Congressman Reads Internet Famous Anti-Shutdown Tweet on House Floor.
analog meets digital.
Coin. This is the greatest animation you will ever see.
What do you mean?
Part of training Capoeira is the the singing and the instruments, part of my training as capoerista to receive my cords is to write a paper on Quilombos. I chose to switch it up a bit and write a semi fictional story with hard facts woven throughout. Let me know what you think!
Your name is Fulvio. Fitting for a baby born to jaundice. You’re Mulatto. Born from malice. Your father, Euthymius was a rich man. He owned many types of… property. One was Flávia. Your mother. Light skinned, with a flair of blonde hair, which bespoke her name, and what would ultimately be seen as your cowardice.
You started strong though, even if you were weak. The opportunity arose, only twice. The second time it came, you took it. “…Run…” she said. And you did. For a long time. Until your lungs felt raw from the burden your legs demanded. Until you fell against a tree. Smashing against root that would be your grave, until he found you.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Fulvio" you whispered. Almost a croak, your throat was so dry.
Like a baby he held you and nursed the brown liquid into your mouth. It burned, but it was welcome from the hell you just came from.
He slung your arm around his shoulder and together you trekked. How long you haven’t the slightest idea. It felt like eternity.
"This is a secret place" he said. And this would be your home for 3 months.
Until you gained his trust. Until you had the strength to carry yourself again. The strength to go another 42 miles East. When you arrived. You couldn’t believe your eyes. This was a world unlike anything you’ve seen.
Men, in canvas fighting with knives in circles. They almost looked to be dancing. Women with babes at the breast. This was a city unbeknown to anyone or anything you knew.
“Palmares…” he said as he nodded you to enter. Here you would learn their ways. The work they did to survive. Planting. Hunting. You would become to know them as your family. Though a hard one. These were men like you. Yet unlike you. Chiseled from years of the harsh world they lived in.
You learned their dance. Not a dance at all. This was their secret. Every time they defended this place, Quilombo dos Palmares you would later learn, it all came back to the circle. The Roda. Here you would learn Capoeira. The one thing you could use to make yourself stronger. And it worked, for a time.
You trained everyday. Learned the songs. Learned the Berimbau. Everything he threw at you became one more stroke on the life you were painting for yourself. Even though you were the weakest. The slowest… For the first time in a long time you smiled. A real smile. You felt the pride of what it might feel like to be called a man.
As your training got better, you were allowed to go out more and more on the raids. Fulvio you were no more. Serpente Escorregadia is what you liked to go by now. Having gotten out of 14 different battles with not a scratch on you.
Then one day he called you. You hadn’t seen him in months. But you owed him your life. You were ready and now was the time to show him your worth.
“My Uncle, he is weak. He was strong but now he is weak, grown fat on his own legend. We are not royalty to forget the men on the other side of the fire. He wants peace. I do not trust this Governor of Pernambuco. I will not leave. Will you stand with me?”
And so you did. When Cucaú Valley fell. The betrayal realized— You fought beside him. 15 years you fought beside him.
Until that one day that burns into the back of your eyes even now… You had 15 of your best. He handpicked them for you for this mission. All was as planned. Then it all fell apart. One by one each of you fell. They were ready for this. And unprepared you were in your bravado. Serpente Escorregadia finally was trapped in a corner, and at that, when your life was at the end of the blade, Fulvio returned.
You openly wept, doing—saying anything to have your life spared. You remembered her voice, “…run…” but there was nowhere to run. The fight in Serpente was gone, and only Fulvio remained. The words rushed out before you even knew what you were saying.
“please… PLEASE. Mercy! I will bring you to him! There is a secret place. Some 40 miles from here… Trust me, TRUST ME, I know where he has gone! Just let me live. I will never run!”
And at that moment Serpente Escorregadia died. In that moment if you only knew what you had done. Coward. Yellow. Fulvio. Your own little life, for so many others.
It would be 3 weeks before your betrayal was known. 3 weeks before the ghosts of your sins came to find you. 23 days had gone by since he was found. His head now on a spike on the way to Recife in the praça as warning of what would happen to others if they tried to be as brave as him. After 67 years of constant war, the greatest Quilombo in history finally toppled. Because of you.
Now, at the edge of the abyss. Your ruin. Watching the waves crash below with your pathetic life speeding to an end. The last words you utter before all turns black are:
“Forgive me, Zumbi.”
—by RON CEBALLOS
We all age.
The choices we make reveal the true nature of our character.