October 2--National Day of Black Ecuadorians

In an effort to raise awareness of Afro-Ecuadorian culture as well as political and economic issues, Black communities in Ecuador organized the Afro-Ecuadorian Cultural Week in Quito, the nations capital, in October 1997. That same year, the Ecuadorian National Congress declared October 2 to be the National Day of Black Ecuadorians. During the festival, leaders introduced a proposal to improve the economic, political and cultural status of Ecuador's Black communities.

Slave ships first arrived in Ecuadorian ports in 1553 for work on plantations and in gold mines. Although slavery was abolished at the time of Ecuador's independence from Spain in 1822, the descendents of enslaved Africans continued to suffer the consequences of that socio-economic system. One of the first Afro-Ecuadorian organizations, Asociacion de Negros Ecuatorianos (Association of Black Ecuadorians), was founded in 1988 to reassert Afro-Ecuadorian dignity.

In 2006 the existence of Blacks in Ecuador was brought to center stage when it was revealed that two-thirds of the Ecuadorian World Cup soccer team was of African descent.

According to the 2001 census, Afro-Ecuadorian population is 604,009, or 5 per cent of the total population. However, Afro-Ecuadorian organizations argue that this number is inaccurate due to problems with self-classification (there are Blacks who don't consider themselves Black). They estimate Ecuador's black population at ten per cent, living mostly in the northern coastal province of Esmeraldas and in the south-central coastal region. About two-thirds of Afro-Ecuadorians now live in urban zones. Although Afro-Ecuadorians have distinct cultural traditions, there is little recognition of their contribution to Ecuadorian society. In 1998, a government agency was created to address issues facing the Black population. In 2006 the existence of Blacks in Ecuador was brought to center stage when it was revealed that two-thirds of the Ecuadorian World Cup soccer team was of African descent. This was the first time in history that Ecuador qualified for the World Cup.

Black activists have been effective in advocating for rights for Black Ecuadorians as well as raising consciousness among this group. Key umbrella organizations such as the National Afro-Ecuadorian Confederation and the National Coordinator of Black Women have had a presence in domestic politics as well as international policy circles. Afro-Ecuadorian women's organizations have been particularly effective, raising other important issues to address the specific concerns of black women. This has included the elaboration of innovative programs related to health, violence, work conditions, and self esteem among Afro-Ecuadorian women.

Song, Dance, & the Spanish Guitar

When I started this blog about my exposure to the Latino world, I didn't mean to include Spain. My primary focus was on Afro-Latinos from Puerto Rico, all the way down to Argentina. However, because Spain is the mother country of Latin-America, and because I have a musical appreciation for the Spanish guitar, I started taking a personal interest in flamenco, a genre of song, dance, and the Spanish guitar from Andalusia in southern Spain.

As a salsa dancer wanting to add new dance moves to my repertoire, I got together with Jesús, an Afro-Cuban dancer to teach me some basic rumba moves. In doing so, he shared some history that made perfect sense; rumba was born when the music of West African slaves merged with Spanish flamenco in Cuba. It's the result of a love affair between the African drum and the Spanish guitar, as Harry Belafonte, the King of Calypso puts it.

Just recently, I went to my second flamenco performance directly from Spain at the San Francisco Palace of Fine Arts, and like the first performance, I felt moved and connected to the music. This time, the performance contained a whole family following the tradition of their Gypsy ancestors. One of the young boys in the group seemed to be imitating Michael Jackson to flamenco rhythms. Either that, or Michael Jackson incorporated some flamenco moves into his dance repertoire. Although, I could enjoy the Spanish guitar as background music. I have not yet reached a point where I can just sit and listen flamenco on CD and enjoy it the way I enjoy a live performance. I've tried.

Ha-Ha-Ha--A Black Man Speaking Spanish!

 The Late Singer Pépe Vasquez of Perú

Why is it so funny when a Black man speaks Spanish? I've seen African-Americans and Latinos chuckle and look at me with disbelief and humor when I engage in Spanish-speaking conversations or address a Spanish-speaker in Spanish. Are Black people supposed be limited to English and Ebonics? I don't get it.

I remember when I first started learning Spanish, and reached a point where I could literally hold a lightweight conversation, I asked a Nicaraguan immigrant at the dinner table to pass the pepper. An African-American waitress over heard me and chuckled. She asked, what, you tryin' to speak Spanish? 

Looking back on this experience, it seemed only logical to make the effort with the Spanish I already knew and grow from there. I once had a supervisor who minored in Spanish at her university, but had trouble conversing because she never bothered to put what she learned to use.

At another one of my former jobs, the corporate vice president asked me to deliver a message in Spanish to the owner of a vender renting space on company property. When I delivered the message in Spanish, a crowd of Spanish-speakers burst out laughing as though I cracked a joke. One Latin American customer almost choked on his food. It's like the damnest thing they ever heard.

One afternoon on a crowded San Francisco to Oakland commuter train (BART) during rush hour, I was conversing with a black man from Cuba and another black from Colombia. The Colombian's English was limited so we continued to converse in Spanish. I got a feeling of joy and humor noticing blacks, whites, and browns (Latinos) on that train marveling at three "brothas" conversing in a steady stream of Spanish.

OK, I'm not going to talk about the millions of Black folks who speak Spanish as a first language in countries such as Puerto Rico, Mexico, and all the way down through Argentina. I won't even talk about my time in Ecuador when a busload of Afro-Ecuadorians roared with laughter when they heard me, a Black man like them, speaking English because they were never exposed to English-speaking Black folks. Those topics are addressed in so many of my other blog posts.

Today, having worked in bilingual jobs for a number of years and having traveled to Colombia, Costa Rica, Cuba, Ecuador, El Salvador, Mexico, Panamá, Perú, and Venezuela; I was totally immersed in the Spanish language. Even if I wanted to fall back on my English because my feelings and thoughts got lost in translation, I was forced to work through it and communicate effectively in Spanish. The interesting thing about the countries I've visited, no one laughed unless I was cracking a real joke.

Latin Oakland -- The “Fruitvale” District

The Fruitvale District in East Oakland is home to Oakland's largest Latino population, making up 49.5%. From my personal observation and interactions, it is predominately Mexican and El Salvadorean. I've met only a few Guatemalans, Peruvians, and Puerto Ricans, and and absolutely no Cubans, Venezuelans, or Colombians, and only a sprinkle of Afro-Latinos. The area hosts several annual Latino events, such as Cinco de Mayo and Día de Los Muertos. The Fruitvale shopping district which is located along International Boulevard (formerly East 14th Street), from Fruitvale Avenue to 38th Avenue and is one of the major commercial areas of Oakland. I love all the markets where you can buy fresh fruits and vegetables, and the restaurants offering tasty Mexican and El Salvadorean food with my favorite restaurant being Los Cocos (El Salvadorean) where I eat their pescado frito (fried fish) dinners with rice, salad, and tortillas.

I used to work in this area and would love to practice my Spanish, but found that I have to be careful because many here speak good English and seem to get offended when you prejudge them as monolingual Spanish. I remember getting on the elevator with a man dressed in a traditional vaquero (Mexican rancher) outfit. I struck up a Spanish-speaking conversation with him, and he looked me up and down as though I were crazy, and asked me in perfect English, what, you're learning Spanish?  He then brushed me off. About 98% of the time, I can tell by a person's countenance if they are monolingual or not. This time, I just missed it.

People are relaively friendly, compared to other parts of Oakland, especially East Oakland. I found that the monolingual Spanish speakers are even warmer if you speak Spanish. I've heard rumors about gang activity at night, but I'm seldom in the area at night, except for the times I used to hang out at a hole-in-the-wall salsa club called Kosmos, with its intimate crowd, good salsa bands, and a popular DJ.

What is it about this district that attracts so many shoppers? I wonder what happened to the African-Americans who had their own shops scattered all over East Oakland. Where are they now? I'd really like to know.

A Traveler and a Walking ATM

Arriving in Chincha, Perú after being away for four years, I noticed a Black man, washing someone's car for a small fee, and felt motivated to tip him some money even though I don't drive. His name is Javier, and in my heart, I felt better giving him money than your average panhandler because he is willing to do something for something and not just receive something for nothing. In Perú, job opportunities are much more limited to Blacks and indigenous people than in the US. After running into Javier a couple of days later, I hired him to be my guide; not for anything touristy because, in my opinion, you get a real sense of the country's people and language in the communities--the barrios. Juan, an Afro-Venezuelan friend said it so well, “the barrio (the hood) is where the real culture is.”


However, as a tradeoff for getting closer to the real people in the countries I visit, especially poor countries, people tend to assume that I'm a walking automatic teller machine simply because I'm from the United States of America. One lady with whom I established a very good rapport, showed me her gas and electric bill asking for help. My goddaughter's aunt invited me over to her home only to beg me for Christmas money for her children. One day in the central plaza of town, I was on the park bench chatting with a local citizen, and a passerby spotted me as a tourist and hit on me for some change. Now, mind you, this is an area of Perú with a relatively large Black population. How did he single me out as a tourist? I asked Javier ¿te parece como turista (hey man, do I look like a tourist). Javier just chuckled, and simply said, ¡claro (for sure)!

In any event, Javier himself, slowly but surely began to frequently come on strong. One day we met up with each other to hang out and he pointed to his raggedy shoes telling how they were falling apart and asked for money to buy new ones. Almost every single time I would see him, he'd ask me for money. When I returned to the US, he'd send e-mails, one after another, and the correspondence was never one of friendship; it was strictly about the benjamins. I'd send him $20 here and $20 there, and he'd write back and ask for more.

Finally, I decided to avoid him by putting him in my spam folder. He then sent me an e-mail using a different e-mail address. Soon, he sent me a friend invitation on Facebook, then LinkedIn, and later some other social media forum. It took a couple of years to finally get him off of my trail. Even during my subsequent returns to Perú, I never ran into Javier.

Fortunately, most of the friends I've met during my travels are much more respectable. I thoroughly enjoy spending money for good causes, especially if it is helping someone truly less fortunate than I. I've bought families and friends groceries, and paid their transportation to beach resorts, and took them to restaurants afterwards. I cheerfully send money to families while at home in the US. However, I do have my limits, and my being a walking ATM is one of them.

Searched by Customs at Miami Airport

Living in Oakland, I normally fly out of San Francisco for my annual Latin-American vacations. However, in November 2011, I chose to fly out of Miami because my airfares, overall, came out a lot cheaper going to Perú and Venezuela. I even took some time to hang out in Miami and West Palm beach as part of my vacation package.

Upon my return from Perú, however, I didn't realize how strict the Miami customs are in comparison to San Francisco. In San Francisco, the only question that was asked of me by customs was, what was I doing in the countries I've visited? I'm always proud to talk about my hobby of exploring Black cultures in Latin-American countries,  practicing my Spanish, and having family-like connections. In fact, I'll even encourage them to read my blog, LOL. Another asked me if I brought back any liquor? When I told him that I brought back three bottles of pisco (brandy) from Perú, he told me that I'm only allowed to bring back one bottle. However, the customs agent let it slide because he had more pressing concerns to deal with.

Now, Miami was different. My luggage was searched (thoroughly) and I was asked what kind of work I do, presumably because he wanted to make sure I'm on vacation from a real job and not involved in the drug trade. I told them that I'm in workforce development and even offered to show my business card. The officer was not interested as he continued to search my luggage finding Spanish reading material, CDs, and Venezuelan currency that I had forgotten all about. When he came across my bottle of stevia (an herbal alternative to sugar), I just laughed out loud and shook my head as he opened it and started sniffing. 

There was plenty of time before my next flight back to San Francisco, so I just passed the time making conversation with the officer. I figured this may have been racial profiling because the only other person being searched was a dark Peruvian Mestizo man. He and I also engaged in a Spanish-speaking conversation as well just to get over the boredom. However, it's been brought to my attention that White executives, college professors, and old ladies have been busted bringing contraband into the country, so this is really not a Black or White thing. 

When the customs officer finally finished searching my luggage, I managed to get a chuckle out of him when  told him that he should transfer to San Francisco where he won't have to work so hard.

The First “Black” Astronaut is “Latino”

 Brigadier General Arnaldo Temayo Mendez, of Cuba.
The first man of African heritage in Outer Space

September 18, 2010 marked the 30th anniversary of the world's first Black astronaut, Brigadier General Arnaldo Tamayo Mendez of Cuba, who flew with the Russian Soyuz 38 from Baikonur Cosmodrome on September 18, 1980. Guion Blueford, hailed as the first Black astronaut here in the USA did not fly into space until August 30, 1983.

General Mendez was born in Guantánamo, Cuba. After graduating from Cuba's Air Force Academy, he became a pilot in the Cuban Air Defense Force, and worked his way up the ranks to Lieutenant Colonel in 1976. On March 1, 1978 he was selected as part of the seventh International Programme for Intercosmos, an astronaut program..
 
Here are some of Arnaldo Tamay Mendez' accomplishments:

• Director of the Military Patriotic Educational Society
• Director of International Affairs in the Cuban Rrmed Forces.
• Deputy in the Cuban National Assembly
• Honored by the Cuban Government as "Hero of the Republic of Cuba."
• Honored by Soviet Head of State Leonid Brezhnev with the Lenin Order and the Gold Star of Soviet Union Hero.