The Legacy of Black Music in Latin America

 

I am addressing the New Amsterdam Musical Association in Harlem, New York City, the largest African-American musical association in the U.S. on African history in Latin Music.

Years ago, I was coming home from work on the Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) train from San Francisco where I  worked headed to Oakland where I lived. On the train, I ran into a black friend from Cuba. A couple of stops later, a friend (black) from Colombia, South America joined us. Because his English was limited, the three of us switched our communication to Spanish, and it became evident that the rapport between the three of us was quite strong. 

 Kimba Kúa dancers of Paraguay, South America

Yet, despite our black skins, brown eyes, and wide noses, we still saw each other as foreigners. It never occurred to any of us that there could have been the possibility of our having the same ancestors from the same village in Western Africa as family members and fellow villagers that were broken up during that notorious slave trade, and scattered throughout the Americas.

Singer Pépe Vasquez of Perú

In the U.S., blues was born among the African descendants, rumba music was born in Cuba to African descendants, and in Colombia, cumbia music was born. I, as an African-American grew up on rhythm and blues, just one of the various legacies of black music in the U.S. My Cuban friend grew up on son-montuno music, another legacy of black music in Cuba, And naturally,  my friend from Colombia grew up on cumbia music and Colombian-style salsa.

 Afro-Venezuelan dancing to tambor music at a festival

The legacy of black music took various forms all over Latin America depending upon the nation, and the various regions in those nations. This is just a shortlist:

Argentina: the tango
Bolivia: saya music
Brazil: samba
Chile: cueca
Colombia: champeta, cumbia, and vallenato
Costa Rica: calypso and reggae
Cuba: rumba, son-montuno, changui, songo, and timba
Dominican Republic: bachata and merengue
Ecuador: bomba and marimba
Mexico: son-jarocho
Honduras: punta rock
Panama:calypso, congo, cumbia, reggaetón, and tamborito, 
Perú: festejo, landó, and zamacuenca
Puerto Rico: bomba and plena
Uruguay: candomble
Venezuela: tambor

African Music Made in America: SALSA!

 

Walking down my block in Oakland, CA where I lived for many years, a couple of black teenage girls curiously asked me what I was listening to on my iPod. After putting the headphones to one girl's ears, she looked at me in astonishment stating, “this isn't 'black' music!” The other girl asked if she could listen, and shouted amidst her giggle, WHAT IS THIS? The music is called “salsa,” I answered, but I did not have the time to give a black history lesson.

 

I have been criticized openly by some African Americans, and surprisingly, some Latinos for my deep love for salsa music. A black co-worker asked another, referring to me, “doesn't he know that he is  black?” A woman from the Dominican Republic who admires black “American” culture asked me contemptuously if I like any “black” artists. 

 

In quick succession, I spouted off names like rhythm & blues singer Patti LaBelle (Pennsylvania), blues singer Bobby Blue Bland (Tennessee), and jazz saxophonist John Coltrane (North Carolina). And in the midst of my own heavy laughter, I mentioned other “black folks” such as salsa music singers Cuco Valoy (Dominican Republic), Antonio Cartagena (Perú), and Arsenio Rodriguez (Cuba).

 

 Rafael Ithier of Puerto Rico is founder of the most popular 

salsa group that ever existed—El Gran Combo

By the way, just for the record, I also enjoy merengue music, bachata, new age, classical, opera, and kompa music from Haiti, zouk music from the islands of Guadalupe and Martinique, and music from South Africa. I recently fell in love with the music of country & western singer Faith Hill. Pretty soon, I too will be a country music fan.

At the age of 16, I read my first book on African history while listening to the salsa music icon Ray Barretto and his orchestra on my stereo system. In those days, I thought the heavy drumming with the African style call-and-response in the Spanish lyrics was strictly Puerto Rican. I had no idea that the music I was enjoying is an offspring of the cultures that I was reading about in my African history book.  
 
There is a group out of Senegal, West Africa known as Africando who stated on their first CD that their mission is to bring salsa music back to its African roots. They sing their salsa songs in Spanish, French, and in their tribal tongue Wolof. 

Many West Africans are cognizant of the connection between their music and salsa. In Benin, West Africa, salsa is the most popular music with clubs located throughout the country. Vodoun, Benin’s traditional religion, gave birth to the tamtam and the bells that are used in salsa music. 

 “Our mission is to bring salsa music back to its African roots”
—Grupo Africando, Senegal, West Africa

While on the phone with a girlfriend, a Nigerian of the Edu tribe, I played her a cut consisting of nothing but percussion from one of my CDs, and asked her to guess who these people are. Her immediate response was,“hmmmm they sound like the Yoruba tribe of Nigeria. She was close! The drummers she heard were Afro-Cuban drummers who maintained linguistic, cultural, and religious ties with the Yoruba people of West Africa.  


Imagine during the infamous slave trade, two siblings (boys) growing up together in a Yoruba village of West Africa. Both are abducted by slave traders The older brother is taken to a cotton field in Mississippi, and his younger brother to a sugar estate in Cuba. The brother in Mississippi is severely whipped and forced to forget his Yoruba tongue, change his name, learn English, convert to Christianity, and is forbidden to play the drums. His brother in Cuba is also severely beaten, forced to change his name, learn Spanish, convert to Catholicism, but is allowed to maintain his Yoruba language and culture, and play the drums. 

The best salseras (salsa dancers) I've ever danced with were 

Afro-Cuban woman when I visited Havana, Cuba years back

Fast-forward to today, the descendants of the young boys know absolutely nothing about their family history before their arrival in the Americas, and culturally speaking, the two are so far apart, they would have no way of recognizing each other if they were to ever cross paths. Both descendants, despite their dark skin, brown eyes, and wide nose would see each other as “foreigners.”

The descendant of the boy in Mississippi, an admirer of the late R&B singer Luther Vandross, grows up in a Baptist church in Chicago; starts off as a gospel singer before embracing a career in rhythm and blues, and later cuts his first CD with his band.

Descendants of the boy in Cuba grows up in the Santería religion, an underground, clandestine religious sect where African slaves surreptitiously retained their old Yoruba religion under the guise of the Catholic church. He also becomes a member of an Afro-Cuban social group known as the Lucumí for which its music became the cornerstone for the music today we today call “salsa.” He now performs with the world famous Afro-Cuban dance troupe Muñequitos de Matanzas.
.

Many of today's salsa music legends based their music on the original works 

of Cuba's tres player (a three-stringed guitar) Arsenio Rodriguez

Unlike black American music, which has it’s origin in Negro spirituals, which is American born. Salsa is an offspring of straight-forward African-based music mixed with Spanish. Over time, Cuban and Puerto Rican immigrants to New York City like Mario Bauza, Ray Barretto, and Tito Puente added more improvisations to Afro-Cuban music, which became Latin jazz, Latin soul, and salsa.

Is Salsa Music Dying Among “American” Latinos?

Before the word “Salsa” was coined, this old-school piece by the great maestro, Eddie Palmeri, was simply called “Latin.”

In a scene from the film El Cantante featuring singer Marc Anthony playing the role of the late, salsa music star Hector Lavoe, he was told that despite the invasion of Merengue, Bachata, and Reggaetón, Salsa music is still king. Unfortunately, when Lavoe’s concert took place, there was a sparse crowd in attendance.

I recently did a survey on two Latino forums on Facebook, and to my surprise, found that only a handful of people expressed their love for Salsa music. I’m just wondering what is going on with the Salsa music world today among American Latinos. I haven’t been out to the clubs in a while, but when I did, the venues were often made up of more non-Latinos than Latinos. Maybe this is just a California thing, but I notice that Salsa music and dance as been embraced in Africa, Asia, Australia, and Europe.  Are non-American Latinos keeping the music alive or am I just out of touch living here on the West Coast—in Oakland of all places?

Things were a whole lot different during my younger years in New York City when Salsa music, then referred to as “Latin,” was a barrio (hood) craze. It was primarily enjoyed in heavily populated Puerto Rican communities like the South Bronx, Spanish Harlem, and New York’s Lower East Side. At least, this is how I perceived it! In those days, you could expect to hear Salsa music blaring from homes, businesses, and cars. I myself got hooked as I grew up walking distance from Spanish Harlem before that area became gentrified.

For years, as a resident of Oakland, CA, I boasted of having grown up in the Salsa music capital of the world, New York City. No more! See my post on the new Salsa music capital, Cali, Colombia). The people of Perú’s coastal region where I often visit love Salsa music so much that they have two 24-hour stations. This is better than what New York, the birthplace of Salsa music, has ever done since I could remember. Salsa in New York could only be heard on certain radio stations at certain hours. Even when I visited Havana, Cuba, I was astonished to have kept trying to tune into a station that played Son-Montuno music, the music that gave birth to Salsa with no luck.

It’s been a good number of years since leaving  New York, and naturally, there have been a lot of changes. With the heavy influx of immigrants from the Dominican Republic, a lot of my Puerto Rican friends embraced Merengue and Bachata. I myself fell in love with Bachata after a Puerto Rican lady-friend taught me the basic dance steps while on a business trip in Miami. And of course, there is Reggaetón, which gained rapid popularity, and as far as I’m concerned, “sucks!” Maybe being on the West Coast has separated me from a lot of true Salseros (Salsa music lovers). Today, when I walk the streets of Latino communities in Oakland and San Francisco, all. I hear is Reggaetón, Hip Hop, Cumbia, and Ranchera.