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Doña Marta Community, Rio de Janeiro: At the foot of the hill

A text, as a chronicle, where the musical and sound context is shown transversally, almost always present. A tour of an emblematic place in Rio de Janeiro, which is so because of its marginal nature, where the application of the law is something anecdotal and poverty has established itself without remedy.

The favelas of Rio de Janeiro (especially the largest, Rocinha) are known throughout the world. A considerable proportion of the population (perhaps 15 to 20%) lives in these "informal" areas, where homes are built by those who live there, access is only on foot, law enforcement occurs only sporadically (as there is no way for police cars to get in), and residents often do not pay for services such as electricity and water (diverted unaccounted for). Outsiders get their impressions from films like Black Orpheus (the original, directed by Marcel Camus, from 1959, and the remake, officially titled simply Orfeu and directed by Cacá Diegues, from 1999), and City of God (2002).

What often surprises visitors to Rio is not the fact that favela poverty exists, but that it is so integrated with the city's middle- and upper-class neighborhoods. Economist Edmar Bacha coined the term Belindia in 1974 to describe the distribution of income in Brazil (a small group with a European standard of living, Belgium, and an immensely larger group with a South Asian standard of living, India ).

Many, but not all, of Rio's favelas, particularly in the South Zone, are located on steep slopes, places where the terrain would have been too steep for tram lines, and the construction of apartment houses is difficult. My wife Deborah and I live "on the asphalt", on the main access road to the Doña Marta favela (also known as Santa Marta), located in the Botafogo neighborhood. The slope on both sides of the favela is almost vertical, with a steep rock wall rising behind it on the left to the Dona Marta viewpoint (Mirante Dona Marta). We are not in the favela itself, which could be defined as the beginning where you have to get out of the car and walk up, but in a transition zone, where middle-class apartment buildings and customs give way to social life. from the favela, perhaps 100 meters from one of the two main roads in Botafogo, Rua São Clemente. On the other side of São Clemente, life is middle class - luxurious skyscrapers with doormen, the Indian Museum, the Villa-Lobos Museum. On our side, life in the favelas begins. Doña Marta houses approximately 7,000 residents in more than 1,000 residences. The hill was already named after Doña Marta at the end of the 19th century, when there were no roads on the north side (of the hill) of Rua São Clemente, and the neighborhood was full of elite mansions, some of which still exist. They exist in the midst of the most recent construction. The favela got its start in the 1940s. Many residents head to Rua Marechal Francisco de Moura (the street that connects the favela to São Clemente) every morning to go to work and school.

When people start to return after work, there are several stalls (the kind you can take down and take away at night) along the street that cater to their retail needs: a vendor selling açaí with toppings, a hot-dog stand, a woman who sells women's clothing. Most days there is someone selling bread and pastries and someone else selling garlic, limes and some vegetables. Most days the noise from the street is happy voices, especially at night, when there are children playing.

In addition to the many residents who work in paid jobs outside the favela, Doña Marta, like most favelas, has "bocas de humo", places where drugs are sold. From where we stand on the asphalt, this trade is invisible, but not inaudible. One of the aspects of life here at the foot of the hill that can be unsettling to the beginner is the fact that fireworks can be heard from the hill on a regular basis. The general idea is that they are to signal the availability of drugs for sale, but there is also the impression that it is not so unusual to shoot them just for fun, to celebrate. Doña Marta seems to be full of Flamengo fans, and when there is a match on television, it is not necessary to have the television on to know when Flamengo have scored a goal, there will certainly be a flurry of fireworks to mark the occasion.

In fact, the favela hardly misses an occasion to celebrate. Each of Brazil's victories in the last World Cup meant a huge party in the square under our window, with hundreds of people dancing, drinking, singing, shouting and generally having a good time. But every weekend means the workday schedule is completely reversed. The party starts on Friday night, with music until dawn. Things really get going on Saturday nights, but it's not until around midnight that visitors from other places (other favelas, but also middle-class neighborhoods) start heading toward the "baile funk." If you keep a regular schedule, this can be a little discouraging, because even if you manage to fall asleep at midnight, the volume of the amplified music can continue to increase as the party continues, so you can be woken up at 4:30 in the morning. tomorrow, not because of the music, but because the heavy bass makes your windows hum rhythmically in their frames. Revelers pass by at regular intervals on their way home, singing happy birthday, shouting to each other. At dawn, when the Corcovado begins to be visible at 6:30 or so, the last bars are heard (Brasileirinho, a choro), and finally at 7 in the morning, the calm is complete. It is known that there will be a serious dance funk when the police (the PM, "military police") park with two cars to do a pedestrian check on the partiers who want to go uphill.

There doesn't need to be an uphill baile funk to ensure a level of music on the weekends that would motivate most gringos (or even square locals, known as "cariocas") to call the police. Sometimes there is competing music from the "barraca" (stall) downhill and the "botequim" (local bar) uphill. The latter regularly sets a stage for musical attractions. These vary over time. For a few months there was a regular "roda de choro" on Sunday nights with young musicians from Doña Marta. Then there was page-style samba (sadly, not as good quality as choro) on Friday nights. From time to time there is heavy metal (something that you might not think has much to do with the "morro" or hill culture), attracting a crowd of gothic and "dark" teenagers, with pale skin, piercings, dark clothing and dyed black hair.

Doña Marta has other musical activities that are less audible. Among the young children coming down to school there are a surprising number carrying violin cases, something you wouldn't associate with a favela. The Villa-Lobinhos program, which began at the nearby Villa-Lobos Museum, makes musical education possible for needy children between 12 and 20 years old. Its musical coordinator, Rodrigo Belchior, grew up in Doña Marta. Thanks to an outreach program, she went from Dona Marta to obtaining a musician degree at UNIRIO, a university in Urca, a nearby neighborhood. During the Carnival the Grémio Recreativo Carnavalesco Pela-Saco takes to the streets, with an important "batería" (drum corps). At Christmas the "Folia de Reis" (Festival of the Three Wise Men) is celebrated.

Unlike favelas like Rocinha and Vidigal, which are regularly in the news for violence and drugs, Doña Marta has been relatively quiet lately (it wasn't always like this. After visiting a family in Dona Marta for a Sunday dinner afternoon in 1999, I was surprised and a little shocked to read in the weekly magazine Veja that it was considered one of the most dangerous favelas. This period is detailed in the book Abusado: o Dono do Morro Dona Marta (2003) by Caco Barcellos). . Since we've lived downstairs, I've only witnessed one major shootout, in which the police later reported that 1,000 bullets were fired. The battle lasted about half an hour. Afterwards there was a regular police presence (more or less 24/7) in the square for several months.

Police seem primarily concerned with discouraging drug sales to upper-middle-class customers from outside the community. This takes the form of stopping cars (by definition, upper-middle class) that may leave late at night, under the presumption that the only business they might have would be drugs. This is despite the fact that the apartment houses on the Doña Marta side of São Clemente remain middle-class residences, in general, and the cars that leave may have a business other than smoke dens. However, the perception among Cariocas is that these buildings are already in a law-free zone (many businesses refuse to make deliveries). To some extent they are right. Rio in general has a vigorous level of freedom, at least to a gringo eye, a looseness with some social niceties (generally on a broader level, as opposed to the group, where etiquette is, if anything, more important and applied more strictly), and this is even more true in places where there is not much veneer of middle-class decorum. If you want to sing happy birthday in the street at 3 in the morning, you can do it, and it's not your problem, it's the problem of those who may be trying to sleep. The same goes for starting the diesel engine of your bus so you can go to the market at 4 in the morning to bring vegetables to sell to Doña Marta's consumers.

There have been some government efforts to "urbanize" Rio's favelas, bringing them closer to the urbanity of the rest of the city, so that they are less of a secluded place that strangers are afraid to enter. Dona Marta has benefited from some of these initiatives (worth 28 million reais or about 13 million US dollars), including an inclined plane that descends from the top of the favela (where there is a highway access), scheduled to open at the end of 2006, the construction of 23 play areas, 150 new residences (to accommodate families displaced by the construction of the inclined plane), and a daycare center for 100 children, located at the top from the hill, where it can be seen from a middle-class neighborhood called Laranjeiras, on the other side of the mountain. (This has been a source of controversy for Laranjeiras residents who believed that the thin wedge of the nursery would extend Doña Marta in their direction.)

Favelas are often (but not always) off-limits zones for Cariocas, but what is obvious to anyone who lives next to one is that "favelados" (favela residents) are hard-working citizens who contribute to society, aspiring to climb the social ladder. Although non-Brazilians may hear the word "favela" and think of squalor, people strive to achieve a reasonable standard of living, thus attracting migrants from the northeast and the interior in general. Those who live in Doña Marta are poor, yes, even quite poor, but this does not mean that they are separated from the rest of society. They are an integral part of life in the South Zone of Rio de Janeiro.

The neighborhood in Brazil where Michael Jackson recorded a video clip under the protection of drug traffickers: they made a statue of him
The king of pop, who died 15 years ago, filmed part of the music video for "They Don't Care About Us" in Rio de Janeiro, and used a drug dealer's house as a dressing room. Madonna and Joe Biden have also visited the favela.

The iconic king of pop, left his mark on music and in various corners of the world. In 1996, his visit to Brazil to record the video clip for "They Don't Care About Us" revolutionized the Pelourinho neighborhood, in Salvador de Bahía, and the Santa Marta favela, in Rio de Janeiro. These locations served as settings for his art, but they also faced the particularity of being under the protection of drug traffickers during filming.


The relationship between Michael Jackson and Brazil is fascinating and complex after mixing culture, music and the security challenges faced by favelas. The artist never coordinated the filming with a government authority, but rather with drug traffickers. Did you know that the house of one of them was Jackson's dressing room? In this article, we will present how these places were transformed with the artist's visit and the legacy he left in these communities.

What did the neighborhood of Brazil look like when Michael Jackson recorded?
The neighborhood in Brazil where Michael Jackson recorded is Pelourinho, in the historic center of Salvador de Bahia. This place, known for its vibrant cultural and architectural life, was filled with energy and expectations when the king of pop chose its colorful streets as one of the settings for his video clip "They Don't Care About Us." There, Jackson collaborated with the Olodum percussion group, whose powerful percussion was integrated into the song's rhythm.

Today, Pelourinho preserves the memory of that visit with pride. The commercial premises are adorned with photos and memorabilia of the artist, and his music still resonates in every corner. Tourists who visit the neighborhood can visit the same places where Michael Jackson filmed, purchasing t-shirts and other souvenirs with the symbol of Olodum, the group that accompanied the singer in his iconic video.

How did Jackson's team manage to record there and be protected by drug traffickers?
Recording the video clip in the Santa Marta favela, in Rio de Janeiro, was not an easy task. Michael Jackson's team had to negotiate with the drug traffickers who controlled the area. Amaral de Oliveira, known as "Marcinho VP", was one of the bosses who demanded that the drug trade not be interrupted during filming and guaranteed the safety of the crew in exchange for certain payments.

The producers and director Spike Lee understood the delicate situation and agreed to the conditions imposed. More than 60 drug traffickers ensured that the artist's visit did not alter the usual dynamics of the place. A trafficker's house served as a dressing room for Jackson, who, despite the circumstances, managed to film scenes that would become iconic in the video clip for "They Don't Care About Us."

What does the statue of Michael Jackson and the favela where he recorded look like?
In 2010, a statue of Michael Jackson was inaugurated in the Santa Marta favela, where the singer recorded part of the video clip. This bronze statue recreates the image of the artist with long hair, sunglasses, a torn shirt and his arms raised, which immortalizes his figure in the same place where he dazzled with his talent.

Santa Marta not only received Michael Jackson. After his visit, other celebrities such as Madonna and Joe Biden, president of the United States, also visited the favela, attracted by the fame and cultural impact that the king of pop had left. These visitors helped keep the artist's memory alive and bring international attention to the community.

How did Michael Jackson die at 50?

On June 25, 2009, Michael Jackson died at the age of 50 and left an irreplaceable void in the world of music. His death, caused by an overdose of medications administered by his personal physician, Conrad Murray, shocked the world. The autopsy revealed that Jackson had received a lethal dose of propofol, an anesthetic used in surgery, combined with other sedatives.

Murray was convicted of involuntary manslaughter in 2011 and sentenced to four years in prison. Currently, 15 years after his death, Michael Jackson remains a legend whose legacy endures in every corner of the world, like the neighborhood in Brazil where he left his mark.

SANTA MARTA, THE FAVELA THAT IS ALREADY ANOTHER TOURIST DESTINATION

It began as an alternative and almost adventure tourism tour, looked askance by the most conventional tourists, but now visiting a favela in Rio de Janeiro is one of the most common tours for visitors who want to immerse themselves in the daily life of the Cidade Maravilhosa . It was even the temporary home of many Argentines during the World Cup, who got more affordable rates and hospitality like at home.

The community of Santa Marta, in the Botafogo neighborhood, is the most touristy. It was the first to be pacified in 2008 and the first to open its intricate alleys to visitors, as a new economic resource for many of its inhabitants. Before it was the battlefield of drug traffickers, with bullfights, deaths and terror as common currency.

There are official guides, encouraged and organized by the government, who live in the community and who help navigate this labyrinth that spreads across the hill. At the foot of the favela, tours are advertised at a stand on busy San Clemente Street. There José Carlos, one of the guides, takes us to discover his world for 50 reales per person.

The first intention was to go up to the top with a funicular and then go down the corridors and stairs..., but right in front of our noses the elevator did not want to take any more and we had to undertake the ascent on foot, which puts our physical condition to the test. even from an athlete. To think that the inhabitants who live in the upper areas have no other alternative than to go up and down every time they go to work, to buy something and even to take out the trash. No cars, bicycles or any other transport enter: you can only go up by climbing stairs through small corridors, some so narrow that only one person can pass through (and if you're lucky it works, with the funicular).
Doña Marta, as she is also called, became known because Michael Jackson recorded part of the clip They don't take care about us almost 20 years ago. The musician's step was immortalized in a statue at the top of the hill.

José Carlos says that they are quite similar to a traditional neighborhood: they pay for electricity consumption, they have a communal president who is elected by vote, a hostel, churches and even a post office to receive correspondence.

“Since peace was pacified and the police came in, crime has decreased a lot,” he explains. Now you can explore it without fear.”

There are businesses that sell everything, many bars and small restaurants and countless houses that grow upwards.

All with a festive atmosphere, open doors and a lot of tranquility. The boys play ball forever, some neighbors chat in the hallways and others work. Everything is very colorful, although yellow-green dominates. They gave the houses and apartments a facelift to receive the World Cup.

José Carlos invites us to visit his house: the dining room is on the first floor, a spiral staircase leads to the kitchen and another leads to the laundry room. On the other side, another staircase connects the rooms. And the higher you go, the better the view, which reaches all the way to Guanabara Bay. That is a peculiarity: the homes extend upwards. There are more than 1,800 houses and 6,000 people live there. A big family.

Living here is not for the poor: a one-room home rents between 600 and 800 reais per month, and if you want to be an owner you have to think about paying at least 100,000 reais.

Despite the daily effort to go up and down, the garbage accumulated in some places and pipes that leak water in sight, José Carlos assures: “Everyone wants to live here because it is close to everything and it is also very safe.”

The statistics support it. A survey published by the newspaper

O Globo confirms that 94% of the inhabitants of Brazil's favelas are happy and that 65% consider themselves middle class. Almost another neighborhood, although very particular.

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