Haitian Music for the Weekend

Really enjoying Les Shleu Shleu these days. Check out this one, too. The band's mini-jazz format, collaboration between guitar and saxophone, and, at times, carrying rock and other influences, is a potent combination. I can see why they were a hit not only in Haiti but also elsewhere in the French Antilles, Colombia, etc. 

An Evening with Abbey Lincoln

The inimitable and unforgettable Abbey Lincoln, a beautiful jazz singer with a perfect voice. Though perhaps better known for her marriage and work with fellow radical jazz artist Max Roach, Lincoln was a talented artist in her own right with numerous worthwhile songs, including Strong Man, Let Up, Lonely House, Afro Blue, Happiness Is a Thing Called Joe, When Malindy Sings, Lost In the Stars, etc. Rest in peace, Abbey Lincoln. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KB2VUUEEcco
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JXtY_APMKWA
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=spqjGLG7B-s
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZ_aWNVW1w4
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBQYdp6pdqo
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5AdEUekAoIM
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ceMqHPRlA20
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eOv9GEtltwY
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l7w8Wb5_aZA

Menina Bonita Não Chora

If the world doesn't already know, I love me some early Jorge Ben samba. Jazzy, propulsive rhythms, and Ben's voice make for great music nearly every time. This particular musical gem telling a beautiful girl to not cry is an under-appreciated track from Ben's first album, one of my favorites. Though Jorge would later move beyond the jazz arrangements, I still long for more Brazilian music like this. Unlike bossa nova, this samba-jazz was more of a mixture of jazz and samba rhythms (as well as the lack of restraint and nearly cool jazz vibes of so much bossa nova). 

Freddie Hubbard's Crisis featuring McCoy Tyner and Elvin Jones

Though "Crisis" recorded previously with Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers is a hard bop classic, this version featuring McCoy Tyner and Elvin Jones is more satisfying. Hubbard had recently collaborated with Jones and Tyner via John Coltrane (check out the Africa/Brass sessions), so he was used to working with them. As I have said in the past, the strength of the Coltrane Quartet rested in the foundation set by Tyner and Jones, who provided complex rhythmic and harmonic backing while also taking adventurous solos. Hubbard is really trying to outdo his previous recording with Blakey, but Jones and Tyner steal the show here (and, well, Wayne Shorter). Jones applies his characteristic quasi-Latin swing, Tyner comps, and Shorter blows away contemplatively in a state of restrained crisis (hey, just like the title of the song!). Now, if we could only get rid of McKinney's euphonium, then this great song could be even greater. Hard bop like this with the some of the best musicians of 1960s jazz is a truly rare delight. 

Byron's Symbolic Blackness and Ethnic Difference in Early Christian Literature

Source

I finally perused Gay L. Byron's Symbolic Blackness and Ethnic Difference in Early Christian Literature. Unfortunately, the book was a little underwhelming after waiting several months to read it, though some of that was due to my high expectations. In addition, the book was too thin and short to properly address some of the deeper questions of race and 'blackness' in early Christian discourse. However, Byron's strength lies in challenging some of the previous assertions about notable cases of 'blacks' in patristic writings, exegesis, Biblical passions and commentary, and monastic writings based on the desert fathers of Roman Egypt.

First, one must ascertain whether one agrees with the collective 'black' group of Egypt, Ethiopia, and blackness for analyzing the discourse on race, color, and ethnic difference in ethno-political rhetoric of early Christianity. Some, for instance, might take issue with Byron's inclusion of Egyptians as 'black.' I can see why one would, particularly given a later chapter's focus on how monastic communities in Roman Egypt distanced themselves from "Ethiopians" (remember, Ethiopians in this context refers to dark-skinned people from Africa, not modern Ethiopia). However, if one remembers that blackness can be broad and reads the Greco-Roman and Christian sources, one could find numerous examples of pre-Christian Greco-Roman literature and Christian writings that refer to Egyptians as blacks or associate them (alongside Ethiopians) with ethno-political rhetoric that clearly lumps them as a collective 'black group.'

In that sense, I concur with Byron including Egypt as part of this trend in Greco-Roman literature around the Mediterranean, because we have examples from Herodotus, Aristotle, a plethora of Greco-Roman writers, Greek Alexandrians, and Christian references that clearly distinguish Egyptians from a presumably 'white' or intermediary color non-Egyptian peoples of the circum-Mediterranean used to refer to themselves (if Suetonius can compare Egyptians and Ethiopians to demons and emblems of darkness, clearly both groups were perceived as 'black' to varying degrees).

Upon establishing the veracity of Byron's categorizations, one can assess the remainder of her claims. She is certainly well-read in the necessary secondary sources on Greco-Roman and Christian views of blackness in Late Antiquity (she's clearly read Thompson, Brakke, Snowden, and a myriad of other classicists and specialists). Undoubtedly, negative views of blackness in the Greco-Roman world proliferated throughout the Mediterranean and shaped how Christian and Jewish communities perceived dark-skinned people, too. Indeed, as Thompson and others have established, Greco-Roman views of blacks (be they Egyptian, Ethiopian, or black, melas) as representatives of the extreme ends of the earth, blackness equated with immorality, lust, and evil, or ugliness and the use of color symbolism to associate blackness with moral inferiority, criminality, unpleasant odors, and other stereotypes influenced patristic literature and Christian thought.

Indeed, as Byron intriguingly demonstrates, native Egyptians in Roman Egypt were marginalized, excluded from Roman citizenship, and elite Jews, Romans, and Greeks living in Alexandria all adopted a condescending and superior attitude to Egyptians. Furthermore, Egyptians were equated with geographical extremity, mythic idealization, described as dark-skinned or black, and equated with evil, heresy, and sin by Jewish and early Christian communities. These numerous parallels with pejorative and negative views of Ethiopians or blacks by Greco-Roman figures from Juvenal to Church Fathers with views of Egyptians certainly helps make the case for viewing them as a whole rather than separate groups in relation to lighter-skinned Greeks, Romans, and Near Eastern populations.

Let's look at Byron's take on some examples of Christian adoption and adaptation of broader Roman world views of blackness and how that shaped Christianity. For instance, the use of blackness, Ethiopians, and Egyptians as polemical devices in the work of Tertullian, who used the notion of Egypt and Ethiopia as sinful lands to discourage Christians from attending spectacles (or other events popular among pagans in the Roman Empire. Writers such as Jerome refer to Ethiopians and blacks as being 'blackened' by their sins while Origen looks at the black bride in Song of Songs as a metaphor for the Gentile Church, which, becomes beautiful and white through conversion and baptism.

So ethno-political rhetoric of Christian authors could reflect poorly on blacks (as sinful, heretics such as the Arianist or Nestorian 'heresies,' and lustful as in the stories of Egyptian monastic communities and their fear of Ethiopian demons symbolizing lust and temptation) or actually use them (Egyptians, Ethiopians, and blackness) to express the inclusive, universal extent of Christian salvation for the world (such as in the work of Augustine, Origen, or even the Moses the Black stories about his successful incorporation into Egyptian monastic communities in Upper Egypt, which apparently was only one of many examples of blacks joining Christian monks in Late Roman Egypt). This is not too surprising, and something observable in non-Christian Greco-Roman literature (Pliny and a few others write positively of blacks, despite the difference in what Thompson refers to as black deviance from the somatic norm of the Roman world).

Where it differs, however, is in how Christianity was, by its very nature, inevitably tied to the idea of universal salvation through the proselytizing efforts of early Christians such as Paul. Blacks could assimilate in the Roman world (such as the writer, Terence, of Carthage), just as in Christianity ('blacks' in Egyptian monasteries or Egyptian Christians themselves were proof of black inclusion, as were the tales of the Ethiopian eunuch from Acts 8:26). Christianity's radical equalizing message about the disappearance of status, ethnic difference, and slave or free in the eyes of God, however, was of a far more egalitarian message than anything found among the pagan elite of the Roman Empire.

If differences such as Gentile or Jew, Scythian or barbarian, slave or free, ultimately did not matter before Christ, Christianity offered a far more fulfilling and welcoming space for ethnic difference than it is given credit for. Of course, rhetoric is different from reality, and clearly social divisions within Christian communities based on ethnic difference, class, and status shaped the evolution of the faith (and it's numerous heresies, divisive church councils, etc.), as one would expect. But the promise of universalism and Christian redemption meant even the blackest of Ethiopians could be washed 'white' or have a 'white soul' if they accept Christianity.

Thus, despite some ugly color symbolism and discomforting ethno-political rhetoric, it is known for certain that some Christian writers did not mean literal 'black' populations when using Ethiopians, Egyptians, and blackness as metaphors for sinfulness, lust, or demons. It nevertheless can be used to suggest blackness is demonic or aesthetically inferior, but as Origen's commentary on the black bride shows, Christianity was 'black' in its early years but purified and washed white by orthodox, non-heretical practices and inclusiveness. If even the blackest Ethiopians and whitest Scythians were eligible for redemption, then all corners of the oikumene and everything in between are welcomed to Christian fraternity.

Now, what I wish Byron had demonstrated in these chapters is a dedication to unveiling the etymology of blackness as a sign of moral shortcomings and evil in the Christian context. Did this just arise from Zoroastrianism and previous religions, or perhaps something embedded in ancient religious thought (an association of blackness with evil, moral darkness, and ugliness?). Of course, we know that in ancient Egypt blackness was associated with fertility and divinity, but how did the predominantly "anti-black" view of darkness spread in the Roman world?

I also believe Byron's work was weakened by a lack of attention to the question of Egyptian perceptions of their southern neighbors during the Christian era. Or a better answer as to the composition of many of the monastic communities of Egypt (where these 'desert fathers' fostered the model for Christian monasticism that would later spread to the 'West') instead of saying some were lowly Copts at the bottom of Egyptian society whereas others were Hellenized elites. The cosmopolitan, unstable, and multiethnic Upper Egypt-Nubia border deserves a more detailed description and overview to properly place Egyptian views of 'blackness' in Late Antiquity in the proper context. Byron is probably right that the violent raids and burglaries committed by invading Blemmyes and other 'black' peoples ransacking Upper Egypt in the late Roman period shaped the later recordings of stories attributed to monks of facing temptation and danger from "Ethiopian demons" (the declining Roman empire, encroaching barbarians, loss of security, and seemingly chaotic end of an era may have fueled fears of 'blackness' from the south of Egypt that led to 'anti-black' sentiment).

What was the 'racial climate' of Roman Egypt during this period of Blemmyes' and Nubian military threat? Clearly the situation on the ground was more complex as some Nubians continued to worship the old gods such as Isis at the temple at Philae, while others would adopt Christianity or even join the monks! How can one accurately describe Egyptians using ethno-political rhetoric in Christian writings against other dark-skinned people (even if they clearly saw themselves as distinct from their southern neighbors in 'racial' or 'color terms' remains controversial given the adoption of Greek and the Greek "Ethiopian" to describe black neighbors). Not to revive the endless debate on the 'blackness of ancient Egypt,' but certainly the question of 'defensive othering' as a possibility should be considered in the trend of Egyptian monastic stereotypes of ugly, smelly, demonic blacks?

Of course, the question of malodorous black women tempting Egyptian monks speaks more to their attraction to black women (though women were rare and all generalized as the embodiment of physical pleasure and lust by monks, which meant women of all colors were also smelly), but the question of gender dynamics, self-denigration of blacks to be fully incorporated (Moses the Black was taunted, insulted, and mocked for the color of his skin to test virtues of a monk, such as apathy and patience, but what does it say about Late Roman Egypt if 'blacks' were really seen as inferior? It's probably not meant to be taken literally and these stories of Anthony and Moses the Black were not recorded until decades or centuries after the historical figures lived, but it provides some insight onto how ethno-political discourse used the political and social realities of the day to represent some 'higher truth.'

Overall, Byron's text is thought-provoking and a worthwhile read, but too short and avoids answering some larger questions. Byron had no interest in psychoanalysis of some of these patristic writers or other classical sources, but more inclusion of psychoanalysis and theories of race, ethnic difference, and Afrocentrism would have added more nuance to the discussion. Now I have a better understanding of some of the torment Moses the Black was subjected to (or at least how later accounts described it as such) and other aspects of the Ethiopian Eunuch, but still believe a fuller discussion of 'race' in the Nile Valley, specific mention of Nubian Christianity, and Aksumite conversion to the faith would shape 'blackness' in Christian thought. That is the next frontier, I suppose, a fuller and more integrative look at African Christianity in Egypt, Nubia, and Ethiopia, which could shed light on how those territories were used or rendered symbolically in Western Christian thought. Another question, how pervasive were elite Roman and Greek views of 'blackness' in Egypt then? Was there a trickle down effect of certain color symbolism and stereotypes ideologically throughout the expanding Christian world?

Soy Antillana

A fascinating song reminiscent of that brief moment of a political alternative for the Caribbean in the 19th century. A brief moment where the class and racial dynamics of the Greater Antilles were, during the height of anti-colonial liberation struggles in Cuba and Puerto Rico, united against US and European colonialism and racial slavery. Of course, white creoles of Cuba and Puerto Rico did what they tended to do, betray and sell out their black and brown compatriots to Europeans or white Americans, but for a time, anti-colonial movements collaborated in the two wings of the Antilles (Cuba and Puerto Rico) while also overcoming fear of Haiti and black rule. Look up the following historical figures and uncover the idea of a pan-Caribbean federation that would've established an alliance among Cuba, Haiti, the Dominican Republic, and Puerto Rico as well as the central role of the 'first black republic' in protecting Caribbean sovereignty. Look up the following historical figures:

1. Antenor Firmin
2. Gregorio Luperon
3. Jose Marti
4. Ramon Emeterio Betances
5. Antonio Maceo
6. Arturo Schomberg

Being Black in San Francisco

Came across this interesting article today about the experiences of a black woman living amidst white hipsters who have taken over the 'progressive' city of San Francisco, the very same city that has essentially put all the niggas on the other side of the bridge, to quote Chappelle. Although I have never lived in or even visited the Bay Area yet, I can speak to hipster and 'progressive' white racists from a similarly stereotyped 'progressive' or 'liberal' American city. White folks from a local progressive party (including one loser and former drug addict who lost in a race for political office, thank God), hipsters I lived with in a housing cooperative, and many others all made me sympathize with the writer of the above piece.

William DeVaughn's Thanksgiving Jam

I first heard this soul classic about a year or two ago, when I initially mistook it for a song I once heard on The Boondocks (this one). DeVaughn kinda sounds like Curtis, so I can see why many folks on Youtube thought it was a Mayfield number. But this is soul at its finest and perfect for the upcoming holiday 

Carlos Cooks: Dominican-American Garveyite and Black Nationalist

Carlos Cooks, a Dominican-American black nationalist who influenced much of radical Harlem back in the day. He reminds me of Arturo Schomburg as one of those rare Afro-Latinos who moved to the US and became a part of various forms of Black intellectual and political circles in New York. This faithful Garveyite designated Garvey's birthday a black holiday, helped organize buy black campaigns in NYC (although an African-American Muslim called the "Black Hitler" by Jews who accused him of anti-Semitism also shaped 'buy black' consumerism in Harlem by organizing boycotts of white-owned stores in Harlem), influenced Malcolm X and shaped various forms of Pan-Africanist organizations and ideals. 

It really shows one how transnational and transcolonial Marcus Garvey's UNIA was in the circum-Caribbean world, probably spreading to Cuba, the Dominican Republic, and Central America through West Indian workers (and from them to New York, where Caribbean immigrants have shaped black resistance and radicalism since the early 1900s. 

Sources:

http://moorbey.wordpress.com/2013/06/19/the-contributions-of-carlos-a-cooks/

http://unapologetically-black.tumblr.com/post/5921374218/carlos-a-cooks-the-ideological-son-of-marcus-mosiah

http://unapologetically-black.tumblr.com/post/5921374218/carlos-a-cooks-the-ideological-son-of-marcus-mosiah

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Xwhv9oqXNs

Myriam Chancy on Haiti and Latin America

Chancy is on point in describing the general approach in Latin American Studies to Haiti, which is one of exclusion or neglect (despite a shared history with the Dominican Republic). Based on my engagement of Latin American Studies in university, Haiti was almost always ignored or superficially included in "Latin America." Like Chancy says, in the realm of political science, Haiti could be lumped with "Latin America," often focusing on its negritude as a cause for its extreme poverty. Intriguingly, Chancy is part Dominican herself and interested in the DR's literature and history. She actually believes Dominican identity is weakened (yet economically stronger) than Haitian identity ideologically, something perhaps a little too much. What I find interesting is a pattern she observes in Dominican-American letters of increasing curiosity and acceptance of Haiti versus that of older generations of Dominican writers and their virulent anti-Haitian sentiment. Indeed, one can find evidence of that in Junot Diaz, for instance, but I wish Chancy gave some examples of other writers who are more willing to accept Dominican blackness (besides Silvio Torres-Saillant). 

Ornette Coleman and Jackie McLean's Old Gospel

It's Sunday, so you know what that means? Praising the Lord with gospel jazz! I recently came across a collaboration between Ornette Coleman (playing trumpet instead of sax) and Jackie McLean that embodies that religious gospel-blues feel that so many jazz artists came up with. Coleman and McLean never forgot where they came from, that's for sure.

Melissa Harris-Perry's Finer Moment

For a long time my favorite MHP moment from her show on MSNBC is keeping it real with some business-minded corporate hack guest who tried to defend the 'job creators' and '1%' who take risks financially and 'create jobs' and 'wealth.' She keeps it real and talks from personal experience with the realities of life for low-income black communities in New Orleans to demonstrate that being poor is a greater risk (for schooling, jobs, safety, mental and physical health, the list goes on to other disadvantages and risks not mentioned by MHP). Unfortunately, the crisis of poverty will likely not be alleviated anytime soon, but props to MHP for saying something of substance and more meaningful than, say, defending Obama and the Dems. 

Melissa Harris-Perry and Bell Hooks

An interesting conversation between two 'titans' of black feminist thought today. hooks, in my opinion, is far more applicable and interesting on the question of black feminism and progressive or revolutionary ideology and thought (the white supremacist capitalist patriarchy lets you know immediately where hooks stands). Unfortunately, MHP seems to have either sold out somewhat to be on MSNBC or was never the 'progressive' she touted herself to be, but regardless of her political orientation and sometimes problematic show she's not the reason I watched this (love you bell hooks!).

Macy Gray, Cape Town, Life

Apparently my brother met Macy Gray at a grocery store recently. He did not know of her at the time, so he was not as stunned as I would've been, but she is still a tall black woman with a gigantic afro. My brother should have promoted himself and his music to her, but opportunities come and go like the breeze. Also, check out this post about Cape Town and the shortcomings and hypocrisy from the DA. In my opinion, if the DA's only real claim to fame is being a little more efficient and organized than the ANC, that don't mean much and they will remain a political party lacking any broad-based appeal or legitimacy. 

A Junkie Walking Through the Twilight

I am not sure why I care so much, but today I was struck by an obviously strung out man trying to return most certainly stolen over the counter medications to the store at work tonight. He was a wreck in every conceivable way: could not stand still, could barely write without incessant twitching, couldn't speak straight, offered to sell his cellphone to me, a shift supervisor, and customers at the store for 25 dollars (he claimed it was to purchase gas for his car, but we all know that's BS, unless that gas is to drive his car to his dealer). 

We get a lot of depressing customers and crazies who come through that store, especially at night. Indeed, today we had one man who might have been homeless shoplift right in front of me (I was ringing customers out and noticed him stuffing his backpack with liquid soaps) and flee just as I shouted at him and the shift supervisor was on his way to the front end of the store. And per usual, some adolescents came to the store in group (a telltale sign of shoplifting) and I witnessed them stealing some medicines, lubrication, and pregnancy tests. My shift supervisor caught them after I called him and he watched out for them, but the fiends tear the boxes open and just steal the lube, pills, contraptions, etc. that they're looking for. If not, they tear off the security tag or take a chance and run through the door. 

But I am used to shoplifters and thieves. I'm used to the mentally ill and somewhat 'off' customers and regulars, such as the one man who shows up, skips people in line, and doesn't have enough money to pay for things (and sometimes no money at all). I am not used to seeing people in such debilitating states of drug addiction. That man, emaciated, unable to articulate himself clearly, and despite it all, lying through his teeth and attempting to have a conversation with me where both sides knew everything he said was bullshit. It was one of those truly rare moments where communication between two people was, despite the obvious lies if one follows it literally, 'free' in a sense. My heart goes out for that man and all other Bubbles out there, struggling to keep their head above water in these modern, urban wastelands. 

As The Wire teaches us so clearly, if you walk in the garden, you better watch your back. Though I probably won't ever see him again, I hope for the best and actually wish I could have given him cash back on his stolen items he did not have a receipt for (instead of store credit). Drug addiction ain't no joke, obviously, and those 'crackheads, junkies, and methheads need the most help in these dire times where addiction of all sorts destroys entire nations (looking at you, Wall Street, for your corporate greed and addiction and love of money that nearly destroyed the US and global economy).

I suppose my last thing I could possibly say is to reiterate the rarity and importance of fake, pseudo-sincere conversations in forcing us to acknowledge our fellow humanity with those perhaps even more downtrodden. Indeed, one can break through to the other side despite the largely meaningless exchange of words that passes as conversation today, something I did not expect to have with a drug addict this week. Sir, whoever you are, keep your head up. 

Long Street, Cape Town

Long Street. It's the 'nightlife district of Cape Town and nothing but those two words does a better job of conjuring images of packed streets, fake cab drivers and thieves, hordes of college students and 'real people' enjoying themselves while inebriated, overpriced and mediocre clubs and some decent restaurants and take-away places. Long Street during the day is nothing like Long Street at night, however. During the day, it can be a busy street with lots of traffic, both automobile and pedestrian, but it's usually quiet for a busy area. It feels very 'urban' and nothing like the southern suburbs of Cape Town where I spent a lot of time. In addition, it's near the gorgeous Company's Garden, the Slave Lodge, the National Gallery of Art, and several other important sites and spaces in the city centre of Cape Town.

So, if you're in the area during the day (there is also an extension of the UCT campus nearby, so one could get to the city centre for free via the university's Jammie Shuttle system for UCT students), there are lots of sights to see, interesting restaurants (including Addis in Cape, a delicious though expensive by South African standards restaurant right off Long Street, or the best falafels I had in South Africa at a Turkish place on Long Street) and beautiful public spaces to see. There's even a decent and very clean McDonald's and lots of other options, depending on one's taste (McDonald's in South Africa is not too different from US McDonald's, which was a little surprising because the KFC menus differed greatly by offering pap and some specifically South African dishes one would never find in the US). I suppose if you take the trains or minibuses to the city center, one should always be careful at the Central Train Station (where minibuses and trains stop, several random businesses operated, and 'questionable' people congregated). I never went there at night after 8, but one gay European guy I knew was almost robbed by a group of men (he probably stood out, given his love for dressing stylishly and perhaps being too flamboyant and flashing a nice phone) so it's always wiser to not go through that station at night if you're alone. Surprisingly, the guy escaped unscathed despite hitting one of the men with an umbrella!

Anyway, back to Long Street. At night, it's a whole other story. Gone are the more family-friendly spaces in the city centre and welcome to a night of sin, lust, clubbing, etc. I went out a few times, but never enjoyed it much. One club, Joburg, was a hip-hop club with a high fee of about R50 for entry (women were exempted that night) but only playing loud, dated, and commercial hip-hop music. Long Street is packed with drunken revelers, a myriad of taxis operating with trustworthy and known companies or independent, mostly African (from other African countries of black South African) 'taxis' who were a little sketchy but sometimes very easy to negotiate a good price. One could have great conversations with Congolese, Kenyan, South African, and an assortment of African taxi drivers from across the continent, such as one nice Congolese man who was very interested in talking about Congo and Haiti with a Haitian-American friend and I. Of course, he was impressed by how much we knew about his country, probably because he's not used to meeting any Americans who know a damn thing about Congo DRC.

Moving on, some of the other clubs and restaurants were nice but, again, most of the music was often generic popular music or things that just didn't interest me. In addition, alcohol also has a tendency of bringing out the worst in some people and led to pointless, inane, and unnecessary conversations and fights (all verbal) within some of the groups I occasionally hung out with. So, if you like drinking, being around drunk people who will hit on any and all women in your group (well, almost all women), and being unable to hear someone due to loud music and loud crowds, Long Street just might be the place for you. Indeed, some women's inferiority complex and self-loathing due to sexist, patriarchal gender norms and the attention certain better-looking women got could incite immature and heated conflict, despite everyone being old enough to know better. Oh well, welcome to Long Street, and welcome to the expected reality of college girls with low self-esteem.

Though I did not spend too much time there nor did I 'party it up' often, Long Street provided me with one of the mos relaxing evenings. I was with an American friend on Long Street one night after not seeing each other for weeks, and so we ended up going to a hookah place after a bar and ran into two Bahai acquaintances. My friend, Jess, knew one of them through a dinner party, a South African from Durban, and he was with a close friend of his, a postgraduate student at UCT and from Paraguay (but spent a significant portion of his time in the UK). We ended up chatting for several hours, talking about life, the Bahai faith, etc. Some of it was beyond me due to my ignorance of the faith at the time (that would change somewhat after talking more with the two fellows), but there were endearing moments, such as the childish glee those two grown men (one a recent UCT graduate living and working in Cape Town, the other about to graduate and pursue a career abroad) revealed when telling me about the possibility of purchasing a peanut butter milkshake from a restaurant on Long Street. Regardless of my general disdain for peanut butter, the happiness on their faces over something so simple and the child-like way they said, "Peanut butter!" forced me to order it. Good times, perhaps the best of times, on Long Street.

Of course, one should also check out the Timbuktu Cafe, this decent Indian joint, and a plethora of other things on and around Long Street. There's so much to see, though the city centre of Cape Town is not very impressive in the way that Johannesburg wows. And if you're one of those nightlife people, taking the cabs to Long Street every weekend (and sometimes weeknights) and enjoying the overpriced drinks, etc. will be your day. I guess if one is coming from Europe or the US, they're not too expensive, and one can feel surrounded by fellow tourists and foreigners on Long Street. Most Coloured and Black South Africans in the Cape Town area don't make enough money to enjoy Long Street like the whites and non-Capetonian people of color (including 'black diamonds' from Jo'burg or international students, expatriates, and foreigners passing through Cape Town). Indeed, if one likes the idea of being in Africa but feeling like one is in Europe or North America, there are spaces in Long Street (and, of course, other parts of Cape Town) where the only people of color you see are waiters, cleaners, security and one can listen to mediocre European dance music or pop and hip-hop from the US.

Some Videos Pertaining to Haiti

Neal interviews Duke professor Laurent Dubois, whose work I have reviewed here (and check out this) Like I've read elsewhere, Dubois also points to a study finding Haiti to be one of the least dangerous places in the Americas based on homicide rates but after the earthquake soldiers were sent to 'guard' supplies and emergency relief aid. Of course, it's no surprise the media portrayed Haiti afterwards as a land of lawlessness and excessive crime after the earthquake, the same thing happened in New Orleans after Katrina. Oh, and I like Mark Anthony Neal (I saw him speak at my university, here) and the interview is worthwhile. Dubois also gave an interesting lecture here, too. I am quite fond of Dubois's work, he clearly cares about Haiti and is sympathetic to and interested in defending the dignity of Haiti's poor whose own voices are too often silenced or made into the cause of their own abject poverty. Dubois is a master of providing accessible and well-intentioned scholarly work for the mostly ignorant and/or apathetic masses who might just believe everything they see on CNN or think Pat Roberton is on to something.

I am also quite fond of this beautiful project on the life of Marie Vieux Chauvet, whose Love, Anger, Madness provided me with some haunting yet irresistible readings two years ago (you can also watch it here). Also, check out this 3-part video (1, 2, 3) featuring Matthew J. Smith, whose work on Haitian history has come up before on this site. Also, Rebecca Scott's work on the re-enslavement of the Saint-Dominguan diaspora is something I have been trying to learn more about.

Alan Lomax, Haiti, and Cosmpolitan Haitian Music

Interesting lecture featuring Averill discussing the background of Alan Lomax's field recordings in Haiti in the 1930s, similarities with New Orleans music, the variety of musical genres carrying influences from Cuban son, Trinidadian calypso, Vodou (Rara and ceremonies), and Zora Neale Hurston singing American folktunes of her youth. Check out the following:

1. "Deus Blues" 

2. "Valse A Elle"

3. "Instrumental Merengue"  

4. "Mèsi, Papa Vensan"

5. "Kamèn Sa Wa Fè?"

One can hear the influence of Cuban son, Haitian mereng, djaz, the Haitian version of the marimbula, and other sounds in Haitian music from this era. Praise songs, Vodou rituals, rara, urban music, and twoubadou all reveal the cosmopolitan nature of Haitian music in the 1930s. Indeed, enjoy this one about Trujillo! 

Ryo Fukui's Mellow Dream

Mellow Dream is quite similar to Scenery, though it was not released until several decades after being recorded in 1977 (according to this). On the 'banging' opener, the Fukui trio again sounds reminiscent of Bill Evans and McCoy Tyner (but with some Bud and perhaps a hint of Horace Silver). The bassist's extended solo reminded me of Scott LaFaro, further cementing the ties between Fukui and the best trio of Evans. The second number, "My Foolish Heart," a standard and appropriately taken at a relaxed pace, is not as moving or interesting as other standards tackled by Fukui. 

Fortunately, "Baron Potato Blues" picks up where "My Foolish Heart" left off, bringing some bluesy funk to the show. Sure, it's a simple blues that's almost obligatory on any jazz number, but it's swinging, the bassist is very audible, and Fukui's mastery of the blues form is showcased in his solo. On this number, he reminds me of Tyner again, mostly for his block chord-like accompaniment of himself. Regardless, it's a jam-packed adventure where the blues, that most essential of the roots in African American music, is a form for expressing not only the deepest melancholy, but triumphant joy. 

"What's New" takes us into familiar standard material. Fukui's soul-searching piano, with the drummer's excellent accompaniment, feels like a wave on the sea, rolling back and forth over a gentle bass. The highlight is without a doubt the melodic solo taken by the bassist, again recalling Scott LaFaro's work with Evans but far too short. "Horizon" goes into more interesting territory with a modal groove, emphatic drumming, and Fukui's almost ancient-sounding theme pounded on the piano keys. Stuff like this recalls the 1960s McCoy Tyner-Coltrane collaborations which fused spirituals, blues and jazz with an ethos of universal spirituality or ecumenism (which often entailed looking to the past and foreign for a 'grand' sound). "Horizon" does this quite well, including some busy drumwork that recalls the not-quite Latin but polyrhythmic and hectic style of Jones, another key component of the success of Coltrane's 1960s output (prior to him dumping Tyner for his wife, Alice). 

Like Tyner, the roots (blues) appear in Fukui's solo while glissandos and flies at breakneck speed. The bassist deserves brownie points for keeping it all together with such quick plucking. The drummer even gets a solo, almost melodically while utilizing as much of the drumset as possible, though nothing quite like my boy Max Roach. Last but certainly not least, "My Funny Valentine" is approached with the gentleness of a slight breeze while walking at the park as Fukui does a piano solo rendition. Its sparseness actually contributes to the emotional drama of the standard's message, in a way that vocalist Sarah Vaughan perhaps best achieved.

Though not as strong or packing as much of a punch as Scenery, this is certainly excellent evidence of the longevity of jazz piano-led trios. The last track, another version of "Early Summer," takes things to their proper soulful modal groove conclusion. Alas, if only this guy had more albums or recordings. I need to consume more jazz from all corners of the world. 

Ryo Fukui's Scenery

Ornette Coleman has taught us that beauty is a rare thing. Nothing could be truer given the general ugliness that surrounds us in the world. Thus, with honor and love, I present you Ryo Fukui's Scenery, a stunning reminder that some of the best jazz comes from outside the US. Fukui's style is immediately reminiscent of McCoy Tyner, Bill Evans, and Bud Powell, three American jazz pianist giants, the second and last recording some of the finest (in my opinion at least) jazz trio recordings of the bop and post-bop eras. With his modal base, Fukui sounds eerily similar to Evans and Tyner in some key ways, particularly sharing an almost spiritual majesty and power in his music with Tyner (listen to "Early Summer" and you might see what I mean). 

Like Evans, however, Fukui is a master of standards, providing some fresh takes on classic gems such as "Willow Weep For Me" (I haven't heard such a bluesy and fun rendition of that song since hearing Lady Day's somewhat melancholy yet bluesy rendition) or "I Want To Talk About You." Although I suppose there is nothing characteristically or explicitly "Japanese," Fukui's music shows the Japanese mastery and comprehension of the jazz idiom. Indeed, the magic of jazz is how inherently universal and emancipatory jazz can be: it incorporates various traditions and styles of music, fuses it together seamlessly, and gives space for creativity and free expression through improvisation. 

Indeed, Fukui is willing to take that freedom train in his interpretations of standards. His take on "Autumn Leaves," for instance, has its own utterly unique, funky introduction, reminiscent of the time Davis and Adderley added their own soulful intro to the same standard on Somethin' Else. In addition, the prominence of the drums, though usually more restrained and not afforded solo space (except that thunderous burst on "Early Summer"), shows how adept the trio's jazz skills are. In fact, he almost sounds like Elvin Jones! They keep it swinging while completely bypassing the limitations of swing, allowing Fukui to soar on those ivories, gliding his hands along the keyboard. 

Beauty is a rare thing, so bask in the pulchritude. The album is arranged quite well, divided into various uptempo and modal jams, midtempo contemplative pieces, and an accurately titled closer, "Scenery," which successfully conjures an atmosphere of thick smoke, dimmed lights, and delight. 

Lee Morgan + Wayne Shorter + Art Blakey = The Best of the Jazz Messengers

Any incarnation of Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers featuring Lee Morgan and Wayne Shorter represents the epitome of the Jazz Messengers and hard bop. They take you to church on jams such as "This Here" while also combining Morgan's fiery passion and funk with Shorter's more elegant, 'refined' approach and composing talent. They complemented each other perfectly as well as composed and 'blew' some of the best solos Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers ever played. If I rememeber correctly, Lee Morgan actually brought Shorter into the Jazz Messengers by recommending him to Blakey. 

Enjoy some great jazz below!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RDwy3-B02Us
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EfGDTGBHM9M
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WV5EXrfs_Aw
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cyLY7FSd3WA
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jU2pITrtwMs
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qTp8UxEsvSk
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YXL6FDt5L5k
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EPI3xMd9liM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=16ITj7KR5rk

Today

Today. Today was bearable compared to my hellish time in the Underworld yesterday. Maybe the stormy, rainy weather helped too, by discouraging would-be customers from leaving the house. Also, Sundays are usually a little more bearable as long as there aren't hordes of fools trickling in to buy items the poor fools think are a great deal. Enjoy your "Sunday," which was not a gloomy one at all. 

Classic Boondocks: Huey on MLK

Oh, Huey. Although I certainly see what he's getting at with the lack of progress despite racial integration, Huey and Jazmine certainly are better off in some ways having access to bastions of white privilege. Anywho, Huey is right in a later strip in pointing out how phony so much of the praise and celebration of integration and MLK is in this country. At least Huey gets points for consistency. He never pretends to care about racial harmony, integration, and nonviolence like most Americans!

Bill Cosby's Fatherhood

Finally got around to perusing Cosby's Fatherhood. In many ways one can see how The Cosby Show follows many of Cosby's ideas of how the 'modern father' should raise his children. Indeed, Cosby's model of fatherhood is similar to 'traditional' narratives in some ways, but is far more engaged in criticism of misogynistic and outdated gender norms. Indeed, Poussaint, the Haitian-American psychiatrist and friend of Cosby who contributed to the hit sitcom (Haitians really do have a tendency of showing up where you don't expect them) also shares Cosby's take on how 'traditional' roles of fatherhood often led to emotional distance from children. Poussaint, who grew up in East Harlem in an apparently working-class family, regretted never being close to his father until the latter was on his deathbed, something Poussaint attributes to traditional models of father-child relationships. Cosby and Poussaint believe fathers should show emotional bonds and reveal more of themselves to their children, something I agree with, as would most people today, I think. Cosby wants such an open relationship with his children that he would want all fathers to be able to discuss puberty and sex with their teenage progeny, as well as have an engaged father during the pregnancy and infancy periods. 

While I can agree with much of Cosby's take on how fathers should interact with their children from the cradle to college (especially the critique of sexist gender roles where mothers are supposed to do all the child rearing on their own, cook, clean, something that came up in The Cosby Show via Alvin, Sondra's misogynistic boyfriend/husband of Caribbean descent), and I enjoyed the accessible and humorous writing style, it was a little too 'wholesome' and cared too much about assuaging whites and the status quo. Cosby actually praises Thomas Jefferson, uses almost only white American and European references (besides some talk of jazz and how all fathers hate the music their children like). Oh well, that is to be expected. For a black comedian of Cosby's era to become popular and retain that crossover acceptableness to whites, he has to cater to mainstream notions of "America" and popular culture to a certain degree (though he did celebrate black culture through art and music in the sitcom). Furthermore, Poussaint's introduction to the text spouts some stereotypical nonsense about how absentee fathers are to blame for child poverty. I am sure Poussaint recognizes the nuances of child poverty in America, but it sounded uncomfortably similar to his and Cosby's more recent work on blaming the black poor for their own condition. Regardless, Poussaint's introduction struck me as classist and perhaps a chastisement of poor blacks in particular, though single-mother households are increasingly common across race lines.

Some Videos Relating to Japanese Perceptions of Blacks

Here are some videos to check out pertaining to 'blackness' in Japan and how stereotypes of the Black Other persist today. To be honest, if I could get me a piece of that pie (selling commercialized, stereotypical notions of blackness), you damn skippy I would be in Japan right now! Perhaps I'll try my luck in East Asia one of these days and sell myself as a cultural ambassador or interpreter for the Japanese appetite for stereotypes of blackness? Check out this video about Japanese women's interest in hip-hop culture and that style's own troubled notions of 'blackness.' I believe this kind of stuff, this fascination with blackness on their own terms, is part of the appeal of Jero, the African-American (also of Japanese descent himself) singer of enka whose persona and dress is clearly influenced by hip-hop and 'blackness' in the US yet also a product of Japanese traditional music and culture. Blackness in this case is similar to the case of Dante, the black commercial actor. His blackness functions as a prop, a visual sign of a different type of Other. This type of Other, in order to be popular, must follow stereotypes of hip-hop and the black male other, although agency of these two guys must be seen as a reality, too. In this interview Jero claims "hip-hop" clothing is his style and utterly him, so who knows, maybe it wasn't just a marketing prop. 

Wednesday Night Prayer Meeting and Space Loneliness

"Wednesday Night Prayer Meeting" is the epitome of that ineffable quality of Afro-American music and experience. The funky, earthiness, blues-inflected wails and gospel tradition, and soul-soothing moments of utter joy and celebration of the Creator keeps this song together. Mingus, a product of the Black Church and the blues, returned to his 'roots' on this album and succeeded. Indeed, I recall reading in a biography of Mingus that on one occasion his 'blackness' was called into question by a dark-skinned musician. Mingus played the most downhome blues the brother had ever heard and nobody could deny that Mingus, part black, part white, and part yellow, could keep it soulful and funky like the best. I ain't into essentializing blackness, but Mingus brought it. 

In addition to Mingus, my Wednesday evening has also brought back memories of early Sun Ra. His pre-synth music is actually among my favorite jazz, particularly the Chicago years. Sure, the music is more conventional and less 'edgy,' but it's far more listenable (no offense to free jazz!) and just as meaningful. Listen to "Springtime in Chicago" and tell me that don't make you nostalgic for Chicago or just a beautiful, simple day? But my jam tonight is "Space Loneliness," a blues expressing solitude with an undercurrent of joy. In fact, the blues is just as much about expressing joy as sorrow or melancholy. 

With the numerous wails of John Gilmore's saxophone (he influenced Coltrane yet got little recognition), the funeral march-like tempo, and bluesy head, "Space Loneliness" feels like a whiff of fresh air in a stale room occupied by a solitary figure. Thus, to me there is perhaps some hinting at possible joy in the debilitating state of depression and loneliness. Indeed, perhaps the 'space' or science fiction part of the title aptly describes the kind of solitude we all experience at one point in our lives, feeling like objects in space without intersecting. 

The Young Wayne Shorter: Genius Child

Source: Mercer's Footprints

Young Wayne Shorter, product of Newark's Ironbound district and a working-class family. His creative talents were encouraged by his mother, who married Shorter's father and moved to Newark from Philadelphia. Shorter also attended the same church in Newark that Sarah Vaughan sang for her in her youth. Also, Shorter went to NYU in music education while his brother, Alan, also a musician, was a friend of Amiri Baraka and went to Howard.

Shorter was initially drawn to painting but switched to music after listening to bop on the radio in the 1940s. He began on the clarinet but later moved on to tenor saxophone. The legend was known as the "Newark Flash" by New York musicians across the river and was always a versatile musician, even at mambos in the 1950s! Shorter opened for mambo legend Perez Prado once and had Celia Cruz and Tito Puente approving his chops in Latin music. Indeed, check out his skills at latin funk on "Tom Thumb" with its bossa nova influences. Shorter never lost his touch for funky and Latin rhythms.

Shorter also composed and recorded for Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers, the second Miles Davis Quintet, Weather Report, and his own solo sessions, my favorites being Speak No Evil and Juju, influenced by Coltrane yet uniquely Shorter. Indeed, this socially awkward genius reminds me of myself in some ways. Enjoy "Footprints." And the lovely "Miyako" has been one of my favorite jazz ballads and tributes (to his daughter of the same name) I have ever had the pleasure to hear (and that includes "Lester Left Town" for Lester Young).

Some Thoughts on Mowbray and My Usual Cape Town Neighborhoods

Well, I should probably begin with the place I slept in and spent a lot of time. The above is the house where I was over-charged by that horrid white woman from Johannesburg. It's quite beautiful though, as were the majority of the houses on that small block. If I remember correctly, the houses on my street were part of a Cape Dutch style with multicolored houses connected to each other and somewhat reminiscent of Mediterranean and colonial Spanish architectural styles in Latin America. With five large enough bedrooms, 2 bathrooms (unfortunately, only one shower though!), and a spacious kitchen (well, large enough), the house was perfect (besides being charged a fortune by that horrid woman!). 

The neighbors on the block seemed to be mostly white homeowners or students from at the University of Cape Town. The rest of the neighborhood, besides some other student housing in Mowbray (dormitories) and UCT properties, was mostly homeowners (often white, especially on the other side of Main Road and closer to the University of Cape Town), mostly black apartment dwellers, students, and an assortment of various peoples. I think Mowbray used to be much whiter back in the day, but after apartheid went through some tough years of crime, burglaries, and muggings. Oh, and one could never forget the call to prayer from that small mosque only a few blocks away, so there is definitely a Muslim presence.

Beautiful city, Cape Town, despite all its flaws. The natural landscape makes it beautiful much more than urban layout or architecture. Indeed, perhaps Cape Town truly is a bit of paradise. 

From what I could tell, Mowbray was mostly black and with its gritty and filthy streets, far less affluent than the nearby posh Rondesbosch or Claremont. There is not too much in terms of entertainment or interest in Mowbray. The house I resided in was very close to the Mowbray train station so there were a lot of minibuses and trains passing through, some restaurants and take away joints (but nothing fancy or upscale), a plethora of homeless people (mostly Coloured and black, including some who will ring your front door bell and beg for money), and some rather poorly lighted side streets (that could be somewhat frightening when I was walking around late at night solo, but nobody ever tried to rob me or anything). I also lived right next to the Cape Peninsula University of Technology, so several students from there passed through the neighborhood (and some primary school students who appeared to come mostly from the townships and attended school in what, though better than 'mud schools,' was quite inferior to the infrastructure, equipment, and spaces alloted to white students in wealthier neighborhoods. 

I did not talk much to the neighbors, but went to a house party hosted by one house at the beginning of the semester. It was, as to be expected, mostly UCT students and nothing special (and wow, it took forever to use their filthy bathroom because of some inebriated fool taking his time and messing it up). The other neigbhors consisted of a gay couple (white, I believe) who complained about noise, some postgraduate students who could be very annoying but had an adorable cat, Shadow, who often slept in our house and was a 'people person.' Besides these folks and some other international students living ont he other side of the block, I did not spend much time talking to folks in the neighborhood. There was the cool Congolese manager of a sub-par restaurant/take away place by the train station I spoke to often, and some of the Somali-owned cornerstores I stopped by could be quite gregarious, I did not particularly care too much for Mowbray.

In retrospect, Mowbray was probably a better place to stay than, say, Rondebosch, or wealthier southern suburbs further away from the city centre. I was close enough to them that if I wanted to or needed something from upscale shopping centers (such as the mall in Claremont), restaurants, expensive supermarkets, or just plain bourgie spaces, I could get there easily. In addition, it was very close to UCT's campus, there was a lot of public transportation, etc. If only there was safe, affordable public transportation at night, then Cape Town would've been even better! 

Other benefits of the neighborhood was exposure to some of the working-class and lower middle class enclaves and environments of Cape Town, as well as the stark class inequality. I think I only saw one white homeless person or beggar, and he was a gay beggar who appeared in some documentary project on homelessness. The rest were mostly black or coloured, though I suppose the neighborhood is mostly black, too. In addition, the dirty streets and probably overexaggerated fear of crime aided me in learning to watch my back and keep it real about my surroundings at all times. Furthermore, I was close to Observatory and Main Road, so I could get to more 'nightlife-friendly' spots, restaurants, internet cafes, and even Woodstock, if I wanted to. Indeed, there is a weekly event (held every Saturday or Sunday morning) in Woodstock that illustrates the pervasive gentrification of that neighborhood), the Old Biscuit Mill.

This was taken at a Muslim cemetery in Observatory, a walkable distance from Mowbray. There was not much to do there (unless you're into necrophilia, maybe?) but it was interesting to read the names and see some of the history of the area. 

Woodstock was a perfect example of gentrification in an urban context where wealthy and middle-class whites (the market is overwhelmingly attended by whites, and they even hire private security to guard the area, if I remember correctly, so that mostly white folks could purchase overpriced junk, food, etc. The food was delicious though, probably the best or second-best falafels I ate in South Africa.) 'revitalize' and takeover urban spaces in a mostly Coloured and Black neighborhood. Indeed, I wish I had spent more time in Woodstock outside of that mall and some evening walks (including one unsuccessful trip for plantains that ended with delicious, fresh grapes instead!). 

What fascinated me about Woodstock, however, besides how close it was to Mowbray (the neighborhoods are separated by Observatory) was the prevalence of dilapidated houses, urban decay, African markets, and poverty (I once saw a homeless man sleeping in a structure composed of several boxes on the street) juxtaposed to wealthy bastions of whiteness at the Old Biscuit Mill or the young, 'hipster-like' white folks establishing themselves in the area. Like Observatory, which Woodstock resembled quite a bit in the designs and exteriors of private homes, the history of the area being a 'gray area' where housing segregation was not as strict as other areas of Cape Town made the area multiracial. Indeed, if I remember correctly, Mowbray always had a large Coloured presence before and during apartheid, largely to house domestics and industrial laborers for the white middle and upper classes.

All things considered, I actually like Mowbray. I miss the somewhat 'gritty' feel of the neighborhood, the large numbers of people from all over in that one place and the surrounding neighborhoods all somewhat well-connected to each other. The neighborhood itself was not amazing by any means, but the proximity to the city centre and other interesting neighborhoods, as well as the large number of black-owned barbershops, the decent KFC, Indian-owned corner stores selling meat-heavy versions of samosas (not as good as real Indian samosas by any means, but delicious), and a mixture of students, workers, middle-class professionals, an assortment of neighborhood characters (such as the nice Coloured beggar who actually asked me to give him a sip of my can of Coke one day and once followed me half a block over it, which of course I had to refuse and start walking faster!), and the lively streets as students from UCT, CPUT, and that primary school all walked the streets and added to the cacophony of street noise. It was, in its own peculiar way, magical. Mowbray lies, quite literally, between privilege and peril as the suburbs further south were increasingly whiter and bourgie while the other direction, toward 'downtown' Cape Town, was poorer, more Coloured or Black (yet, these neighborhood were of course better off than most of the Cape Flats, because it was integrated into the public transportation system, closer to the city centre and wealthy suburbs, etc.). 

Now, if only Mowbray and some of these other neighborhoods could quit with the walls, barbed wire, and extra security measures. That, in my opinion, made the neighborhood seem more dangerous than it really is (as well as fuel fear of public streets at night, etc.). Oh well, I didn't see anything as bad as some of the gigantic walls I noticed in parts of Johannesburg or the hiring of neighborhood private security, a path pursued by wealthy areas like Claremont to monitor and 'police' the area. 

Ismael Rivera and Rafael Cortijo

Been feeling very Puerto Rican today, not entirely sure why. Perhaps hearing a Latina woman pronounce my apellido the correct way did something, or maybe there's some musical DNA from listening to Ismael Rivera in my blood. From "Negro Bembon" to "Calipso, Bomba, y Plena" this band asserts a particularly Black Puerto Rican identity and Pan-Caribbean consciousness. Though heavily influenced by Cuban son and mambo (also the Cuban conjunto format of the 1950s and 1960s), Cortijo and Ismael made it known they were black while playing bombas and plenas from the Afro-Puerto Rican tradition.

I am particularly drawn to Ismael Rivera due to his 'black consciousness' and' pan-African' awareness. The brother sang about the unjust police treatment of blacks, was connected to the Black Christ rituals of Portobelo, Panama, and emphasized the humanity of the "lindas caras de mi gente negra." Indeed, this group was one of the first and most popular black bands in Puerto Rico, and one can hear why in the excellent sonero skills of Rivera. Indeed, I think I like him as a sonero better than Benny More, his Cuban equivalent in vocal skills and improvisation. Also, if you just listen to songs such as this or live performances of Ismael and Rafael, it's pure Afro-Caribbean delight. Salsa, bomba, even the occasional bossa nova are all delightful when handled by collaborative efforts between Cortijo and Rivera, or Rivera alone. 

Black Kunlun Slaves in Premodern China

Source

Kunlun figure discovered in the tomb of a Chinese woman in Tang-era Chang'an (850 CE), capital of that dynasty. Kunlun by the T'ang period often meant 'black Africans,' as in, people from the eastern coast of Africa (from the Juba River to Cape Delgado and perhaps Madagascar). Black people went from a mere philosophical abstraction to actual beings walking the streets of Guangzhou, serving wealthy Chinese masters (and Arab, Persian, and sometimes other foreign traders active in that cosmopolitan port (yet not too cosmopolitan because the movement of foreigners was highly restricted).

Of course, to the pre-modern Han Chinese, who are a perfect example of historical non-European forms of whiteness (they perceived themselves as such), often used the word 'kunlun' to describe darker peoples of Southeast Asia (such as the Malays or Javanese) and South Asia (Sri Lanka, Malabar, etc.), but these 'kunlun' slaves (kunlun originally referred to the far west, to the Kunlun mountains of Tibet, and therefore connoted remoteness) slaves were described as having dark skin, curly hair, 'black as ink,' etc. Lexical evidence would suggest an origin for these 'black slaves' in eastern Africa, likely arriving in China on the ships of Arabs and Persians and purchased by some wealthy Chinese in Guangzhou and other ports of the empire. Thus, blackness was associated with servility, inferiority, etc. centuries before the coming of Europeans in East Asia. Indeed, revulsion towards the allegedly cultural deficiencies of the various types of 'kunlun' often emphasized their blackness, particularly Zhu Yu's writings in the Song dynasty.

Yet, in short stories from the T'ang era, these black slaves could be brave, courageous, resourceful, and show some sign of assimilation into Chinese society. The Chinese Confucianist universalist ideal (basically, anyone could become civilized if they accepted and assimilated into the Middle Kingdom's 'superior culture') could seemingly apply to fictional black slaves, but in the Song dynasty these black slaves were seen as bestial and semi-human, at best. Chinese knowledge of eastern Africa and 'black people' from Africa is certainly interesting and the Guangzhou black slaves certainly deserve more attention, just as the Jews of Kaifeng and other ethnic and religious minorities in pre-modern China get. Furthermore, this area of study reveals how some East Asian stigmatization and stereotypes of blackness (and not just dark-skinned Asians, but people from Africa directly) predated European modern racism by several centuries, although culture more than skin color remained the major reason for Chinese disdain and revulsion towards 'blacks' though they had no direct experience or ties to blacks beyond word of mouth via Arabs and Persians. Indeed, Zhu Yu describes converting the slaves from a raw food diet to cooked food (cooked food being seen as essential to any civilization by the Han), which is certainly exaggerating the diets of Africans while also speaking to the capacity of black slaves to be 'civilized' (but they supposedly still couldn't learn to speak Chinese??).

Indeed, as Sino-African relations become more complex in the 21st century world, and sometimes in surprising or new ways (check out this), learning more about how Sino-African contact and exchange worked before the rise of the West will certainly draw more interest from scholars and the general public. My main source for this has been Wyatt's The Blacks of Premodern China, and expect a follow up post later today or tomorrow.