In the heart of Alfama, one of the oldest and most peculiar neighbourhoods in Lisbon, a different style is starting to take over the streets accustomed to the expressive force of Fado. Every Friday, the sound of the pandeiro attracted a crowd of nostalgic Brazilians gathered for a samba that has also been catching the attention of the Portuguese – increasingly so. There, four immigrant women decided to make music a tool for political intervention, without neglecting the contagious energy of a rhythm that even makes the most incredulous dance: samba.
Kali Peres, Emile Pereira, Meli Huart, and Tida Pinheiro have formed the GIRA collective for two years now. The name refers to the circles present in Afro-Brazilian religious rituals, such as Umbanda – which, according to belief, are usually made barefoot, with chants and preparations for spiritual calls.
Gira is also a synonym for “beautiful” when thought of in European Portuguese. A cultural fusion that has already proven to be born to work.
The fight against gender discrimination, racism, and xenophobia is a significant part of the group’s identity and is present in every detail: from the choice of repertoire to the venue where they perform.
In fact, it was precisely a disagreement with a contractor that made the sambistas need to express their position.
Close to the elections in Brazil last year, they were pressured and reprimanded because the audience frequently chanted protests against the far-right former president Jair Bolsonaro. Uncomfortable with the censorship, they decided to issue a public statement not only announcing opposition to the politician but also the definitive break with the company. At that moment, they understood that the collective’s purpose went far beyond entertainment.
In search of a space more aligned with this vision, they found in Ana Garcia the necessary support to continue. A Portuguese woman passionate about samba, she is the face leading the organization of Sambalfama, a place that hosts GIRA’s performances weekly in the century-old building of Grupo Sportivo Adicense. “Before, I had a male circle here. I have no regrets about making this partnership. It makes complete sense, being a woman, to raise the flag with them”, she says.
But, recently, the group announced a change of address. Starting on the 19th of January, samba‘s Fridays will be held at Clube Oriental, in Marvila, from 20:00 to midnight.
With a microphone in hand and the strength of silenced voices
In addition to the four permanent members, more than twenty guest artists have passed through, such as Bibi Nobre (bass), Lika Mattos (tantan), and Brunão (pandeiro). The intention is to join forces to make a statement in a reality that is often hostile to female samba.
“No one questions where women are in samba. There’s the stereotype: either they’re dancing or applauding the men. No, we want to be in the circle and be applauded too, want to have the microphone talking about our things”, recalls Emile, who in the group is responsible for the deep and impactful beat of the surdo.
And she knows well every obstacle on this path. A Bahian raised in the state of Minas Gerais, she makes a point of recalling her humble origins when she had to walk many kilometres to go to school, and the only presence of the State in the community was the police.
In Portugal, it took a while for the door to open.
She faced, for several years, twelve-hour workdays as a domestic worker and nanny for three children. Even with a tough routine, samba was never forgotten: it was on weekends that she could dedicate herself to what she liked most and what brought her genuine joy, even if only for a few moments.
Equal in difference: the dance that is also a refuge
For Emile, this recognition brings the mission today of not leaving anyone behind. “We are trying to bring this truth, that a samba circle is like a cult, talking about our pains, earning our bread, but also managing to bring other sisters. Many immigrants don’t have family nearby. So, coming here and finding welcome is our greatest honour”, she says.
Diversity is undoubtedly the hallmark of GIRA’s audience. Not only in terms of nationality but because you see so many people of different ethnicities, professions, sexual orientations, and ages, from children to the elderly. “That’s something that always gives me goosebumps here at Sambalfama”, confesses percussionist Tida.
In charge of the conga, she says that her fascination with the sound of the drum began early, in the Candomblé terreiro (Afro-American religion) that her grandmother attended. But playing was not an option since her Catholic parents did not like the girl getting close to an African-derived religion. Also, from her grandmother came the admiration for samba singers like Clara Nunes, a name with which Tida named her only daughter.
Clara, the daughter, was one of the reasons that made her seek a life away from the economic and political instability of Brazil. They were apart for a year, so she could organize the new beginning in Lisbon and bring her.
A single mother, a biologist, and a teacher, she had to give up her academic training to embark on new professional ventures. Here, she created a service where she assembled furniture, made repairs, and installed electrical equipment in clients’ homes.
It paid the bills, it’s true, but she didn’t have much motivation.
It was samba that brought back the enthusiasm to face the difficult days. “The most important thing was to reconnect and get out of the “zombie mode”. You know when you feel like a burden?”, she says with teary eyes. “In the circles, sometimes I stop and think: ‘I love what I do! Despite not going to my country for six years, I feel at home'”, she reveals.
A samba with many accents
The feeling is shared by Meli Huart. “I think I found my little Brazil. Everything I wanted – being able to play, human warmth, friendships, and affection – I have it here”, she celebrates. Born in Nantes, France, she graduated in Cinema and had experiences with various audiovisual productions, but curiosity led her to cross the Atlantic, determined to learn about the rhythms of northeastern Brazil, such as maracatu, afoxé, and coco.
With an easy smile and a sweet voice, her apparent delicacy seems to have been viewed with suspicion at the beginning of her journey in the world of percussion. She recalls that invitations to play were rare, and she had to assert herself in various situations to seek opportunities.
Still, nothing that scared a young woman accustomed to challenges.
She settled in the city of Recife, where fluent Portuguese gained a charming accent. However, her love for the region was disrupted by an uncontrollable pandemic when she decided to return to Europe and try her luck in Lisbon.
The affinity with the pandeiro and the connection with samba were awakened in Portugal when she was introduced to her future group partners by a mutual friend. “I say I attended the Kali Peres Samba University”, she jokes, referring to the vocalist of GIRA.
The future is female
It’s no wonder that Meli praises her colleague’s journey. Coming from a family of artists in southern Brazil, Kali carries in her DNA the restlessness of someone who always wants to take culture further.
After a season in Ireland, during a brief stop in the land of Camões, she decided to stay. She lived in Algarve and Porto until she received an invitation to live and perform in the capital.
It was at an international meeting of women in samba that she approached those who would be her inseparable companions. They left the event determined to create a project. Today, GIRA has captivated a loyal audience, but it’s still just the beginning.
In their plans, there’s the idea of original songs and showing more and more of the work of new female composers. In their repertoire, they maintain a mix that goes from traditional to popular, with an important emphasis on female artists like Leci Brandão, Clementina de Jesus, Dona Ivone Lara, Renata Jambeiro, and Mariene de Castro.
For Kali, representing the voice and cavaquinho of the group, their growth comes from the freedom to experiment, make mistakes, and learn, without the pressure they have felt in other places. None of this, she believes, would be possible without unity: “We are always evolving. But, in the end, what wins is the energy and the commitment. If one is feeling down, all feel it. And then we’ll join hands, pull each other up. That’s our therapy. It’s our medicine.”
*Born in the Brazilian Amazon, Maíra Streit has had a long life for her 36 years. By transcending her own borders, she found in journalism a territory for freedom. She nurtures the thirst to unveil the world through the eyes of others and has a special interest in everything that happens on the margins of narratives. She dives into human rights coverage whenever possible because she knows that, sometimes, one must break to remain whole.
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