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Behind the
Embargo: The Inclusive Nature of Afro-Cuban Dance Culture Over the course of several years of teaching and directing performances at Bronx Community College, I have choreographed many dances based on African and Afro-Caribbean themes. I have also brought several guest artists and companies to campus for teaching residencies and performances in these traditions. I have been surprised to discover some fear and hesitation among my students when we explore the meaning of these dances. Over 90 percent of the students at BCC are of African and/or Latino descent. Nonetheless, I have found that many of my students are afraid of dances that are connected to African religions. Some feel doubtful about dances that are associated with prayer, and with acknowledging gods whose names are different than those they use at home. Furthermore, some students who do practice Afro-Christian religions think that they are being disloyal if they explore their beliefs too freely in class. They feel that letting outsiders in on the symbolism of the religion is a dangerous betrayal. These students have expressed extreme discomfort when groups who performed in the student center used music that included religious chants. One student went so far as to tell me that Gloria Estefan= s automobile accident, and the resulting spinal injury, was her punishment for revealing Santeria secrets in her songs.
Folkloric Dance Classes at Teatro
América My dance teachers had successfully auditioned for arts training in their early teens, and attended the National School for the Arts for many years. They were skilled in African dance, Cuban popular dance, ballet, modern, and jazz dancing, and were also trained in dance history and choreography. Their impressive achievements did not make them at all stiff or formal. Like most of the Cubans that I met, they were overflowing with warmth, affection, and a deep love for music and dance. By the second day of classes they began kissing all of us hello and goodbye each morning. By the third day they were addressing everybody as "Mi amor" ("My love").
According to Professor Enrique Zayas, specialist in Cuban Folkloric Music at the University of Havana, more than 30 million Africans were forcibly brought to Cuba during the years of the slave trade. Large numbers of these slaves were originally members of the Yoruba tribe of Nigeria. There they worshiped their ancestors (the "ara orun") and asked them for guidance. The goal of the community was to grow in spiritual force ("ashe") and live according to the wishes of the creator ("Olodumare". Olodumare communicated with the people through intermediating spirits called "orishas." The orishas are personifications of spiritual power. Each one manifests according to his or her particular rhythmic energy. Each can help people to develop specific skills. On Cuban plantations, and in the cities, the Africans kept their religious traditions alive by merging them with the Catholicism of the Spanish slaveholders. To justify the brutality of living off the labor of others, the Spanish told themselves that they were providing the slaves with an opportunity for redemption. They encouraged the Africans to form tribal organizations where they could be baptized and receive instruction in Catholicism. These slave organizations were called "cabildos." A less altruistic reason for the creation of the cabildos was to keep the slaves divided by preserving ethnic rivalries, making rebellion more difficult. With the help of the cabildos, Cuban slaves could retain their African traditions more precisely than slaves who were sent to other parts of the Caribbean, or to the United States, and separated from their kin. On Catholic holidays, Cuban slaves were allowed to parade through the streets, dancing, singing, and drumming according to the traditions of their homelands. In Cuba the Yoruba came to be called "Lucumi," because of their custom of greeting each other as "Oluku mi" ("My friend"). Eventually, these customs evolved into a new belief system, Santeria. The orishas that were worshiped in Africa came to be associated with specific Catholic saints. Originally this may have served to preserve the worship of the orishas in secret and in safety. However, in the years since slavery ended, Santeria has evolved, and the orishas and the Catholic saints are now considered to be different manifestations of the same spiritual energies. This is reflected in the two widely used names for the religion: "Santeria"("The Way of the Saints") is also known as "La Regla de Ocha" ("The Rule of the Orishas"). practitioners in Cuba do not fear ridicule the way many do in the United States. They are not bound by the  same requirements for secrecy. Although
not all aspects of the religion are open to non-initiates, many of the
practices are considered to be part of Cuban culture, belonging to
everybody. Our dance teachers at Teatro América discussed all of this very
willingly, explaining the meaning behind the sacred beads they wore, and
offering to take some of us to visit the Museo de los Orishas.Santeria
practitioners form close-knit communities that operate like large extended
families. The priests (babalawos) are frequently sought to heal
illness through prayer and herbal medicine, and to offer guidance by
revealing the will of Olodumare. The babalawos are trained
to communicate with the orishas through precise rituals. Dancing
and chanting are central practices for contacting the spirits. One must
use the correct drum rhythms, dance steps, prayer songs, and sacrificial
plants or animals to honor each specific orisha, unlocking the powers that
the spirit has to offer the community.
One of our teachers, Yoandy Marcos Fernández González, was a Santeria priest. He explained that you do not need to practice Santeria to be taught the dance steps associated with the religion. These steps are part of the dance curriculum at the National School of the Arts. They are taught to anyone in Cuba, whether native or foreign, who is interested in learning. Another one of our teachers, Yania Quert Alvarez, encouraged our efforts as she taught us by saying, "We all have an African soul inside us; all the people in the world."
We also saw and learned some dancing associated with Kongo religious traditions called Palo. These religions are not as widespread in Cuba, but they are considered to be very powerful. During the time of slavery, when one slave escaped, others would dance to send that person courage and speed. The dancers performed with knives and poured burning wax on their bodies to strengthen the will to resist. The women dancers carried gunpowder underneath their skirts, throwing it to the ground and setting it on fire to curse the pursuing slave owners. Today these Kongo religions are still practiced, and include rituals to harm evildoers. The Children's
Comparsa The small town of Regla, across the harbor from Old Havana, is known as a center for Afro-Christian religions. Comparsa is very important there. Regla has had a children's comparsa group for the past 30 years. Approximately 100 children, between the ages of 8 and 14, rehearse three times a week. (Over the years, several generations have participated!) They perform in carnivals, sports events, and at other cultural activities, and they have won many prizes. They gave a special performance for the Global Exchange group. The children were dressed in beautiful,
elaborate costumes that were
painstakingly made by their parents. Many adult community members were
present, cheering proudly. The youngsters danced for us on a basketball
court, responding to cues from a woman who stood in the center blowing a
Economic conditions for dancers Before we left I put away my sweaty dance clothes, and tried to dress nicely out of respect for the religious symbols in the museum. I wore a floor length white skirt. When my teacher saw me, she pleaded with me to give her the skirt. As a new Santeria initiate, she was required to wear only white clothing for a full year. She said this was very expensive. I agreed to give her the skirt before I returned to the United States. Later she explained that such a skirt would probably cost about $20 in Cuba, and even if I gave her $20, she would never buy the skirt; she would use the money to buy food and medicine for her family.
Professional dancers in Cuba receive a higher than average salary and can earn extra money when they tour, so they are among the more fortunate. However their lives are still very difficult. Our dance teachers at Teatro América worked five days a week from 9 to 5, teaching one class after another, with only a one- hour break for lunch. Although our group classes were pre-paid, we could take additional private classes with individual teachers. Several of us took additional classes each day. The fees for these classes were not given to the teachers but were turned over to the management of the theater, and used towards production expenses. Although Teatro América is a very popular and successful theater, it is in extreme disrepair. The U.S. embargo against trade with Cuba has made it difficult for the country to get construction materials. Many of the buildings in Havana are in terrible condition. The collapse of the Soviet Union, Cuba's most significant trading partner, further strained the economy and the resources of the Cuban government. The floor in the theater was splintered and warped. There was no air conditioning. (Havana has exceptionally high humidity.) To flush toilets we had to pour in big buckets of water. Some classes were held in the basement in a dank, leaky room without windows. Yet, when I saw an evening performance, I was amazed and delighted by the elaborate costumes and wonderful scenery. Our teachers were proud of the performances, and did not complain about the teaching conditions. Implications for American Dance
Educators
The children's comparsa also offers us a model of inclusion. Because the complicated patterns are created out of simple walking steps, any student willing to come to rehearsals can participate. Involvement does not depend on previously acquired dance technique or on an agreed-upon religious viewpoint. Theme-based comparsas can enrich academic curriculum in many fields, giving students the opportunity to embody historical, political, or dramatic material. Creative decisions about choreography, costumes, and music can be used to build group problem solving skills. Huge numbers of students can be incorporated, helping to build a sense of community, so often missing in our hectic culture. Finally, in this day of severe budget cuts in education, we may be inspired by our Cuban sisters and brothers in dance. Teaching in classrooms that we would consider unacceptable, dancing on stages that we would consider sub-standard, they vigorously press forward, confident in the ability of their art to inspire and uplift their people. Let us do the same. Dr. Suzan Moss is an Associate Professor at Bronx Community College where she teaches several styles of dance and directs the student performing company. She has choreographed for theater, television, and the concert stage, and previously ran the dance program at Cleveland State University. Suggested further reading
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