the spiritual revolution

The Brazilian girl braiding my hair is telling me about how she travelled here from the north of Brazil, near the amazon. Her portugeuese accent is hard for me to understand, I hear how many times she says Amazonia, I tell her I can tell how passionate she is about it. She has light brown skin and tight afro curls that are blonde on the tips from the sun. She has tattoos of black aboriginal pattern on in a straight column down her abdomen, crossing under her breasts underneath her top, and patterns on her arms and shoulders. She is part African and part aboriginal Brazilian descent, when the 

She tells me about the journey she took to Costa Rica through Colombia. I asked her if she was scared. At first she said yes, then seems to change her mind. They slept in hammocks, they travelled by a group. There were different groups of indigenous peoples, some African, and they slept in shipping crates and had barbecues and danced to drums all night. She starts talking excitedly remembering the party. It was so fun, it was so fun. Everyone was so warm and supportive.  I ask how are they, the indigenous? She said some are doing well for themselves, working, and others are doing very badly, they are lost. She gets sad. I say it’s the great amazon story. Yes, she says, they have a theatre in the town…
I ask her if they have some unique spiritual beliefs, she says they practice in Maranhão, which involves dancing and music.  She says Christianity is too limited. I agree. She starts to dance and be cheerful again. After a silence she asks me if I have any spiritual beliefs and I say that I believe in reincarnation, and she says oh yes, I can see her posture relaxing, I can’t see her face but I know she is smiling, gently, wistfully.