Capoeira: from self-defense to self expression.

"CAPOEIRA IS A GAME," SAID JELON VIEIRA, A MASTER of the Brazilian dancelike martial art. He spoke at his favorite New York cafe in SoHo. "It's a fight like a dance, a dance like a fight," he said. "It's not about winning or losing,,but who plays smarter."

The 48-year-old Mestre (master) Jelon, as he is known to his students, was a long way from his hometown in Brazil's northeast state of Bahia, home to the majority of the country's Afro-Brazilian population. Wearing a black turtleneck with jeans and occasionally holding a cell phone up to his closely cropped graying hair, he doesn't look like he grew up in a world far, far away from the speed-injected Manhattan lifestyle.

As the founder and choreographer of DanceBrazil, a troupe that incorporates capoeira, samba, and modern dance, Vieira splits his time between New York and Bahia and seems to be on a mission to bring these two worlds together. It all started in 1975 when he came to the United States, speaking no English and knowing no one. Like most immigrants, he left a country marked by poverty and political instability in search of a better life.

Two years later, Vieira founded DanceBrazil, and the rhythmic and lively dance-martial art form was thus catapulted into American culture. The company was soon traveling throughout Europe and Asia and performing in such prestigious venues as the John F. Kennedy and Lincoln Centers. Capoeira has skyrocketed in popularity, and its movements can now be seen in many modern and hip-hop dance performances. Dozens of capoeira teachers have also come from Brazil, including some of Vieira's former students, offering classes in New York, Florida, Missouri, Texas, and California (see sidebar on page 123).

Capoeira hasn't prompted migration only northward. Many Americans, some also inspired by Vieira, have headed south across the equator hoping to gain a deeper understanding of the art form's essence. Last February, I was one of them. Although anyone who is flexible, strong, and balanced can learn the circular kicks, one-handed handstands, and cartwheels of capoeira, its subtleties can only be absorbed along the coast of Baia de Todos os Santos (All Saints Bay). It is there that the discipline's history and culture begin. Until I visited this mystical place myself, I was unsure of all this meant.

I had been studying capoeira in New York for only a few months when I arrived in Bahia with just the basic moves under my white (meaning very beginning) belt. Vieira, who holds a black cord indicating his master status, invited me to his family's home a short walk from the beach in Salvador, the capital city. His mother, with her warm smile that welcomed the gentle comings and goings of visitors all day long, served a delicious lunch of salad with mango, rice and beans, chicken lasagna, and watermelon.

I had arrived from an island off the coast of Salvador, where I practiced capoeira with some boys who play on the beach each evening when the burning sun begins to set. (February is the height of summer in Brazil.) I approached them humbly one night to ask if I could participate in their roda (pronounced hoda), or circle, that surrounds the capoeiristas as they play two at a time. They invited me in and began to demonstrate not only the physical moves but the philosophy behind them. "Keep your head up and your eyes open," I was told. "Always be aware."

As I looked into their eyes, aware of my burnt skin and the salty sea air, I began to sense the evolution of this art form as it had been practiced over hundreds of years. Though I understood only about half of what they were saying in Portuguese and nearly collapsed from lack of stamina, I realized that what was a source of exercise and fun for me in New York was a way of life for many in Bahia.

As Vieira had told me that day in Manhattan, "Capoeira is a language. It's a dialogue. It's about camaraderie and bringing people together. It teaches self-respect, self-control, discipline, and respect for life."

Vieira does not allow his eighty students, who range in age from 7 to 24, to drink, smoke, or use drugs, and encourages them to do well in school. They admire and respect him, so they comply with any request or demand. Given the poverty and violence that pervade that region in Brazil, it is easy to see how capoeira has been a source of self-confidence and hope for Vieira and his students.

THE FORM IS THOUGHT TO HAVE developed as a means of self-defense in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries by slaves brought to Brazil by the Portuguese. Forbidden to practice, the slaves disguised the form as a dance, and "played" the round, fluid, low-to-the-ground movements to pulsating musical beats that remain part of capoeira. (No capoeira circle is without someone playing a birimbau, a tall, slender instrument made from a wooden stick, string, and a gourd. Drums and tambourines may also accompany the call-and-response songs, which tell old stories of slavery and new tales of life and love in Bahia.) Some say the moves--in which only head, hands, and feet touch the ground--were developed to avoid dirtying the white religious clothes worn by the slaves.

To further disguise themselves, capoeiristas gave themselves nicknames, a tradition still held among capoeira students in Brazil and the U.S. (Vieira's nickname is Lacrau, meaning "canopy" in Portuguese; mine is Tampinha, meaning "bottle cap.")

Today, capoeira in Bahia is as common as basketball in New York. Young boys--and increasingly girls--are often seen on the street in their flowing white pants practicing the jinga, which is a kind of rhythmic shifting from side to side in a low-to-the-ground, parallel fourth position.

"Little kids jinga in the womb in Bahia," said Joselita Oliveira, a former member of DanceBrazil and capoeira teacher who moved to New York three years ago. At 26 and just one cord shy of a master, she is one of the leading women in the field. Like Vieira, Oliveira sees herself as a role model for her students. Possessing a fierce energy and powerful body, she explained in broken English that what you learn in this art form is what you need to know in life.

Vieira agrees. "That's why so many capoeira masters and professors become natural psychologists," he said. "The first time you play in the roda, I have an idea of the type of person you are."

TODAY VIEIRA TEACHES MORE BY guidance than demonstration. His physical abilities are limited due to a rare disease called acromegaly, which is caused by excess production of growth hormone by the pituitary gland (usually due to a benign tumor). He knew something was seriously wrong when, in addition to feeling headaches and fatigue, his hands, feet, and nose started to grow unnaturally. These symptoms have diminished since the tumor was removed a few years ago, but the effects of the disease linger.

Now Vieira concentrates on teaching and choreographing. His biggest challenge is keeping violence out of capoeira circles. This can be especially problematic in the U.S., where many have taught themselves capoeira from Hollywood films such as Only the Strong, or learned from Brazilians who may know capoeira but are not masters, and therefore lack the sophistication and discipline to teach the art properly.

"When you learn capoeira, your body becomes a weapon," says Vieira. "You can kill. But that's not the point. You shouldn't learn an art to kill or to be in danger of dying. A capoeirista is a gentle warrior."

The gentle-warrior concept can be taught in class, as can playing the birimbau and doing the jinga. And it looks as if capoeira will continue to thrive in the U.S., with more and more classes being taught and DanceBrazil performing for audiences around the country. Still, it is unlikely that American enthusiasts can ever attain the deep commitment that Vieira has.

"I love capoeira," Vieira continued, as his eyes lit up. "It is so rooted in my blood, my spirit, my soul, and my mind that I feel I am capoeira."

Shayna Samuels is a New York City-based freelance writer.