The capoeira is announced. People go to a corner of the patio where they gather around a white circle of cement in the middle of the sand. Expectations are high. Under a dim light, before this ritual of dance-fighting starts, one more time a message is read that talks about God, the Comando Vermelho, and Bagulhão. On the cement are 15 men with white uniforms, some wearing T-shirts with a logo that contains the words "Capoeira Group of the Penal Institution of Cândido Mendes - Freedom - C.V.."

The berimbau makes the call, the reverberating melody of its gourd and string is followed with the sound of a drum and a tambourine. Everybody starts to clap hands and to sing. The performance takes form. As the capoeira players take turns, the roda circle warms up. One of them, acting strangely, 'buys' his turn into the fight and, as if entranced, throws himself into the air in somersaults, one after another. I see his eyes rolled, totally white, like in a possession. I am astonished. I have never seen anyone with so much energy. The rhythm of the berimbau then calms down the game.

It is already three o'clock in the morning and some children, excited with the capoeira, enter the roda one by one. The spectators have fun and applaud. At this contented moment, while I am still relaxing from the tension of the previous game, I hear a voice coming from behind me in the middle of the spectators. "The only thing I will get, when I leave here, is to be a useless marginal person! Here, we don't have conditions to learn anything! We are not treated like human beings! The last group of prisoners sent here didn't even receive mattresses and are sleeping on the cement! The kitchen has flies, rats, and cockroaches roving all over the pans! In the cells the sewer drips from the ceiling..." When I turn back and I try to look at the man who is venting his discontent, he runs out, pushing everybody who is in his way.

It is about four o'clock in the morning. The samba continues to roll and the party will undoubtedly go until the sunrise.