'Dona Cadu is a patron of sorts for young black women artists, and her homestead is a testament to that successful symbiosis between passion and talent.'
I exploded into laughter as my companions shared the local town gossip while I listened, completely enthralled. The topic at hand was philandering men and unforgiving women. We were sitting inside a door frame that offered some protection from the equatorial sun positioned directly above us, our backs pressed against the delicious cool of the brick walls. It was the kind of scorching heat that turns distant landscapes into blurry, shimmering mirages.
When he dropped me off in front of a garage, a woman came to meet me at the door, smiling and unsurprised by the arrival of an uninvited guest. She beckoned me inside and after exchanging “Bom diasand “How are yous?” I asked if Dona Cadu was home. She gestured towards her left where I saw a small woman sitting cross-legged on the floor. She took up such little space that my eyes missed her at firstShe was surrounded by dry, shallow, clay bowls and working on another one.
Dona Cadu is a patron of sorts for young black women artists, and her homestead is a testament to that successful symbiosis between passion and talent. Most black artists are hyperaware of the elusiveness of fair financial compensation, but Dona Cadu has spent a lifetime navigating landmines, and she’s still achieved the holy triad: her passion is her talent and she’s been able to profit from it, taking care of herself and her loved ones.
and the ease and familiarity of our dialogue reminded me of my own kin back home in Zimbabwe. As I checked my recorder to make sure it was still running, she turned her attention towards my notebook where I had been sporadically jotting down some notes.“I described the heart in your stomach reality of being a freelance journalist. She followed along, staring at me intently.
As an Afro-Indigenous woman, Dona Cadu carries the lineage of those whose land was violently usurped by the Portuguese, and also of those who were forcibly removed from their own lands and transported to Brazil. “I don’t know which Indigenous tribe I belong to but my father always told me that was a part of my culture,” she says. “My husband was also Indigenous.”The women in Coqueiros are known for being skilled ceramistas, and this was apparent in my walk through the town.
Rodrigo, Dona Cadu’s assistant, was also born in Sao Felix but his family lives in Coqueiros. “We were all born in Sao Felix because Coqueiros does not have a hospital,” he says. “Back in the day, children would actually be born at home, but now there are more cars available to take people to the maternity ward.” He is one of the few men in the area who does what’s understood to be a women’s vocation.
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