Batizado Fire!

It all came down to this weekend.

My capoeira school held its annual workshop, culminating in the Batizado ("baptism") ceremony where people who passed their tests received their belts, and those who started with the academy get their official nickname.

As a bit of an aside, I have come to learn that nicknames in capoeira are also a tradition maintained since the time capoeira was associated with criminal activities and banned in Brazil; they are a way of hiding the capoeira practitioners' identities. It's basically the same reason why the Sith in Star Wars have a "Darth" name - i.e. "Darth Vader" for Anakin Skywalker, "Darth Sidious" for Palpatine, and "Darth Revan" for that 38 year old guy that works in Taco Bell, drives a Pontiac Firefly, and lives in his parents' attic.

Anyway, the real highlight of this event was that capoeira masters ("mestre's") from all over the Americas were invited to teach at the workshops and participate at the ceremony. My capoeira master knows them well, and they go to each other's workshops/batizados held at their respective academies. One was from Toronto, San Diego, New York, and another, I believe from my mestre's hometown in Brazil. Furthermore, the one from New York is one of the few female capoeria masters ("mestranda's"), which was really cool.

I did almost all the workshops designed for my level, and learned a lot from each of the masters. They each taught an aspect of capoeira, whether it's the footwork, takedowns, movements, or music. To play capoeira with them is an even more vivid experience, as each of them have their own distinct style of play. This one master in particular plays with surrealistically fluid movements, so it's like playing against an octopus, or Dhalsim from Street Fighter 2.

So it all came to a climax at the Batizado ceremony, which would be the finale of a Brazilian extravaganza show open to the public at a church gymnasium. They must've hired bat-wielding goons to pass around the collection plate, because this place was decked out with lavish, brand-spanking new facilities.

The show began with the always upbeat and colorfully spectacular Brazilian dance and music segment held by our master and the more senior members of the academy. When it finally came to the ceremony, most of the "outsiders" in the audience left, leaving only the parents, relatives, and a few "fans" in the seats. One cool thing about the ceremony was that since it was in a church gymnasium, there was a crucifix bearing down upon us, as if Jesus Himself came to bear witness. Yeah, right. As if He'd come and watch from the comfort of his own cross.

It took a while to go through everyone who attended the capoeira academy. We started with the kids, then went to the adults starting from the lowest belt rank. At that point, I really had to pee after sitting in the bleachers for so long, but as my luck would have it, my name got called while I was in the midst of making a stealth run for the toilet.

So here I am with the honor of playing capoeira with a visiting master from Brazil, in front of still a sizable number of people, with a thoroughly sore body from days of physically demanding workshops, and a rupturing bladder. I think I did alright given the aforementioned circumstances. My first belt and nicknaming ritual came right after, and I would've relished it more had my eye not been fixed on the door to the toilet. That was okay, since I had one of my seniors take a few movies with my digital camera. After my turn in the spotlight, I ran straight to the toilet and nearly put a hole through the urinal.

With all the spectacle concluded, all bodies hugged, and all tears of joy shed, we packed up and returned to the academy for our own little party.

Well, that's the Batizado ritual in a nutshell. With all that brouhaha going on in my life, I've realized that I have lost touch with the eccentricities of HOME home. On an anticlimatical note, I just learned that my mom started taking up yoga. Specifically, she has taken up Bikram Yoga, which involves doing yoga while baking yourself in a really hot room for hours so that you sweat out your fat, and eventually your vital organs. I don't know whether she took it up to truly reap its health benefits, or as an act of retaliation against my dad for taking up long hours of absence to feed his golf obesession.

Either way, once she masters the art of stretching her limbs and breathing Yoga Fires, I guess I'll end up challenging Dhalsim after all.


My feeble attempt at a flying kick called "martelo cruzado".
Notice arms flailing like a sissy.