If the facts in this book did not occur as Cobrinha Verde tells them... too bad for the facts.

Brief Introduction by Marcelino dos Santos (Mestre Mau)

I was born in Santo Amaro da Purificação, and I met Cobrinha here in Salvador. Knowing that he was one of the best capoeira mestres in Bahia, I made an effort to get close to him. And thus began my project of researching his life. I discovered that he was one of the greatest capoeiristas of all time because of his malícia, courage, and teaching. He was an heir of the famous Besouro – the greatest capoeirista of all times. When I found out that Cobrinha Verde was Besouro's cousin and was raised as his brother, I became even more interested in the mestre's life. This was how I learned from his wisdom and his wickedness, as the great mestre he was.

Capoeira and Mandingas - Part I 

Many thanks to Contra-Mestre Perere for making this text available for translation!

[Phrases in italics and brackets are my added notes on the translation - Shayna McHugh]

My father was called João Alves França, and my mother Maria Narcisa Bispo. They were only married by the church [and not by the state], so this is why I only inherited my father's last name. I am called: Rafael Alvez França.

Besouro, my mestre, began to teach me capoeira when I was just 4 years old. Besouro's father was named João, nicknamed João Grosso, and his mother was Maria Haifa. Maria Haifa was my aunt, so Besouro was my cousin, and was raised as my brother. My mother raised him.

In those days, Besouro taught his students hidden from the police, because the police heavily persecuted capoeiristas. When the police showed up to attack, he would tell his students to flee, and deal with the police alone.

I was brought up in that environment. My true mestre was Besouro, but I learned from many mestres in Santo Amaro. I will give their names one by one: Maitá (who even had a samba song named after him), Licurí, Joité, Dendê, Gasolina, Siri de Mangue, Doze Homens, Esperidião, Juvêncio Grosso, Espinho Remoso, Neco Canário Pardo. Actually, Neco Canário Pardo was my machete teacher. The one who taught me razor technique was Tonha, nicknamed Tonha Rolo do Mar. A woman. She is still alive, and walks around with a machete in hand. She lives in Feira de Santana.

I grew... when I was about 17 years old, I had confrontations with the police. I had very nasty battles with them. I was strongly hated by the police because I didn't turn myself in.

There was a deputy in Santo Amaro named Veloso, the old Veloso. He was the toughest deputy in Santo Amaro. He was the grandfather of Caetano Veloso and Maria Betânia [two famous Bahian singers]. He always walked around with two soldiers, one on each side. He wore boots and was always armed. He would beat up anyone in the middle of the street for any little thing. He didn't know me, but he searched for me.

One day, I was coming home from a samba in Catolé. When I passed under a peanut tree on the edge of the river, I encountered him, colonel Veloso. I don't know if it was Barauna or Tamborete, his soldiers, who pointed me out. Then he whistled. "Hey, come here." I waited. "Aren't you Cobrinha Verde, the tough guy around here, who goes around beating up the police?"

"No, I'm not a troublemaker," I said. "I have never killed or dishonored anyone, I can't be a bully."

And he said: "Prepare to get beaten up," and put his hand on his weapon.

When he took it out, I put my hand on the eighteen inches (the machete that I carried) and I hit him with the flat of the blade. He was startled. His two soldiers attacked... I beat them both up. They ran. I beat up the deputy soundly with the flat of my blade, but left him without a single scratch.

Then I fled. I went to Dona Sinhazinha Batista, who often protected me. She was the wife of Dr. Batista Marques. I taught her children every Sunday. When I arrived at her house and told her the story, she said: "My son, I can't get you out of this one. You have to get out of here because Veloso is my cousin, and I can't escape him."

"I don't doubt it," I said. She gave me 100 mil-réis [mil-réis were an old unit of Brazilian currency] and told me to disappear from Santo Amaro.

I passed by the house of Padre Acelino, my godfather, to talk. He also gave me 100 mil-réis. He took me to the church, confessed me, and asked for blessing upon me. Then he turned to me and said: "Where are you going, my son?"

I said, "My father, I'm going without a destination."

I went to Lençóis, and got involved with Horácio de Matos' band of fighters. I was seventeen years old. I spend three years and six months fighting along with them.

Horácio de Matos' men weren't a bunch of bandits. Horácio de Matos was fighting to be president of the north. He thought there should be two presidents in the country. He had a lot of money, he wasn't a bandit. Lampião was a bandit. He formed a crew of rogues. We earned 10 mil-réis per day to fight with the police when they showed up.

I spent three years and six months in Horácio de Matos' band. The last shot I fired with them was in Serra do Gentio do Ouro.

At midnight one night, while we awaited the police, I dreamt about the spirit of my father, asking me to leave that environment. When I awoke, I obeyed. Everyone was sleeping, and I filled two backpacks with spare bullets and fled.

I went to Manaus, and then I thought I might be near the band. Afraid that they would find me, I went to Rio Branco, which in those days was merely a settlement. Today it's the capital [of the Brazilian state of Acre]. But when I arrived in Rio Branco, it was the mosquito season, and there was lots of fever, typhoid... I returned to Manaus. In Manaus I had a family with India Mansa from the Juçara Tribe. I had two children with her. When I was doing well with India (for me, I was fulfilling a mission), I received news that the Revolutionaries were marching from the interior of Ceará.

I abandoned my family and went south, joining the revolutionaries. Oswaldo Aranha, Juarez Távora and Juracy Magalhães accompanied the commander: Getúlio Vargas. We left Ceará with 60 men, and went on foot to Alagoinhas. I was just 22 years old. When we arrived in Alagoinhas we had over 3,000 men. We exchanged fire for an hour and thirty minutes, heavy fire. They say you can still find human skulls in that area to this day.

From Alagoinhas to Calçada (in Salvador) we went by train, which was called Maria Bonita. In those days, the greatest police chief in Salvador was Pedro Gordilho, who andava numa baratinha. He ran and hid on Itaparica Island.

When we arrived in Salvador, the barracks couldn't hold all the revolutionaries. There was only room for half the men. There was no room for me. I stayed in an old museum in the Campo Grande area, where the Castro Alves Theater is today. I had been there 15 days when a revolt broke out in São Paulo.

I asked permission from my superiors, and went to São Paulo. I fought for six months. Whoever says that the war in São Paulo lasted longer than six months is lying. 3,150 men from my platoon were injured. I was the least injured. I was deaf for six months because of the explosions. When the fighting ceased, we went to gather the bodies of our dead comrades. They poured gasoline on the bodies and burned them. That was when I felt remorse...

When the revolt in São Paulo was over, I returned to Salvador. I stayed in an old barracks in the Campo Grande area. They gave me a promotion to Third Sergeant, for having been a hero in combat. I wasn't promoted for my high level of education, because I am illiterate to this day. I ended up being the sergeant who was in charge of the bay area, caring for stables of animals, horses, etc.

In the barracks there was a lieutenant known as Querido. He was from Rio Grande. During the war, because I feared nothing, he would put me as the lookout every day and every night. One day I defied him and said I wouldn't go. So he got mad at me.

The lieutenant was single, and slept in the barracks. One day he went out and returned at midnight. On that day, it so happened that I was also out, working as a guard. But he came back and said that he had seen me gambling with a soldier (and even today, at my ripe old age, I have never cared for gambling in any form). He made this false accusation against me, and I ended up in prison for 15 days.

On the day they let me out, I went back to my locker in the barracks and left my uniform and everything else there.

When I had returned from the revolt in São Paulo, I brought with me a small weapon that belonged to the first commander who I fought alongside during the revolt. He was shot in the chest, and fell. I jumped on top of him, stuck my hand in his pocket and found: ten mil-réis, a pair of wedding rings, and a gun. It had 18 cylinders. No one in the barracks knew that I had that gun. I kept it hidden inside my locker.

On the day they let me out of prison, after I changed my clothes, I grabbed the gun, put it in my pocket, and went up to the command offices to kill the lieutenant who had slandered me. I was very quick. When I walked through the door I said: "Prepare yourself to die right now, lieutenant!" The man gave a jump and surrendered. But Colonel Pinto Aleixo, Colonel Herculano, and Colonel Ladislau intervened. They couldn't put me back in prison, because they had found out that the lieutenant had accused me falsely. So instead they grabbed me and dragged me to the door, saying, "Go home and rest." I no longer lived in the barracks, I lived in the Fazenda Garcia neighborhood. So I went home. The next day, I went back to the barracks and I was listed as "suspended for an indeterminate period." To this day, I haven't pressed the case further or raised a fuss. I didn't really care.

I returned to my profession as a stonemason. Today I am retired, and I earn a meager salary that isn't enough to live on.

Click here for Part II of "Capoeira and Mandingas"