Tercer Edade

I did my good deed for the week. The owner of the pousada in Amofala where I am currently staying, invited me to go with her while she volunteered at a school every Saturday. She told me it was to work with the tercer edade. Because she had said school, I immediately assumed tercer edade was the equivalent of 3^rd Graders. She told me there would be forro dancing, food and drinks and I could go and watch the dancing and help serve food. I readily agreed as Amofala is a small town, and I had nothing to do after my third day of research here. My research assistant, who was currently down with the flu, but also with me in Amofala, chuckled as I explained what I thought, I was going to do. He however, knew that the “tercer edade” group was the elderly people of the town and not the 3^rd graders.

So you can imagine my surprise and self inspired humor, when I reached the school and found the courtyard filled with elderly people mingle-ing about. But there was a live forro band, which I was not expecting, live with acordian player, tamborine man and let’s not forget the ever important triangle player! I sat and watched several old people dancing forro with each other before the pousada owner pointed out a man in the corner who she said lived alone. Feeling brave about my Portuguese skills, I wandered over and asked if the seat next to him was taken. He said no, and we started chatting. Dear old Francisco was cute as a button and used to be a fishermen. He said his favorite place to be was the sea, but he was sad that he doesn’t fish anymore. He was sitting around a group of people that were the “watchers,” those people that don’t like to dance, or don’t know how and just like to watch the people dancing. While I was chatting with Francisco, one bold elderly gentleman asked if I wanted to do a little “forro-zinho” aka would I dance with him. So I excused myself and tried my best to keep up with his forro. After I agreed to the first dance, I wasn’t allowed to sit afterwards. Every elderly male of the “tercer edade” wanted a chance to dance with the foreigner. It was so much fun and such a surprising afternoon. Normally when dancing forro with Brasilians my own age, I struggle to keep up and I have to concentrate often times intensely to try not to screw up the dancing…..one, two, one, two, one, two. But with the old guys it was so much fun! They didn’t move that fast so counting the one, two step was much easier, even when the musical rhythm sped up, their dancing did not, so it was perfect for me to feel comfortable with my novice forro dancing skills.

After the music was over, I helped serve some refreshments- chicken soup and a cup of cashew juice. Yes quite the interesting combination. Most of the people there lived with family members, they have no nursing homes here in Amofala. But my dear old fishermen buddy Francisco lived by himself. Apparently his family moved to Fortaleza, the big city, but dear old Francisco couldn’t bear to leave his sleepy fishing village. One of my dance partners asked if he could walk me home, and I had a lovely stroll through downtown Amofala (think the distance of two city blocks and just one street) with a gentleman wearing a fedora hat and missing a front tooth. But it was an interesting and culturally enriching experience for me on a Saturday afternoon in the sleepy beach town of Amofala.