Beyond the uber-famous, internationally-known Shakira and Juanes, Colombian music is a thick stew of flavors and spices ladled in from the three founding cultures of the country: Euro, indigenous, and, most potently, Afro. And, as in most post-colonial societies, it is the music of Colombian artists that speaks most loudly against injustice and in homage to marginalized groups, all the while urging feet to tap and booties to shake. Check these:
CHOC QUIB TOWN, a powerful triumvirate of lyricists from Quibdó, the impoverished capital of the mostly-black, oft-maligned, and federally-neglected department of Chocó, on the Pacific coast. In what is virtually the Mississippi of Colombia, the scant resources sent to the region are stolen by corrupt officials and starvation, illiteracy, and narco-trafficking are rampant. Out of this struggle, of course, comes amazing creativity, manifested in Colombia's world-class entry into the realm of hip-hop.
Cabas, a son of the Colombian Caribbean, infuses his pop-rock melodies with the syncopated rhythms of his native region. Raised by a musician around musicians, Cabas' youthful voice and style add a playful air to his aural flirtations. The video below caught my eye when it rotated heavily on MTV, but his most recent hit also makes me smile (the refrain is "spend the night with me, gorgeous, and stay all day tomorrow").
Living world music icon, Totó La Momposina (NOT pronounced like Dorothy's dog), represents the epitome of traditional Afro-Colombian and indigenous folk music. Born in Mompox, a colonial river port deep in the swamps of the Caribbean interior, Totó chants and sings over the drumbeats of cumbia and mapalé with the soulful mix of Southern church lady and Yoruba griot.
The "niche" (pronounced NEE-chay) in Grupo Niche refers to a hip, stylish, fly black male—I've been called it a few times by people who thought I was from the Colombian capital of salsa, Cali, where this salacious musical combo is based. In fact, no where else in Colombia is salsa danced or played with as much boompangfwap as in the country's third largest city, very much like Atlanta with its black middle class, its history as the seat of a slave-based agricultural economy, and its present as the seat of a black music movement. Also check out their cousins, Orquesta Guayacán.
Lastly, Bogotá-based La Mojarra Eléctrica mixes traditional Afro-Colombian beats with reggae, funk, jazz, and electronica. The group is named for a traditional and plentiful fish eaten on the Caribbean coast, only electrified like their music. The video below, Calle 19, was filmed on the major commercial strip near my old crib in Downtown Bogotá, so when I watch it, I get a li'l nostalgic for the street vendors, juice bars, cheap lunch counters, car exhaust, noise, and gritty Ande-urban flavor.
Fly Brother welcomes your views. If this post hit the spot, please comment below and/or click.
"A jigsaw puzzle is a tiling puzzle that requires the assembly of numerous small, often oddly shaped, interlocking and tessellating pieces. Each piece has a small part of a picture on it; when complete, a jigsaw puzzle produces a complete picture."
Over the last few weeks, I've run across several interesting Internet items that I thought I'd share with you, my dear readers, starting with:
A Hundred Single Ladies in Piccadilly Circus
Life Magazine's brand-new online gallery of stunning travel photographs.
Jet Set Zero: "...a group of twenty-somethings traveling the world after only three months of minimum-wage work. We started with nothing to see just how far we can go, and have a few good adventures along the way." Why the HELL didn't I think of this when I was in MY 20s?
The Micro Machines-style interactive map of casino development on the Las Vegas Strip from the Las Vegas Sun newspaper (It's more interesting if you start at 2007 and work backwards).
The humorous rundown, over at World Hum, of the tightrope walk that is international dating etiquette: "Around the World in Five Dates".
Smelling, tasting, and feeling the Cidade Maravilhosa through my computer screen while being swept up in Alex Forman's visceral travel dispatch on Rio de Janeiro over at Nerve (This is inspired prose!).
Upgrade: Travel Better's thoughtful, thorough report on The Best Airfare Comparison Sites, and I guarantee you, it ain't Orbitz or Expedia.
The very impressive Afro-Swedish culture and lifestyle e-magazine, Urbanlife, and its review of the hilarious French race-changing comedy, Agathe Cléry (You HAVE to watch the trailer).
Travellious' quick-n-easy guide to getting your first passport, for those of you who still haven't caught on that true ballers go through Immigration, biyotch!
Recently screened at the Havana Film Festival New York, the 12-minute short film, Hispaniola, tackles Haitian-Dominican relations on the Caribbean's second-largest island.
Director Freddy Vargas shows us how childhood friendships can be marred by issues of race, class, and nationality as we watch a rich, light-skinned Dominican kid befriend the son of Haitian migrant workers living illegally across the street. The opening sequence underscores the misinformation taught to Dominicans about their historical ties with Haiti (the Haitians freed the entire island from European colonial rule and liberated the slaves on both the French and Spanish sides), and alludes to the legacy of former U.S.-backed Dominican dictator Rafael Trujillo, who ensured that education in the country minimized any references to African heritage.
My only criticism of the film would be that the obvious phenotypic differences between the characters in the movie don't speak to the complexities that arise when Dominicans of my own skin color (or darker) behave with the same rancor and hatred toward Haitians (or even very dark-skinned Dominicans). And believe me, I love my Dominicanos, but when it comes to the race issue, sometimes I be havin to let 'em know.
Best line comes from the little rich kid when he goes over to see his friend in spite of his jackass dad and tells him, "We're still friends and we're going to play baseball, okay?" with all the verve of a knowing Caribbean uncle. A mi mencant'el acento'minicano, sabeh?
One of the traditions of Carnival here in Colombia is the throwing of corn starch and water on unsuspecting revelers. This is the first time in three years that someone has succeeded in tagging me. Leave it to three intrepid Colombianas down from New Jersey...they had been plotting from the moment they saw me.
Warning: This post kind of rambles, but...here it go anyway. Maybe you folks'll glean some meaning from it.
A few weeks ago, I blogged about uncertainty and life choices. Monday, I chose to let my school know that I'm not coming back, and that I'm leaving academia, at least temporarily, to concentrate on writing and photography. As poet Robert Bruce said on Chris Guillebeau's phenomenally inspiring The Art of Non-Conformity blog, “If you have a fall back plan, you will, inevitably, fall back onto it.”
Financial Security v. Personal Fulfillment Part of the problem with deciding whether or not to renew my contract was the idea that I had to choose between financial security and personal fulfillment. My current job pays very well, and I've just paid off about 80% of my old credit card debts from the States. My plan was originally to remain here in Colombia for another academic year, stacking the bills while taking some exotic trips before finally heading down to São Paulo to write. The serious flaw in that plan: the sheer exhaustion caused by wrangling a hundred upper-class adolescents into submission for eight hours every day. I'd leave work with headaches, a twitching eyeball, general malaise, or in a bad mood, having restless nights and sometimes even nightmares. I'd barely have enough energy to bang out a blog post, let alone hit the gym, revise a novel, study my Spanish subjunctive, watch a movie in its entirety, or, Heaven forbid, get laid. In addition, the bedroom community that is Barranquilla doesn't offer much in the way of cultural amenities and is often a harsh reminder of what life would be like in the American South had there never been a Civil Rights Movement. This week, I chose personal fulfillment.
"You seem so happy, sir." The first thing my senior English class said to me after I submitted my notice to the school's administration was, "You seem so happy, sir." I didn't tell them what I had done - they'll find out soon enough - but being on the cusp of adulthood and an overall good group of kids (my favorite), they've known for a while that I've been generally unhappy this year. Bless their hearts, they even tried to hook me up as a model in the big annual fashion show ("You're hot, sir," they say) just to make me feel better. Fact is, I've been trying to put on a game face and do a job in which I'm not emotionally or intellectually invested; high school teaching is just not for me. My friends have all told me they think I've made the right decision. They said I seem happy as well.
Foregoing or Postponing To think that moving to Brazil now means giving up on travel plans and financial security makes for a false choice. Over the summer, I was scheduled to do my first round-the-world trip for about $3500, making stops in Montreal, New York, DC, San Francisco, Hong Kong, Helsinki, Istanbul, London, Madrid, and Algiers. In December, I would go to Mumbai for two weeks, hitting Mexico City and Tokyo on the way over, and Paris on the way back. February would mean Carnival in Trinidad ($357 round-trip from Barranquilla). Summer 2010 would be a third circumnavigation, culminating in the move to Sampa. Yes, on my current salary, it is possible to travel like this and still save $700-$1000 a month, and what others may consider frivolous travel, I consider contributing to my own education and personal development, as well as that of the people I encounter. But if the days between these mega-exploits are exasperating and intolerable to the point of needing an entire week of rest and solitude (like the week that just ended) just to recover a basic sense of motivation and momentum, isn't the cost greater than the benefit? Wouldn't I be spending unnecessary amounts of money in an attempt to "get away" from the tedium of the job and the vapidity of the place? But who says I can't do that same type of traveling from Brazil? Who says I can't find a way to make enough money there to do the things that I want to do? Who says I can't do whatever I want to do? Mama, I Wanna Write! What I want to do now, more than ever, is write. I want to finish the re-write of my first novel and prep it for publication. I want to begin a new novel set in Brazil. I want to broaden my travel writing portfolio. I want to try my hand at literary translation. I want to get paid for all that. And there's no better time to go all-in, establishing myself in a new home and launching a new stage in my career; I'm single, childless, relatively good-looking, with above-average intelligence, and decent writing skills. It's time to capitalize on those qualities before I no longer have them, or before a cadre of Fly Babies hits the scene.
So, write I shall. And take photos. And I'll set up housekeeping in São Paulo, which will be Fly Brother's new hub for both round-the-world treks to SydneySingaporeCapeTownDakar, and weekend road trips over to Rio. And I'll find new and improved ways than babysitting children to get paid. And I'll do other great things that I can't even fathom yet. Because it's written. Because my mama said so.
Jump Now to prepare my annual review, a few months early (or late...click here for more on gettin' your life right), minimize my expenses, wrap up these last two months of school, then I'm off into the unknown: anxious, excited, committed, open, free.
Fly Brother welcomes your views. If this post hit the spot, please comment below and/or click.
Fly Brother tackles international travel in unabridged, unapologetic, full and complete color. It's also the blog name of writer and educator Ernest White II, a tall, ruggedly handsome, erudite, occasionally delusional Black American male living in Brazil's largest city.
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