I had 6 guns pointed at me at the same time. The weapons ranged from hand guns to rifles. My pace quickened as I walked away from the scene. I kept repeating to myself, “don’t turn around”.

As I heard the blare and pop of the guns, I couldn’t help myself… I turned around.