One Sunday in February, 2008 when my wife and I were living in the bairro of Itapuã
which is situated near the airport of Salvador, I was home alone. My wife left out early
that day to visit with friends. It was a normal Sunday like so many other Sundays,
bright sunshine, blues skies, birds singing in the distance, quiet and peaceful. I received
a telephone call from a friend that asked if I would like to attend a festival at the house
of his sister. At the time, I did not know that my friend’s sister was a devout follower of
Candomblé and thought that it was simply a festival like other festivals that occur in
Brazil at this time of the year.
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