This morning, sorting through some photos I took in Cuba I came across this. I’m just writing a section of ‘Jaguar’ in which the hero, ‘Sacha’, dressed in a borrowed school uniform (they are standardized across Cuba) is escaping across Cuba. ‘Sacha’ is a blond boy, 12 years old, of Russian and Siberian descent who’s lived most of his life in a secret school in Cuba.
And lookee, here he is…
Ariel Rios Robert (left) as the Orisha Eleggua, with an impromptu dance studentSuch a fabulous weekend of partying in Southwark Park at the Carnival de Cuba with mi gente caliente de Londres (those hot-blooded Londoners), followed by a night at Salsa Republic’s Afterparty at Club Colosseum where everyone turned out in style. Including (bless their colourful socks) the 8 best dancers from Ballet Rakatan who treated the clubbers to a blistering guaguanco and rueda show at 1.30am, after doing two performances that day.
Flaked out between 12.30am and 1am…thinking…this is it…I can’t take any more.
But a quick snooze put me right. Well, not really. Young children and nightclubs don’t mix well – they conspire to rob you of sleep. Didn’t drink a single drop of alcohol last night but this morning felt like I had a horrible hangover.
I’ll be Youtubing some clips of all those Londoners grooving away in the park. (Yes, including me.)
Miladis Diaz shows paintings by Cuban artist Fuster at The North Wall of South Parade, Summertown, Oxford
A stroll into Summertown today resulted in a surprise Indian lunch at the Spice Lounge (a bargain at £4.95!), a coffee in Costa’s watching Oxford Uni students spilling out of their Prelims in sub-fusc (and pink carnations…we always wore red or white…since when is it pink?) and then a drop-in to an art exhibition on South Parade where one of Cuba’s premier artists, Fuster, is showing his work.
(see The Colours of Life, in Oxford until 24th June)
Miladis and I had a nice chat about Havana and Cuban art. I told her I was writing a book set in Cuba and this morning had written a scene set in a ‘country school’, where high-school students are used as unpaid labour to harvest coffee for the state-owned industry. I admired her name, as exotic as are many Cuban names.
“The truth is, lots of them are made-up,” she said, blushing.
“And they’re the better for it,” I said.
“I’m not so sure. You get all these silly ones, starting with Y… it’s a generational thing,” she said. “People in their twenties and younger. Ynieski, Yulieski, Yolexis, Yoanni, Yumiel, Yadel, Yonelki, Yunior…”
It was my turn to blush. “I used the name Yoannis for one of my characters,” I admitted, “And I know a Yunior…”
Miladis gave me the phone number of her friend in Havana for next time we’re there. Her friend is a biologist who writes children’s books, as coincidence would have it!
We saw the terrific dance show Havana Rakatan in London on Saturday. Performed and choreographed by a Cuban ballet troupe who specialise in folkloric dance, it demonstrates the evolution of dance in Cuba. From the fusion between Spanish dances like flamenco and African rhythms and dance from the Santeria religion, the show charts the development of dances including son, mambo, cha-cha-cha, rumba and salsa.
It covers similar ground to the show Lady Salsa but in a more balletic manner, without any explanatory narrative. The music is performed by son band Turquino, a tight ensemble who play a hugely impressive set.
The dancers are all gorgeous, but my favourites were Joel and Yordy. It was hard to take my eyes off the beautiful men, (especially during the little striptease at the beginning where, breathing hard after a strenuous introductory number, the men line up at the front, slowly unbutton their shirts to much audience encouragement, and strip to the waist, revealing a row of the most delectable torsos you’re likely to see this side of Cuba…)
I did occasionally watch the women too, who were pretty darn fabulous.
Act 1 focuses on the African dances of the Orisha deities who intercede, in the Santeria/Lukumi religion, between humans and the creator God. That very morning I’d written a scene featuring a Santeria chant to Ochun. Watching Havana Rakatan, I was delighted to hear that very chant being used to open the sequence of breathtaking dances of the Orishas.
(It is also the chant at the beginning of Adalberto Alvarez’s santeria-rap-salsa composition, ‘Y Que Tu Quieres Que Te Den’.)
Act 1 alone is worth the ticket price. To see these dances performed by the world experts in Afro-Cuban folkloric dance is a huge treat. The music adds another level. I was simply astonished at how well Turquino and their singers performed this Afro-Cuban music. Mesmerizing is the only word for it. I could have listened to them for hours. At one point five singers (including two percussionists) joined in, singing tight close-harmony. Spellbinding!
The other highlight is the blistering performance of rumba near the end. Echoing their earlier roles as warring Orishas, the two lead dancers performed a rumba contest, including the fastest tembleque (shaking of the shoulders and pelvis) I’ve ever seen.
It’s on at the Peacock Theatre in London’s West End, until 23rd June. I may have to go again…
The reviews use words like ‘dazzling’ ‘spectacular’ ‘rip-roaring’. They’re NOT exaggerating.
(NB If you go on a Wednesday, Thursday or Friday there are salsa classes, DJ and dancing ’til late.)
While researching the Orishas of the Santeria religion I came across this fascinating academic article about the origins and social impact of timba music.
One of the things that I find intriguing about the popularity of Afro-Cuban music and dance in the non-Spanish-speaking world is that the music and rhythms clearly have the power to transcend the language barrier. Watching people dancing away I sometimes wonder – do people have a clue what the lyrics are saying? Does it matter? Are they somehow getting the ache (the spirit) of the song without understanding the lyric?
If you’ve ever wondered, I highly recommend this article, which
“makes the case of timba as a type of non-engaged music which, while presenting itself as emphatically escapist, during the 1990s has in fact become intensely political in the way it has articulated a discourse challenging dominant views on race, class, gender and nation.”
http://www.sibetrans.com/trans/trans9/perna.htm