African-American Roots Tourism In Brazil

Latin American Perspectives http://lap.sagepub.com African-American Roots Tourism in Brazil Patricia de Santana Pinho Latin American Perspectives 2008; 35; 70 DOI: 10.1177/0094582X08315792 The online version of this article can be found at: http://lap.sagepub.com/cgi/content/abstract/35/3/70 Published by: http://www.sagepublications.com On behalf of: Latin American Perspectives, Inc. Additional services and information for Latin American Perspectives can be found at: Email Alerts: http://lap.sagepub.com/cgi/alerts Subscriptions: http://lap.sagepub.com/subscriptions Reprints: http://www.sagepub.com/journalsReprints.nav Permissions: http://www.sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.nav Citations http://lap.sagepub.com/cgi/content/refs/35/3/70 Downloaded from http://lap.sagepub.com at SUNY ALBANY LIBRARY on December 9, 2008 African-American Roots Tourism in Brazil by Patricia de Santana Pinho The novelty of African-American roots tourism to Brazil is that to some extent it defies the secondary position occupied by Brazil in the African diaspora, a context marked by the hegemony of U.S.-centric conceptions of blackness. At the same time, roots tourism entails three kinds of inequalities: the disparity between those who have access to travel and those who do not, the belief of many African-American tourists that they can exchange what they view as their “modernity” for the “traditions” of the local black communities with whom they interact during their travels, and the much greater access of African-Americans to the means by which Africa and the diaspora can be represented. Blacks located in the North and the South of the American continent have unequal access to global currents of power. Thus, at the same time that it offers the possibility of challenging traditional North-South flows of cultural exchange, African-American roots tourism confirms the existing hierarchy within the black Atlantic. Keywords: Roots tourism, Brazil, African-Americans, Identities, Blackness Long regarded as a frivolous subject, the study of tourism is nowadays widely recognized in the academic fields of anthropology, sociology, and cultural studies, but tourism is still tainted by its intimate connections with exploitation and inequality. Many scholars have argued that international tourism reenacts colonialism, since it has more often that not been grounded in an exploitative structure in which privileged people from core countries are pampered by downtrodden inhabitants of the world’s peripheries and semiperipheries (Hiller, 1979; Crick, 1989). Since metropolitan centers have had control over the nature and expansion of tourism in developing countries, some academics have also characterized tourism as a form of imperialism (Nash, 1989). A case in point is tourists’ insistence on enjoying abroad the comforts they have at home: eating the same type of food, being protected from beggars and pickpockets, and having access to particular standards of hygiene. Sustaining this “tourist bubble” (Cohen, 1972; Smith, 1989) is economically onerous and usually environmentally disastrous, and it places a burden on those who live in the tourist destinations of spending their lives smiling, entertaining, and pleasing the tourists. Ultimately, this unevenness contributes to defining the “place” of each nation in global configurations of power, establishing “hospitality” and the “tendency to serve” as “national characteristics” of Latin American and Caribbean countries. Tourism has been described as reviving colonialism when it blurs the line that separates service from servitude, for example, when the black hands of the Patricia de Santana Pinho has a Ph.D. in social sciences from the Universidade Estadual de Campinas and is the author of Reinvenções da África na Bahia (2004) and Mama Africa: Reinventing Blackness in Bahia (forthcoming). LATIN AMERICAN PERSPECTIVES, Issue 160, Vol. 35 No. 3, May 2008 70-86 DOI: 10.1177/0094582X08315792 © 2008 Latin American Perspectives 70 Downloaded from http://lap.sagepub.com at SUNY ALBANY LIBRARY on December 9, 2008 Pinho / AFRICAN-AMERICAN TOURISM 71 descendants of enslaved Africans wait on, clean up after, and provide bodily pleasures for predominantly white European and North American visitors. But what happens when the tourists themselves are descendants of slaves and in their home country face similar forms of discrimination as their hosts? How much does a shared black ancestry challenge the colonialist and imperialist aspects of tourist-host relationships? This article examines whether AfricanAmerican roots tourism to Brazil represents a departure from the paradigm of tourism as a force that deepens global inequalities and whether it challenges the hierarchies of the black Atlantic world. While some trends of tourism, especially ecotourism and sex tourism, have received substantial attention from scholars, very little has been written on roots tourism. Likewise, research on black tourists is still scarce, even though in the United States alone tourism involving African-Americans increased by 16 percent between 2002 and 2004 while the industry itself grew only 1 percent (Barbosa, 2004).1 Whereas gender and nationality have often been studied, there has not yet been enough reflection on the way racial identities shape and are shaped by tourism. This article aims at filling this void. African-American roots tourism is innovative because to some extent it defies the secondary position occupied by Brazil in a context marked by the hegemony of U.S.-centric conceptions of blackness, thus promoting cultural expressions developed in the global South as important references of blackness and Africanness for blacks in the Northern Hemisphere. At the same time, roots tourism contains the discrepancy between Afro-descendants who have access to travel and those who do not and is stimulated by a belief among many of the African-American tourists that they can exchange what they view as their “modernity” for the “traditions” of the black communities they visit. Therefore, this study takes into account the asymmetry that permeates the relations between blacks located in the North and the South of the American continent, examining their cultural and political consonances and dissonances, as well as their unequal access to global currents of power. It focuses on three intersecting aspects of African-American roots tourism to Brazil: the search for African roots, the different but complementary meanings of the countries visited by African-Americans, which I refer to as the “map of Africanness,” and the way roots tourism has shaped the place of Brazil and, more specifically, of Bahia in the black Atlantic world. IN SEARCH OF ROOTS The search for “roots” is not exclusively an African-American practice. While a widespread aspect of the construction of identities, it is the more important for groups whose histories are marked by migration, separation, and discrimination. Along with other means such as literature, cinema, and TV, tourism is increasingly a channel for the fulfillment of the desire to reconnect with a past “land of origin.” More and more, the descendants of Japanese immigrants to the American continent are visiting their “fatherland,” just as American Jews travel to Israel to visit what they regard as the ancient land of their ancestors and descendants of Irish, Italian, and Scottish immigrants to the Americas travel to Europe to get in touch with their “roots.” As Malkki (1992: 24) Downloaded from http://lap.sagepub.com at SUNY ALBANY LIBRARY on December 9, 2008 72 LATIN AMERICAN PERSPECTIVES points out, “the metaphorical concept of having roots involves intimate linkages between people and place” that are usually imagined in terms of the botanical metaphors of roots and soil. African-American roots tourism can be situated in the long history of the search for Africa by Afro-descendants in the New World that includes such important events as Marcus Garvey’s “back to Africa” movement and the PanAfrican congresses that acknowledged the commonality between Africans and the world’s dispersed blacks. African-American roots tourism to Africa began, however, only in the early 1970s. The 1976 publication of Alex Haley’s best-seller Roots inspired African-American scholarship, culture, and politics in a period marked by a growing awareness by diasporic blacks of the need to recover—or, according to Stuart Hall (1998), produce—both their links with Africa and their own Africanness. By the late 1970s African-American roots tourists had expanded their routes to include non-African countries that were, nonetheless, inhabited by significant Afro-descendant populations and known for having “well-preserved African cultures.” The African-American roots tourists focused on here represent a very specific kind of tourist not just because they are searching for what they believe to be their roots but because, in contrast to other tourists, who are usually interested in the exoticism of the “other,” they crisscross the Atlantic hoping to find the “same” represented by their “black brothers and sisters.” In this sense, African-American roots tourism represents a way of reconnecting a fragmented transnational African affiliation. Thus, I prefer to call this phenomenon “roots tourism” rather than “ethnic tourism,” even though this term could certainly be employed to describe it (see Pinho, 2003). Roots tourism is a kind of ethnic tourism because it sets in motion people who are searching for elements that can be used to construct their ethnic identities. However, I prefer the term “roots tourism” for two reasons. First, “ethnic tourism” has been employed by such authors as Dean MacCannell (1992) and Pierre van den Berghe (1994) to describe the process by which people from core countries travel to peripheral areas of the globe to cohabit with the “exotic cultures” of the “other,” sometimes even aiming to “go native.” Conversely, in roots tourism, the primary goal is to find the “same,” even though this “same” is usually not quite as “similar” as many tourists expect. In fact, the frustrations of the roots tourists in Brazil are important outcomes of their visits, even if they do not significantly disrupt the tourists’ overall satisfaction with the “Africanness” of the people and the “authenticity” of the culture they encounter. Second, the idea of African roots is very important in African-American popular culture in general and in African-American tourism specifically. Among the most important motivations for AfricanAmericans to visit Brazil is the idea that it is a place where they can have access to their roots, both cultural roots (the abundant “African traditions” that many African-Americans believe they have lost) and familial roots (the diasporic family that was dispersed by slavery and colonialism). Metaphors of kinship require the imagining of roots, and, as Malkki (1992) argues, assume a natural tie between the (scattered) family and the (mother)land. Commenting on her preference for visiting countries that are populated by people of African descent, one of the African-American visitors I interviewed in Brazil explained how roots tourism allowed for her reconnection with other members of the African diasporic family: Downloaded from http://lap.sagepub.com at SUNY ALBANY LIBRARY on December 9, 2008 Pinho / AFRICAN-AMERICAN TOURISM 73 I prefer to go to countries of African descent, and I enjoy it because I have a connection with them. It’s like a searching. Maybe it is [that] . . . I don’t know where I belong. I see other people and they have relatives in Canada, and in Barbados, in England, in other countries. But my relatives are just there: it starts and stops in the U.S. But there has to be something else. So I guess I am in search of my beginning. . . . I feel a kinship, I feel a relationship. The first time I went to Africa was just overwhelming. It was so emotional. And I did feel a kinship there. Even the first time I went to Jamaica, and they called me “cousin.” So I think it’s the kinship, it’s finding the lost relatives. But the string has been cut, and it can’t be mended right there, but I can connect somewhere else with other people of African descent. Because of the lack of officially collected data on African-American tourism in Brazil and the shortage of research on this topic, my analysis is based mostly on information I have been assembling through field research. Although I first noticed the presence of African-American tourists in Bahia in 1996,2 I started to delve into the topic only in 2000, and since then I have been conducting intermittent field research both in Brazil and in the United States. The bulk of my research has thus far consisted of interviews (with tourists, their guides, and travel agents) and participant observation, especially while accompanying groups throughout their stay in Bahia.3 Neither Bahiatursa (the tourism board of the state of Bahia) nor EMBRATUR (the Brazilian federal government’s tourism board) collects data specifically on black U.S. American tourists. While far from advocating racial divisions or reinforcing the continuity of the belief in “races,” my work recognizes the effects of racism and raciology (Gilroy, 2000) in shaping the lives of peoples in the American continent. It is undeniable that centuries of slavery, white supremacy, and antiblack discrimination have had a significant impact on the creation of black and white subjectivities (as well as the subjectivities of those many individuals who are neither black nor white or sometimes one or the other depending on the situation). My research indicates that black and white U.S. Americans have very different motives for visiting Brazil, but this information has been overlooked by the tourism boards. Considering their ever-growing presence in Brazil, it is striking that no data are collected on African-American visitors. In my view, this attitude exposes the unawareness on the part of the authorities of the importance of these black visitors, especially in the state of Bahia, where African-American tourism has boomed in recent years. My critique is much less concerned with the possible economic benefits generated by strategies oriented toward African-American tourists than with the social and cultural meanings of this lack of initiative. In my view, the absence of stratagems geared toward African-American tourists exposes the peculiarities and intricacies of Brazilian racism. Instead of explicit, confrontational antiblack attitudes, the official tourism strategists reveal their disbelief in the power of black people even if these black people are enjoying the doubly valued position of tourists and “Americanos.” Dann (1993) has pointed to the limitations of the variables “nationality” and “country of residence” in tourism research. Among other problems, these categories overlook ethnic, gender, and class variations among members of nations, thus failing to notice their different motivations to travel. This does Downloaded from http://lap.sagepub.com at SUNY ALBANY LIBRARY on December 9, 2008 74 LATIN AMERICAN PERSPECTIVES not mean, however, that “ethnicities” are free from internal divisions or that they designate homogeneous groups. It would, therefore, be erroneous to assert that all African-Americans who travel to Brazil have the same feelings toward the country. There are, in fact, many differences pertaining to gender, age, and religion, among other issues that distinguish one tourist from another, not to mention idiosyncrasies and individual life histories. Yet, as much as I am concerned with the diversity of experiences within African-American tourism, I must recognize the existence of some traits and aspects that permeate African-American tourism practices in Brazil. The search for African roots is certainly the most important motive for African-Americans’ visiting Bahia. Another noticeable aspect of African-American roots tourists is that they usually travel in groups organized by travel agencies and follow preestablished itineraries. Besides functioning to promote the collective nature of ethnic identities, travel in groups stimulates the experience to which Urry (2002) refers as the “romantic tourist gaze,” an experience that is enjoyed either in solitude or in the presence of people to whom one is closely connected. The presence of “strangers” spoils it. Bruner (1996) and Finley (2001) have reported on the desire—at times transformed into a concrete demand—of African-American tourists to visit the slave dungeons in Elmina Castle (Ghana) only with other blacks, since they view the presence of whites as disturbing this intimate moment. In my view, the history of antiblack racism also accounts for the preference of African-Americans to travel to places where blacks constitute the majority of the population. Analyzing the effects of prejudice and discrimination on tourism in the United States, Steven Philipp (1994) explains that, in comparison with whites, black tourists are much less likely to make unplanned stops, walk on unknown streets, or eat at restaurants not previously recommended by friends. Also noteworthy is information that may help explain the importance of preestablished itineraries in African-American travel: “Blacks are significantly more likely to agree with the statement ‘When I travel I like to be part of a large group’ than are whites. Likewise, . . . blacks are also significantly more likely to agree with the statement ‘When I travel I like to have every minute occupied with activities’ than are whites” (Philipp, 1994: 484–485). While Philipp does not say that the “large groups” are composed exclusively of black people, my research has indicated that African-Americans travel to Brazil in groups composed mainly or solely of black tourists. Most of the groups I observed were mainly made up of women and retired liberal professionals. While gender and age should be carefully scrutinized in the study of tourism in general, they are particularly important in African-American roots tourism. Besides the fact that retired professionals have more time and disposable income to travel, there are other reasons for the predominance of older African-Americans in roots tourism in Brazil. This analysis can benefit from Urry’s notion of the “tourist gaze” and, most important, the anticipation that helps generate and shape the tourist’s experience. If the tourist gaze is socially organized and systematized, an “archeology of the gaze” can be undertaken. Books, magazines, documentaries, and feature films are some examples of media that work on the systematization of the tourist gaze. In the case of the older generation of African-American roots tourists, Alex Haley’s Roots, Downloaded from http://lap.sagepub.com at SUNY ALBANY LIBRARY on December 9, 2008 Pinho / AFRICAN-AMERICAN TOURISM 75 later transformed into a highly influential TV series, played a very important role in stimulating the search for African roots. To a lesser extent, older African-Americans were also informed by the film Black Orpheus (1959), “a postcard idealization” of the favela that revealed to the world the rhythms of samba and bossa nova and established Carnival as the main image of Brazil (Stam, 1997: 164–176). Most important, as Stam (1997: 176) also emphasizes, Black Orpheus called attention to Brazil’s blackness and the Africanized phenomenon of its Carnival “at a time when advances in aeronautics were making tourist travel available on a vast scale.” Many of the African-American tourists I interviewed mentioned the importance of this film in exposing them to their first images of Brazil and instilling in them a desire to travel to this black country to witness firsthand the flourishing culture of its people. That there are more women than men among African-American tourists can be explained, at least in part, by the idea that women play the role of “bearers of the nation” and therefore feel somewhat responsible for nourishing the cultural elements of their ethnic group. Most of the women I interviewed expressed altruistic reasons, besides personal ones, for their roots trips to Brazil. They consider traveling in search of cultural roots a means of cultivating a sense of Africanness that they deem essential for the perpetuation of black identities in the United States (Pinho, n.d.b). Among the elements that characterize African-American tourists in Bahia, religious affiliation is possibly the one that mostly differentiates individual experience. Some groups travel with the well-defined purpose of connecting with the religion of Candomblé as a means of enhancing their African-oriented identity. In fact, some groups are composed exclusively of worshipers of Orixás. Most groups, even if not highly engaged with religions of African origin, still consider Candomblé a very important symbol of “preserved Africanness” and therefore either visit temples of Candomblé or do a shell reading with a priest/ess during their stay in Bahia. In contrast, there are individuals, especially Protestants and Pentecostals, who refuse to have any interaction with Candomblé because they see it as going against their beliefs. Their connection with the African roots of Bahia is therefore restricted to eating the food and attending the musical and dance performances. It may not be necessary to point out, however, that Afro-Bahian food, music, and dance are closely linked to Candomblé.4 THE MAP OF AFRICANNESS The search for African roots has stimulated African-American tourism to some countries more than to others. Before Brazil became a destination, African-Americans were traveling to African countries with the purpose of reconnecting with the motherland. I argue that the specific meanings of Brazil should be analyzed alongside the meanings attributed to the other countries visited by African-Americans, which together compose what I am naming the “map of Africanness.” African-Americans certainly do not limit their tourism to these countries. Several of the tourists I interviewed were members of organizations such as the Travelers Century Club, which give awards to people who have visited 100 countries, 150 countries, and so on. This fact indicates that many of these tourists have a significant amount of disposable income to Downloaded from http://lap.sagepub.com at SUNY ALBANY LIBRARY on December 9, 2008 76 LATIN AMERICAN PERSPECTIVES spend on leisure. Of course, this does not mean that all African-Americans can afford to travel abroad. If there are so many differences among African-American tourists, even greater discrepancies exist within the African-American population as a whole. The map of Africanness that I am sketching here contains only those countries that tourists visit with the explicit purpose of heightening their sense of black identity. One could correctly argue that visiting a European country would also be valuable for that effect; the historical importance of traveling to Paris for African-American scholars and artists in the first half of the twentieth century is widely recognized. However, in the tourists’ discourse, the map of Africanness includes only countries located in Africa and in the African diaspora. There is a hierarchy within this imaginary map of Africanness in which each place is assigned its own meaning. Egypt is considered the “place of black pride,” the great proof of the existence of a magnificent black civilization prior to Rome or Greece and therefore a counterhegemonic reference to an Afrocentrism based on the great discoveries of the Nile. West African countries such as Ghana, Senegal, and Nigeria are understood as the “place of origin,” the place the ancestors left to face the horrors of the Middle Passage; the dungeons and staging areas of the slave trade are the main attractions for tourists in these countries. Brazil has become the “place to find preserved traditions,” ideally the same traditions that are believed to have been lost among blacks in the United States. Consequently, tourists experience pride in visiting and connecting with the sophisticated Egyptian and Ethiopian civilizations, the suffering undergone by their ancestors in visiting the infamous “Doors of No Return” in West Africa, and the joy of recognizing that descendants of slaves like themselves were able to maintain a rich African culture in the New World. Feelings of pain, anger, and the jubilation of reconnection are inspired by the different places visited on the “map of Africanness,” serving therefore to confer an identity on each place. In order to understand how places acquire distinctive identities, it is necessary to foreground the spatial distribution of hierarchical power relations. This requires asking the difficult question of who has the power to define the meanings of places. In the context of transnational black relations, AfricanAmericans—especially scholars and cultural producers, who, nonetheless, have also been travelers—have enjoyed greater access to global currents of power than their diasporic counterparts. This is expressed in the abundance of books, feature films, documentaries, and other cultural means through which African-Americans have had the opportunity to yearn for, imagine, and ultimately represent places in the African diaspora. In Wonders of the African World, a documentary created to explain Africa to African-Americans, the U.S. scholar Henry Louis Gates Jr. (1999) travels throughout the African continent, stopping in most of the countries that constitute what I am calling the map of Africanness. One of the reasons that Gates made the documentary was, he says, his obsession with finding his roots. Of his visit to Elmina Castle he says: “We feel at home here because we are surrounded by black people. That’s why we come. But the memory of slavery and of what our ancestors must have gone through is always lurking. Even a pretty little harbor town like Elmina is dominated by a slave castle. And for us a slave castle is like Auschwitz.” This is a strong statement and is certainly not the first Downloaded from http://lap.sagepub.com at SUNY ALBANY LIBRARY on December 9, 2008 Pinho / AFRICAN-AMERICAN TOURISM 77 to associate the horrors of African slavery with the Jewish Holocaust. Indeed, the comparison between African-American tourism to the slave dungeons in Africa and the so-called Holocaust tourism of Jews who visit the sites of the former Nazi concentration camps is a very important one for both analytical and political reasons. However, as we hear in Gates’s statement, African-Americans visit Elmina and other slave sites in West Africa not only to mourn the memory of the ancestors but also “to be surrounded by black people.” Being among a black majority is undoubtedly one of the main reasons for African-American tourism to Brazil as well. The difference nonetheless is that in their visits to Brazil tourists do not have to deal with the suffering attached to the fact that some Africans were themselves active slave owners and slave dealers. There certainly were Brazilian Afro-descendants actively involved in the slave trade, but this information is not emphasized by the Brazilian tourism industry. In addition, it seems to me that the roots tourists are much more invested in reconnecting with their Afro-Brazilian “brothers and sisters,” who are perceived as “siblings in destiny”: I have been amazed at the large number of black people [in Brazil]! Even though I did know that Brazil was the largest black country outside of Africa. But just to see them living and thriving, and to know that they have been here since the same amount of time that my ancestors were in the U.S. . . . That’s just amazing! This is a sign that I need to study more, and to learn more about that. I just feel that I have always had this separation: these bits and pieces, and now I am trying to pull them together. . . . We were separated. We’ve been scattered but now we’re being brought back together. . . . And I found that here. The notion that Afro-descendants in the diaspora form a special kind of transnational “family” is not a new one. It can be traced back to the rhetoric of Pan-Africanism and was of crucial importance for Marcus Garvey’s movement and for the discourses of Négritude. It is also present in Claude McKay’s (1970) memoirs, which highlight, more than the common origins, the similar conditions of life for blacks in the diaspora. African-American tourists in Brazil constantly comment that they could have been born there instead of in the United States. The unpredictability of the destiny of their ancestors is conceived of together with the certainty of their own common fate, marked by slavery, oppression, struggle, and resistance. The African-American filmmaker Thomas Allen Harris describes his search for the African homeland outside of Africa: in Brazil. In his 2003 documentary, which carries the evocative title That’s My Face (É minha cara), Harris describes how his personal longings overlap with a wider African-American quest for a place where it is possible for a black person to feel comfortable. Revealingly, Harris finds “his face” in Bahia. “To find what I was looking for I had to go to Brazil,” we hear him declaring as if responding to the whispering female voice that continuously sings in the background: “Go to Brazil: find the Orixás there.” Walking in the streets of Salvador on an ordinary hot afternoon, Harris comes across another African-American visitor, who explains to him the reason for her visit: “I needed to feel what it feels like to be part of the majority. I needed to be in a place where everyone else looked like me. I needed to be in a place that felt like home, not because I was born there but because my spirit was at home there.” Downloaded from http://lap.sagepub.com at SUNY ALBANY LIBRARY on December 9, 2008 78 LATIN AMERICAN PERSPECTIVES Why has Brazil become an imagined home for African-Americans? How do we define “home-places” vis-à-vis “other people’s places”? How are these definitions related to the way we conceive of the inhabitants of the places we select, especially when we elect “home-places” in other countries? And how are these choices connected to our identities or what we consider our identities to be? For Gillian Rose (1995: 89), when we identify with a place it is because, in some way, we feel that we belong to that place. We identify with places in which we feel comfortable, in which we feel at home, because “part of how you define yourself is symbolized by certain qualities of that place.” Senses of place can have different scales: local, regional, and national. What is original about roots tourism is that it stimulates senses of place on a transnational scale that conceives of dispersed people as part of the same group—in this case, the African diaspora, the black family. Having or wanting a place where we feel we belong is part of the way we understand our place in the world. The map of Africanness imagined by AfricanAmerican tourists encompasses a large number of countries with different and specific meanings. Which are the places that African-Americans feel they belong to? What are the different feelings they have for each of these places? I find the term “map” useful for reflecting on these questions. Maps indicate a sense of shared connotations, a collective system of senses in the vein of what Hall (1995: 176) has defined as “maps of meanings”—“the systems of shared meanings which people who belong to the same community, group, or nation use to help them interpret and make sense of the world.” As Hall indicates, having a position within a set of shared meanings gives us a sense of our identity. The many meanings of the word “place” are culturally constructed. To “know one’s place,” an expression that has been widely used in Brazil in reference to black people, implies both spatial and political meanings (Hayden, 1995). Tourists have access to “places” (with both spatial and political meanings) that most Brazilian blacks do not. Expensive restaurants and fancy hotels, inaccessible to many Afro-Brazilians, are easily accessed by African-American tourists. What does it mean, if anything, for Brazilian blacks to see African-American visitors overcoming spatial barriers? What happens when, instead of pampered foreign white tourists, the visitors are black and eager to “bond” with their black “hosts”? While more research is necessary to fully respond to these questions, it does not seem plausible that “racial connections” are essentially deeper than the divisions engendered by class, nationality, and the tourist condition. Even though black, as national citizens of the world’s superpower they are entitled to visit exclusive places. As was painfully reported by one of my interviewees, African-American visitors are still predominantly perceived by local people as privileged tourists, thus hindering the desired process of bonding: I’ve had this impression when I’ve been to Africa as well. Sometimes, people in other countries don’t really see us as human beings. You know, we work, we work hard in America, and we save our money to come and visit other countries, and I think that in some areas where there is economic deficiency, people sort of see us not as human beings but as a dollar sign. They look at us with dollar signs in their eyes, like: “They’re coming, so let’s get as much as we can from them.” But then on the other hand I feel sort of ashamed of being a tourist. What am I leaving to this country, what am I doing to maybe make a difference or Downloaded from http://lap.sagepub.com at SUNY ALBANY LIBRARY on December 9, 2008 Pinho / AFRICAN-AMERICAN TOURISM 79 something? Because being a tourist is sometimes like being in a zoo. . . . I was trying to make a connection, by looking people in the eye, and establish some kind of kinship between us, but it seems as if they are looking and saying, “Get away from us.” And this makes me feel kind of ashamed of being a tourist. But that’s all I can be. Another crucial element that complicates even further the possibility of “racial bonding” is the different ways in which blackness is defined. The concept of “light-skinned black” is an oxymoron in Brazil. Thus, according to several Brazilians I interviewed, many African-American tourists are not perceived as black. Gender and race can be mapped as a struggle over social reproduction, for which the production of place is essential (Hayden, 1995). If the expression “to know one’s place” is revealing of the limitations imposed on excluded groups, the effort to regain places or to make new places one’s own is one that occurs in the realm of power. By choosing to travel to Brazil and other countries where blacks are the majority, African-Americans reveal how much discrimination and prejudice have shaped their cultural values as an oppressed group. Following Hayden, I argue that, by imagining their “physical” place as not just one but many places, African-Americans are using tourism as a means of expanding “their place” in U.S. society in the sense that they are not accepting the boundaries established for their social position. At the same time, in choosing to visit places where they can find “African roots,” it seems to me that they are “knowing their place” in that they are limiting the possibilities to places that are supposedly “African” or have “African traditions.” For that reason, I argue that the map of Africanness is at once broad and limited. It is broad in that it includes a large number of countries and dares to envisage affiliations beyond national borders, but it is limited in that it upholds racial boundaries by restricting the imagined affiliation to specific countries and peoples considered to be “carriers” of African roots. Traveling to places because we believe there are cultural traditions to be found there relates to a common and widely accepted notion that cultures— and, as a consequence, cultural identities—are embedded in places (Massey and Jess, 1995). According to Hall (1995), we have a tendency to landscape cultural identities, to give them an imagined place or home. Gupta and Ferguson (1992: 7) offer an important critique of the mapping of culture onto places by analyzing the processes through which space becomes a “neutral grid on which cultural difference, historical memory, and societal organization are inscribed.” Diasporic affiliations, however, open up the possibility of contesting the way in which place has traditionally been connected to culture and identity. “From the diaspora perspective, identity has many imagined ‘homes’ (and therefore no one, single, original homeland); it has many different ways of ‘being at home’—since it conceives of individuals as capable of drawing on different maps of meaning, and of locating themselves in different imaginary geographies at one and the same time—but it is not tied to one particular place” (Hall, 1995: 207). It seems to me, nonetheless, that there are interpretations of the diaspora that do not necessarily break with the notion of tradition as the element that links us to our origins in culture, place, and time. In the case of roots tourism, the notion of diaspora is very much stimulated by the conception of tradition Downloaded from http://lap.sagepub.com at SUNY ALBANY LIBRARY on December 9, 2008 80 LATIN AMERICAN PERSPECTIVES as “a one-way transmission belt; an umbilical cord, which connects us to our culture of origin” (Hall, 1995: 207). The map of Africanness imagined by tourists seeks a shared system of meanings among blacks in the diaspora, but the more it is crisscrossed the more it entails heterogeneity, especially in the ways in which blackness itself has been conceived. The concept of the map of Africanness is valuable because it indicates that there is a connection between the many places visited by African-American tourists. The meanings attributed to one spot on the map are connected with meanings attributed to other places on the very same map. Consequently, it is a map built by complementariness and opposition. After all, “spaces have always been hierarchically interconnected, instead of naturally disconnected” (Gupta and Ferguson, 1992: 8). The uniqueness of a place on the map of Africanness is established in relation to what is supposedly lacking in the other places but most of all to what African-American tourists believe is lacking in themselves or in the places where they live. Therefore, the study of tourism should take into account the ordinary lives of tourists instead of just the moment in which they are vacationing. Rather than just looking at “people while tourists,” it is important to follow Dean MacCannell’s (1992) suggestion of examining the relationship between the tourists’ everyday life and beliefs and their motivations to travel. African-American roots tourists search for what they consider lacking in their lives: the extraordinariness of the Africanness that they feel they have been unable to preserve. Borrowing from Gilroy’s (1993) homophony, the map of Africanness is thus a diagram that traces the routes that are followed in search of roots. Although the many different places visited by the tourists should be understood as complementary pieces of the same map of Africanness, there is a fundamental distinction between the roots tourism developed in the West African countries and the one that is carried out on the “diasporic side” of the Atlantic, and that distinction is one that involves, respectively, pain and joy. The experience of visiting the dungeons and the menacing “Doors of No Return” evokes the horrors suffered by the ancestors, and many tourists are reported to have wept or screamed to express how deeply devastated they felt when visiting these places. Conversely, being in Brazil produces in them the contentment of connecting with “a culture that was able to survive” and with a people that supposedly managed to “preserve the cultural connections with Africa.” In the following statement, the fact that the notions of “cultural roots” and “family roots” are intertwined is revealed by the African-American tourist’s use of the term “we” to refer to Afro-descendants at large: I’m very proud of the Africans who came from the Bantus and the Yorubas that they were able to maintain their particular beliefs, spiritual beliefs, even though they were forced into Catholicism by the whites. Even though they pretended they believed in Catholicism, deep down in their hearts . . . they stuck to Candomblé to keep their spirits alive. And because of that we have Bahia, Salvador, Bahia as it is now. Because if it wasn’t, we wouldn’t have Candomblé, and we wouldn’t have a lot of the spiritual things that came with the Africans to South America. My feeling is that I am very proud that we were strong enough, at least in that particular part, to maintain some dignity, and to hold our religion together by using Candomblé. . . . The other thing is: if it weren’t for the Africans, Salvador would not be Salvador. Downloaded from http://lap.sagepub.com at SUNY ALBANY LIBRARY on December 9, 2008 Pinho / AFRICAN-AMERICAN TOURISM 81 BAHIA: A PIECE OF AFRICA IN BRAZIL The jubilation felt by African-American tourists in Brazil is heavily promoted by tourist agencies, which have little interest in publicizing the country’s enormous racial and social inequalities and its legacy of slavery. Although there are agencies in Brazil that specialize in exploring poverty and conduct “favela tours,” Bahia is still mostly rhymed with alegria (joy, pleasure) and is labeled as terra da felicidade. Not coincidently, the “land of happiness” is also the “land of blackness.” Regarded as the “most African part of Brazil,” Bahia received the greatest number of the approximately 5 million slaves brought to the country. Since its early days, it has had a predominantly black face. The European traveler Amédée Frézier, who visited the city as early as 1618, said that it looked like a “new Guinea,” and the poet Robert Southey echoed in 1819: “The black population in Bahia was so numerous that it is said a traveler might have supposed himself in Negroland” (Fryer, 2000). In 1859, the voyager Avé Lallement wrote: “If one did not know that Bahia was located in Brazil, it could easily be mistaken for an African capital, the residence of a powerful black prince. . . . Everything looks black: one sees blacks on the beach, blacks in the city, blacks in the lower town, blacks in the higher neighborhoods. Everything that runs, shouts, works, everything that transports and carries is black” (Verger, 1999: 22). The black image of Bahia owes a great deal to the meanings attributed to the black bodies of its inhabitants. Since early times, foreign travelers have expressed their amazement at the sight of the many female and male black bodies they encountered in Bahia and commented on their supposedly exotic “strong muscles,” “shiny skin,” “sensuality,” “rhythm,” “deeply dark shade,” or “shameless” nudity. Today, many of the postcards of Bahia display black bodies playing capoeira, dancing samba, or cooking acarajés, not to mention those that focus exclusively on the behinds of black and mulatto women in minuscule bikinis. The image of the baianas, the black women vendors who since the time of slavery have sold African delicacies in the streets of Salvador, is probably the one which most powerfully Africanizes the public image of Bahia. With their black bodies dressed in voluminous white costumes and adorned with colored necklaces and balangadans, together with their wooden trays filled with acarajés, abarás, vatapás, carurús, cocadas, and mingaus, the baianas are considered the most “picturesque” objects in the Bahian landscape to this day. The early-twentiethcentury Austrian traveler Stefan Zweig wrote that “the majesty of the black baianas doesn’t lie in their magnificent white garments, but in the elegance with which they wear them, in the way they walk, move, in their way of being. Sitting charmingly in the market, or in front of a house, they spread their skirt around them, making it seem as if they were sitting inside a flower” (Verger, 1999: 5). In the fantasies of these foreigners, the people and the city are merged to form an indivisible whole. Today this continuous circle is reinforced by the municipal government of Salvador and the state government of Bahia, who exploit blackness to promote a homogenizing notion of “Bahianness.” A recent example of the control of black symbols for the image of Bahia is a municipal law establishing that the baianas must be “typically dressed” in order to sell African-derived foods in the streets. Baianas who disobey the law will be punished with loss of their licenses. There are more than 5,000 people Downloaded from http://lap.sagepub.com at SUNY ALBANY LIBRARY on December 9, 2008 82 LATIN AMERICAN PERSPECTIVES in Salvador who make a living by selling this type of food, and certainly not all of them dress as “typical baianas.” To increase the number of “typically costumed” baianas in the streets of Salvador, the municipal government has promised to donate “baiana kits” to those who cannot afford to buy the costume. “We are searching for funding in order to donate the entire equipment for the baianas, from the trays and cooking pots to the costume. We have already given them 47 kits. It is not mandatory that they be practitioners of Candomblé, but the clothes are beautiful and maintain the tradition and the character of the activity,” commented the secretary of public services of the city of Salvador in response to the complaints of baianas who cannot afford to buy the costume.5 In spite of the explicit celebration of blackness, the majority of Bahia’s black population lives in the gigantic favelas of Salvador, while the tourist centers and sightseeing spots are adorned with the athletic bodies of capoeiristas and the beautiful faces of young black female models hired by the municipal and state governments to pose as stylized baianas for the tourists’ photographs. The irony is that, as in the time of slavery, black bodies are selected yet again according to size, silhouette, and skills to be at the center of the city and its public image. Bahia’s aura of blackness, although originating in colonial times, has been constantly and intensely reinforced. This is a very complex process that has both positive and negative consequences. On the one hand, the intensification of Bahia’s black public image strengthens the importance of this semiperipheral Lusophone location in the context of the African diaspora. It also allows for the emergence of alternative forms of black cultural production that have offered resistance to the dominant structure of power. On the other hand, it holds Bahia’s black population hostage to stereotypical roles that are used for electoral purposes and for the perpetuation in power of the same old caudilhos, and here the epithet “Black Rome,” commonly attributed to Bahia, shows its hideous side: Roman politicians also practiced the strategy of providing public spectacle as a means of exercising demagoguery and political dominance. While reducing Afro-Bahian culture to a set of folkloric spectacles, the municipal and state governments benefit greatly from the festive and joyful image of the black city of Salvador.6 It is precisely what seems to have been preserved of Africa in Bahia that attracts an ever-growing number of African-American tourists. In their search for cultural roots or “preserved African culture,” roots tourists elect Bahia, especially its cities of Salvador and Cachoeira, as the historical place where they believe African traditions have been most carefully maintained. In Cachoeira, tourists participate in the annual event held in August by the black Sisterhood of the Good Death (Irmandade da Boa Morte). Founded in 1823, the Sisterhood is composed exclusively of older black women who are both Catholics and practitioners of Candomblé. Like most of the syncretic Afro-Brazilian parties, the Festival of the Good Death begins as a sacred ceremony, with secret rituals held indoors for the sisters only, and ends as a profane one, with a public samba-de-roda (a traditional form of dancing samba in a circle) and a generous Afro-Brazilian feast prepared by the sisters and offered to all visitors. The “lost” African traditions that are so valued by the roots tourists can also be found in Salvador in its many Afro-Bahian cultural events such as the rehearsals of the blocos afro,7 in the houses of Candomblé, and in the schools of Downloaded from http://lap.sagepub.com at SUNY ALBANY LIBRARY on December 9, 2008 Pinho / AFRICAN-AMERICAN TOURISM 83 capoeira. The African-American scholar Rachel J. Christmas (1992: 253–254) describes the “African flavor” that Bahia offers to its African-American visitors: We felt the African pulse in the beat of samba, known as semba in Angola; swallowed it with the spicy food, made with nuts, coconut milk, ginger and okra also used in African cooking; witnessed it in Candomblé ceremonies, rooted in the religion of the Yorubas of Nigeria; heard it in the musical Yoruban accent of the Portuguese spoken in the State of Bahia. . . . Today Bahians seem far more aware of their origins than African-Americans are. Bahia is here described as a complete menu enabling the tourists to delight in the flavors of Brazil’s various African traditions. Most of the African-American visitors I interviewed believe that Brazilian blacks enjoy the privilege of having better maintained the African culture of their ancestors. They also believe that as a consequence of their preserved African culture, Brazilian blacks are “more aware” of their African origin than are African-Americans. The search for African traditions is tied up with tourists’ longing for “authenticity.” The desire to find “original black culture” has led them to deviate from the predominant route followed by international tourists in Brazil, one that usually takes them to the so-called postcards of Rio de Janeiro, such as the statue of Christ the Redeemer and the Sugarloaf Hills. Roots tourists prefer Bahia to Rio de Janeiro, considering Bahia the producer of black symbols bearing the stamp of “African authenticity.” In Rio de Janeiro the syncretic presence of Umbanda, together with a Carnival that has been transformed into a spectacle, point to a black culture that is considered “too mixed” and “detached from its origins,” while in Bahia Candomblé and samba-de-roda seem to provide proof of the “perpetuation of Africanisms” and therefore of a supposedly authentic (and purer) kind of black culture. The image of Bahia as the “blackest state in Brazil” results partially from scholarly work, such as its high position in Melville Herskovits’s ranking of Africanisms (1958), but it also has more recent sources, among them the state government’s promotion of it as the “land of blackness” (Pinho, 2004) and the “land of happiness.” However, in spite of all the joy and excitement experienced during their visits to Brazil, African-American visitors have their frustrations, especially when they realize that Brazilian blacks have other ways of understanding blackness and Africanness. One of the most striking disappointments revolves around the fact that the black Sisterhood of the Good Death worships a white saint. The affiliation of the sisters to both Candomblé and Catholicism, which is confusing and disappointing for many tourists, is usually understood as a lack of “purity” and “authenticity.” For the Sisterhood, however, the cult of Our Lady of Glory is located in a context of religious syncretism that in itself represents a strategy of struggle and continuity of African beliefs. As Thornton (1998) indicates, the relationship between Christianity and African religions was not necessarily hostile, and the lack of orthodoxy among African religions allowed for a convergence with Christian philosophical interpretations. African-American roots tourism should be examined in a world-historical perspective that takes into account the elements of continuity and rupture in the creation of modern hierarchies of power, wealth, valorization, and recognition and the different effects of these elements on black peoples depending on where they live. The study of transnational black relations must consider how Downloaded from http://lap.sagepub.com at SUNY ALBANY LIBRARY on December 9, 2008 84 LATIN AMERICAN PERSPECTIVES the global configurations of power interfere in the relationship between blacks who are part of a superpower and blacks located on the semiperiphery. Therefore, my analysis takes into account the dominance of the United States as a center of blackness (especially in terms of cultural and academic production) and the unequal access to global currents of power for those located in the core and on the periphery. My research has indicated that roots tourism does not completely invert the hierarchy within the black Atlantic. The hierarchical exchange between African-Americans and the local black communities they visit takes place not only in Brazil but also in the African continent, as Paulla Ebron (2002, ix) points out: “Indeed, the travelers expressed their worry that Africa unfortunately lagged behind in material ways. Luckily, they had a solution to the continent’s ‘problems.’ As businessmen, with a consciousness of course, they would develop Africa.” Thus, at the same time that roots tourism offers the possibility of challenging traditional North-South flows of cultural exchange, it confirms the existing hierarchy within the black Atlantic. The most important poles remain firmly situated in the Anglophone North, reinforcing the semiperipheral positions of African and Latin American countries in the current global configuration of power. While this unequal distribution of power has terrible consequences for those located on the world’s peripheries, it also has negative effects for those who inhabit the economic and political centers, especially by increasing their already sizable ignorance of the “rest of the world.” AfricanAmerican tourists, earnestly interested in building transnational connections and favored by material resources, manage to transcend this generalized unawareness. The roots tourism in which they participate can therefore be analyzed as a transnational channel of communication and circulation in which elements of black politics and aesthetics constantly travel among black communities, becoming detached from their local origins and reelaborated in new contexts (Gilroy, 1993). More than mere preservers of traditions, black cultures are created through dynamic global fluxes of communication and exchange without losing their African heritage or their black particularity. Valuing imagination and invention, the notion of the map of Africanness assesses tourism as a space for the creation of and struggle over discourses of identity, memories of Africanness, and representations of blackness. As an open-ended search, roots tourism carries within it an immeasurable treasure: the challenge it poses to its own geography of power. NOTES 1. In spite of representing 13 percent of the U.S. population, African-Americans undertake 17 percent of the leisure trips in the country. If the African-American community were a country, its economy would rank as the eleventh-largest in the world, with an acquisitive power of US$631 billion in 2002 that is estimated to reach US$921 billion in 2008 (Barbosa, 2004). 2. I came across African-American tourists by happenstance while I was conducting field research on “reinventions of Africa” in Bahia (Pinho, 2004). Describing my first encounter with them, I always emphasized the role of serendipity in my becoming interested in the topic of tourism, thus confirming what I referred to as the resistance of scholars to considering tourism a serious topic of study. Downloaded from http://lap.sagepub.com at SUNY ALBANY LIBRARY on December 9, 2008 Pinho / AFRICAN-AMERICAN TOURISM 85 3. Besides the informal semistructured interviews, I have employed questionnaires to collect information from the tourists. The research has also benefited from the analysis of web sites, brochures, itineraries, and souvenirs geared to African-American tourists. 4. The importance of religion for African-American roots tourism deserves attention but, along with the issue of the predominance of women, it will not be developed here for lack of space. 5. The law is Decreto-lei no. 12.175, 1998 (Verônica, 2005). 6. This notion of Bahia as a source of Africanness has also stimulated an incipient internal cultural tourism in Brazil, in which black activists from Rio and São Paulo travel to Bahia to find the “source of Brazilian black culture.” 7. The blocos afro are black cultural organizations that emerged in Bahia in the 1970s seeking to defeat racism within the sphere of Carnival. They have since gone beyond the boundaries of Carnival to develop social projects aimed at elevating the self-esteem of black youth. The most famous of the blocos afro are Ilê Aiyê and Olodum. Although they have tried to construct an oppositional black identity that challenges Brazil’s dominant myth of racial democracy, central elements of their cultural production (e.g., music and aesthetics) have been incorporated into the notion of Bahianness promoted by the state and the tourism industry (see Pinho, 2004; n.d.a). REFERENCES Barbosa, Rubens 2004 “Mercado de grupos étnicos.” O Globo, September 14. 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