Hanging with Umbanda

Things that bump and grind in the night. Tom Quinn travels to Portugal to gain first hand experience

It wasn't until I was standing on a corner in Lisbon last week that I realized how little information I had about Antonio, the man supposed to pick me up five minutes earlier. I knew only that he was A. male and B. a practitioner of Umbanda, the voodoo-esque religion that originated in Brazil.

Antonio, according to the plans we made the day before, was to take me to Portugal's Sacred Temple of Umbanda, where I would see two rituals performed by its proprietor, the Babalorixa Pedro de Ogum, or Pai (father) Pedro for short.

Thanks to my two years of working with Umbandistas in Brazil, my expectation was of a country bumpkin who might suggest I ride in the bed of the truck with the chickens, but that impression went out the window when my contact pulled up in a new Fiat and introduced himself in perfect English.

Soon I learned that Antonio, an engineer who spoke eight languages, was new to Umbanda, having been introduced to it by his wife, Iara, just months before. What really intrigued me, however, was the way he spoke of a belief that would likely be dismissed as ridiculous in many circles.

"Umbanda is the most complete religion that I've found, and believe me, I've studied a lot of them," he said. "I took a lot of time to get to know the ins and outs of Umbanda before I joined, and this is what makes sense to me. It's amazing. You'll see."

***********

Thirty minutes later we arrived at an ordinary-looking building that could have passed for a small but comfortable bungalow. It was situated in the midst of an impressive garden with exotic plants and waterfalls, all of which, I was told, were chosen to appease entities invoked there.

We were greeted enthusiastically by Pai Pedro, a white-clad thirty something with a striking resemblance to Randy Quaid circa 1989. Determined to teach me everything there is to know about Umbanda, Pai Pedro gave me a crash course on the subject. I tried to keep up, but hours later I still barely knew the difference between an Exu and a Pomba Gira.

“Umbanda is all about helping people,” Pai Pedro explained. “We turn to spirits to find solutions to our problems. The nature of the problem determines which spirit we invoke.”

By the end of our conversation, Pai Pedro's followers, or “children,” had arrived. As I watched them greet each other like high society types at a baby shower, I again noted that these people were definitely not the stereotypical dregs of society come to sacrifice chickens in the slums of Rio. These were business owners and bankers, college professors and psychologists. I felt a bit silly being the only person present without a postgraduate degree.

The banter continued until everyone had changed from ordinary attire to white pyjamas similar to those of Pai Pedro. Once all were ready, we entered the temple and formed a semicircle around a white altar, which was surrounded by both African and Catholic artefacts and watched over by a white porcelain figure of Jesus, his arms extended as if to embrace us.

The altar illustrated, albeit unintentionally, the history of Umbanda, which started in Africa and was brought to Brazil by the slave trade. Forced to convert to Catholicism, the slaves instead incorporated the Catholic Saints into the existing hierarchy of African Spirits, thus creating a monotheistic religion that is as linked to the Vatican as it is to the Congo.

The room was pin-drop quiet initially, but then began the drumming and chanting, which reverberated off the walls and the floor of the tiny room until it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The music, combined with the dancing of the white-clad congregation, nearly had me swaying back and forth in unison.

Suddenly, one woman began to shake like a broken washing machine stuck on spin. She was a medium, I was told, a person who loaned her body to an entity in order to give supernatural advice to those present via one-on-one conversations held off to the side. I soon discovered that while incorporado, or possessed, the medium's voice, gait, and mannerisms change, presumably because the spirit is in complete control of the individual's body.

Those who aren't yet spiritually developed enough to act as mediums can also receive entities, though they generally lack the control and verbal capacity of their more developed counterparts. At one point or another almost everyone gave in, contorting his or her body into one awkward position after another, pounding incessantly on the floor, or furiously spinning with the single-mindedness of a dog determined to chase—and catch—its tail.

“The entity is trying to get a feel for the body,” explained Pai Pedro. “Think of it as trying on a new coat. You put it on, and then you want to move around to see how it feels.”

************

When we where hashing out the details of my trip, Pai Pedro insisted that I visit the temple twice: first to see a “right” ritual, like the one described above, which invokes the entities who represent mankind's positive qualities, and again for a “left” ritual, which involves utilising those spirits who embody our vices to rid the congregation of negative energy.

“We need to have balance in all aspects of our lives,” said Pai Pedro. “We can't go around pretending these qualities don't exist. We have to address them, and this is how we do it.”

He waited for nightfall to begin the left-leaning ritual, which made the previous night's event seem about as strange as a sewing circle. Cellophane-covered lights bathed the room in a red glow and accented the decorative changes Pai Pedro had made since my last visit. The figurine of Jesus had been replaced by a large eight-pointed star, and the walls and windows had been covered with bright red or jet black fabric. Stylised pitchforks were plentiful, as were black candles and food offerings for the entities. The worshippers, all of whom were dressed richly yet provocatively, matched the colour scheme, which gave the event a gothic, Tim Burton-esque flavour.

“The (female spirits) on these grounds are very sexual, very sensual,” explained Pai Pedro just before the drumming and chanting began. “We're always careful to buy only the clothes the entities want. It's one of the ways of the spirits expressing themselves”

This ritual featured three mediums channelling entities, though bumping and grinding with an invisible partner had largely replaced the shaking and spinning of the night before. At one point, one fell to the ground, only to throw her head back in a fit of hysterical laughter. All three would spend the next two hours smoking cigarettes, drinking champagne, and aiming “come hither” looks at anyone who made eye contact. They also dispensed advice, often without solicitation from the party concerned. One entity, apparently sensing my chronic inability to keep a girlfriend, provided me with a red rose to help me woo “the woman I like the most.”

Once again, the other worshippers periodically loaned their bodies to the nearby spiritual entities, but rather than shaking or pounding on the floor, most of the women tended to dance seductively while their male counterparts alternated between howling and laughing maniacally. Occasionally an entity would demand a cigar or an alcoholic beverage, and there were plenty of both on hand to satisfy their cravings.

Following the Dionysian ritual, they chatted outside the temple until well after midnight as they waited for their heads to clear and their strength to return. I was exhausted when I finally made it back to my hotel around 3:00 AM, but my still-reeling mind made sleep difficult.

************

Over the years, I've seen God(s) worshipped in all kinds of different ways. I've felt the burden of Catholic guilt and had the demon of Mormonism cast out of me by well-meaning but totally unhinged evangelicals. Once I even sat in on a waterlogged service of the “Surfers in Christ,” but never have I seen a group that enjoyed their religion as much as the Umbandistas.

Although I found parts of the rituals strange and even scary, the positive effects they had on the congregation were undeniable. Those who arrived tired and stressed from a long day's work left upbeat and relaxed. Whereas some religious people (myself included) actively look for excuses to skip a church service, these Umbandistas bend over backwards to avoid missing a ritual.

“I'm here every week, at least once a week,” said one member. “If I get caught up at work and I can't come, it throws everything off. It just feels like something is missing.”

Pai Pedro knows how important his temple is to those who attend his rituals, and is fully aware that for him, a mid-life career change is simply not in the cards.

“There are people counting on me to be here when they need help,” he says. “I couldn't pack up and leave if I wanted to. This is definitely a life-long calling that I've been given, but I'm okay with that. There's nothing I'd rather be doing.”

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The secret anti-capitalist history of McDonald’s

As a new film focuses on the real founder of McDonald’s, his grandson reveals the unlikely story behind his family’s long-lost restaurant.

One afternoon in about the year 1988, an 11-year-old boy was eating at McDonald’s with his family in the city of Manchester, New Hampshire. During the meal, he noticed a plaque on the wall bearing a man’s face and declaring him the founder of McDonald’s. These plaques were prevalent in McDonald’s restaurants across the US at the time. The face – gleaming with pride – belonged to Ray Kroc, a businessman and former travelling salesman long hailed as the creator of the fast food franchise.

Flickr/Phillip Pessar

But this wasn’t the man the young boy munching on fries expected to see. That man was in the restaurant alongside him. “I looked at my grandfather and said, ‘But I thought you were the founder?’” he recalls. “And that’s when, in the late Eighties, early Nineties, my grandfather went back on the [McDonald’s] Corporation to set the history straight.”

Jason McDonald French, now a 40-year-old registered nurse with four children, is the grandson of Dick McDonald – the real founder of McDonald’s. When he turned to his grandfather as a confused child all those years ago, he spurred him on to correct decades of misinformation about the mysterious McDonald’s history. A story now being brought to mainstream attention by a new film, The Founder.


Jason McDonald French

“They [McDonald’s Corporation] seemed to forget where the name actually did come from,” says McDonald French, speaking on the phone from his home just outside Springfield, Massachusetts.

His grandfather Dick was one half of the McDonald brothers, an entrepreneurial duo of restaurateurs who started out with a standard drive-in hotdog stand in California, 1937.

Dick's father, an Irish immigrant, worked in a shoe factory in New Hampshire. He and his brother made their success from scratch. They founded a unique burger restaurant in San Bernardino, around 50 miles east of where they had been flogging hotdogs. It would become the first McDonald’s restaurant.

Most takeout restaurants back then were drive-ins, where you would park, order food from your car, and wait for a “carhop” server to bring you your meal on a plate, with cutlery. The McDonald brothers noticed that this was a slow, disorganised process with pointless costly overheads.

So they invented fast food.

***

In 1948, they built what came to be known as the “speedy system” for a fast food kitchen from scratch. Dick was the inventor out of the two brothers - as well as the bespoke kitchen design, he came up with both the iconic giant yellow “M” and its nickname, the “Golden Arches”.

“My grandfather was an innovator, a man ahead of his time,” McDonald French tells me. “For someone who was [only] high school-educated to come up with the ideas and have the foresight to see where the food service business was going, is pretty remarkable.”


The McDonald brothers with a milkshake machine.

McDonald French is still amazed at his grandfather’s contraptions. “He was inventing machines to do this automated system, just off-the-cuff,” he recalls. “They were using heat lamps to keep food warm beforehand, before anyone had ever thought of such a thing. They customised their grills to whip the grease away to cook the burgers more efficiently. It was six-feet-long, which was just unheard of.”

Dick even custom-made ketchup and mustard dispensers – like metal fireplace bellows – to speed up the process of garnishing each burger. The brothers’ system, which also cut out waiting staff and the cost of buying and washing crockery and cutlery, brought customers hamburgers from grill to counter in 30 seconds.


The McDonald brothers as depicted in The Founder. Photo: The Founder

McDonald French recounts a story of the McDonald brothers working late into the night, drafting and redrafting a blueprint for the perfect speedy kitchen in chalk on their tennis court for hours. By 3am, when they finally had it all mapped out, they went to bed – deciding to put it all to paper the next day. The dry, desert climate of San Bernardino meant it hadn’t rained in months.

 “And, of course, it rained that night in San Bernardino – washed it all away. And they had to redo it all over again,” chuckles McDonald French.

In another hiccup when starting out, a swarm of flies attracted by the light descended on an evening event they put on to drum up interest in their restaurant, driving customers away.


An original McDonald's restaurant, as depicted in The Founder. Photo: The Founder

***

These turned out to be the least of their setbacks. As depicted in painful detail in John Lee Hancock’s film, Ray Kroc – then a milkshake machine salesman – took interest in their restaurant after they purchased six of his “multi-mixers”. It was then that the three men drew up a fateful contract. This signed Kroc as the franchising agent for McDonald’s, who was tasked with rolling out other McDonald’s restaurants (the McDonalds already had a handful of restaurants in their franchise). 

Kroc soon became frustrated at having little influence. He was bound by the McDonalds’ inflexibility and stubborn standards (they wouldn’t allow him to cut costs by purchasing powdered milkshake, for example). The film also suggests he was fed up with the lack of money he was making from the deal. In the end, he wriggled his way around the contract by setting up the property company “McDonald’s Corporation” and buying up the land on which the franchises were built.


Ray Kroc, as depicted in The Founder. Photo: The Founder

Kroc ended up buying McDonald’s in 1961, for $2.7m. He gave the brothers $1m each and agreeing to an annual royalty of half a per cent, which the McDonald family says they never received.

“My father told us about the handshake deal [for a stake in the company] and how Kroc had gone back on his word. That was very upsetting to my grandfather, and he never publicly spoke about it,” McDonald French says. “It’s probably billions of dollars. But if my grandfather was never upset about it enough to go after the Corporation, why would we?”

They lost the rights to their own name, and had to rebrand their original restaurant “The Big M”. It was soon put out of business by a McDonald’s that sprang up close by.


An original McDonald restaurant in Arizona. Photo: Flickr/George

Soon after that meal when the 11-year-old Jason saw Kroc smiling down from the plaque for the first time, he learned the true story of what had happened to his grandfather. “It’s upsetting to hear that your family member was kind of duped,” he says. “But my grandfather always had a great respect for the McDonald’s Corporation as a whole. He never badmouthed the Corporation publicly, because he just wasn’t that type of man.”

Today, McDonalds' corporate website acknowledges the McDonalds brothers as the founders of the original restaurant, and credits Kroc with expanding the franchise. The McDonald’s Corporation was not involved with the making of The Founder, which outlines this story. I have contacted it for a response to this story, but it does not wish to comment.

***

Dick McDonald’s principles jar with the modern connotations of McDonald’s – now a garish symbol of global capitalism. The film shows Dick’s attention to the quality of the food, and commitment to ethics. In one scene, he refuses a lucrative deal to advertise Coca Cola in stores. “It’s a concept that goes beyond our core beliefs,” he rants. “It’s distasteful . . . crass commercialism.”

Kroc, enraged, curses going into business with “a beatnik”.


Photo: The Founder

Dick’s grandson agrees that McDonald’s has strayed from his family’s values. He talks of his grandfather’s generosity and desire to share his wealth – the McDonald brothers gave their restaurant to its employees, and when Dick returned to New Hampshire after the sale, he used some of the money to buy new Cadillacs with air conditioning for his old friends back home.

“[McDonald’s] is definitely a symbol of capitalism, and it definitely sometimes has a negative connotation in society,” McDonald French says. “If it was still under what my grandfather had started, I imagine it would be more like In'N'Out Burger [a fast food chain in the US known for its ethical standards] is now, where they pay their employees very well, where they stick to the simple menu and the quality.”

He adds: “I don’t think it would’ve ever blossomed into this, doing salads and everything else. It would’ve stayed simple, had quality products that were great all the time.

“I believe that he [my grandfather] wasn’t too unhappy that he wasn’t involved with it anymore.”


The McDonald’s Museum, Ray Kroc’s first franchised restaurant in the chain. Photo: Wikimedia Commons

Despite his history, Dick still took his children and grandchildren to eat at McDonald’s together – “all the time” – as does Jason McDonald French with his own children now. He’s a cheeseburger enthusiast, while his seven-year-old youngest child loves the chicken nuggets. But there was always a supersize elephant in the room.

“My grandfather never really spoke of Ray Kroc,” he says. “That was always kind of a touchy subject. It wasn’t until years later that my father told us about how Kroc was not a very nice man. And it was the only one time I ever remember my grandfather talking about Kroc, when he said: ‘Boy, that guy really got me.’”

The Founder is in UK cinemas from today.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.