Shayna McHugh
April 2006

It’s incredible how my view of capoeira angola has evolved throughout the course of my capoeira life. I started out with a simple misconception: that angola was simply regional/contemporânea played slower, lower, and in an impossibly small roda. It was limited to meia lua de compasso, baby aús, headstands, queda de rins, and lots of rolling around in a cramped negativa/rolê – and thus, in my mind, pretty boring. My first instructor knew little about capoeira angola, so none of us had any clue.

Later, after I took a few “real” angola classes with FICA, I came to perceive how different the ginga, the movements, and the kinesthetic of angola really are from those of regional/contemporânea. I started to see capoeira angola as less boring and more frustrating. It annoyed me that all my contemporânea experience didn’t really help me in an angola game. It puzzled and aggravated me that every time I played an angoleiro, even a relatively inexperienced one, though would catch me a thousand times while remaining frustratingly impenetrable themselves.

Alongside the frustration, though, was a growing germ of admiration that came from watching incredible rodas at Mestre Valmir’s academy in Salvador. The music, first of all, was the most incredibly complex and beautiful capoeira music I’d ever heard. The energy of the rodas was not that jumping-up-and-down, going-crazy energy of contemporânea rodas, but instead something more subtle, more constant, and extremely powerful. And the games? Wow. The interaction, the strategy, the “checkmates,” the revenge, the humor, the suspense – were all incredible. The players were expressive, creative, and each one was unique in his or her style.

The more angoleiros I saw (in various groups in Brazil), the more I started to think, “MAN I wish I could play like that!” Bit by bit, I started to see capoeira angola as richer, deeper, more varied, more creative, and with more ‘substance’ than capoeira regional. I started to pay attention to and subsequently be moved by ladainhas, whereas I used to find them exceedingly boring (that is, before I understood Portuguese). I began to understand and appreciate the complex interplay of factors present in the chamadas, which add a whole new dimension to the game. I saw far more angoleiros who were versatile enough to hold their own in regional rodas than vise versa, and I marveled at their spontaneity and adaptability.

Over time, certain things about capoeira regional also started to bug me. I personally am very anti-cordão-system (perhaps it has to do with the fact that I was “raised” in an informal regional group without a mestre or cords, but the idea of joining a group with a cord system and batizados just does not appeal to me in the least). I came to value creativity/individuality over ‘technique’ and the relaxation/looseness/molejo of angola over the ‘firmness and steadiness’ emphasized in contemporânea. I missed elements like chamadas, ladainhas, and the full bateria, and I started to feel that regional games were often too short to develop a good dialogue. There are a number of other things I dislike, but I won’t elaborate, because I don’t want to turn this into a regional-bashing rant. I have the utmost respect for regional/contemporânea mestres like Acordeon, Suassuna, Lobão, Itapoãn, Marcelo Caveirinha, Jelon Viera, Edna Lima, and many, many others, both well-known and little-known, who play and teach great capoeira; I’m not trying to undermine their work or discredit their style and methods, simply stating my personal feelings and impressions.

One quick disclaimer: I don’t buy into the idea held by some elitist angoleiros that capoeira regional/contemporânea is a completely empty, watered-down form of the art, a bastard child of the traditional version, not even worthy of the name ‘capoeira.’ I admit that I do find regional to lack certain elements, and to have distanced itself more from the art’s fundamentals of malícia. However, I cannot bring myself state that the style is totally worthless, simply because my experience as a contemporânea capoeirista (and the experience of others) contradicts this. I got a LOT out of contemporânea: it caused me to grow and develop physically and mentally, it opened my eyes to lots of things, it captured my heart, it brought me to Brazil three times, and it literally changed the path of my life. Angola can be an ‘acquired taste,’ and who knows whether or not I’d have fallen in love with capoeira if I’d seen angola first. O mundo de capoeira é grande, and I just can’t look down my nose at my camaradas who train regional/contemporânea. Cada um é um; people train the style that they feel ‘fits’ them the best, and develop their own individual jeito within that style. Capoeira’s and capoeiristas’ diversity makes the art beautiful.

Anyway, to finish the story, in late 2005 I decided to train exclusively angola. Avisa meu mano, avisa meu mano, avisa meu mano, capoeira de angola mandou me chamar – this is exactly what angola does: it ‘calls’ to me more than regional/contemporânea. This is not to say that I don’t enjoy jumping into a regional roda (I still do whenever I get the chance) but training it consistently just doesn’t appeal to me anymore. As for the whole versatility argument – “You can only be a well-rounded capoeirista if you train both angola and regional” – I used to subscribe to it, but I’ve gradually come to believe that capoeira angola, alone, produces more complete, more versatile players, than does regional… just my opinion; I know many will disagree.

In some ways, switching to angola was like starting over in capoeira. I had to re-learn the ginga, the basics, and the very way of using and moving my body. I won’t say it hasn’t been very tough at times. I had to keep my ego in check and accept the fact that after finally starting to come into my own after 4 years of contemporânea, I was back to being a near-beginner. I continually have to deal with the fact that my contemporânea habits affect my angola game, and that any experienced angoleiro can tell I’ve trained the other style. I initially felt (and sometimes still do feel) a slight hesitance of the angola community in accepting me, as though they consider me a poser rather than a true convert. However, I’ve found that being humble and teachable gets me a long way, both in learning and in earning respect. Better to be underestimated than overestimated.

I’m not sure where my path as an angoleira will take me, which mestre I’ll end up training under, or how my views will change in the years to come. I have no idea what my game looks like anymore; it’s been over a year since I’ve been filmed. And of course the world of angola isn’t perfect either… there are plenty of ‘politics’ and practices I disagree with. Yet somehow these things don’t worry me. I just know that I feel extremely fulfilled and happy to be practicing and playing capoeira angola.

Eu sou angoleiro / Angoleiro eu sei que eu sou...