Imagine two men spinning around one another in fluid orbit as a crowd encircles them, singing and clapping intently. As the men dance, one swiftly explodes from a low hover onto his hands, whirling one leg above him and then sailing it toward his opponent. Nearly synchronized, the other man lowers his body and folds at the hip, just evading attack as his opponent's leg washes a breeze over his back. The crowd sings on to the rhythm of the berimbau. A few call out, "Capoeira brasileira, meu compadre," and the others answer, "8e de matar." Their words, translated from Portugeuse, are, "Brazilian Capoeira, my comrade," and then, "is deadly."
The men continue circling each other, exploding from crouches into handstands and cartwheels. Theirs is a conversation of martial kinetics; they speak the silent language of arms and legs, timing and movement, planning and precision.
This scene may sound distant in time or space, but in fact, some of the players of this game live right here in Baltimore. The Homewood campus is home to JHU's capoeira club. A club with aspirations beyond recreational fun, they aim to cultivate an environment where learning and dedication are highly regarded, and respect is in no short supply. Alex Lo, a student at the School of Public Health, feels that capoiera is unique among the martial arts clubs. "You don't have to bow down to anyone, or call anyone sir, but there is a lot of respect within the group and a strong sense of community," she said.
Sitting within a circle of club members, barefoot as they stretch on the mat-covered floor, I hear a wave of friendly chuckles followed by a conceding chorus: "We do a lot together, we party together."
Even as they stretch and talk at once, their deep focus is clear. They are each lively, animated, but at once, they exude a strong sense of concentration. Anne Gatchell, a junior at Hopkins, and the group's secretary was drawn to the sport from her dance background, "I really enjoy the physical aspect of it, it is different and challenging. It gives you goals to work toward."
While the game is alive and well today, its history is indeed distant. Capoeira originated during the colonial period of Brazil, about the 16th century by African slaves who developed it as a way to maintain their cultural traditions and resist their oppressors. Upon the abolishment of slavery, the artform was outlawed, punishment for practicing the art was brutal -- the tendons of the back of the foot were sliced. As a consequence, fighters began to adopt nicknames, or apelidos, so that their capoeira identity might remain isolated from their true name. The persecution of capoiera came to an end about the 18th century and has since spread in popularity across the globe.
The tradition of receiving an apelido holds today, but achieving this status is no simple feat, an apelido is not an easily attained commodity.
Netta Gurari, a Mechanical Engineering Graduate student, tells me, "You have to play long enough to develop your own style, your character, to receive a name. You have to sort of become who you are, the instructor knows you and they name you."
Gurari flips and spins her body and then charges her foot toward Anthony Legaspi, a CCBC student who sought out the JHU club after researching the capoeira scene in Baltimore. Focused and precise as they move, Anthony catches Netta's foot, drops it and they each laugh. "I didn't get to try to this one out the other day," she says, referring to the club's recent capoeira encounter. She raises herself into a handstand and snaps back her leg in a kick. Netta's skills show the marks of dedication, but she stresses that the group is a beginner's group and that they are all learning in time how to develop their style, learn new moves and improvise sequences. Despite the apparent grace of the sport, Supriya Shah, the group's president, says, "You can play it however you want to play it" -- each member offers a story behind a newly gained bruise, welt or abrasion.
The artform has made its entry into several pop culture outlets. In the 2004 movie "Catwoman" starring Halle Berry, capoeira is the fighting technique of the protagonist. In the comedy "Meet the Fockers," Dustin Hoffman's character is introduced in the midst of a capoeira routine, an activity chalked up to his eccentricity, as the sport is still obscure.
In describing capoeira, the juxtaposition of dance, game and fighting technique may seem unclear but when the sport is observed in action these elements adhere seamlessly. The combination of rhythm, precision and improvisation separates capoeira as a martial art, an artform, and a creative outlet.
