A Musical Voyage - Seu Jorge

Being alone at sea had proved to be a cathartic period. Plenty of time to think and assess my thoughts, consequently finding out more about myself. This was the conclusion that I arrived at.

Sailing around the Americas eventually took me in a southern direction, to warmer climes. I had no clear destination - so I just sailed. The underlying aim, I suppose, was to investigate this exotic region of a continent.

Something told me that it would be rich with culture, vitality and life. It did not take me so long to reach a vibrant port. The locals did not speak the Queens English and chattered to me in a Spanish tongue. This was a tad frustrating for one - as I had no idea what they would say to me as I spent my first two days there alone and restless.

This was until I met a lovely gentleman who had visited the British Isles and was able to speak in the same tongue as myself, albeit with an unusual accent. He was an interesting fellow, with a telling glint in his eye. He called himself Senor Musica although he allowed me address him as Edmilson. He was from a country called Brasil. The home of his mother, Paula and his father Josue. And his dear sisters, Claudia and Susie. He spoke of his family with remarkable reverence. He appeared to be a well travelled man with consummate intelligence. Extremely knowledgeable on the music emanating  from Latin America.

We established a friendship due to our love of good music and attractive women. Often conversing over local cuisine and discussing many interesting and humorous topics. He regularly eulogised about the music scene back in his country and mentioned many names that I took a mental note of. One, however, he mentioned more than the rest. The name was Seu Jorge.

The name and stories of his talent intrigued me greatly. I knew I would have to venture to the country of Brasil. My curious mind was made up. I had stayed long enough in my current dwelling. I extended an offer to Senor Musica to accompany me to his homeland. He declined stating that he had pressing matters here to attend to. So I accepted this and set sail once again on a pleasantly warm evening stocked with fantastically edible delights, so kindly attributed to myself by a God fearing family who were friends of Edmilson.

It was a swelteringly hot day when I arrived at Brasil. I took in the salty sea air as I gradually drew into the bosom of an inviting harbour. There was a flock of excitable youths near by as I got off my boat, they were impressed by my humble vessel of transportation. I was aware that the indigenous locals spoke Portuguese, a different language to my prior destination. Briefed by my dear friend, I knew some words and merely greeted them and said the name - Seu Jorge. They smiled and lead me through a small colourful market place and then into a bustling town that excited every single one of my senses. Eventually, after maybe an hour of walking and taking all around me we arrived at the favelas. I could hear music playing. I looked at one of the youths and he nodded and smiled at me as though he could sense my anticipation of what was in store.

Before I knew it we were in the midst of a quite outstanding outdoor concert. The atmosphere was compelling and I was completely taken aback by the multicultural assembly of races that were present. It was a rich myriad of beauty and diversity that I had never ever seen before in my life. These people certainly knew how to have a good time indeed.

The man of whom everybody was transfixed with appeared to be the man who my friend had spoken of. Seu, he was singing and playing with a band of men. I could not understand his words, but I did not need to. He was simply marvellous. The foreign tongue did not diminish the pleasure I was experiencing. He was a man of the people. He played a guitar as though he had done so for the entirety of  his life and the crowd were utterly enthralled. I smiled to myself and felt grateful that I was able to be stood there, in a splendid moment in time, with this happy animated crowd of music lovers.

The stars sparkled over the favelas, as the music continued deep into the night. Before I left this most beautiful country, I purchased albums such as Cru, America Brasil o Disco and Samba Esporte Fino.

I was sad to leave this charming land but knew I had more musical adventures that lay in store for me. The destination as yet would remain a mystery.


Demola, TCC







Tive Razao

Seu Olhar