US in Cuba
Vol.1, Issue 1 (Summer '13)
/Music and Religion
Gabrielle Smith
“I’ve got a song in my heart and this is the only way I can get it out.” People who know me well have often heard me say this in response to why I suddenly broke out in song or dance at the most inopportune times.
Dun Dun Dun dundun. Dun Dun Dun dundun. Dun Dun Dun dundun.
Cuba has its own rhythm. The musicality of Cuba engrossed me from our first night in Havana because it made the random outbursts into song paired with a swaying of the hips seem perfectly natural. Music seems to permeate every aspect of life in Cuba. You hear it in the streets, you hear it when people talk, you hear it when people dance, you hear it when people worship.
The first full day we were in Cuba we went to a Rhumba, this Rhumba consisted of plenty of music with live music and dancers serving as the primary contributors to the Rhumba. I was in love. I always loved music. Dancing, singing, singing and dancing, I am interested in it all. I couldn’t help myself; I danced at that Rhumba, the next Rhumba, while walking down the street, in the hotel, everywhere. The music of Cuba had gotten to me and I did not want it to ever let me go.
US DANCING in CUBA!
The dancing was lyrical, the movement infectious and meaningful. Throughout our stay in Cuba we went to several events, Rhumbas, community projects, museums, personal gatherings and in all of these places we saw similar things.
The Orishas were always presented to us with Elegguá the first and last to be represented. Yemayá was always spinning and laughing, Oshún always feminine and flirtatious, Chango forever masculine.
Kids Representing Orishas
This consistency regardless of setting showed how ingrained Santería or Regla de Ocha was in every aspect of Afro-Cuban life.
To me the most interesting aspect of the music was the fact that the music we heard and the dances we saw at Rumba were very similar to the music and dance that were engaged in religious activities. While some may view this as a less than desirable approach to religion, I was completely enthralled with the idea. The fact that people did not separate their religious self from their secular self/life was akin to the saying “You should be the same you Saturday night and Sunday morning, God sees both anyway”. In Cuba this concept of being the true self everywhere seemed commonplace. In the U.S. there often seems to be a parsing of the religious self, the professional self, the personal self, the family self and the social self. People are constantly changing hats and shifting their personalities throughout the day to be the self that is best fits the situation. While in Cuba we got to see professionals in several different settings, it was refreshing to see that these individuals never seemed different. Of course they were professional when necessary and fun when it was called for, but it was always natural, never forced. People in Cuba seemed to have a consistency that people in the U.S. seemed to be missing.
Rhumba
When we saw our first Rhumba at Sabado de Rhumba the atmosphere was spectacular. Everyone there was engaged in creating the environment and it was fun. There were several separate groups who danced and sang, but the end of the set did not mean the end of the performance. Many dancers, singers and musicians could be seen in the audience post performance. After an exhausting performance these individuals would change and run out to the audience to dance and sing with friends and family who were there. There was one particular group of women who had several members who danced the entire time. The whole event was reminiscent of a family reunion or a summer BBQ, everyone seemed happy to be there, everyone seemed like family. (Then we saw the Rhumba performance with one particularly large tourist group. Before this day we had been frequenting performances and interacting with individuals at the local level, never those that targeted tourist groups. This dance was different. Less emotionally moving, less organic, less authentic, less spiritual, and I felt less connected. This experience perplexed me particularly due to the fact that the performers were the same women who had performed at the previous Rhumbas. I wanted answers and they came in the form of a 96 year old artist who danced Rhumba as if he “had a drum inside of his body.”
José Del Pilar Suarez our Rhumba instructor was a vibrant, energetic and musical gentleman, who glided effortless when he danced. In between teaching us, he danced and sang his way through stories about the history of Rhumba. Hearing his take on Rhumba further cemented my interest in the art of the dance. He spoke about the spiritual essence of the dance and the lack of reverence for the religious heritage of some present day Rhumba dancers. José also gave us a steady rhythm to practice Rhumba and helped us make our own music using drums and claves.
US with José
Dun Dun Dun dundun. Dun Dun Dun dundun. Dun Dun Dun dundun.
Later Dr. Maha told us that José had once said that finding your rhythm in life was the key to having balance and staying motivated and happy. I guess that song in my heart isn’t such a bad idea after all.
Something that I do even more often than random song and dance numbers is laugh. Several times during our trip my companions noted that when I laugh, I do so with my entire body, soul and spirit. While sitting with one of the many new friends we met while in Cuba I laughed. I laughed hard with no inhibition. Our new stranger friend pointed to me and promptly stated “folkloric”. I asked him if he meant “Yemayá” to which he replied yes.
Me Laughing
While I thought the comparison to Yemayá was particularly flattering, I was a bit taken aback by this young Afro-Cuban man’s reference a religion he practiced as “folklore”. The folklore versus religion debate was one we heard often in Cuba. There were often arguments about the origin of Regla de Ocha, was it an Afro-Cuban religion or Cuban religion with African origins. Early on, it seemed that opinions were decisively split along the color line, but this guy threw me for a loop. I wanted to ask him more about why he called it folklore but my limited Spanish and his limited English prevented this conversation from happening. Was it just simply him believing that Regla de Ocha was folklore, or was he commenting on the commodification of these sacred practices? Or was I just over analyzing every little thing due to my lack of sleep and desire to learn all about Cuba in ten days?
Further thinking about the folklore versus religion debate took me through several of the issues we discussed in class prior to our arrival. Due to the attempted forced assimilation that occurred during the slave trade Regla de Ocha survived by synchronization with catholic saints. After the revolution of 1959 religious practices were restricted in Cuba and atheism was widely promoted. Despite efforts to minimize participation in organized religion Regla de Ocha survived partially because it was integrated as folklore into the national Cuban identity. This religion has been adapted and adopted several times over and has been able to remain true to those who practice it, and accepted by those who would prefer to see it as a secular expression. That simple reminder of the history of Regla de Ocha in Cuba was enough to allow me to see both why it remains so revered among Afro-Cubans and why it is such a topic for debate.
Overall, I think the connection that Afro-Cubans still have to their African heritage is a beautiful thing. While African Americans in the U.S. have elements of African traditions in the way religion manifests in the Black church, the connection is not as clearly defined as it is in Cuba. The Afro-Cuban ability to maintain significant cultural ties to Africa in the midst of the horror that existed during slavery is remarkable and I feel honored to have experienced a piece of it.