Afro-Brazilian Returnee Festivals: From Brazilian Bumba-Meu-Boi to Contemporary Lagos Carnival

Abstract

Drawing upon the works of Kazadi wa Mukuma, Gerhard Kubik, Carlos de Lima, Vivian Gotheim, Wilson Nogueira, Temitope Fagunwa, and Alaba Simpson, this study traced the evolution of Bumba-Meu-Boi from its regional origins in Maranhao, Brazil, to its adaptation in Lagos, Nigeria, as an Afro-Brazilian returnee festival within the context of Lagos carnival. Beyond serving as a crucible for the historical return of repatriated Africans from Brazil following abolition of slavery in Brazil, the study also documents how the Afro-Brazilian community has been fully integrated into the Nigerian society. Through the formation of a thriving Brazilian Descendants Association, the Brazilian community has been able to sustain their Afro-Brazilian heritage through social events and community impact by preserving Brazilian architecture, culinary knowledge, festivals, teaching of Portuguese language, and the celebration of their Afro-Brazilian genealogical past.

1. The Afro-Brazilian Community in Lagos: Return and Festivity

Growing up in metropolitan Lagos Island in the 1960s and 1970s comes with vibrant memories of its pleasures and lingering discontents. Even in those youthful and innocent years, one could not forget the festive nature of life as many celebrations and festivals competed for prominence in such a limited space and within a cosmopolitan environment that had just won independence from Britain in 1960. The atmosphere itself was often festive, and the discontents of life did not stop anyone from finding ways to enjoy themselves and relish the effervescence of freedom from hitherto British colonial oppression. It was as if the post-independence society was in an enthusiastic quest for innate celebration. Unlike its current disillusionment, and palpable, widespread, and arrogant corruption, Nigeria was a country to reckon with globally given its rich oil rigs that were discovered well after Britain had left its colonized country. Economically speaking, Nigeria was relatively solvent as oil production was in great demand from the superpowers as the memory of the Cold War was still very much alive. It was a time to be proud of being Nigerian without the shame of the 1980s, when virtually the educated elites were ready to leave Nigeria for greener pastures as metaphorically embodied in persistently alluring Euro-America. Ironically, well before independence, a group of ex-enslaved were punitively returned to West Africa from Brazil after the famed revolt of 1835 in Bahia, popularly known as the “Malê rebellion.” The idea of freedom was always present in the minds of the enslaved and many revolts were their way of articulating their distress with enslavement. Such an environment where the returnees had to relearn how to re-integrate within a society from which they were forcibly removed and sold into slavery could not but come with some misgivings, apprehensions, and anxieties. Although the returnees were compelled to collaborate more with the colonials than their native kindreds, it was a matter of survival as well as taking advantage of their skilled labor while undergoing enslavement. Drawing upon theories on identity, I argue that the Afro-Brazilian returnees suffered from what I call “anxiety of identity,” as they struggled to assimilate into Nigerianness while retaining their Brazilianness at the same time (Castells 2010). This dual identitarian condition triggers a crisis of consciousness and a challenging quagmire to be resolved.

While the full details of the challenging process of re-assimilation and reintegration fall outside of the purview of this study, it is reasonable to suggest at least that the tensions between the indigenes and the Afro-Brazilian returnees must have been cunningly exploited by the British colonials as a divide-and-conquer strategy to take advantage of the then colonized native subjects of British colonialism (Omenka 2004). This study examines how the anxiety of identity caused the returnees to resort to Brazilian festivals as a coping mechanism with the nostalgia they had of Brazil (despite the horrors of slavery) as well as a way to incorporate their Afro-Brazilian identity and colonial experiences in Brazil into their newly found “Nigerian” sense of belonging. During Christmas as well as during the Easter celebrations, a few such festivals included “Careta” (masking festival) and “Bumba-Meu-Boi” (come alive, my ox!). During Easter, other memories included the serving of such Brazilian cuisine called “frejon” (corrupted term derived from a Brazilian-Portuguese word, feijão) and “molho” a delicacy soup that has been made from the mixture of spiced juice of cooked crabs, palm-oil, and farinha (cassava cereal or flour). Bumba-Meu-Boi is not unique to Lagos, Nigeria alone but is also celebrated in Ouidah, Benin by the Afro-Brazilian returnees to the Republic of Benin (Guran 1999). While I did not fully understand the purpose of these festivals during my youthful years, the fact that they were taken so seriously by the participants in December and February gave me some excitement about participating just as children found anything for their entertainment in those days. Without participating, I could not have retained the vivid memories I do have now about how Afro-Brazilian returnees coped with their sense of being dislocated from Brazil even if they were initially relieved from being traumatized by the painful memories of slavery.

As a central reference for this study, “meu boi” serves as one of the impacting cultural legacies that Afro-Brazilian returnees brought with them to Lagos in the 19th century. Beyond the expertise they brought in architecture, construction, religiosity, culinary variety, and cultural performances, festivities were the most visible of their cultural practices. Whether known as Agudas or Amaros, they settled in a famous Lagos Island area that we know as the Brazilian Quarter. By virtue of this unique cultural renaissance, the Brazilian Quarter takes on an iconic identity that strives for preservation, vitality, and cultural continuity (Amos 2017).

As I reflect on my youthful past, at times, the song my neighborhood tailor sang while sewing becomes for me one of the enchanting moments that trigger memories of living among Brazilian returnees to Lagos (located within the seemingly crafted cul-de-sac (between Tinubu, Kakawa, Campus, and Bamgbose streets)). I did not quite understand why they bore different names like Da Sylva, Da Costa, Salvador, Da Rocha, Vera Cruz, Gomez, among others. But I later realized these were their colonial names that they have been given in Brazil. I was especially fond of my neighborhood tailor and would go to sit with him for many hours to hear all kinds of stories about Nigeria, the second World War (1939–1945), and about the brutality and oppression of British colonization in general. He was also good at remembering events organized by the “Brazilian Descendants’ Association of Lagos” (BDAL) through songs and festivals. One of his favorite songs went thus: “Mamãe eu quero…/Mamãe eu quero mamar/Dá chupeta/Dá chupeta pro bêbê não chorar [Mother I want to…/Mother I want milk/Give me the pacifier/Give me the pacifier, so your baby does not cry]. As I became an adult and attended the then University of Ife (now renamed Obafemi Awolowo University) for my bachelor’s degree in Brazilian Studies, I ended up learning more incisively through the study of Brazilian carnival that became the subject of my honors thesis, that this song was considered one of the oldest that was ever recorded about Brazilian carnival in the 1930s. How Brazilian culture was transposed into Lagos cultural and festive life is a fascinating topic for future in-depth analysis beyond this focused study on Bumba-Meu-Boi. I divide this essay into five main parts: (1) Case study of Bumba-Meu-Boi as a historic Brazilian popular festival with transnational significance. (2) Theorization of identitarian anxiety that conjectures the Afro-Brazilian returnees as Afropolitans. (3) Concise examination of Bumba-Meu-Boi as a popular festival with a political agenda. (4) Performative manifestation of Bumba-Meu-Boi as a “reverse diasporic agency.”1 (5) Drawing on the persistence of Afro-Brazilian legacies in Nigerian culture, and by way of conclusion, the essay makes a critical assessment of the role of culture in Nigerian–Brazilian relations.

Between the 16th and 19th centuries, it is estimated that 5 million enslaved Africans were taken from Africa to Brazil. Given the horrors of enslavement, the enslaved organized themselves to protest their condition. The famed Malê Revolt took place in 1835 as the Yoruba Muslims fought for their independence. While the main leaders were publicly beheaded and humiliated as a form of punishment, other protesters were repatriated to Rio de Janeiro and later to West Africa. Upon return to Lagos in 1854, the Afro-Brazilian returnees found favor with the Oba of Lagos (King Dosunmu of Lagos) who gave them the Brazilian Quarter as a resettlement community. The returnees not only retained their Yoruba spirituality through Afro-Brazilian religion now called Candomblé in Brazil, but they also brought with them Afro-Brazilian cuisine as well as architectural, masonry, and construction skills, all of which contributed to the development of colonial Lagos (Afolabi and Falola 2017). In addition to creating an association, the “Union of Brazilian Descendants of Lagos” (União dos Descendentes Brasileiros-Lagos), they also kept their festivals alive such as the mask carnival and the Bumba-Meu-Boi, which was a festive tradition brought back from Bahia-Brazil by the returnees. This festive tradition may be said to be the precursor to the celebration of carnival in contemporary Lagos (Ferro and Watts 2013).

2. Bumba-Meu-Boi: Historic Background, Diversity, and Synthesis

Since Brazil is mostly noted for its global carnival especially that lavish cultural spectacle of Rio de Janeiro, other festivities tend to occupy a secondary plane even if parades are normal during independence days, festive commemorations, and other national or state celebrations such as the Juneteenth. Bumba-Meu-Boi hails from Maranhão (Mukuna 1999). It originated in the 18th century and had the greatest appeal among lower class Brazilians who mock the elites based on comic folklore that is portrayed through dancing and singing. While not as popular as the Brazilian carnival, its narrative can vary from region to region in terms of context and practice (Silva 2022). The central take remains the same in terms of the death and resurrection of an ox. Given the discrimination suffered by the lower class in the hands of the elites in the 18th century, the performers enacted the celebration to protest this oppressive colonial treatment. The festival gradually gained popularity in the 19th century and by the 20th and 21st centuries, it became even more visible in many regions in Brazil. Originally limited to the northeastern, Amazonian, and Maranhese ruram communities, Bumba-Meu-Boi has become festivals that can be observed even in Rio de Janeiro. The ox played a central role in that it was considered a vital economic instrument during farming and thus was useful even for colonial exploitation of the land. Beyond serving as an economic function, it also serves as entertainment such as bullfighting and calf-dancing among the Portuguese lower class, a tradition that can also be traced back to rural Portugal (Oliveira 2003).

Literally meaning “dance my ox,” bumba-meu-boi as an ensemble performance features the Ox as the central character, a white master, a black pregnant woman, a cowboy, other indigenous people, a priest, and an indigenous healer. Often expected to follow the call-and-response approach, the audience plays a passionate role of providing responses to utterances to the lead character, thus bringing about a playful interaction with the audience, who often indulge themselves in alcoholic consumption such as cachaça (sugarcane rum) and can lead to occasional violence interactions (Viana 2005). Grounded in the Maranhão community for more than two centuries, Bumba-Meu-Boo makes the city of São Luis come alive during street festivals through its varied colorful rhythms that reenact the historic capture, death, and regeneration of the iconic Bumba cow character. The five types that have their different costumes have become so unique that they are identified by different names such as “sotaques” (accents), “matraca” (ratchet), “zabumba” (bass drum), orchestra, “pindare” (pride or self-respect), and “costa de mão” (back hand). As of 2011, and according to the registry of the National Institute of Historic and Artistic Heritage (IPHAN), it is estimated that there are more than 400 Bumba-Meu-Boi groups in the state of Maranhão alone. It is remarkable that this festive tradition was preserved when the repatriated African returned to Lagos, Nigeria. Even though the festival is now called simply “meu boi,” its major characteristics remain the same and even better folklorized as a matter of memory from the brutal relics that emanated from Brazilian colonial past. Upon arrival in Nigeria, different cultural contexts affected the integration of the returnees such as issues of continued colonial context (in this instance the British and not the Portuguese). The necessity to integrate meant the returnees not only had to adapt their cultural festivities to those of the locals, they also were compelled to deploy such festive events as a coping mechanism to deal with the nostalgic feelings of Brazil. The festivities became a consoling space for a new conflictual situation they encountered between themselves as returnees as well as the less empathetic indigenes who felt their power was being usurped by the returnees given their collaboration with the British colonial operatives.

3. Performances of Bumba-Meu-Boi in Brazil and Beyond

As widespread as the performance of Bumba-Meu-Boi is in Brazil, not much is documented in its reverse Atlantic context in West Africa. At best, “meu boi” is reported in local newspapers in Lagos during Christmas and Easter celebrations. In other words, the manifestation remains strictly Brazilian as opposed to a diasporic cultural phenomenon. And this is what makes the local “meu boi” in Lagos a fascinating subject matter with transatlantic implication. A cursory literature review reveals that much of the publications still focus on the manifestation of Bumba-Meu-Boi in Maranhão. Kazadi wa Mukuna’s (2016) The Ox and the Slave: A Satirical Music Drama in Brazil is the most authoritative study of Bumba-Meu-Boi in that it blends ethnography with ethnomusicology and sociology of the folk drama. Grounded in the African frame of analysis despite acknowledging that the creators of the merrymaking were indeed the enslaved, Mukuna argues that Bumba-Meu-Boi is a codified communal communication in which the oppressed and enslaved African ridicules the life of the white oppressor. Along these lines of enslaved African as originators, the contemporary performance of the festivity seems to have shifted in ideology. Mukuna not only argues that the festivity denounces colonial oppression, but he also suggests that the festive occasion has been reappropriated to bring a sense of harmony among the people who use this moment as a unifying season of devotion: “The presentation of Bumba-meu-Boi is a festive occasion for communal merrymaking that brings members of the community closer to one another. It is also a period of communal devotion during which participants believing in miracles come to gather to seek good fortune from their patron saints… to serve as an instrument of social control used to protect community harmony.” (Mukuna 2016, pp. 126–27). By tracing the historical roots of the folk drama and its contemporary adaptations in contemporary Brazilian life, Mukuna succeeds in presenting a much more balanced perspective of the festivity as a symbol of social organization and identitarian celebration, beyond its colonial and conflictual binaries.2

In his conceptual study of Bumba-Meu-Boi in the broader context of African cultures in Brazil, Gerhard Kubik (2013) in Extensions of African Cultures in Brazil draws from different regional manifestations of the folk drama in Maranhão, Alagoas, Pernambuco, Bahia, Amazonas, Pará, and Piauí, to reach the conclusion that “Bumba-meu-boi was one of those plays preferred by enslaved Africans. As it was practiced by them, and by persons in precarious condition, it showed that the originator (of the play) must have been acting out feelings of social revindication until today.” (Kubik 2013, p. 98). Citing the extensive fieldwork conducted by Mukuna after which a film was made, Kubik references a myth about the origins of Bumba-meu-boi as recorded by Mukuna. According to the myth, the wife of a white colonizer had cravings for the tongue of an ox. Unbeknown to the master, enslaved Pai Francisco led the ox to the bush, killed it and brought back its tongue to the master’s wife’s delight. When the master found that his ox was missing, he was upset and eventually found out the secret of the killing of the ox. The master demanded that enslaved Pai Francisco brings back his ox to life or die. Fortunately, an Amerindian healer performed the healing, and the ox came back to life. This led to a joyful celebration among the community. By being so emotionally tied to the ox, the white master demonstrated his spiritual side: he saw in the ox an animal he could never kill, a totem of sorts. Kubik read the myth as a transformation of the master into a father figure and the oppressed becoming likened to the child figure during colonization:

The theme behind the Bumba-meu-boi myth is appropriation of a power symbol to guarantee one’s own fertility and prolificacy. The star ox (boi Estrela) with the star symbol for treasure on its forehead stands for the secret source of power of the white slaveholder. The star is simply a symbol of this dynamic radiant source. The ox is a symbol for the strength of the “patron,” the protector, the “father” of slaves—economically, sexually, in every imaginable respect.”

(Kubik 2013, p. 102)

While the myth remains an essential critique of the patriarchal stature of the colonizer, there was an element of humanization in his attitude towards the ox: one that goes beyond simply the convenient production of labor but also touches upon certain affinity with the animal as a productive “member” of the colonial family.

It is remarkable that Bumba-meu-boi transcends its Maranhense origins and can be in other parts of Brazil such as in Bahia and other parts of the diaspora. In O Bumba Meu Boi da Província da Bahia e Outros Bumbas, Felipe Calil Abrão (2022) collects five previously published articles by him in a book form to bring them into a convergence on a northeastern legacy of a cultural manifestation that has a lasting Brazilian folkloric memory. The critical studies focus on Bahia, Pernambuco, Maranhão, Paiuí, and Amazônia, ensuring the commonality of celebrating this folk drama in peripheral Black communities. They range in their focus on rural Bahia, Piauí, Maranhão, and in Amazônia in which the author had opportunity to interact with performing troupes, consult archives, and interview performers who helped him understand the dynamics of this folk-drama in its multivalent dynamics. Drawing primarily from the works of Miguel do Sacramento Lopes Gama (A estultice do Bumba-Meu-Boi: O Carapuceiro) and Moraes Mello (Festas populares no Brasil), Abrão carefully and comparatively compares the accounts of the two folklorists: one conveying a negative message to the audience via the accusation of guilt for the Black killers of the oxen and the other suggesting that the killers being the culprits because one of them neither died nor resuscitated. The performance was soothed by the idea that given the advent of Catholic reforms against cruelty against animals, it was possible that Moraes Mello was more of a priest than a folklorist. In sum, Bumba-meu-boi became so popularized in Brazil that it gained attention in Rio carnival through a musical release by Eduardo das Neves and Xisto Bahiano which was entitled “Meu boi morreu” [My Ox Died]. This musical interjection would have reverberations in the rest of Brazil in terms of representation of Bumba-meu-boi during carnival.

Beyond the foregoing folkloric accounts of Bumba-meu-boi across Brazil, Américo Azevedo Neto’s Bumba-Meu-Boi no Maranhão offers an elaborate work of documental value as divided into six parts with the following themes: (1) The Ox: Its Lost Origins. (2) The Ox: Its Characteristics. (3) The Ox: Its Rehearsal, Dance, and Death. (4) The Ox: Some Observations on Social Factor in Maranhão. (5) The Ox: Its Moves, Changes, and Innovation. (6) The Ox: Dictionary of Bumba-Meu-Boi in Maranhão. Beyond the controversial origins, Bumba-meu-boi is presented as a case-study in the miscegenation theory of Gilberto Freyre where Blacks, whites, and Amerindians come together to feast under a unique activity such as the Bumba-meu-boi where everyone danced, sang, and performed together as one people. The main groups of African [Zabumba, Cururupu, Itapecuru and Mearin]; Amerindian [Ilha, Baixada, and Penalva]; and White [Orquestra] and subgroups within the groups turned out to be dynamic and festive. The lyrics of the songs by the African group, for example, often referenced a past rooted in pain that they try to “escape” as a coping mechanism through emotional songs invented for a lost love such as: “Oh Lord/Oh Mistress/Oh they took away my love/They left me without a lover/(…)/Oh they took away my love/They left me without a lover.”(Neto 1983)3 The characters of the cultural merrymaking include the proprietor, the young cowboy, the Black Chico or Pai Francisco, Mãe Catirina or wife of Black Chico, the Doctor or caricatural veterinarian doctor, Amerindians, the Joker, the female buffoon, An Amerindian healer or Chief, and Cazumba. Nowadays, the Ox no longer dies but the ceremony is such as the end of the merrymaking comes with a lot of feasting and drinking. When it comes to the social significance of Bumba-Meu-Boi in Maranhão, suffice it to say that like schools of samba, Maranhão treats owners of performing troops like business leaders and with respect and prestige. Despite few changes in rendering the folk-drama, the performance has been consistent with what can be called tradition and authenticity without deliberately altering anything. Overall, the entire cultural manifestation has brought prestige and commerce to the community of Maranhão.

Providing a typical testament of a Bumba-Meu-Boi (1968) with the same title, Carlos de Lima exposes a mix of structure, poetry, poetics, performance, politics, as well as technicality to bring this folk-drama into a cohesion as if communicating a lasting document for posterity. The drama is divided into five main parts: (1) Typology of the performance art and explicit definition of each. (2) Specific theme of the performance. (3) Explanation of the characterization and cast. (4) Detailed description of the performative events in step-by-step poetic rendition by the storyteller. (5) Self-praise to heighten qualification of the performer/storyteller as he moves towards closure. (6) Elongation and complexification of the drama as the performer touches on other forms. (7) Eventual closure with the performer checking in with the audience asking if he was successful while also praising the cultural performance as a lasting community work of Maranhão. Since the details of this poetic structure has been highlighted and analyzed in previous studies within this literature review (Souza 2023), it is more productive to focus on the theme of this case study: Alegrando o Povo [Making the People Happy]. The trio performing this theme includes the Patron, Black Chico, and the Cowboy. Their dialogues follow in a tone that suggests camaraderie and a sense of habit and routine:

“Patron: Cowboy, do me a favor/go look for an ox in the gallows/for the people are tired of waiting/[…]/Cowboy: My patron is also ordering me to do so/I know it is time to act/[…]/Black Chico: Tell your Patron that I am Chico Chico/strong-strong-strong, dweller of Alagoas/[…]/Cowboy: My patron, my Lord, my master/Black Chico gave the shot/There is still some chance/But the shot got to the Ox already.”(de Lima 1968)4 To vary the performance, the performer includes other aspects of the other types by singing the praise of Maranhão as well as praising all the political appointees from President Sarney, senators, Governors, congressmen and woman, and mayors. Some allusions were made to international political affairs such as the second world war, Polish intervention in the world war, and consequential action by Germany, and the overall implication of the American intervention in the war by using the historic devastating atomic bomb in Japan. The end of the performance was a notice served on the performer’s lover that it was time to close the show: Goodbye Black woman, I take my leave now/I am ready to withdraw/I sang to console you/The car is already at the station/It is tired of waiting/Now I must take my leave for the city of Ribamá.”(de Lima 1968)5 This typical rendition is an instructive reminder that the cultural manifestation is beyond the local and can take on national and international significance depending on the performer and their cultural politics.

While other works continue to emerge on the variation and complexity of Bumba-Meu-Boi across the Brazilian cultural landscape, Wilson Nogueira’s (2014) Boi Bumba offers perhaps the most erudite study of the phenomenon by elaborating quite incisively five aspects of the cultural manifestation of Bumba-Meu-Boi in Amazônia: (1) Path to the city of Parintins. (2) Multiple perspectives. (3) Plot of the traditional and the modern. (4) Journey made by the constructors of the spectacle. (5) Research and subjectivity as a creative factor. The first chapter takes a creative approach to documenting the performance of Boi Bumba in Amazônia. The second meshes the itinerant life of the author with the landscapes of life between Manaus and Parintins to bring to life how the Amazonia as a different location has reinvented the performance of Bumba-meu-Boi with local registers and influences. The third chapter makes sociohistorical connections with the cultural industry of Parintins such as the release of a music titled “Cantiga do boi-bumba” in 1972, which has since had a major impact on the Folkloric Festival of Parintins. While chapter 4 focuses on the Council of Bumba Boi Arts and the analyses of their spectacles of 2010 and 2011, chapter 5 lends a theoretical lens to the analysis of the spectacles in the course of the evolution of the performance such as during the creation of the Art Council in 1996 and the Commission of art in 1999. Seen as a cogent work on an appropriated phenomenon for a different region, the author cogently synthesizes the cultural performance as follows: “In Parintins, there was a radical reformulation in the way the boi-bumbá was presented. The drama incorporated new characters, developed choreographic dance, its own musical genre (…), a percussive set and created a narrative that mixes the foundations of boi-bumbá with those of Amazonian imagery.” (Nogueira 2014, p. 12). Despite its scholarly pretensions, the piece can serve as a template for how to conduct a lasting research on Bumba-Meu-Boi (Brito et al. 2010).

To further propagate the interest of Bumba-Meu-Boi across Brazil, few works have emerged that are targeted towards juvenile literature. Stella Barbieri and Fernanda Vilela’s Bumba Meu Boi, Heloisa Prieta and Jô Oliveira’s Coração Musical de Bumba Meu Boi, Toni Brandão’s Bumba-Meu-Boi, Rogério Andrade Barbosa’s O Boi de Mamão, and Roger Mello’s Bumba Mi Buey Bumba, all enrich the bibliography by facilitating the participation of children in this fascinating folk-drama. What is quite striking in each didactic book is the entertaining nature of the narrative through which the young ones can easily connect with the Ox figure in a more refreshing manner than how adults would engage it. I hereby enlist some of the moments in these narratives that I found curious, magical, hilarious, and fantastic for children: “The healer then said if the Ox shakes its body, it will eventually dance.” (Barbieri and Vilela 2023, p. 40). “Everything that transforms life comes quietly in the dark, without any need to announce it.” (Prieto 2018, p. 45) “Rise up, golden Ox!/Come and play for the people to see/Come and dance beautifully/Come and dance my Ox!” (Barbosa 2005, p. 20). “It was well at this moment, when Chico felt confused, that the Ox started to come alive.” (Brandão 2005, p. 14). “It was then that the Ox mooed […]/The heavens gave birth to a flower/The well-adorned tambourine/Long live the dancing Ox!” (Mello 2020, p. 24). Since the highlight of the narratives is when the Ox comes back to life, when this singular moment is analyzed in consonance with each other, it is apparent that these citations deal with the regeneration of the ox with different narrative contexts, following its inadvertent death, and its necessity to come back to life, which then manifests as a cause for joyful celebration at the end. It echoes the Nataline moment that is notable in December and may well be an analogy even if the commemoration of Bumba-Meu-Boi happens during Juneteenth celebrations. The consistent cycle of life, death, and rebirth in all the narratives adds an element of magical realism for the folk drama as well as for the audience, especially during the Juneteenth celebrations when children are in a regenerative mood.

As part of the documental agency that music serves in preserving Maranhese culture, it is remarkable and rewarding that CDs are released not only to register the continuity and vibrancy of this regional culture, but also to ensure that its memory remains engrained in the consciousness of the people (Ferreira 1998). Two such CDs, namely Bumba Meu Boi de Axixá (Boi do Povo) and Bumba Meu Boi de Axixá (Esse é nosso) provide a cultural context to further understand the enriching and diverse nature of this folk drama (Souto Junior 2019). The themes range from celebrating Maranhese culture in general, the joy of the people, homage to deities, celebration of nature, youthfulness, and rekindling of romance between lovers—all in the context of feasting a bull that has come back to life. In “There Goes Axixá Bull” for example, the narrator sets in motion a moment of mobilization to save the bull, calling for the intervention of Saint John and Saint Peter as well as the cowboys to join in the rescue operation of the bull: “So let us go in peace/…/In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit/Amen/And there goes the Axixá bull/that the people already know very well.”6 While this instance echoes a declaration of war for the collective good, another is purely romantic as it celebrates “Beautiful Youth”: “When I remember/My beautiful youth/I had everything at my disposal/Playing with the Axixá bull/I would stay with you/On that sunny beach/And your tanned skin/I would begin to contemplate/But the turbulent wind blew your hair/And I was jealous of the perfume it took away.”7 These two thematic concerns project the degree to which Bumba-Meu-Boi has become engrained into the social fabric of Maranhese life that it may well represent what carnival is to the rest of Brazil in terms of coping mechanism with other oppressive social dynamics that the people deal with on a daily basis. Both protagonists find themselves invested in the life of the bull to give their own lives some logical meaning.

4. Reverse Diaspora Identity: Meboi Festivities in Lagos Carnival

On the African continent, the frequency of meboi festivity is rare but sustained at least during my childhood years in the 1960s and 1970s. Since the partnership between the Lagos State government and the Brazilian Descendants Association, the Lagos Fanti Carnival or Caretta Carnival has taken a new dimension as an annual cultural event. Meboi festival is not a separate event but operates within the larger Lagos carnival which incorporates the activities of the Afro-Brazilian returnee community in the Brazilian Quarter of Lagos Island. The Lagos carnival thus encapsulates the mission of the Afro-Brazilian community in Lagos to preserve their Brazilian heritage. The benefits of this continuous tradition can be summed up as: (1) The cultural revival of Afro-Brazilian heritage that was brought by Brazilian returnees to Lagos in the 19th century. (2) The Lagos carnival brings together diverse communities to celebrate their shared history and cultural identity such as that of the Afro-Brazilian returnees. (3) The Lagos carnival turns out to be an economic boost for local entrepreneurs as the event attracts tourists and support local businesses. (4) Due to endemic corruption in the society, the youth have been negatively impacted by the failure of the government in terms of career opportunities after graduation. As a result, events such as Lagos carnival opens opportunities for cultural training programs that not only promotes the continuity of such cultural programs but also empower the youth to develop entrepreneurial skills and self-development through the creation and sustenance of small businesses. (5) Finally, Lagos carnival positions the state as a formidable player in the global cultural stage through the prism of carnival.

Aside from the Lagos carnival (Figure 1), Lagos State government also sponsors the Lagos Heritage Festival which often features the Fanti/Careta/Meboi festivities that ensures that the diverse cultural heritage of the Afro-Brazilian returnees is passed on from generation to generation. As part of the preservation measures, an Afro-Brazilian Cultural Center has been built (located at 13 Catholic Mission Street at the heart of Lagos). This Center serves as a space of gathering for the young and old Afro-Brazilian descendants, where events such as enjoying music, share culinary delicacies, history, workshops, Portuguese language teaching, and hands-on workshops on carving and art, help the young to appreciate their constantly evolving returnee culture and traditions. Beyond culture, the preservation of Brazilian architectural designs has been a challenge for Lagos State. While the Brazilian Descendants Association has fought to combat the increasing demolition of historic Afro-Brazilian buildings across the state, it will take the additional intervention of UNESCO to recognize and preserve Afro-Brazilian heritage in Lagos. Bumba-Meu-Boi in Lagos has been integrated within Lagos carnival where the Brazilian Descendants Association acts as the guardian of the festivity. The Afro-Brazilian returnee community in Lagos functions well beyond preserving a cultural event such as the meboi festival. Their influence extends to architectural, culinary, cultural, linguistic, and historical legacies. The annual meboi festival in Lagos serves as an instrument of reverse diaspora identity for the Afro-Brazilian returnees in Lagos (Mann and Bay 2001).

Of about a score articles and books available about Bumba-Meu-Boi, only a couple address the local meboi festivity in Lagos. Most of these critical, cultural, and sociological works address mostly the original Brazilian folk drama as a regional heritage that forms part of the historical and cultural legacies of Maranhão. What seems to be missing is how the same manifestation in Lagos, Nigeria is yet to assume this significant appropriation as a source of cultural history that needs preservation, celebration, and documentation. Watts and Ferro (2009), Marnie K. Watson (2018), Kazadi wa Mukuna (1992), Andréia Vieira Abdelnur Camargo (2023), Vivian I. Gottheim (1988), Temitope Fagunwa (2023), and Alaba Simpson (2007) provide profound assessments of these two cultural manifestations (Bumba-Meu-Boi and Meboi) in two transatlantic spaces (Brazil and Nigeria) that have been mediated by the accident of slavery. Watts and Ferro argue for the mixed form of tradition and modernity that embodies the ranching motif and colonial motif in the preservation of Bumba-Meu-Boi as it evolves to become a hybrid form of Maranhese regional identity. Drawing on the Amazonian manifestation of Bumba-Meu-Boi in Manaus, Marnie Watson makes the case for the nostalgic and modernizing legacy of “Boi Bumbá” as an Amazonian variation in the story of the death and resurrection of the rancher’s bull. Focusing on the roles of music, dance, and drama, the remaining three studies by Kazadi wa Mukuma, Andréia Vieira Abdelnur Camargo, and Vivian Gotheim emphasize how music and dance have become integrated within this Afro-Brazilian performance (Fryer 2000). Mukuma goes a little further when he traces the folk drama to its African roots, origins, and influence: “The argument for African authorship of the Bumba-meu-Boi is also sustained by the chronology of appearances of the styles: the African style called Boi de Zambumba, the Indian style known as the Boi de Matriarca introduced in Maranhão in 1868, and the most recent style called Boi de Orquestra (1958) with strong European influence.” (Mukuna 1992, p. 118). Overall, this cursory critical review attests to the documental and historic legacy of Bumba-Meu-Boi as both a cultural performance and the memory of a people. While Fagunwa was able to establish the colonial collaboration between the Afro-Brazilian returnees and the British colonials, thus giving them an advantage over Lagos indigenes, Simpson painstakingly performed an ethnographic study of how Afro-Brazilian returnees were able to celebrate their sense of belonging in Lagos through such Yoruba lyrics during Lagos carnival that promote a sense of Lagosian identity despite occupying relatively small spaces within it: “Isale Eko o e, Isale Eko o e/Isale Eko o, a mora wa/Awon atohun rin wa o. won mora won/…/Isale Eko area, b’o se kere mo niwon/Awon t’o wa nibe, baba ni won o!” (Simpson 2007, p. 17). [We from Isale Eko (Central lagos) know each other/Those outsiders know themselves/As little as the community is/We the dwellers are the greatest!].

5. Conclusions

The exploration of the transatlantic connections between Lagos Carnival and Brazil’s Bumba-Meu-Boi, which has been adapted in Lagos, Nigeria following the Afro-Brazilian returnees’ settlement in Lagos since the 19th century, is a formidable case of cultural diffusion in which a cultural practice created by enslaved Africans in Brazil is adapted by and reintegrated by expatriated Africans to West Africa following the abolition of slavery. These returnees, often known as the Aguda or Amaro, settled in a Lagos space called the Brazilian Quarter, where Brazilian culture is very vibrant and sustained. The Afro-Brazilian returnees brought with them not only cultural festivities but also knowledge of Brazilian architecture, cuisine, Catholicism, Portuguese language, and carnival traditions. While the Bumba-Meu-Boi is not as prominent in Lagos carnival, its central theme of death and resurrection of the ox remains in-tact as in the Brazilian folk festival. Both festivities share a commonality: they feature singing, dancing, drama, and call-and-response dynamics from the audience. In the Brazilian context, Bumba-Meu-Boi is a regional expression of cultural identity in Maranhão with various styles and musical instruments known as matraca (rattle), zabumba (drum), and indigenous shakers. The Brazilian festival is not just a cultural expression, it has its religious elements such as the incorporation of spiritual entities such as Catholic saints that give the festivity a symbolic and ritualistic tone that is embodied in the cycle of life, death, and rebirth.

The Lagos “meboi” carnival on the other hand, incorporates Yoruba traditions and music while also retaining Brazilian roots of samba rhythms, thus promoting Brazilian and Nigerian cultural expressions in one singular festivity (McGowan and Pessanha 2009). The parallels between the two festivals are worth noting: Afro-Brazilian carnival in Brazil is deployed as a stage for negotiation for increased political participation in a country that claims racial democracy but where the Black majority are marginalized. Through this veil of “negotiation” Afro-Brazilian social movements deploy carnival to showcase Yoruba-derived religious spaces such as Candomblé during carnival while at the same time affirming their Afro-Brazilian identity through this carnivalesque celebration. In the Lagos context, the ability of the Afro-Brazilian returnees to integrate Yoruba culture into a return diaspora tradition is phenomenal and historical (Otero 2010). Likewise, the blending of Brazilian samba rhythms and local Yoruba music and drumming give a local color to the entire Lagos carnival as the Brazilian Quarter community celebrate the integration and affirmation of their diasporic and homeland identities without any contradiction. As a sustained transatlantic cultural exchange and legacy, one can only hope that the Lagos State government will continue to support its sustenance. To borrow from Adekunle Yusuf: “Lagos carnival dazzles with colors and captivates with choreography. The costumes—bold, bright, and sometimes provocative—tell stories of migration, memory, and resistance. The music is not mere entertainment. It forms a sonic bridge across the Atlantic. Each drumbeat is a dialogic call to the ancestors. Each chant is a coded message, a historical footnote.” (Yusuf 2025, p. 6). By preserving an Afro-Brazilian tradition, Lagos carnival has successfully traced its genealogical past to Brazil while at the same time celebrating the return of that Brazilian Bumba Meu Boi tradition to Lagos carnival.