Kaya-Pop

The Brave New World of Indigenous Music in Brazil

Kayapó pop star Bepdjyre. Video still courtesy Tatajyre Kayapó

The lead singer crooning catchy pop lyrics, the gyrating chorus-line of girls in mini-skirts, the ecstatic crowd of teenagers swaying and snapping photos with their cell phones, the infectious beats pumping out of an electronic keyboard—it would all be a typical Friday night forró dance party in the Brazilian Amazon if it weren’t for one essential detail: practically all the participants, from the singer to the scanitly clad dancers to the raucous audience armed with digital cameras and cell phones—everyone except the keyboard player, in fact—are Kayapó Indians living in a vast expanse of protected forest lands in southern Pará.

This past April19, the Kayapó village of Turedjam hosted an elaborate festival to celebrate Brazil’s National Indian Day. Some 800 people from 15 villages as well as special guests from neighboring Brazilian towns attended the two-day event that included traditional dance presentations, an inter-village sports competition, the 2013 Miss Kayapó and Mister Kayapó beauty contests, and the high point of the evening, a concert by Kayapó pop star Bepdjyre.

Bepdjyre, who comes from the village of Kabaú, composes his own lyrics in Kayapó but sets them to popular Brazilian dance rhythms such as forró, brega and sertaneja. He records his CDs in the city of Novo Progresso in southern Pará near the Mato Grosso border, and his music circulates virally through Kayapó villages and Brazilian towns on CDs, cell phones, pen drives, SD cards and portable MP3 players. One of his most popular songs, played constantly in Turedjam on various devices in the weeks following the concert, is “Waiter bring me another soda” (Pidjo kangô nhoro ondjwy amry ja on dja), borrowing a common refrain from Brazilian drinking songs but adapting it to the Kayapó′s teetotaling prohibition of alcoholic beverages in many villages.

Bepdjyre onstage with a chorus-line of Kayapó girls. Video still courtesy Tatajyre Kayapó

Five girls from Turedjam practiced for several weeks before the show to master the hip-swaying choreography, and they danced in perfect synchrony onstage. They wore matching white mini-skirts bought especially for the show, but underneath the skirts they had on traditional Kayapó ornaments and body paint, adding bright red lipstick to the typical geometric designs in black Genipa and red annatto on their faces.

Appearing with Bepdjyre was Mokuká, a 50-year old Kayapó chief from Moikorakô village who, unlike Bepdjyre—in his tight-fitting jeans, white tennis shoes and rhinestone-studded “Tribe” T-shirt—appeared onstage in traditional Kayapó body paint, bead ornaments and feather headdress. And yet Mokuká swayed and dipped onstage as well as any Brazilian teenager. He sang an extended, encore performance of his contagious Portuguese-language composition, “Tem, tem, tem mulher bonita” (‘There are lots of pretty women’). A crowd of teenage boys in the audience sang along with the refrain, “In the village too, in the city too, in the world too: There are lots pretty women!” and pointed out their favorite girls in the crowd or on the stage.

Alongside Mokuká, a high school student from the remote village of Kuben-Kan-Kren showed off highly erotic, hip-thrusting dance moves wearing ultra-tight, ultra-short-shorts: the Kayapó incarnation of Brazilian dance goddess Carla Peres. As men, both young and old repeated to me, in awe over her performance, “She’s the only Kayapó girl who can dance like that. She practiced for months in front of the DVD player.”

Teenage fans sing along and snap photos with their phones and cameras. Video still courtesy Tatajyre Kayapó

The Kayapó cameramen and film makers I have trained over the past three years captured the concert on film and immediately edited a DVD which they distributed in the village and throughout Kayapó territory. On my recent visit to Turedjam, this DVD, as well as MP3 knock-offs of the live audio, were playing constantly. Kayapó men and boys alike are especially enamored of Mokuká’s song, “There are lots of pretty women,” and the suggestive choreography of the girl from Kuben-Kan-Kren.

There is a distinctively masculine gaze in productions by the current all-male cadre of Kayapó film makers: even in traditional ceremonies, women strip down to their underwear for the duration of the dancing, while men wear the same shorts they use in daily life. As the inherent machismo of Kayapó culture blends with the sexism implicit in erotic lyrics and choreographies from Brazilian pop music, I get the impression that Kayapó men and teenage boys don’t just watch home-grown films like “Miss Kayapó” and the Bepdjyre concert documentary: they ogle.

At first glance, this indigenous aping of Brazilian pop music genres and sexually charged dance styles seems shocking, disorienting, even degrading: an affront to traditional Kayapó aesthetic values. And yet a closer examination of Kayapó culture reveals the fundamental role of appropriation and re-invention in their relationship with outsiders. Prior to sustained contact with Brazilian society, the Kayapó raided neighboring groups and among themselves, and placed a high value on capturing ornaments, weapons, names, songs and other material or immaterial goods from the enemy, incorporating them into their own cultural repertoire and displaying them as signs of personal and group prestige (V Lea, Riquezas Intangíveis de Pessoas Partíveis, 2012)

Mokuká sings “Tem mulher bonita.” Video still courtesy Tatajyre Kayapó

Even after inter-group raiding ceased, the Kayapó continue to value the capture and appropriation of trappings and technologies of the kuben—Brazilian white society—such as firearms, trade goods, territorial maps and video cameras (P. de Robert 2004, Terre coupée: Recompositions des territorialités indigènes dans une reserve d’Amazonie. Ethnologie Française 34[1]: 79-88). The Kayapó made especially powerful use of video cameras in the late 1980s to mobilize an international protest movement, blocking international funding for the Belo Monte dam project and paralyzing it until just a few years ago (T Turner 1990, The Kayapó Video Project. Revue de la Commission d’Anthropologie Visuelle).

With funding from the National Science Foundation and approval from Brazil’s National Research Council (CNPq), Middle Tennessee State University anthropologist Richard Pace and I are currently studying how the Kayapó use video cameras and other digital media in their increasingly complex interactions with Brazilian and global society.

According to Kayapó film maker Tatajyre, having young, sparsely clad Kayapó women strut and dance like Brazilian models or pop stars does not degrade traditional beauty standards: “We are showing Kayapó beauty to the Brazilians.”

Rather than seeing culture as a stark choice between opposing, exclusive categories such as “Kayapó″ and “Brazilian” or “traditional” and “modern,” the Kayapó today, as always, see culture as an additive process, continually appropriating, incorporating and re-signifying new ornaments, weapons, goods and knowledge from enemies or rivals as a way of highlighting their own strength and perseverance. Does any of this make the Kayapó less “authentic” or “indigenous” or “Kayapó″? Of course not. On the contrary.

The Kayapó incarnation of Brazilian dance goddess Carla Peres. Video still courtesy Tatajyre Kayapó

With local village girls dressed in both mini-skirts and traditional body paint, showing off trendy dance steps alongside a native-language pop singer like Bepjdyre, the Kayapó get to have it both ways: they get to be beautiful as Indians and as Brazilians. As Mokuká’s sings: “In the village too, in the city too, in the world too: There are lots of pretty women.”

As I was packing my bags to leave Turedjam, I heard the distant strains of a hauntingly familiar tune: No, my ears were playing tricks on me, it couldn’t be. So I followed the sound towards a thatched hut where I found a group of teenage boys listening to a portable MP3 device playing an electronic tecno-brega Kayapó-language cover of, yes: “Hey Jude.”

A brave new world indeed.

Glenn H Shepard Jr is a staff researcher in ethnology at the Goeldi Museum in Belém do Pará, Brazil and blogs about his work at Notes from the Ethnoground.

via Anthropology-News http://www.anthropology-news.org/index.php/2013/06/14/kaya-pop/