Craving Salvador da Bahia – part 2
But I can never forget that the meaning of Pelourinho is “slave pillory.” Although no plaque designates the spot and no sign commemorates it, this is indeed where literally millions of Africans were exhibited, tortured, humiliated, bartered, sold. (Bahia was the first stop for 40% of all Blacks taken from Africa).
This graffiti was the only indication I ever found of the horrors of the Pelourinho.
All over the Pelourinho and down the long hill to Barra, the beautiful beach, literally everwhere in Salvador are music, dance, art and good food.
One day I drifted into a small cafe run by a socially-active African woman and tasted the best feijoada (Brazailian stew) ever.
And then into a drum shop to die for. And in the evening into a tiny wood-floored bar at the end of a long walk (cars are not allowed in most of the Pelourinho) where I heard amazing jazz from a multinational assemblage of players. And finally, tired but happy, taxi back to my room.