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Rio crowns samba school Beija-Flor champion as Carnival ends
Rio crowns samba school Beija-Flor champion as Carnival ends

Yahoo

time06-03-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Yahoo

Rio crowns samba school Beija-Flor champion as Carnival ends

STORY: :: The Beija-Flor samba school is crowned champion of the iconic Rio de Janeiro Carnival for the 15th time :: March 5, 2025 :: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil :: Joao Vitor Araujo, Beija-Flor carnival designer :: 'It's a feeling of a cleansed soul, because I've been doing Carnival for many years, this is my second with Beija Flor, last year we didn't get the result we expected, but this year God honored us. God and the orishas." :: March 3, 2025 Winning this year's championship marks another major moment for the school as its legendary singer, Neguinho da Beija-Flor, concluded his story with Beija-Flor after 50 years. The annual Rio Carnival is internationally known for block parties and the big-budget spectacle of parades, featuring thousands of dancers in overboard costumes. The schools are judged on various criteria including choreography, atmosphere, organization, and singing. These top samba schools command a loyal following from their communities, comparable to the devotion shown to local soccer teams. On Saturday (March 8), the six top-rated samba schools will hit the Sambadrome venue again for the all-night Champions' Parade.

Rio Carnival: Flames, feathers and fangs feature in spectacular parade
Rio Carnival: Flames, feathers and fangs feature in spectacular parade

BBC News

time06-03-2025

  • Entertainment
  • BBC News

Rio Carnival: Flames, feathers and fangs feature in spectacular parade

The Beija-Flor samba school has been crowned winner of Rio de Janeiro's celebrated carnival parade gathered at the city's giant Sambadrome arena to watch the top 12 samba schools battle it out for this year's was crowned winner on Wednesday for the 15th time, narrowly beating second-placed Grande Rio. Its performance was an homage to its late director, Luiz Fernando Ribeiro do Carmo, better known as Laíla, who died in June 2021 with Covid-19. While the overarching theme of Beija-Flor's parade was a tribute to its late director, it also featured floats with pyrotechnic displays and dancers dressed as devils. The performances are judged over 10 categories by a total of 40 judges. One of the top 12 samba schools competing for the title was Paraíso do Tuiuti, whose dancers paraded in exuberant feathers. Among the incredible variety of costumes and performances, Vila Isabel's ghosts clad completely in white were a counterpoint to the kaleidoscopic costumes typical of Rio's carnival. Performers from the Grande Rio samba school, which came a close second behind Beija-Flor, kept a watchful eye on the parade. Mocidade delighted spectators with a giant puppet. Many of the Mocidade's dancers wore futuristic costumes, inspired by its theme song, which this year was entitled Back To The Future - There Are No Limits Dreaming. Imperatriz came third this year with a parade which included revellers adorned with gold and white skulls. Portela samba school paid tribute to the legendary Brazilian musician Milton Nascimento. The 82-year-old singer-songwriter waved at the crowd during the parade. Despite their impressive floats, Unidos de Padre Miguel came last this year and therefore will not be competing in the top tier in 2026. All photographs are subject to copyright.

The Long Wave: Trinidad and Tobago carnival celebrates African roots
The Long Wave: Trinidad and Tobago carnival celebrates African roots

The Guardian

time05-03-2025

  • Politics
  • The Guardian

The Long Wave: Trinidad and Tobago carnival celebrates African roots

Hello and welcome to The Long Wave. In our launch edition, I wrote about how one of the things I missed in the media landscape was the ability to simply meet others across the Black diaspora. In the months since, this newsletter has been that place for me, but never more so than this week, when I spoke to Natricia Duncan, our Caribbean correspondent, about this year's carnival in Trinidad and Tobago. M23 rebels target civilians in DRC | Hospital patients in Bukavu, eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo, have described the widespread shooting during the army's chaotic withdrawal days before M23 rebels marched in. 'I heard armed men open my door … that's when they shot me,' said an injured woman. The Rwanda-backed M23 has made rapid advances, stoking fears of a regional war. Guyana hits out at Venezuelan incursion | Guyana's president, Irfaan Ali, has triggered a military response after a Venezuelan coastguard patrol entered its waters and approached an offshore oil facility. The incident is the latest development in a tense, longstanding feud between the neighbouring South American countries over land and maritime borders. US civil rights pioneers on DEI reversal | Donald Trump's recent dismantling of diversity, equity and inclusion programmes in the US has sent shockwaves around the world. But many of those who participated in the 1960s civil rights movement were not surprised by the president's divisive policies. The writer Lottie Joiner hears from activists whose hard-won achievements are being eroded in the country's 'surge backwards'. Adichie returns after 12 years | Nigerian literary enthusiasts have been bubbling with excitement over the release this week of Dream Count, the long-awaited novel by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Our west African correspondent, Eromo Egbejule, reflects on the award-winning writer's career, and speaks to Adichie's fans about her feminist musings, global impact and 'rich auntie' aesthetic. Brazilian samba star steps down | Neguinho da Beija-Flor, one of the world's best-known samba singers, has retired this week after leading 50 consecutive carnival parades for the Beija-Flor (Hummingbird) school in Rio de Janeiro. The reason for his departure? Exhaustion. 'Being a samba-school singer requires the stamina of a marathon runner,' the 75-year-old said. I was, of course, familiar with Trinidad and Tobago's carnival – heavily marketed by its tourist board as the greatest show on Earth – but the more I learned about its origins and importance, the more I realised how little I knew about such a large part of the nation's fabric and history. The carnival tradition dates to the late 1700s and its origins are a swirl of intersections resulting in an annual celebration before the fast for the month of Lent. But within that is something far richer and layered about enslaved populations using song, dance and costume to assert their own culture and folklore while mocking the pomposity and wealth of plantation owners. As an outsider, it struck me how much of carnival's hallmarks are linked to defiance in the face of oppression – either on the part of enslavers or colonisers – or innovation to circumvent that oppression. Calypso became the way isolated enslaved populations from west Africa communicated and secretly jeered at the authorities. The steel pan evolved out of an attempt to get around a British ban on drumming, and so people began to use biscuit tins to make music, and the idea for using metal was born. Pick a thread of almost any aspect of carnival and it leads to a history of continuous reassertion of identity and the right to mischief and pleasure amid repression and erasure. If there were ever an event that exemplifies the enduring connections in the diaspora, it is carnival. Whether it is in the music, dance, or rituals, west Africa and its culture is embedded in the Caribbean despite attempts to efface it. 'African presence has been the victim of systematic erasure, elision and misrepresentation,' wrote the late Dr Louis Regis, an expert on calypso. 'You can see Africa in everything' Calypso music has roots in kaiso, which originated in west Africa in general and Nigeria in particular. These links are being rediscovered. Natricia, reporting from Port of Spain, has been struck by how much the African connection is clear this year. The presence of African artists is remarkable, she tells me. Machel Montano, long regarded as the the king of soca and a cultural ambassador for Trinidad and Tobago, performed with the Nigerian-American singer-songwriter Davido, while the soca star Nailah Blackman hosted the Nigerian artist DJ Obi. Natricia says: 'There was talk about how there's so much connection with west Africa, even in how we move and we dance.' Randall Mitchell, the minister of tourism, culture and arts said he, too, was struck by the similarities during a recent trip to Ghana. 'The way we dance, it's very west African. They dance from their waist down. In east Africa, they dance with their chest,' Mitchell told Natricia. 'Our ancestral heritage, we trace it to west Africa, and that's where that music is from and there's always been that natural connection.' In the Caribbean, we call it wining, Natricia tells me, referring to the signature lower-body winding movement. 'There is that direct connection,' she says. 'All these soca artists are now looking to Afrobeats. You can see Africa in everything.' Sign up to The Long Wave Nesrine Malik and Jason Okundaye deliver your weekly dose of Black life and culture from around the world after newsletter promotion What is particularly interesting, she says, is that while this is happening in music, there is also a social geopolitical movement growing between Africa and the Caribbean. It was evident in the African Union summit last month, where the prime minister of Barbados, Mia Mottley, called for solidarity. Natricia also notes how African and Caribbean countries are joining forces on issues such as reparations and decolonising the education system in Jamaica, which was working with African organisations to update the curriculum. From politics to education to music, Natricia says she is seeing an alignment between the Caribbean and Africa. Enduring connection and resistance This feels like the start of something exciting, a new centre of cultural and political influence drawing on synergies between the two regions. Natricia agrees and attributes this to the fact that we simply all now know more about each other. She shares a story of how, when she was growing up in St Vincent, she was exposed to mostly American shows. Her experience echoed my own – and inspired the name of this newsletter – listening to the long-wave radio and not hearing anything about Africa or the diaspora. Natricia says: 'Back then, there was little exposure or understanding of what Africa is.' But things have changed. The rise of social media, music and videos going viral through instant messaging and sharing, coupled with the expansion and diversification of sources of entertainment, have made previously remote cultures recognisable and familiar. She describes it as the second stage of a regional coming together that began with Bob Marley and Rastafarianism – key aspects of Jamaican culture that were 'important in building the link between the Caribbean and Africa'. She adds: 'More and more, the average person on the street can see: 'Hang on a minute, they move like us!'' There is something profoundly moving about this long arc of history bending towards people who were fractured and removed from one another, and then, centuries later, finding one another again. It made me quite emotional that carnival has kept a flambeau alive, in its ritual and music and dance, of the places that so many people had been wrenched from. Yet, hundreds of years later, those people still recognised each other. That sense of carnival as a space where people persevere despite adversity endures to this day, Natricia says. Trinidad and Tobago is in a state of emergency after a spike in crime, but on the ground Natricia has found that this year's carnival to be 'a show of resilience and not being held hostage' to escalating violence. Ultimately, it's been a place where people can simply breathe. At the end of our conversation, not only did I feel that I had become immersed in an epic cultural and political event, but that I also had met a people in the diaspora with whom I shared an understanding that despite distance and the often heaviness of life and politics, sometimes you just need to exhale. It was a need that I could recognise, even though I am from east Africa and there we move only the top of our bodies. Ramadan is upon us, and if you observe the month, we would love to hear about your favourite foods, rituals and special moments – wherever you are in the world. Get in touch, or share any other thoughts on this week's newsletters by replying to this, or emailing us at thelongwave@ and we may include your response in a future issue.

A Brazilian samba star says goodbye: ‘I've fought a lot, but I also think we need to live'
A Brazilian samba star says goodbye: ‘I've fought a lot, but I also think we need to live'

The Guardian

time02-03-2025

  • Entertainment
  • The Guardian

A Brazilian samba star says goodbye: ‘I've fought a lot, but I also think we need to live'

On Monday night, as 100,000 people gather in the stands and VIP boxes of the Marquês de Sapucaí Sambadrome to watch the second night of parades at Rio de Janeiro's world-famous carnival, a voice that has resonated for half a century will be heard there for the last time. It will be the final performance by Neguinho da Beija-Flor, 75, one of the country's most famous samba singers, who is retiring after leading 50 consecutive parades for the Beija-Flor – or Hummingbird – school. At an event that brings together thousands of members from 12 samba schools, he is the most recognisable voice in Rio's elite carnival league, which operates like a championship, with a winner crowned each year. 'I can't wait to retire. After this Monday's parade, c'est fini,' said Neguinho, with his constant smile and impeccably groomed afro – not a single grey strand in sight – just before heading into the studio for his final rehearsal. He announced his retirement in November, a decision that surprised Rio's samba world, which follows the carnival parade with the same passion that other Brazilians have for football. The reason for his retirement? Exhaustion. 'Being a samba-school singer requires the stamina of a marathon runner,' he said. During the 70–80 minutes of a school's parade, it is the singer's job to maintain the energy of the massive audience – which can be almost twice the size of the crowd at Maracanã soccer stadium – repeatedly chanting the year's samba-enredo theme song in an endless loop. 'It's a massive effort that has only become harder with age,' Neguinho said. Born Luiz Antônio Feliciano in Nova Iguaçu, a poverty-stricken city in the greater Rio area, he started singing for a local samba bloco at age 22 when he was a member of the air force. As a diminutive of negro (black), 'Neguinho' is often used in Brazil in a derogatory manner to refer to a Black boy or man generically. But among Afro-Brazilians, it can also carry an affectionate meaning, which is what he had in mind when he adopted the nickname. 'I've suffered a lot of racism in my life and career, and I've fought a lot, but I also think we need to live. If I had spent my entire life fighting, I wouldn't have had time to dedicate myself to my music and family,' said Neguinho. His big break came in 1976 when he had to step in to replace a lead singer who died suddenly before carnival. The school won the championship – its first – and he became Neguinho from Beija-Flor. Since then, the school has won 14 titles, all under Neguinho's raspy voice and his trademark battle cry: 'Olha a Beija-Flor aí, gente!' ('Here comes Beija-Flor, folks!') Along with the artistry of the singers, musicians, dancers and designers, a key factor in the school's success was the financial support of a local gambling boss. Jogo do bicho – or animal lottery – is an illegal gambling game ubiquitous across Brazil, and long been tied to various criminal activities, including police corruption and murders. In the 1970s, gambling bosses saw samba schools as a means to clean their images and increase control over territories. At least half of the elite samba schools are still linked to bicheiros, as the bosses are known, but Neguinho does not see this as a problem: 'If it weren't for the jogo do bicho, maybe today Rio's carnival wouldn't be the spectacle it is.' Throughout his half-century career, Neguinho has only ever sung for one school, a consistency nearly unthinkable in today's increasingly professionalised carnival, where artists switch groups as quickly as football players change clubs. 'Neguinho is the biggest star of Rio's carnival today, and his farewell marks the end of a romantic era,' said Leonardo Bruno, the author of several books on samba and carnival. 'Beija-Flor has had the face and, more importantly, the voice of Neguinho for the last 50 years, and that's why there was such an outpouring of emotion when he announced his retirement.' Neguinho says that he has never received a salary from the school, explaining that his livelihood comes from his work as a 'mid-year' sambista, as artists with work outside carnival are called. He has also written a string of non-carnival hit sambas and plans to continue his career through a new album and upcoming shows. Despite his calm attitude toward his retirement decision, the singer choked up with tears as he spoke about it three weeks ago during the final rehearsal at Sapucaí. For this Monday, however, he has a plan. 'I've been talking to my therapist, and she suggested that I bring a banner that says: 'Thank you very much.' She told me to just open the banner and say nothing. Otherwise, I won't be able to sing,' he said. 'So that's what I'll do. I'll show the banner and sing. After the parade, a car will be waiting for me – and I'll leave.'

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