"Brazilians and Wannabes Get a Jump on Carnaval Fun"

Chicago Tribune
By Kimberly Palmer

February 15, 2004


Ever since Avi Sharma took a Latin dance class last summer, he has
wanted to see "real Brazilians" samba dancing, a combination of Riverdance
feet shuffling, Caribbean beats and macarena swivels.

"If I can figure out what real Brazilians do, then I'll do it," said
the 25-year-old research analyst.

On a recent Saturday, he finally got his chance.

Sharma joined about 200 hip-swinging, foot-stomping guests dancing to
the rhythms of the Chicago Samba band at the University of Chicago's
International House in Hyde Park. They were getting a head start on
Carnaval, the four-day festival that gives Brazilians one last chance to
party before the self-denial of Lent, which begins Feb. 25 this year.

Participants of all ages and abilities, many wearing glittery masks or
soccer shirts in the green and yellow of the Brazilian flag, mirrored
the sensual rotations of the professional dancers on stage.

Sharma quickly took off his glasses and showed off his moves on the
dance floor, along with other guests who were just as enthusiastic to
learn from the experts. Brazilians eager to celebrate their native culture
showed them how to samba.

"I'm not tired yet, are you?" samba teacher Edilson Lima asked the
crowd a couple of hours into the evening. "Push, push, play the drums," he
instructed, pumping his arms in the air. Professional dancers, decked
out in feather headdresses and sequined thong bikinis, also demonstrated.

Ariel Samuels, a 35-year-old teacher who lives in West Lakeview, says
Lima taught her how to feel comfortable on the dance floor.

"I never considered myself a dancer before. There is something about
Edilson's charisma that makes you feel safe [in America] where sensual
movements are more taboo," she said, swiveling her hips. She has been
taking classes with Lima for more than two years and recently started
teaching some of her 8th-grade students Brazilian dance moves.

No partner required

"You don't need a guy. It's very liberating," said Sharone Kaplan, 31,
an artist who lives in downtown Chicago. Her long, blond hair shimmied
with her body as she danced near the front of the stage.

Kaplan has been following the Chicago Samba band for about two years,
and even though she has never been to Brazil, she says she appreciates
the culture.

"You don't have to be a size 0, and having lots of curves is good," she said.

Norma and Clarival Miranda, who have been married for 37 years and live
in Gary, arrived in Brazilian soccer gear. Clarival, 61, a native of
Brazil and a former soccer player, says he likes the dancing. "I'm an old
man but I still like it. It's in my blood," he said.

Some guests came more decorated than the streamer- and mask-festooned
ballroom.

Jane Menicucci, a Brazilian who now lives in Cicero and works as a
translator, donned a gold, glittering mask with feathers and long, red gloves.

Her friend Marilene Santos explained, "In Brazil, everyone has a
costume, people dress up like pirates and ballerinas. . .It's one of the
biggest parties in the world." She said that people usually dance until
5 a.m. every night during Carnaval.

"It's so contagious you can't stop. Here the band is eight people, but
there, 500 people will be playing next to each other in the street,"
she said.

Participants compete for the best costume and best dance moves, she added.

"In Brazil, you wear almost nothing--the less the better," said Sandra
Partridge, 40, of Westchester. Partridge, a Brazilian, said that one
year during Carnaval in Brazil, she wore nothing but body paint in the
image of a butterfly.

"You can't dress like that here, it would be inappropriate, but I still
try to wear something sexy," she said. This year, she wore a
leopard-print top and skirt with boots.

Echoes of India

Sharma also said the music reminded him of his native country: India.
"They beat the drums so hard, in sync, and so fast. They do the same
thing in India. Indian folk music uses a lot of drums," he said.

Other non-Brazilians also sensed a link to the music.

"There's a very strong connection between Brazilian and African music,
and I enjoy their music. It's a rhythm that a lot of Africans can move
to, it's very familiar," said Kunda Ngandwe, who moved to Chicago from
Lusaka, Zambia, a year and a half ago, to go to graduate school at U.
of C.

Amid the sweat and perfume mingling on the crowded dance floor, where
the action was nearly non-stop for more than three hours, some of the
more advanced dancers found their rhythm.

"It's a release. The music sets it apart, every percussion," said
Wambui Njuguna, 23, a Kenyan native who lives in Logan Square and works as a
teacher. She danced in a yellow-and-green top that she found in a
Brazilian store. Of the music, she said, "It's hypnotizing."

Copyright(c) 2004, Chicago Tribune