The National Museum of Rio begins a gradual reopening seven years after being engulfed in flames.

When the fire consumed the National Museum of Rio de Janeiro seven years ago, over 20 million objects were lost forever, ranging from Indigenous headdresses to fossils, dinosaur skeletons, and Egyptian mummies. Since then, restoration efforts have been progressing slowly. However, with an anticipated complete reopening still far off—expected in 2028—those in charge have chosen to offer the public a preview: starting this Wednesday, they will again showcase a familiar sight for the first time since the fire: the Bendegó meteorite, displayed in the museum since it opened in 1892.

Curious visitors can freely visit three rooms at the entrance, including the monumental staircase. Upon entering the museum, they will face the meteorite, which withstood the intense heat of the fire and now stands as a symbol of resilience. Surrounding it are freshly restored walls, alongside others that are completely charred, dirty, and chipped, just as they appeared after that fateful night of September 2, 2018. The fire was caused by a short circuit in some air conditioning units.

The idea is for visitors to appreciate the restorers’ work, juxtaposing the before and after. Eventually, restorations will be completed, but there is an adjacent room (currently closed to the public) where huge beams twisted by the fire and bare brick walls will be visible. This will be the Memory Space, a scar to commemorate the tragedy.

After the first look at the meteorite, eyes quickly turn upward. From the skylight illuminating the grand central staircase hangs a massive whale skeleton. It is a 16-meter male sperm whale. The accompanying exhibit invites visitors to give it a name. The story of the animal is noteworthy: it was found dying on a beach in Ceará, in northeastern Brazil, in 2014.

It spent six years buried under sand until the museum staff, in their search to reconstruct the lost collection, became aware of its existence. The skeleton was recovered, disassembled, and reassembled bone by bone in Rio after two months of work. Now, three tons hover above the heads of the public. António Carlos Amancio, Brazil’s only expert in osteomontage of cetaceans, proudly recounts this during a press visit to the museum. He was at the beach where it beached, buried it, and 11 years later, he has been raising its remains in the heart of the museum. “This is the largest sperm whale in Latin America,” he now proudly states.

Other attractions of this museum preview lie in the architectural and ornamental details that survived the fire, like two marble statues of the gods Orpheus and Cybele. Like many others, they adorned the top of the museum’s facade. The originals have been restored and replaced with copies. This part of the temporary exhibit reviews the building’s history.

The account briefly touches on an uncomfortable truth: that one of the most important museums in Brazil originated in the mansion of a Portuguese who made a fortune trafficking enslaved Africans. This was his home before Portuguese King João VI bought it in 1808 to turn it into a royal residence. It served as a palace for kings, emperors, and princesses until the monarchy’s end in 1889. After hosting the assembly of the first Constitution of the Republic, it was quickly converted into a museum.

Restoring its original splendor has not been easy. The total budget for restoration work is 517 million reais (95 million dollars), but 33% is still needed to complete the project. The majority of the funding is public, although five private companies also contribute.

Eighty percent of the roofs and seventy-five percent of the facades are already completed, but there is still much to do, especially in the rear and in the annex of this facility spanning over 15,000 square meters.

A separate chapter deserves the challenge of reassembling the collection. Museum officials have been knocking on the doors of institutions and private collectors around the world for years, and so far they have gathered 14,000 pieces.

The jewel of this future collection promises to be the cloak of the Tupinambá Indigenous people, an ancient and delicate garment made with the feathers of scarlet ibises. It returned to Brazil last September after three centuries in the National Museum of Denmark in Copenhagen. It will still take time before it can be visited. For now, it remains in a special room with tightly controlled light, temperature, and humidity conditions. The Tupinambá Indigenous people of Bahia, for whom it is not just an object but an ancestor to converse with, see it regularly. They will return to the museum next week for a vigil.

Some Indigenous people advocate for its return to its original territory, despite the challenges for its conservation. The deputy director of the National Museum, Andréa Ferreira da Costa, rules out that option. “We will always be open to their visits and rituals, but the cloak was a donation to the National Museum.”