A single voice rises, calling to order the dancers and musicians who make up Mangueira, one of Rio de Janeiro's premiere samba organizations. The deepest bass drums answer, their rumble punctuated by the tinkling sounds of hundreds of tambourines, and Mangueira's 5,000 participants sweep out for the Carnaval parade.
Sequined costumes, some small enough to fit in the palm of one hand, are often topped with feathers in Mangueira's traditional pink and green. Dancers shimmer and shake, following the frenetic samba rhythm set by the 500-person percussion section.
About 30,000 spectators crowd the bleachers, dancing samba and singing Mangueira's theme song, which has been playing on the radio for weeks. The roar of voices and drums echoes in my belly. I forget the awkward shoulder harness bearing my load of feathers, my too-big shoes and the plastic parts of my costume, which stick to me in the heat.
After a lifetime of watching Rio's Carnaval parade as an expatriate Brazilian, I'm part of a 5,000-person river of light and sound under the floodlights of the Marques de Sapucai, an avenue outfitted to accommodate Rio's yearly celebration of excess and hedonism.
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