SÃO TOMÉ & PRÍNCIPE
wanderlust.co.uk March 2020 143jackfruit. “Pau agua,” he declared,
holding the branch above my
gaping mouth: “Tree water” –
deliciously cool, with a hint of
cucumber. I hefted the bulbous
jackfruit to test its weight – and
spent 20 minutes picking its viscous
sapfrom my fi ngers.
Ineeded those fi ngers clean for
lunch at Sheira’s ‘restaurant’ – really
alean-to shack – in Roça Sundy back
upnorth. Like Água Izé, the once-
grand Sundy plantation hosts
acommunity descended from
serviçais; here, though, many work in
thenewly opened hotel housed in two
beautifully renovated colonial houses,
where I was to spend my last nights.
Sheira, ladling banana chunks from
oilbubbling on her alfresco stove,
greeted me with an infectious grin;
she’s50, but looks half that (“My
secret? Dance, smile, play football,
stayyoung!”) I tucked into her spicy,
soupy guisado do peixe (fi sh stew),
thengrilled fi sh with salad, fried
banana and rice – a typically simple
buttasty island classic – as we
chatted with her grandson Benax.
Sheira is the community’s
mouthpiece in negotiations over
Terra Prometida (Promised Land),
anew colony being built for the
community’s 130-odd families,
providing modern housing to
replace cramped plantation
quarters. “Here we have only one
room with two beds for three
people,” she observed, showing
meher home. “Our new house will
havea kitchen, bathroom, separate
rooms; we will have a kindergarten,
schools, a church, a market.”
But while the community prepares
todepart, old ways are being revived
atSundy, not just the elegant colonial
houses. Cacao, introduced here in
1822,is once more being transformed
intochocolate, albeit at an artisan
scale, providing employment for
plantation residents.
Such human heritage is as precious
asnatural treasures, refl ected in the
island’s designation as a UN Biosphere
Reserve. Some aspects are under
threat: Lung’iye, the Príncipe dialect, is
spoken by just a handful of islanders.
Others are thriving – not least the Auto
deFloripes, a melange of pseudo-
Christian legend and local folklore thatrefl ecting ambivalent attitudes
towards former colonial masters.
By the time I arrived mid-morning,
the action has been hotting up for
several hours. I use that description
advisedly: the actors, wearing
multi-layered costumes, ties, false
beards and hats since dawn, must
have been sweltering. Still, the
fi ery-hued Moors marched through
the town to the beat of drums and ear-
piercing whistles, character names
painted on shields – helpful subtitles
for onlookers – amassing a boisterous
entourage. Meanwhile, the blue-and-
white-clad Christians, more solemn
but no less strident, loudly denounced
the perfi dy of the Saracens.
By mid-afternoon, children were
buzzing with excitement – and sugar:
vendors touted candyfl oss, popcorn,
octopus, sea snails and crabs. A phalanx
of demonic, cane-wielding bobos
(jesters) shepherded spectators out of
the line of fi re. Red shield clashed
against blue, sword clattered sword.
Soldiers fell, rose and fell again, while
Floripes looked on from her ‘castle’
and the frenzied action climaxed in
a succession of deafening crescendos.
At dusk I retreated. I’d miss the
fi nal hours of raging and rhetoric,
but of course I knew the Christians
would prevail. Though the show has
evolved, the script is preserved – just
like Príncipe. Its precious heritage- rare wildlife, historic plantations
and unique culture are protected by
isolation and intent, to be discovered
only by those few who venture to this
curious, captivating jewel.
draws pretty much the whole island to
Santo António every August.Good vs evil
Superfi cially it’s a medieval morality
play, based on a chanson de geste (French
epic poem), introduced to the island by
the Portuguese. In brief, the army of
Imperador Carlos Magno (Emperor
Charlemagne) confronts that of the
Saracen Almirante Balão (King Balan),
who has stolen holy Christian relics.
The Moorish leader’s daughter,
Floripes, falls in love with a Christian
knight, Guy of Burgundy; a series of
vocal battles and stylised skirmishes
between Cristianos (Christians) and
Moros (Moors) follow at locations
across the town before, inevitably,
the former triumph. “It’s a story of
passion and betrayal, good versus evil,”
explained anthropologist Rita Alves,
who I encountered at a serendipitous
moment mid-clash. “The script has
changed little in two centuries.”
Today, though, it’s an all-day
sensory spectacle, more carnival than
performance, with subtle accents⊲
Blazesofcolour
(clockwisefromfarleft)
Sheiraisacommunity
spokespersoninRoça
Sundy;aPríncipe
kingisher;streetfood
includesbarbecued
octopus;goodandevil
comefacetoface;crabs
atSantoAntónio;theold
plantationbuildinginRoça
Sundy;aboboplots
mischief;(right)Moros
watchfromtheirbalcony‘Todaythe festivalis
anall-daysensory
spectacle,morecarnival
than performance’
⊳
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