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Wednesday, August 27, 2014

I Missed Some Good Black Music in Colombia



When I was in Cartagena de las Inidas, better known as Cartagena, Colombia, I was quite disappointed that the people were not so much into Cumbia, which began as a courtship dance practiced among Colombia's black population, which was later mixed with Amerindian steps and European and African instruments. Cumbia is much more popular in the Andean region and the Southern Cone of Colombia. I was also disappointed to not hear Salsa music, which is popular in cities like Cali, a city that I now consider to be the salsa music capital of the world. It used to be New York City.

A lot of people in the Cartagena area, I found, are into Vallenato, which did not move me at all. I even stopped in an Afro-Colombian bar, and Vallenato was all they were listening to. Surprisingly, I found that Vallenato was even popular in Colombia's famous African village of San Basilio de Palenque, located two hours south of Cartagena.

I learned much later, after my return to the US that I did miss out on some good black music that is also popular around the Cartagena area. This genre of music is called Champeta. It was introduced to me by an Afro-Colombian Facebook friend.

At the beginning of the 1970s, the Champeta culture became more visible at a national level in Colombia through a series of diverse and complex dances set to the rhythms of Caribbean music. Champeta music has the same legacy as US Blues music; it was called “therapy” used to help oppressed Afro-Colombian relax and get through difficult times.


Saturday, August 23, 2014

Are Black Men Exotic Among Women in Latin America?

A female Peruvian dancer pulled me on stage to 
dance with here at an upscale Lima supper club.

They say that black men are considered exotic to women in foreign countries. I found that it all depends on the country and with whom I'm around. Although, I've been to Canada and four Asian countries, my travels as of late, has been focused on Latin America.

In Cuba, a country that is predominately black, I was not considered so exotic until people heard my foreign accent and would ask where I'm from. However one evening, I was dumbfounded when a group of us Americans who were studying Spanish at the University of Havana went to see an Afro-Cuban dance performance in a suburban town.. I was the only black in the group of American spectators. Towards the end of the show, the dancers came off the stage; the men grabbing the women, and the women grabbing the men to dance. I was left sitting all alone.

The word on the street was, because of my color, I was perceived as being “too Cuban,” therefore not exotic or touristy enough to want to entertain. In fact, before my trip, an Afro-Cuban neighbor told me that when I arrive on the island, people will automatically assume that I'm Cuban until I open my mouth.




While I'm admiring the black Latin-American women, it is generally 
white and mestizo women who are admiring me. 

However, things took a different turn when I went to a live show in an upscale supper club in the Barranco District of Lima, Perú where I was one of two black spectators. Towards the end of the show, one of the  mestizo female dancers came off the stage, bypassed several tables, and walked directly over to mine to bring me on stage to dance with her. Interesting!


In many cases throughout my Latin-American travels, while I'm admiring the black women, it's usually the white and mestizo women who are admiring me. On a metro train in Caracas, Venezuela, my friend María with whom I went back and forth conversing in English and Spanish just happened to be speaking English when suddenly,I looked up noticing a white Venezuelan woman eying me with an admiring smile. She seemed very pleased when I struck up a lightweight conversation with her in Spanish. In Cartagena, Colombia at a restaurant where I used to frequent, a sexy mestizo woman made herself available showing herself quite friendly.

What stands out about my Latin-American trips is once people recognize me as an American visitor, and not a black local citizen, all perceptions change.  To many Latin-American women, I'm not necessarily exotic because I'm black, but because I'm a gringo. One woman whom I just met begged me to bring her back to the USA.

During my travels, I generally shy away from relationships and stick to my original purpose—cultural immersion and the development of lifetime friendships. If a love connection were to develop from there, fine. However, when a woman takes an immediate interest in me, I need to look at the motive. Is it a real attraction or does she want what's in my pants (wallet)?


Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Racist Encounter of the Peruvian Kind


In my first trip to Perú where I was undergoing Spanish-language intensive training for my advanced certificate, I experience a subtle but, rude awakening to Peruvian racism. Perhaps, as a black person from the USA, I should not have been surprised, but used to it, such as the evening I was in the predominately Latino Mission District of San Francisco. I was on my way to teach a résumé-writing workshop in Spanish at the Central American Resource Center. It's been a while since I was in this area as I live across the bay in Oakland. Thus, I was somewhat lost. I saw two white patrol officers walking their beat, and I thought to myself that they would surely know which direction to take. And they did.

A queasy feeling came over me by the way one of the officers reacted to me when I approached them. It was as if he perceived me as a potential threat even though I was loaded down with a bag filled with workshop materials. The officer, without saying a single word, pointed in the direction that I should be walking with his nightstick. It was so unlike the manner in of someone who is sworn to protect and serve.Unfortunately, this behavior does not seem to be restricted to the USA

One evening, in the Barranco District of Lima, Perú where I was staying, I was in the mood to go out and party. I started walking the streets looking for a place to exchange some of my American dollars into Peruvian currency. Down the block, I saw a police car parked at the corner of the main square. Surely, they would know, I thought to myself. As I got up close to the police car, I noticed their window was up and shut tight as they simply looked at me. I motioned for them to roll down the window because I wanted them to hear my question. The officer on the drivers side then lowered the window about an inch. As soon as they heard my foreign accent and request to exchange my American dollars, they realized that I was not Afro-Peruvian. The police car's window was immediately rolled all the way down, and both officers became suddenly jovial as they happily gave me the directions that I needed.

I walked away with feelings of empathy for black Peruvians and how I could certainly relate to the frustrations they feel with the racism in their own country. Racism to which so many Peruvians I've personally heard vehemently deny exist. What Perú and other Latin-American countries have over the US when it comes to race relations is that you hardly hear of any hate crimes; no history of lynchings or police brutality motivated by race.

Thursday, August 14, 2014

The Afro-Mexican Community of La Costa Chica

There is a restaurant in my community where I dine from time to time, and where I kept noticing a black woman of my complexion, but with much longer hair stretching down her back speaking fluent Spanish with her co-workers. One day, I finally got around to asking her, “¿de dónde eres? (where are you from?)” I immediately began guessing, Cuba, The Dominican Republic, or Colombia. She shook her head and got right in my face; with a big wide grin, she proclaimed Mexico expecting me to react in utter astonishment like so many other people, including a lot of Latinos, and even many Mexicans, especially Mexican-Americans. I for one was not one bit surprised!
My first knowledge of Black Mexico came upon reading personal accounts of an African-American anthropologist named Bobby Vaughn out of Stanford University who visited and immersed himself in the black villages of La Costa Chica, a 200 mile stretch of land on Mexico’s west coast covering parts of Mexico’s states of Guerrero and Oaxaca. The black woman in the restaurant is from Guerrero.

My younger brother, who himself, has traveled to 38 or more countries around the world, also visited La Costa Chica. He entered several of the black villages and was welcomed, fed, and given a place to sleep. In fact, everyone that I know who visited La Costa Chica  tells me that the closer you get to the remote villages, the friendlier the people are.

My co-moderator of the Facebook page, Brothers and Sisters in Latin America, which deals with the Latin-American experience from a black person’s perspective of living, traveling, working, or studying in Latin America, had this to say about her travels to La Costa Chica:
 I had the privilege of meeting this wonderfully adventurous woman when I was in Oaxaca as well. She is from Oklahoma, 71 years young, and offered me the wise council and shoulder to "cry" on that I sorely needed at the time. Check out her blog and pics when you get a chance, as it is packed with lots of interesting tidbits about the region...scroll down to see the photos (there are many) at the bottom of the post or use the slide show function.


Wednesday, August 13, 2014

I Must Have a Latin Soul



Many Latinos I talk to, here and abroad, have had trouble believing that I'm American, born and raised. In a way, it is a compliment because it says a lot of what they think of my Spanish and how well I immerse myself into their culture.

In Ecuador, people thought I was from somewhere in the Caribbean (Cuba, Puerto Rico, The Dominican Republic). In Peru, some thought I was from Panamá or Brazil. And because my Spanish is perceived to have a Nuyorican (New York Puerto Rican) accent, one woman simply assumed that am Puerto Rican. Even in Mexico City. I had to show my passport and bust some English because a group of men I was conversing with did not believe that I'm American. They thought I was a Cuban immigrant.

Here in the US, Latin-American immigrants with little knowledge of English really tried to dig into my roots. They wanted to know if my parents or grandparents are Latino. I would simply tell them that my father's family is from Mississippi, and my mother's family is from Georgia.

Today, I was riding a commuter train to my job in San Francisco and noticed a family speaking to each other in clear, well-articulated Spanish. I figured they were tourists, and I asked one of them, con permiso, ¿de dónde son ustedes (excuse me, where are you all from)? When she said Ecuador, I reacted like she was a home-girl as I told her of my personal experiences in her country and of my plans to go back.She immediately asked me where I am from. I assured her that I'm from the US.

It just so happened that another passenger on the train joined in on the conversation (in Spanish) saying that she too has been to Ecuador. One of the men in the family made me bust out laughing when he shouted out to everyone one the train, in perfect English, “ANYONE ELSE BEEN TO ECUADOR?”  As I departed the train at Montgomery Street station, the same gentleman and another family member told me that they hoped to see me again (in Ecuador!).

As I walked from the train station to my job, I began to take note of my feelings and how uplifted I felt after talking with that family. I then thought of my feelings of exhilaration that comes over me when I hear salsa, bachata, and other forms of Latin-American music. A friend brought to my attention of how my eyes would light up when I start speaking Spanish.

I also noticed that in my trips to Venezuela, Peru, Colombia, El Salvador, Mexico, Costa Rica, and Panamá how excited I felt before, during, and after my visits. In the El Vedado District of Havana, Cuba, and along the malecón (waterfront), I was engulfed with feelings of déjà vu. When I returned to the US, I felt so homesick for Cuba that it took several years before I could stop talking about it. I thought that, perhaps, I may have been Cuban in another life.

Many African-Americans also get confused about my ethnicity as well; asking if I'm black,” not taking into consideration that Latinos come in all colors, including “black.” I faithfully tell them that I'm African American, born in St. Louis' famous black community known as The Ville and raised in the world famous black community of Harlem, New York. I suspect that I simply must have a Latin soul.

Friday, August 8, 2014

The New Diversity of Latin New York


 
A lot has changed since my childhood in New York City, particularly where the Puerto Rican community gave me an abrupt introduction to the Spanish language and influenced me to begin learning that language as young as the age of 10. Many of us in the New York African-American community were turned on to salsa music, which in those days, was simply known as “Latin.” Some of these “Latin” tunes were broadcasted on African-American radio stations like WWRL and WBLX.




I left New York at the age of 17 to go to into Job Corps, and later to college. After joining the Navy to see the world, I ended up in Oakland, CA where I lived most of my adult life. My visits to New York City were non-existent. It was later on in my adult life when I actually returned to reminisce my childhood community, which happened to be walking distance from Spanish Harlem, and at that time, it was very Puerto Rican.




El Watusi by Ray Barretto was #1 on African-American
radio station WWRL back in the day



I remember in many of the grocery stores and candy stores you could hear bomba and plena music, which was born in heavily populated black cities of Loiza and Ponce, Puerto Rico. Neighborhoods were sprawling with cuchifrito (fried dish) vendors selling their delicacies ever so popular on that enchanted island of Puerto Rico. Anytime I would hear Spanish spoken by folks be they black, white, or brown, they were most likely Puerto Rican. Those days are long gone!

From my perception, Spanish Harlem lost that strong ethnic flavor due to gentrification that is occurring in many communities of color across the country. A former Puerto Rican classmate told me that a lot of the Puerto Ricans moved out of New York City.

Salsa music, which itself was born in New York, is no longer the prevalent form of Latin music to be heard these days.  New York, NY lost its title as the salsa music capital of the world to Cali, Colombia where people live and breathe salsa music. Upon my return to New York, I heard a lot of reggaetón (yuck!), and thanks to the very large Dominican community, bachata, and meringue.








Today, unlike yesterday, bachata music is very popular in Latin New York



Besides the heavy influx of immigrants from the Dominican Republic living in New York, there are many immigrants from Perú, Cuba, Colombia, El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua, and to my greatest surprise, Mexico. I was shocked to learn that Mexicans are now the third largest Latino community in City of New York. In my youth, I only met one person of Mexican ancestry and he happened to be a co-worker of my mother at a federal agency.

It wasn’t until I left New York when I had my first real live contact with the Mexican-American community. In fact, I never heard of tacos, burritos, or jalapeños until I came to California. Of course, times have changed. You can now find those items almost anywhere, even in New York, NY—the big apple.




Tuesday, August 5, 2014

What’s Wrong With the Spanish Language?


One evening, in a local restaurant near my home where I am accustomed to speaking Spanish with an all-Latin American staff, the shift manager happened to be working at the register. When I began to order in Spanish, she snapped at me with a heavy Latin-American accent, “I don’t speak Spanish, sir! That was very interesting because she is supervising six or more workers who speak primarily Spanish and little or no English. Was this something I should take personally, who knows? I do know that it would have been a good customer service policy to flow with my Spanish, at least, until it became evident that my level of fluency is limited. I make it a practice of giving larger tips to restaurant personnel who interact with me in Spanish without getting offended like this manager.

Brenda, a friend from El Salvador was telling me that she often meets US Latinos who claim that they do not speak Spanish, but really do. This reminded me of a conversation that I had with Mariana who told me that when she first came to Los Angeles from Nicaragua, many Latinos would respond in English when she spoke to them in Spanish saying, “oh, I’m American; I don’t speak Spanish!” I asked Brenda what she thinks is the reason for their apparent shame with the Spanish language. She could not tell me.

Throughout my life, I noticed many Latinos (not all as I’ve met a many proud Latinos as well) who were born or raised in the US with a high level of discomfort with the Spanish language. Even Judge Mathis on one of his shows openly criticized a Latino witness for trying to camouflage his ethnicity. He was literally was bragging about his little knowledge of the Spanish language as though that makes him more American.

What is so un-American about speaking Spanish? This language, among several others, was spoken in the US long before the US was born. And unlike Dutch, German, French, and other languages spoken here in US history, Spanish has remained a silver lining throughout the history of this country. In other words, Spanish is as American as cherry pie! People who speak it need to quit letting xenophobes  dictate where they place their cultural loyalty. The USA is a multi-ethnic, multi-cultural, and multi-lingual nation and always will be. In my city alone, Oakland, more than 88 languages are spoken.

When I served in the US Navy, I served among people who speak Samaon, Tagalog (Filipino), Cantonese, and Spanish. I think there should be a Spanish-speaking “Pride” movement here in the US, with parades to wake people up.