Invented in Rio de Janeiro in the 1920s, samba schools played, especially from the 1960s onward, a role of pedagogical vanguard in Brazil: presenting characters, themes, and episodes on the margins of Official History, the kind based on seemingly neutral accounts of great deeds, commemorative dates, and heroes of the pantheon.
The same samba schools that in the 1940s and 1950s limited themselves to speaking of the nation's honors, medals, and coats of arms took on a pioneering role from a certain point onward. A role that schools did not perform, the media ignored, and textbooks rarely addressed.
Desfile dos Unidos de Santo Cristo, Rio de Janeiro, tendo como temática a história da Guerra dos Guararapes, no carnaval de 1953. Arquivo Nacional/Fundo Correio da Manhã.
When Fernando Pamplona's Salgueiro presented, inspired by a censored book by Edison Carneiro, Zumbi dos Palmares (Quilombo), in 1960, Zumbi was a character who didn't appear in Brazilian classrooms. The hero was Domingos Jorge Velho, the bandeirante who slaughtered the quilombola people. Chica da Silva and Chico Rei came on the same boat, bursting through in red and white, down the avenue, past the fence that kept them from reaching formal education.
In the avenues, the cabrocha Lili paraded her beauty at the Caprichosos de Pilares street fair, and the everyday hardship of a trip on the Central Line train, Japeri branch, was sung about by Em Cima da Hora. It was by listening to samba-enredo that many cariocas learned about the War of Canudos, the struggle of the caboclo Mitavaí against the monster Macobeba, the literature of Lima Barreto, the drama of the drought in the Northeast, the fabulous life of the pai de santo Hilário de Ojuobá. It was a samba school that spoke of Teresa de Benguela and the Quilombo do Quariterê, of the Confederation of the Tamoio Indians, of the narratives of the orixás, of the origin myths of the Carajás, of Dom Obá II, King of Africa and of the street corners of Rio de Janeiro, of Joãozinho da Goméia, the King of Candomblé.
Complex institutions in constant dialogue with the times, samba schools don't fit into ready-made molds. They have sung the official history, given in to the most outlandish sponsorships, praised the military regime, challenged the military regime, and portrayed the lives of dubious celebrities of the moment. At the same time, they have told the stories of those erased by certain versions of History, giving center stage to Zumbis, Conselheiros, Aimberês, and Teresas de Benguela. They have praised Luiz Gonzaga, the cordel poets, the umbanda caboclos, the orixás, the iabás, the Black Christ, the sainted prostitute, the mães de santo and mothers of samba.
O desfile da Mangueira de 2019 exaltou as Marias, mahins, Marielles e malês, ao passo que mostrou outra faceta de heróis nacionais, como Duque de Caxias. Gabriel Nascimento | Riotur
Regarded by many as mere tourism-sector businesses, samba schools can and should be much more than that. They can also be powerful avant-garde cultural institutions; terreiros where the chant celebrated in drumbeat listens to the voice and the cry of life of those who, many times, sang through the crack the chance of a more generous Brazil.
For many people -- and we include ourselves in this group -- they vibrate with the spirituality of the city of Rio de Janeiro, singing of its wonders, its awe, its fates, its fortunes, and, at the turn of the drumhead, they call the wanderers of yesterday and of today to celebrate what is most sacred: the celebration.
Desfile da Escola de Samba Acadêmicos do Salgueiro de 1971. Arquivo Nacional/Correio da Manhã.