“Tambor de Crioula” is one of the carnival attractions in Maranhão

Two steps to the right, one step to the left; two to the left, one to the right. The tempo is kept with the help of drums tuned by the heat of a lamp rather than metal tuning pegs. Five-year-old Gabriel dances to the song of the coreiras – female singers who traditionally wear colorful, flowery skirts. One of them carries the image of St. Benedict on her head in their midst. The sound of the drums mingles with the voices and the so-called pungadas, a move in which dancers make their bellies touch.

The tambor de crioula is danced all throughout the year, with no specific dates. Its most important festivities, however, take place during Carnival or in the traditional St. John celebrations, in June. The tambor has its orgins in Africa, but its history is told in a range of different ways. For some, it originated in the African continent. For others, like Lúcia Franco, a coreira from the tambor group named “Arte Nossa”, it all started in Brazil. “It was played by the slaves back then, in order to warn the neighboring quilombos that negroes were planning to escape. There was music and dance.”

For Gabriel, however, the origins of this dance are no matter of dispute: “I’ve learned it from my father.” On the day our team watched their rehearsal, he was next to his great-grandfather, Manoel Ferreira, known as Mestre Manelão do Tambor Tijupá, from São Luís, capital city of Maranhão. He is 74 years old, has 22 great-grandchildren altogether, and took it as his duty to teach them everything he knows. “That’s how old I started – when I was about five. I would creep close to my father, who would start playing and I danced to it. He used to say to me after he returned home: ‘My son, you’ll become a tambor drummer.' At fourteen I was singing by myself and looking after other people’s groups,” he says. “I’m doing as my father used to do with me, [and I do it] so that [Gabriel] can say, after I die, that he learned the tambor from his grandfather.”

Thus, tradition is handed down in childhood. And roles are very well-defined: men play the drums and sing, women dance and sing. Festivities are always dedicated to St. Benedict, protector of negroes.

It was thanks to St. Benedict that Lúcia started to dance. She was no longer a child and was watching a tambor performance when someone invited her to join the dance. She felt shy and could not accept the invitation and the skirt they offered her. Terezinha Jansen, head of the tambor group and an enthusiast of the popular culture of Maranhão, showed her the image of the saint and challenged her, saying, “You won’t say no to the saint now, will you?” Lúcia promptly joined the dance, and now she says: “I would never leave it.”

Maria José Melonio’s story is similar to Lúcia’s. She joined the tambor as an adult, after being invited by Mestre Apolônio, head of the tambor group “Prazer de São Benedito”. She is now 73 years old – forty of which were lived in the tambor. Whenever she needs help, she asks Saint Benedict. “When we pray with faith and know how to be patient, we can do anything,” she says. When asked how many favors she has been granted, she gives a straightforward answer: “Many.”

When she is granted a favor, a roda de tambor – a circle within which the tambor is played and danced – is assembled as a way of showing gratitude. It starts with a litany for the favor granted, after which coffee and tapioca cake are served. The tambor session lasts the whole night long, and in the morning there is pork to rebuild the participants' energy.

Besides being responsible for preserving the tradition, the tambor groups also play a social role in their communities. At the headquarters of “Prazer de São Benedito”, in the district of Liberdade, in São Luís, workshops are held where locals learn arts and crafts and build the instruments they use in the festivities.

“Our goal is to make this cultural product a source of work and income. It’s the economy of culture,” says Nadir Cruz, a coreira and the coordinator of the group. She explains that 60% of their earnings go to the person who makes the object, 20% to the institution, and 10% is used as working capital.

The tambor de crioula of Maranhão has been considered part of Brazil’s intellectual heritage by the Historic and Artistic Heritage Institute (“Iphan”) since 2007. It is estimated that over 200 tambor groups exist all over the state, out of which 130 were registered in a project named “Salvaguarda do Tambor de Crioula”, created last year, on June 18, the national Tambor de Crioula day.

The project, which lasts a little longer than a year, ends next December. Among the activities promoted are group registration, workshops – some of which for children –, the production of a documentary film and three records.

“The style [tambor] is very special; there’s nothing like it. I think that’s what keeps the tradition alive,” says Lázaro Pereira, technical coordinator at “Salvaguarda do Tambor de Crioula”. “The music style comes from Africa, from the slaves, and only a few changes have been made to it, since some adaptations did take place,” he explains. He mentions the lamp as a change, which is used for warming up and tuning the drums. This procedure was originally carried out with a fire. “In order to keep the tradition, we must keep up with the times.”

Translated by Fabrício Ferreira