Guateque Campesino

Whilst listening to old Cuban music, we came across yet another word supposedly derived from an indigenous language. Used in Cuban and Antillean Spanish, guateque seems to refer to house parties or dances. Checking bilingual or trilingual dictionaries for Garifuna, Lokono, Palikur, and Breton, we could not find any word similar to guateque. The term might be derived from another indigenous language. In Garifuna, Lokono, and Palikur, we found words for dance, but nothing quite specific as a "house party." In the Garifuna tongue, a dance is called abinahani and a party might be translated as fedu. In Palikur, dance is kay but a dancer is called kaykevutne. In Arawak of Guyana, dance is ibini, clearly similar to the Garifuna word. We wonder if there is any relation between the Palikur words for dance and dancer and possible Taino equivalents.

Dita and Kalinago?

Another word we think may come from the Kalinago language or the related Taino is dita. Used in Puerto Rican Spanish to designate a "vasija hecha de media higüera, que se destina a varios usos como platos, orinales, etc., entre la gente pobre." According to the Diccionario de voces indígenas de Puerto Rico, dita is probably of indigenous origin and connotation. Luis Hernández Aquino is probably correct. A quick search of the Garifuna and Kalinago languages indicate a very similar word used to designate a drinking cup. In Garifuna, the word is rida, translated in English as calabash drinking cup. In 17th century French sources on the Kalinago or "Caribs" of the Lesser Antilles, a similar word for drinking cup is listed as ritta or rita. Clearly, the Garifuna word for cup is derived from the Kalinago. The question, however, that remains, is determining if the Puerto Rican dita is derived from Kalinago or from a similar Taino word. To our knowledge, no Spanish sources clearly indicate the Taino word for drinking cup or vessel. However, the Spanish word for similar dishes or vessels in part of Latin America is guacal, which sounds more "Taino" than dita or rita or rida.

But other scholars, like Bernardo Vega, believed guacal was the word for basket in Taino. Others also point to Nahuatl for the origin of guacal in Spanish, defining it as basket or crate. Since it is unclear if guacal is actually derived from Nahuatl, it will perhaps be better to avoid any definitive conclusions about the Taino word for drinking cups or vessels. Moreover, since Kalinago was an Arawakan language, it is possible that the Taino word for drinking cup was indeed similar to ritta. If so, it would be interesting to look for other examples of similar words in Kalinago and Taino in which one can see the switching or d and r sounds. This could have been the case due to long-standing precolonial relations between indigenous peoples of Puerto Rico and those living in the Lesser Antilles. Moreover, frequent conflicts between the "Caribs" and the Spanish colonial regime in the 1500s might have introduced Kalinago-speaking captives who left behind their word drinking cup.

Indigenous Influence in Puerto Rican Spanish

Manuel Alvarez Nazario's El influjo indígena en el español de Puerto Rico is an important study and constant entry in the bibliographies of studies on the Taino legacy in the Caribbean. A short study using the existing corpus of known Taino lexicon and expressions in Puerto Rico and the Hispanic Caribbean, Alvarez Nazario extrapolates from the Island Carib and Garifuna language to glimpse at the deeper structure and evolution of the Taino tongue. Since the Island Carib and Garifuna language is, drawing on Taylor's research, an Arawakan language that survived through the Igneri women subjugated by Caribs, Alvarez Nazario believes it may be a reliable indicator on some of the features of the Taino language. Indeed, by drawing on data from linguistic studies of Garifuna, Igneri, Lokono and other Arawakan languages of South America, one can deduce some of the vocabulary and grammatical features of the Taino tongue. Unfortunately, however, the author seems to think the Taino language spread through a late migration into the Greater Antilles that supplanted or possibly conquered the earlier Igneri. Thus, like the later Carib conquerors, the Taino become an invasive force who may have defeated the Igneri and possibly even imposed naboria status on them. Needless to say, the evidence for this is lacking. It nonetheless reflects earlier scholarship in which linguistic and ceramic changes necessarily implied migration rather than local evolution or adaptation.

Despite the issue with the assumptions of migration and a possible "conquest" of the Igneri by the Taino, using the scholarship on Island Carib languages available since the 17th century enriches our understanding of the Taino language. These sources buttress Alvarez Nazario's identification of indigenismos in Puerto Rican Spanish with likely or possible explanations for changed in pronunciation as the words entered the Spanish vernacular. Indigenismos in the case of Puerto Rico, like the Dominican Republic and Cuba, tend to be most obvious with place names, references to everyday life, flora, fauna, and domestic architecture or instruments (yuca, casabe, cayos, canoa, batey, enagua, maraca, bohio, and conuco, for instance). Unsurprisingly, the material culture of the indigenous people survived long after the dissolution of the Taino sociopolitical order. Words reflecting this culture, which was adopted by the Spanish, Africans, and mixed-race progeny of all three groups left a permanent imprint in Puerto Rican Spanish. In the countryside especially, this legacy of the Taino language and culture is quite strong. Indeed, indigenismos from the Taino language even referring to forms of dress, weapons like the macana, and even eyes (macos in Puerto Rican Spanish) suggest indigenous vocabulary was possibly pervasive in other aspects of criollo life. Unfortunately, no surviving voabularios of the Taino language survive from the 1500s, although Fray Domingo de Vico was said to have composed one in the 1540s based on the language spoken in Hispaniola. 

The remainder of Alvarez Nazario's study gives multiple examples of how indigenismos were incorporated into the Spanish language. Additional suffixes and adaptations turned or adapted many local terms into verbs or new meanings in colonial and modern Puerto Rican Spanish. Indigenismos from other languages of the Americas also left an imprint, including Nahuatl, Carib, and South American Guajiro (ture, for stool, is supposedly derived from Guajiro). Overall, the indigenous influence profoundly shaped Puerto Rican Spanish as it provided the lexicon for the local features of land, flora, fauna, agriculture, peasant homesteads, and perhaps even the term jibaro. Even if the Taino really was no longer spoken by the end of the 16th century, survivors and their children laid the foundation for the Creole culture of our rural majority. Indeed, the linguistic evidence provides further support for the proponents of of Taino survival as some of the vocabulary, expressions, and toponyms were likely retained by those descending from the indigenous population. 

Rosaura a las diez

La Versión de Matilde

Inspector Baigorri, voy a decirle lo que ha pasado en la Madrileña con respeto a Camilo Canegato. Al principio, la primera vez que lo vi, mis hermanas y yo pensábamos que Camilo era tímido, callado y muy divertido. A diferencia de los otros huéspedes, mis hermanas y yo podíamos tutear a Camilo y pasar un rato. A causa de su edad y apariencia física, Camilo era al igual que un amigo. Camilo no podría matarla porque su carácter no es violento. Nadie puede ser tan simpático, Inspector Baigorri. 

Antes de la llegada de las cartas de Rosaura, el comportamiento de Camilo era normal. No hizo nada insólito y no tenía correspondencia con otros. La única persona que visitó el cuarto de Camilo era una mujer fea que planchó su ropa. Después de unos años, Camilo recibió cartas de Rosaura. Las cartas llegaron cada miércoles y Camilo dejó de pasar tiempo con mis hermanas y yo. Camilo parecía un hermano en nuestra familia, pero Rosaura lo robó. Por eso mi mamá y yo nos sentíamos insultadas. En cuanto a su edad, todavía creo que Rosaura le mintió a Camilo. Hoy en día las mujeres jóvenes no envían cartas a sus amantes como Rosaura. Además envió una trenza a Camilo, demasiado tradicional.  Desde el punto de vista de mi mamá, esta hazaña era romántica. Por otro lado mis hermanas y yo dijimos que las acciones de Rosaura no correspondieron con una mujer joven.

Cuando Camilo nos dijo la verdad sobre Rosaura, no creí nada. Nos mostró el retrato de ella y no era hermosísima. En vez de hermosa podría decir que Rosaura era guapa. En el caso de que usted sospeche que yo esté celosa de la relación entre los dos, no entiende la realidad de la situación. Espero que me entienda, Inspector Baigorri. No estoy enamorada de Camilo. Es un hermano en mi familia, y Camilo no la mató. Durante las semanas que Rosaura vivía en la Madrileña, nunca vi una manifestación de amor. Ellos no se abrazaron y no usaron palabras de amor como una pareja de enamorados. Entonces esta relación sin amor tuvo que terminar. Sin embargo, Rosaura no fue asesinada por Camilo. Yo dudaba que Camilo estuviera el único hombre en el hotel cuando Rosaura se murió. Es posible que su padre contrata asesinos para eliminarla. Según Camilo, su padre no dio permisión a Rosaura para casarse. Un hombre tan rico como el padre de Rosaura podría encontrar gente para matarla.

El montero

During a sojourn in Paris, Dominican intellectual Pedro Francisco Bonó wrote a short novel, El montero. This short novel, published in 1856, exalted the montero population of the countryside. In spite of its brevity, its detailed realism provides a window for the modern reader eager to envision the lives, habits, customs, landscape, cuisine, and entertainment of campesino populations of the Dominican Republic. As one of the earliest novels in the Dominican literary tradition, it's also an important text to consider in the larger development of the novel and possible trends within the larger Caribbean. For instance, comparisons with other precursors to the "peasant" novel in the Caribbean and Latin America may reveal parallels and continuities with other literatures. For this blog, one thinks of Ignace Nau's short story (or, novella) Isalina as the Haitian equivalent of an early "peasant novel" from the other side of Hispaniola. Nau even wrote a short story set in Los Llanos about monteros, which he defines as hunters of wild boar and cattle. While it is certainly likely and perhaps plausible that any similarities between the texts may derive from the mutual French literary influences on the two writers, it is tempting to consider possible influence from the 1830s Haitian Romantic conteurs on Bonó. 

El montero is a short novel centered on a family that subsists on conuco agriculture. They supplement their sustenance through hunting wild boars and cattle. The novel is particularly rich in detail on cultural and social habits of the Dominican countryside in the 19th century, including cuisine, bohío homes,  and romantic rivalry. Like the case of Isalina, a love triangle is the central cause of the drama, pitting two men against each other for a woman which leads to conflicts. Juan, a peon of Maria’s father who is in love with her, endeavors to kill Manuel because the latter will soon marry her. Long story short, Juan nearly succeeds in murdering Manuel. He later returns on the wedding day, killing Maria's father. The novel concludes with Juan’s death. Throughout the narrative, peasant customs such as the fandango, a site for many types of dances such as the guarapo or sarambo, appear in great detail. Bonó revels in the customs of the Dominican peasantry, showing their beauty and approach to life.

Unlike Manuel de Jesús Galván, whose later Enriquillo focused on the encounter of the Taino and the Spanish while elevating the latter's colonial legacy, Bonó’s novel is centered on the contemporary Dominican population, the predominantly mixed-race campesinos of the mountainous interior. And while he is largely silent on the "race" of the characters (except for a reference to the bronzed skin of Maria), it is clear these people are neither European nor Taino. They are, as in the case of the Haitian workers on the Digneron estate in Isalina, creoles. Moreover, an allusion is made to peasant resistance to the French in 1809, situating these monteros in the nationalist ethos as defenders of the patria. Bonó recycled this theme for En el cantón de Bermejo, where the montero is key to ousting the Spanish during the War of Restoration. Hence, the montero not only symbolizes the nation, but dies to protect it.

Yet Bonó avoids idealizing monteros. For example, some of their traditions represent a fundamental challenge to creating a modern nation-state. Alcohol, specifically consumption of aguardiente, is a vice that retards the progress of the countryside. Their taste for violence and squabbles also presents a problem. Case in point, the physical violence of Juan leads to the death of one person and attacks on Manuel and Maria. In short, their "natural" or "wild" habits have not yet been tamed by civilization.  The representatives of state authority likewise set negative examples for society, with the narrator referring to the titles of alcalde, comandante de armas, presidente, and congreso as a parodies in the Dominican Republic. Thus, the rural society of the free and idyllic montero is also one held back by their own traditions and the state, which mimics the political system of the civilized world but becomes a farce. Such attitudes can be found in Bonó's non-fiction essays as well, where he was critical of the role of the state in subverting the lifestyles of the peasantry while also critiquing peasant customs of communal labor like the convite or junta. The author's own interest in utopian socialism and later alternative ideas of progress put him at odds with positivism and dominant trends of Dominican liberalism, but this early novel might be more representative of how Dominican intellectuals wrestled with the dilemma of their largely rural population during the First Republic.

Due to the Dominican montero's similarities with the Haitian peasant, and a common heritage of marronage uniting the two populations, one cannot but think of the works of Ignace Nau and other Haitian authors of the 1830s. Indeed, Ignace Nau was undoubtedly a precursor of Haitian indigenist literature who incorporated Vodou, popular belief, the Creole language, and the history of the the Haitian Revolution into his works. These narratives are rooted in a form of cultural nationalism that sought to use Haiti's African, European, and indigenous pasts to develop a uniquely Haitian aesthetic. In Isalina, published in the 1830s, Nau did all of the aforementioned by bringing the reader to the world of rural Haiti, and their beliefs and customs. Their music, dances (calinda), belief in sorcery, proverbs, conflicts over women (the love triangle of Isalina, Jean-Julien, and Paul), and labor practices paint a vivid picture of the countryside on the Cul-de-Sac plain. While Isalina takes place on the Digneron sugar estate, the short tale hints at smallholder farmers who do not have to work at the mill (like Paul and Isalina, who "placer" at the conclusion of the story. 

Nau and his contemporaries also included the East (what is today the Dominican Republic) in their works, as the entire island was unified under Boyer. A nod to this can be found in the Spanish candles inside Galba's home, blessed by the Virgin of Higuey, where Haitian pilgrimage to the site was already underway by the 1830s. Nau's brother became a historian of the indigenous past of the island, finding commonality between the pre-colonial past and the independent, unified island of Haiti of his day. Nau's other works of fiction about the Haitian Revolution or rural life further cement this, including his Une anecdote set in the East, which takes the reader to Los Llanos, to the east of Santo Domingo, where uncouth monteros frighten the narrator, thinking them to be bandits. The Haitian narrator's description of the residents of the commune indicates a relatively underdeveloped state of agriculture but a thriving cattle industry where "wild" monteros exemplify some of the differences and commonalities between east and west rural populations. The rustic monteros are worthy of the narrator's son reading about their exploits, just as they were a worthy subject manner to Bonó. Like neighboring 19th century Romantic authors of Haiti, Dominican authors seemed to share the same anxieties and concerns about their respective national symbols.

Works Consulted

Bonó, Pedro F. El montero ; Epistolario. Santo Domingo, R.D.: Ediciones de la Fundación

Corripio, 2000.

Fischer, Sibylle. Modernity Disavowed: Haiti and the Cultures of Slavery in the Age of 

Revolution. Durham: Duke University Press, 2004.

Garcia, Francisco Antonio Avelino. “La interpretación de Bonó sobre la dominicanidad y la 

haitianidad.” CLIO 172 (2006): 197-222.

González, Raymundo. Bonó, un intelectual de los pobres, Santo Domingo, R.D.: Centro de Estudios Sociales P. Juan Montalvo, 1994.

Hoetink, H. The Dominican People, 1850-1900: Notes for a Historical Sociology. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1982.

Springtime

Remember when Eric Dolphy played flute for Coltrane's Ole Coltrane? This extended composition, "Springtime," returns to Spanish themes with an irresistible bass groove. Eric Dolphy's solo starts off bumpy, as if unsure of himself, but wows with his utterly unique snarl. Dolphy speaks through his horn in a way very few musicians can emulate. 

Cumbite

"La sangre es la muerte. El agua la vida."

Tomás Gutiérrez Alea's film adaptation of Jacques Roumain's famous novel, Gouverneurs de la rosée, is quite faithful to the text. Taking place in a Haitian rural setting in 1940, the film closely aligns with the plot of Roumain's pivotal novel. Manuel returns from Cuba, meets the romantic interest, reacquaints himself with a birthplace that is in decline and torn apart by a family feud, promises to find a new spring or source of water to help restore agriculture in the reason, and his sacrifice pays off in the end. The deceptively simple plot of Roumain's novel is of course more detailed and nuanced (particularly regarding the role of religion in human liberation and specifically, the conditions in which the peasantry toil), and this relatively short film manages to capture most of that complexity. 

The actors, who I believe are Cubans of Haitian descent in this 1964 film, speak Haitian Creole in key moments (the lengthy scene of the Vodou ceremony, the coumbite at the film's conclusion, and the wake for Manuel), which adds a sense of authenticity. The landscape is mountainous, barren, and eerily reminiscent of Haiti (and right away, when Manuel gets off the bus and walks to his village, the infertile land and its eroded hills symbolize the decay of the community), which adds another layer of accuracy to the Cuban film. Roumain's socialist and optimistic tale also matches thematically the early years of the Cuban Revolution and the socialist government of Castro, thereby making this film a socialist art film rendering of a socialist novel. 

On the question of religion, the film also captures some of the ambiguity of Roumain. The Vodou ceremony scene, one of the longest in the film, is beautifully done yet understated, and Manuel appears uncomfortable but participates in the dancing anyway, much like Manuel in the novel, who does not necessarily believe in the lwa but comes to accept their importance for the community, particularly his mother. Moreover, Vodou symbols introduce the film, thereby establishing a pattern in which Vodou aesthetics and belief are integral to the worldview of the characters. While the Catholic and Vodou prayers and rituals of the community may not be personal belief of Manuel, as previously mentioned, but are not divorced from the social or class interests of the peasantry or proletariat. By not relying on stereotypes and using Cubans of Haitian descent, the nuances of Vodou as a religious philosophy (and Afro-Haitian culture in general) are portrayed respectfully.

As a nice touch to the themes of the Cuban Revolution, the patriarchal assumptions or sexism of the novel are not overstated in the film, although women characters are, besides Manuel's mother (and Annaise or the manbo) largely ignored. Yet, the exclusion of women at all is challenged by the powerful scene introducing the viewer to Manuel's parents. In it his mother rests against the central pillar, literally symbolizing the potomitan saying about Haitian women. Manuel's mother goes on to play an important role in the film, too, ushering in a general coumbite to finish the canal and irrigate everyone's fields. Annaise is plagued by the original text material as a weaker character, but Manuel's mother more than makes up for it while his father, Bienaime, is far less central to the film than in the novel. 

Overall, Cumbite is a worthwhile film. Drawing from one of most widely respected works of Haitian literature, Alea manages to capture most of the text's magical appeal and politicized intent, thereby connecting this Haitian community to the much larger world of the Caribbean, capitalism, as well as exploitation. The migrant Haitians returning from Cuba were hardly apolitical as the case of Manuel indicates, and the fact that this film was made in the 1960s, only a few years after the successful Cuban Revolution, suggests that the film's political resonance with socialist Cuba possessed positive goals for social advances. Unfortunately, the film could have done a better job incorporating the Haitian state into the story a little more, but for a film of around 90 minutes, this is probably as good as it gets.

Interesting Latin/Spanish-inspired Songs

For some reason I've been very interested in music inspired by Latin American and/or Spanish/Andalusian music. I've been mostly listening to jazz songs inspired by the aforementioned musical genres, but of course one could find music in any genre that draws on Spanish/Latin American influences. R&B, boogaloo, rock and roll, and classical music have continually drawn on Spanish and Latin American influences for over a century.

Here are some jazz songs that I love which are based on or influenced by Latin American/Spanish scales, folk musics, or traditions.

Bud Powell's Un Poco Loco
Features a Afro-Caribbean/Cuban inspired Max Roach drumming with pianist Powell

Bud Powell's recording of Night in Tunisia for the Amazing Bud Powell LP
Gotta love Max Roach's Cuban-inspired drumming. Skip the first part of the video for the recording of 'Tunisia'

Bud Powell's Cleopatra's Dream has a Latin-feel.

Art Blakey's Night in Tunisia has an extended drum solo that highlights the Cuban/African influences that inspired Dizzy Gillespie to compose the song in the first place.

Charles Mingus version of Summertime is a trio recording with Dannie Richmond on drums and pianist Hampton Hawes. Richmond's drum solo is very reminiscent of Max Roach's on Sonny Rollins' Saint Thomas from the latter's Saxophone Colossus LP.

Charlie Parker's My Little Suede Shoes is IMO the best of his Latin recordings. The adorable bongos and 'cute' melody have made this one of my favorite songs ever since hearing it performed live by a jazz trio in Milwaukee.

Dizzy Gillespie obviously has quite a few songs since he popularized the use of Latin/Afro-Cuban rhythms in bebop in the 1940s. Manteca, Tin Tin Deo and A Night in Tunisia are some of his more well-known Cuban-inspired songs.

Duke Ellington's Moon Over Cuba has always been a favorite of mine

Duke Ellington's trio recording with Max Roach on drums and Mingus on bass

Gil Scott-Heron's Western Sunrise and The Bottle also have Latin rhythms.

Gonzalo Rubalcaba, a contemporary Cuban jazz pianist, plays this tribute to his Cuban musical heritage. Prologo Comienzo often quotes The Peanut Vendor, one of Cuba's most famous songs

Horace Silver's Song for My Father is a famous hard-bop song with a Latin beat

Joe Chambers' The Almoravid is an interesting song that focuses on Afro-Cuban and African-inspired drumming.

Barney Bigard & His Jazzopaters have the first recording of Puerto-Rican Juan Tizol's Caravan. Bigard was a member of the Duke Ellington Orchestra in the 1930s and had recorded the composition in a small group before the entire Ellington Orchestra recorded it. Obviously the title evokes North Africa, the Sahara, and Middle Eastern themes.

Joe Henderson's Caribbean Fire Dance

John Coltrane has multiple songs influenced or inspired by Latin and Spanish music. Two of my favorites are Ole and Bahia.

Kenny Dorham's Afro-Cuban LP from the 1950s is another great Latin-inspired album. Afrodisiac and Basheer's Dream are two of my favorites from this session featuring a conga player and Art Blakey on drums.

Max Roach has quite a few songs influenced or inspired by Latin music, especially Cuban and Caribbean percussion and rhythms. Garvey's Ghost, Man from South Africa, Tears for Johannesburg, and All Africa are a few examples.

Miles Davis was also heavily influenced by Spanish and Latin music. His Sketches of Spain album with Gil Evans and the last song on Kind of Blue, Flamenco Sketches, demonstrate his interest in Spanish folk, flamenco and classical traditions. Some of my favorites of his are Flamenco Sketches, Saeta, Solea, The Pan Piper, and Teo.

Mongo Santamaria, the famous Cuban conguero, would of course record mostly Latin jazz. Some of my favorites include Afro Blue, Monte Adentro, and Onyae. Afro Blue became a jazz standard after John Coltrane recorded it in studio and at several live performances in the 1960s.

Sabu Martinez has a great modernized version of The Peanut Vendor/El Manisero featuring electric tres. El Cumbanchero aint bad either. Unfortunately I could only find a youtube link to the latter song.

Ornette Coleman's Una Muy Bonita is another Caribbean-inspired song. Very melodic and 'cute' like Charlie Parker's My Little Suede Shoes or St. Thomas by Sonny Rollins.

Pete La Roca's Malaguena perfectly captures the influence of Andalusian music. Basra is more Middle-Eastern but Andalusian music obviously is an amalgamation of North African, Middle Eastern, and European musical traditions itself. Thus, I shall also include Basra.

Sonny Rollins is widely known for the unforgettable melody of the Caribbean-sounding St. Thomas

Thelonious Monk's Bemsha Swing and Bye-Ya are known for their Afro-Caribbean/Cuban influences

Wayne Shorter's Tom Thumb

Lee Morgan's Sidewinder

Sun Ra's Moon Dance is a perfect African/Afro-Cuban influenced percussive song

Louis Armstrong's St. Louis Blues perfectly demonstrates the influence of Spanish and Caribbean rhythms in American music since the beginning of jazz. First written by W.C. Handy in 1914, St. Louis Blues uses Cuban rhythms.

Other recording of Saint Louis Blues by blues legend of the 1920s Bessie Smith

Charles Mingus's Tijuana Moods, recorded in 1957, beat both Miles Davis and Coltrane for an album inspired by Latin/Spanish themes. Ysabel's Table Dance and Tijuana Gift shop have flamenco and other Spanish influences that become apparent just after one listen.