In Brazil, the expressions of faith, the intimacy with the sacred, and the wonder of the communal rites that weave together what many call religiosity have color, taste, smell, sound, rhythm, and body. So there is no environment better suited for these things to roam around in than a good old market. From one end of this country to the other, there are many markets and fairs that are a hit. In the city of Rio de Janeiro, for instance, no name stands out more than that of the Mercadão de Madureira, affectionately nicknamed the "macumba mall."
Venda de guias no Mercado de Madureira
– Foto: Gilberto Figueira da Fonsaca/Creative Commons
The market's history is long, just like that of its neighbor Portela. Paraphrasing Mestre Monarco in the samba Passado de Glória, in tribute to the samba school, "if I were to talk about Mercadão, I wouldn't finish today." Even so, given such richness for the city's history and culture, there are aspects we need to highlight in this brief conversation. The first is that the understanding of "market" in Brazil is not limited to a space of material exchange where the monetary value of things reigns supreme. Here, the notion of market is plural and strongly influenced by Black African ways and knowledge.
As Rio de Janeiro is one of the cities that received the largest number of enslaved people brought from the African continent, it is common to understand the market not as human property, but as a place governed by the sacred. In this way, the people who practice it interact with its principles and forces. Beyond a disenchanted reading that sees it only as a place of profit, the market is made up of the dynamism of relationships, communications, and exchanges shaped by political and symbolic aspects.
Mercado de Madureira, Autor não identificado, dec.1940.
At the Mercadão de Madureira there is everything you need to make a good offering: you find everything from candles to tobacco, from leaves to beans, from four-legged animals to jogo do bicho betting stalls, from Christian saints to pagan ones. In other words, throughout the galleries, stalls, floors, and shops of the Mercadão, you can buy everything to seal the bet, even what isn't for sale. There, suspicion, gossip, secrets, storylines, passion, ill will, verse, and prose are all traded. Whoever asks permission upon entering the market and pays attention to its many texts can buy what isn't being sold, but circulates in the game.
Whoever goes looking to buy an obi, an African fruit, gets a myth as well. Whoever strolls through the herb stalls in search of a sprig of rue, takes home a prayer. Whoever seeks out a saint's image gains an answered promise. Whoever haggles too much ends up raising the price. Whoever carries off a bottle of cachaça has to pay for a shot for the first drunkard who happens to pass by. That's how the market is; whoever has a keen eye and a listening ear will find the whole world in it.
Santos e entidades, nas esquinas do Mercadão
– Foto: Alexandre Macieira/Riotur
The mercadão had its foundation laid in 1914, still as a small produce market for agricultural goods. Over the years, it wandered through different parts of the neighborhood, until in 1959, under the administrations of mayor Sá Freire Alvim and president Juscelino Kubitschek, it pitched its tent on Avenida Ministro Edgard Romero, where it remains to this day. Set on the lands of cattle drover Lourenço Madureira, the man who in the first half of the 19th century leased the lands of the Rio backcountry that gave rise to the neighborhood bearing his name, the Mercadão earned the title of intangible heritage of Rio and is a fundamental character in the city's daily life.
In the flowers thrown into the sea on New Year's Eve, in the carnival lace, in the candles burned on street corners, in the kites that embroider the suburban sky, in the children's sweets, in the cold beer drunk with the saint, in the sacrifice that multiplies axé, or in countless other small practices cultivated in this city, the old market with the cattle-driver's name flings open its gate and says: the world passes through here, come in.