Engenho do Seu Zepa, Viçosa do Ceará • Brasil

These are some images from a project I have been working since 2003 in my homegrounds in the mountains of northeastern Brasil. Here are images from one of the last family owned engenhos left in the state. Engenhos date back to the times of Portuguese colonization. Back then they were worked by enslaved Africans. This particular engenho is three-generations old. They treat the yucca to make two types of flour and the sugar cane to make rapadura - a fundamental element in the local cuisine.

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my grandmother • a minha avó

the big 79, part IV: the presents • os presentes

My great grandmother used to display all her birthday presents on her bed every year and ask that her photo be made sitting beside them. My grandmother was too busy caring for her 150 guests to think about being in this photo.

the big 79, part III: the cake • o bolo

my grandmother's house • a casa de minha avó

My mother, her sister, and guess who that is up there hanging on the wall?

the big 79, part II: a comida

the big 79

As she turns 79 years-old, my granmother would not have it any other way. The most logical things to do in such an occasion is certainly to have a party for 150 people. That's how she rolls. The small town of Viçosa do Ceará showed came in full force. Besides the Mapurunga family, there were the town priest, the mayor, the past mayor (of a different political party - it is remarkable they would be seen in the same place), and so many other people I lost track.

my grandmother's house • a casa de minha avó

Only once a year or so do I have the pleasure to being in the company of my family. While some people may dred hanging with their own folk, I surely take great joy in it, especially being in the company of my grandmother, the matriarch of our large large large Mapurunga family. Dona Ritinha, my grandmother, had eighteen brothers and sisters. Her mother is 102 years old.

Dona Ritinha lives in Viçosa do Ceará, what I consider to be my birth grounds because she raised me when I was still a baby. Her home is a sanctuary to me and to so many others to whom she has been opening her doors for the past 40 years. You see, her home is a well-known pousada, that is, a quaint, no frills, bed and breakfast in the mountains of Ibiapaba, about five hours from the capital Fortaleza.

Lucky are the ones who have the chance to meet her and stay at her home, the Sayonara Hotel, of all names. I have asked her many times throughout my life what this name means, and she still doesn't know. I think it should be left like that.