"Good evening. This is a story about my mom, my dad, my grand-grand-grand-mother, my grand-grand-grandfather, doctors and me. I used to live many years of my life too afraid to write about me, to afraid to tell my story. I always thought – what would people think about the things I write? I was making assumptions about what these people would think of me, rather than writing what I really wanted, I ended up writing things I knew they would like to read. But I have finally been able to write and the words are here today/ my truth/story is here today. I wrote the first word and I suddenly thought: Fuck it, why am I inventing stories if I have so many worries in my own life? While I was thinking whether to give up again, a big dizzy feeling stroked me. I suffer from “eternal dizziness” – there is no real explanation for that- it just goes away with a dose of coca cola or lemon aquarius. My mum told me that when I was a baby, she was with me in a “hammock”, those that swing from one side to the other and I ended up vomiting. And THIS has generated this eternal dizziness on me. That´s my first trauma. Yes, because there is also the second one: Olives. When I was feeling dizzy, my mom used to put in my mouth an olive to make me feel better. But before she discovered I had this eternal dizziness, she thought maybe I could have something serious, because she only had to put me in boats, buses, cars, and trucks or something that moves and I started to feel dizzy! So she took me to the doctor who told her that when I grew up I´d be fine. But I grew up – not a lot by the way- and I´m still not fine! Don´t trust 100% in Doctors, Lawyers and Politics."
II. Search
"Hi, good morning, I would like to book an appointment… “Alright, one second, and where are you from? “
For next Monday please--- “ Alright, your accents sounds Italian, are you Italian?”
In the afternoon please… “Oh, I love Italy, where in Italy are you from?”
I am not Italian, I am from Finland. “Finland? But your accent sounds Italian, I swear I thought you were Italian.” Why the fuck does somebody need to know where I am from to give me an appointment? Darling, I am not Italian, I am Brazilian ! BRA-ZI-LI-AN, this word so full of meaning and clichés, which is followed by thousands of phrases and stupid comments until people start to dance samba and scream that they love caipirinha and carnival, and Rio de Janeiro, and the Brazilian butt and Brazilian dick and that Caetano Veloso is the coolest thing in the World ! And end up the conversation asking me why I'm here and not in Brazil if Brazil is so good right now? Sometimes I say I'm from Finland and people say nothing about it. Any comment! Nothing! I like to imagine what happens in the person's head when I say with this appearance I have: I am Scandinavian. I AM NOT ITALIAN! NON PARLO ITALIANO, I HATE SPAGUETTI. GIRA POMBA, POMBA GIRA! I hate the caipirinha, the happy people, screaming and dancing through the streets in carnival, getting drunk. Me? I drink caipirinha as often as you eat Eisbein. A Brazilian friend that lives abroad once heard: "Hum and the Brazilian girls? They are hot, no? They are hot, no? " What should he answer? "Yeah man, they are hot, they are always waiting for you, just go there now." “And the French girls? And the Spanish girls? And the British girls? And the Polish girls?” I would answer him asking, what´s the nationality of his ass, I'd say in South America this style of ass is very famous and I would start to stare at his ass and smile in a friendly way, like an authentic Brazilian. No! It is not personal, but demystifying Brazilian Girls is as important as demystifying the French girls, the Argentinian, and the Polish. Sometimes I feel strange for being an immigrant and when I say I am an immigrant people answer: well you do not look like one at all! And I ask myself, how does an immigrant look like?"
III. Serendipity
"When the white discoverers started to navigate in their caravels by seas that were never imagined before, they didn´t know what they would find. But inside their head they had gold dreams: the way to India, the way straight to the treasure. But they found other things. Yes, Houston we do really have a problem. The Indians? Who are those people? More ancient than all: the Vikings, the Neanderthals. Good Morning, Vietnam! The blacks took off from Africa: Nigeria, Congo, they arrived in the slave ships. These words, my friend, that I´m telling you now, only who has the chaos inside will understand. And exactly in this 25th hour of the day I have to tell you the truth: YES! I´m from Rio de Janeiro: Diz que deu, diz que dá diz que deu dará! I´m also from São Paulo and unfortunately we don´t have Pau-Brasil trees anymore, Pau-Brazil disappeared. It’s gone. Yes, yes…. I am from Madrid, from berlin, from new york , from island, from Poland, Hawaii and of course, sometimes, even from Finland. So I look to the sky and see the Umbanda´s star it is just the same as the star of Israel! So, why can´t we sing all together: Shalom, Shalom, salamaleicon maleicon! Saravá! Amén! Hare-Krishna, Hare-Hare! Namyororenguekyo, Namastê, dance with me just the way we dance in the tribe!
Be a drag-queen ONCE IN YOU LIFE! Dance and let your body be “Odara” With a lot of “Axé” . We all here have the same mother, darlings, and she is African, she is from south America, she came from the middle east, but today she lives in Spain. But, hey: if Jesus is argentinian, sorry, God is Brazilian. Be sweet, I´m sweet. Forgive your dad. Forgive your mom. I have already forgiven mine.
Take off the gluten, lactose, coffee, the fat, the coke, the pot, invent your own style, your own rules. Se Solta Caralho! Why have I said bye bye baby bye bye? Do you wanna know what the Bahiana girls have? Climb Everest if necessary; shake your ass until the floor, sing Waterloo Sunshine in someone´s ear. To be heard you don´t need too much. No! Do not make so many plans. Because life comes and changes everything. I didn´t come here for nothing, Eu não vim aquí hoje para passar batido, caralho. I can do capoeira here if you want. Enjoy a porno movie frequently. I am very exotic, don´t you see it? I´m the descendent of a Portuguese on horseback, who kidnapped an Indian from her tribal village. They met in an orange plantation. He asked her if she liked oranges, she said she loves oranges. My grand-grand-grand father was wild and in no way naive. But I have forgiven him! He didn´t know what he was doing, he just wanted to eat my grand-grand-grandmother´s orange. And she sucked the forbidden fruit. Me? I am just afraid of being shot by a stray bullet in the air. I know I cannot change how this history has begone, but the ending I can! I say goodbye now and I resemble in your heads. The only thing I am trying is to be myself. But I have to confess; it has not been easy so far. I have no nationality, I have no age, I have no name, I have nothing. Nothing is mine. And because nothing is mine, everything is mine, you are everything, we are all here, now, and what is not here is nowhere else. The best idea is always the one you´re more afraid of."
The best idea is always the one you´re more afraid of.
Paint my face, eat the orange and so.
-- lived, written and performed by a woman, artist, South American named Rafaella Marques da Silva, ca. 21st Century
Cena para NosOtros
A Menu for the Self
Glossary
woman: a human body with an intuition only a uterus can contain
artist: a state of humanity that only precarity and emergency can afford
South: places or concepts with this prefix will always be under a supposed North
America: a landmass and a state-of-mind divided by north and south (and a small in-between paradise for money and indigenous cultures called central) named after an explorer, one of the many, whom in those times, like the artists' today, are the most misunderstood people by those who decide that they can write the history of others. Because they were mostly concerned about the experience of discovery, and had not enough time to reconcile it with bureaucracy. And there is gossip that this explorer did not even know that it was named after him. Or did it matter to him?