Gringa Culture Vulture Finally Gets to Cuba

Published on LaHabana.com

For over ten years I had been intrigued by the possibility of visiting Cuba—for me a reference point for leftist politics, socialist ideals and excellence in the arts, among other things. However, as a U.S. citizen I could not do so legally because of the over fifty year-old U.S. blockade against Cuba, and I was not interested in getting involved in theatrics with my home government by entering through Mexico or Canada. So when a “Dance and Music Professional Research Trip” to Cuba was announced, I realized this just might be my chance to apply. The trip was being provided by Marazul, which was recently written up by the New York Times as “among the largest United States organizers of trips to Cuba” in its article “New Ways to Visit Cuba – Legally”: http://travel.nytimes.com/2011/07/10/travel/at-long-last-legal-trips-to-cuba.html?scp=1&sq=marazul&st=cse.

I first learned about the trip through Metamovements, a local dance company in Boston (my current city of residence). With U.S. travel restrictions to Cuba more relaxed in comparison to what they were in the Bush era, Marazul has teamed up with Metamovements to provide these custom-tailored research programs several times a year. As a provider of “themed” research travel to Cuba, the Marazul Dance & Music Research package appears to be the most affordable. My travel companions were a lively potpourri of about twenty professionals who use dance and/or music as an integral part of their work (as performing artists, educators, mental health professionals, etc.). Although I won’t go into detail as to why the trip isn’t for everyone (nor should it be), I highly recommend it if you’re looking for “an insider’s view of the arts in Cuba.” For more information, you can visit: http://www.marazul.com and http://ros.metamovements.com.

Perhaps like you, I must confess I am wary of packaged group trips—in fact it’s one of my general rules of thumb to stay as far away as possible. But I realized after Day One in Cuba that little of what I had experienced during the previous twenty-four hours would have been possible had I not signed up for this trip. Just because I’m conversant in Spanish and well-acquainted with how things work in ‘the developing world’ didn’t mean that I would be able to open the doors that were opened for me by Marazul (and our Cuban hosts, Amistur). So, suffice it to say, that I thought this trip was worth every expensive penny and being herded around on a fume-spitting tour bus. Otherwise I would never have had access to the diversity and extent of experiences that together formed an incredibly rich portrait of Cuba.

Among the highlights of these experiences was time spent with the stunning Danza Contemporanea de Cuba (The Contemporary Dance Company of Cuba): www.dccuba.com/. I had the good fortune to see Danza Contemporanea when they performed in Boston this past summer as part of their U.S. debut tour. That only served to whet my appetite for more. While in Havana, I was able to observe the men’s company class and a company rehearsal. It was explained to me that Cuban contemporary technique is a mix of the pillars of Modern dance (Graham, Limon, Cunningham, etc.) combined with Afro-Cuban forms and even tai-chi. As those who have tried “Cuban Contemporary” can attest, trying to keep all of this in mind while doing the simplest of movements is both a cerebral and physical workout. And it’s for this reason that Cuban contemporary is one of the hardest techniques for outsiders to really get inside of and become fluent in. The company dancers in Danza Contemporanea have trained in this technique from a very young age, and it shows. They move with the apparent greatest simplicity—like water or breath—but to dissect the physicality and even spirituality of what they’re doing is to enter a very complex world.

Like any good dance training, there was an extreme sense of warming and heating the body at the beginning of the men’s class through highly articulated and complicated phrases of movement that the dancers had clearly already internalized and could therefore physicalize through a deep, almost Zen-like practice. The studio itself was warm but I watched bodies go from being covered in dry dancewear to being derobed to only the essentials and covered in a visible film of perspiration within the first thirty minutes of class. Click here for a video of the men’s class.

Another unforgettable experience that this trip provided that would have never been otherwise accessible to me was a private residency and rehearsal session with the Grammy-nominated group, Los Munequitos de Matanzas. Our group traveled to Matanzas, the dusty commercial town which is an important focal point for Afro-Cuban culture, and especially rumba. The exchange took place at the group’s local rehearsal space, an otherwise abandoned room above a dilapidated storefront with the occasional rumba graffiti and a modest shrine honoring ancestors and ‘rumberos’ of the past. After welcoming our group and giving us some of the band’s history (including the fact that Los Munequitos consists of family members spanning three generations), they treated us to a full concert which seemed like a gift dropped in our laps by the most benevolent Orisha. Rumba is at its best as a live art form—it’s the interaction between the musicians and the dancers, and the hypnotic frenzy that ensues and transports that needs to be appreciated en vivo. And from the moment the incense on the offering table was lit (and I witnessed what appeared to be a perfectly drawn arc of smoke encircle one of my fellow travelers), our group drank up every last drop.

The time with Los Munequitos and Danza Contemporanea were priceless access points and the overall group itinerary could not have been more packed to the brim. That said, I was pleased that after the daily program, I had the foresight to spend some time enjoying Old Havana at my own pace, strolling the Malecon and sweating out my own research agenda. If I had left Cuba without doing this, I would not have felt entirely satisfied, needing to put my own stamp of personalization on the experience. The fact that Cuba is virtually cut off from the rest of the world with the worst rate of internet access in the Western Hemisphere certainly does not give an independent tourist much recourse when trying to plan a cultural panorama. But apparently in Cuba I just needed to open my heart and my eyes, and many unexpected treasures turned up on my path. Hours before it began, I saw a flyer for a “nueva trova” concert with Luis Alberto Barberia, one of Cuba’s leading trovistas kicking off his national tour in collaboration with some Flamenco dancers in from Spain. This was a part of Cuba that I wanted to see for myself—a public event with people hanging from the rafters because they love the arts and because admission is free and open to all who can manage to squeeze in. I couldn’t help myself in snapping this image of the matching mother and child afro donned by two concert spectators.

With limited time, I was able to spend some of it between Old Havana, Vedado and Centro Habana. Cultural institutions are a dime a dozen in the center city, with the faded glory of Teatro Nacional still evident amidst its ongoing restoration. Once the home of Alicia Alonso’s legendary Ballet Nacional de Cuba, the Teatro Nacional has now opened its doors to Havana’s leading Flamenco School. And being that the Ballet moved its headquarters only a few blocks away, I was able to snap this timeless image of two young aspiring ballerinas sharing a secret outside their studio. Thankfully the arts are an area that has received limited censorship in revolutionary Cuba, making it possible to see the full spectrum in almost every art form within one day, i.e. pinks tights and tightly pinned up hair to impossibly high feather headresses of cabaret dancers and accompanying attire (or lack thereof).

And so I finally got to see Cuba—in my case through the lens of arts and culture. It was admittedly much too short of a trip and primarily revolved around Havana—which like every capital, locals say you must leave to know the “real Cuba.” But with the high octane injection of the Marazul Dance & Music Program, complemented by my own wanderings, musings, and personal research time, I got a feel for an island that might as well have been half way around the world due to its inaccessibility to me as a U.S. citizen. And I left with a sensation of being incredibly full—after having only a small taste of the impossible amount of culture and arts bursting from one small country.

Obini Bata: Pioneering All-Women Afro-Cuban Group

-published online by Cuba Absolutely: click here for article

While in Cuba this past July, I had the pleasure of seeing the all-female group, Obini Bata, perform at Havana’s Yoruba Cultural Association. Obini means “woman” in the Yoruba language of Nigeria, and Bata is the name given to the hourglass-shaped drums that accompany Yoruba dance and song. The culture of Bata drumming originates with Africans who were brought to Cuba as slaves. However, women have historically have been banned from playing the Bata. At some point, it was decided to sanctify the Bata drums for the purposes of playing them in Afro-Cuban religious ceremonies. Justifications for prohibiting women from playing the sacred drum included beliefs about women bleeding, and being subject to mood swings and generally unsuited to communicate with the deities. Of course there is no inherent reason why women cannot play these drums and the ban is simply an inherited form of gender discrimination.

When Obini Bata was founded in June of 1993, it was the first all-female group featuring Bata drumming. Eva Despainge Trujillo, Artistic Director, left the Conjunto Folklorico Nacional de Cuba (the National Folkloric Company of Cuba—until today a reference point in Cuban dance and culture) to found Obini Bata. She explained that chauvinistic attitudes have followed the group throughout its history. Unfortunately, some Cubans—both men and women—have not been able to separate the group’s use of the Bata drums for an artistic purpose as opposed to a religious one. As Eva stated, “we put the religious world on stage as art.”

When asked if the group performs elsewhere, (internationally, etc.), Eva joked, “Yes, we travel, but we perform mostly in Cuba. Actually we perform mostly in Havana. Actually we perform mostly right here where all of us are right now, in the Yoruba Cultural Association.” Except for when they are out of town, Obini Bata performs regularly, every Friday night, at the Yoruba Association, a cultural center and museum highlighting Afro-Cuban culture, a cornerstone of life which Cubans celebrate and are proud of (seemingly even Cubans of European descent), unlike in other Diasporic countries where these cultural riches have often been sublimated, repressed or stamped out.
The day after I saw them perform, Obini Bata departed on an international tour, this time to France. I assumed that they would be part of some festival or invited by a cultural organization, but no… arrangements had been made by Cuba's Ministry of Culture for Obini Bata to perform for the French Electricity Workers Union. An expression of artistic solidarity with the workers of the first world? The group seemed neither overjoyed or discontent about the upcoming trip (but then again maybe they were just tired from the evening’s performance) but the conversation did segue into the topic of how and why the Cuban government seems to promote some artistic and cultural groups over others. Although Obini Bata has had some opportunities to travel abroad, they haven’t exactly felt the love that they feel they deserve, a sentiment I also heard expressed by other Cuban artists and performers who are not part of the A list international touring circuit in the same way that the Buena Vista Social Club or the National Ballet of Cuba are, for example. But in Obini Bata’s case, the group members explain any lack of good standing in part because of machista attitudes that, although waning, still classify their use of the Bata drum as problematic.

On a more personal level, I felt a connection to the Obini Bata performance not only because these female artists defy cultural norms and gender stereotypes, while reclaiming a cultural heritage that is much theirs as anyone's, they exhibited a contagious joy, each one interchanging roles as dancers, singers and drummers. It’s rare for this distinction to be blurred to this degree—by the time they become professionals, artists typically must choose if they are a dancer or a musician. Eva explained that Obini Bata was founded expressly for this purpose—so that as dancers they could play too, and be fully fluent in all aspects of their artistry, culture and performance. As a dancer first, I appreciated Eva’s quip that it’s easier to teach a dancer to play music than to teach a musician how to dance—explaining that all of the women in the group (except one) were trained as dancers and learned music later. The exception is the lead percussionist (in photo to right) who Eva complimented by saying that she works very hard everyday, training right alongside the others and has evolved into a beautiful dancer, as anyone in the audience could appreciate.

While watching the performance I couldn’t help but think of my dear friend, Neia Naene (in photo on left), in Mozambique, member of the all-female drumming group, Likute. When she’s not playing with Likute, Neia is one of the few (if not the only) female bass players in Mozambique and also rehearses with a traditional Mozambican dance group. My vote would be to forget about the French Electrical Workers Union and finance Obini Bata and Likute to create some girl-power Afro-diasporic fireworks of their own. (Likute is on Facebook and can be contacted at likute09@gmail.com).
Like African percussion, Bata drumming is polyrhythmic, featuring three different types of drums, each one with its own tone and associated rhythm. Click here for Obini Bata music. As is customary, Bata drumming and song opened the performance which segued into dances of the Orishas—gods and goddesses of the Afro-Cuban religion, Santeria. Santeria has its roots in the religious beliefs that Africans broughts to Cuba, which were layered over Catholic iconography and doctrines, eventually forming a new syncretic hybrid. (Each Afro-Cuban god has its Catholic counterpart—for example St. Peter is represented by Ogun, the Santeria warrior god.) This mix of Yoruba and Catholic beliefs has sister equivalents in much of the Caribeean and beyond, including Brazil’s Candomble and Vodou of Haiti.

Of course the Obini Bata performance featured the sensous and powerful dances of the female goddesses—Oshun (the goddess of love and beauty whose color is yellow) and Yemenya (the goddess of the sea—blue) being the most important and frequently represented in Cuba. Click here for Obini Bata's "Oshun." Click here for Obini Bata's "Yemenya."

There was also a performance by a “young Yemenya” who, in her formative stage, is the goddess of an unsettled and stormy sea. This performance and accompanying music was done entirely by a troupe of younger female dancers that Obini Bata frequently invites as guest performers, who are endearingly referred to as "Las Obinises." In this way Obini Bata ensures that tradition of female Bata drumming and Afro-Cuban dance and culture is passed on and continues. Click here for "young Yemanya."

Since Obini Bata’s founding, other female Bata groups have emerged, many under the tutelage of Obini Bata whose members have traveled throughout Cuba with the purpose of empowering female artists with their unique brand of Afro-Cuban culture.

Also part of the Obini Bata repertoire is a contemporary interpretation of the dance of Oya, a warrior goddess of wind and storms. Wearing military green (instead of Oya's multi-colored skirt) and wielding machetes, the Obini Bata women paid homage to female heroes who fought in the Cuban revolution. Click here for Obini Bata's "Oya."

The second act of the performance featured Cuban popular dances, including the “Danza de las Chancletas,” (Dance of the Sandals) in which the dancers wore wooden flipflops (apparently a typical vestment in Cuban households of yesteryear) that made a delightful percussive sound similar to tap or flamenco. Click here for Obini Bata's "Danza de las Chancletas."

After the performance when I talked to some of the members of Obini Bata, I had a chance to learn a bit about their training and how they ended up in this particular company. Almost all of them had earned their college degree from the National Arts School, with an emphasis in dance—an education which they had received at no personal expense. When asked what she looked when hiring a dancer for her company, Eva responded that she “looks for the education that comes from a school but a heart that comes from the street.” And after seeing these women perform it was clear that a passion for dance, music and culture runs deep in all of the Obini Bata women, a sentiment that was echoed by one of the members who, when asked what she would like to do as a profession if not for dance, responded that she couldn’t think of another option and she would die without dance.And despite any criticisms of government favoritism and being victims of “machismo,” it was evident that these women are passionate not only for their art but also for their country. When one of the dancers was asked if she would ever be interested in coming to the U.S., she first clarified if the question was about living or visiting the U.S., “to visit, of course, I would love to but to live, no. Cuba has given me everything and I love my life here.” Her response was immediate, pure and authentic—this was not about U.S. vs. Cuba propaganda. For the women of Obini Bata, as for many of the artists who I encountered in Cuba, their country has given them the greatest gift—the gift of developing their self-expression to its fullest potential through their chosen art form. For this reason, the women of Obini Bata seemed incredibly grateful and almost giddy for their lot in life, and among the happiest and most satisfied (in non-material terms) of the Cubans I met.

Obini Bata is on Facebook and can also be contacted through Artistic Director Eva Despaigne Trujillo: evita@cubarte.cult.cu

Maciene: Exquisite Artisan Goods That Give Back

-published in condensed format as “Beach Therapy” by Lowveld Living, Nelspruit, South Africa, Issue 14, p. 18.
-all photos in the article are by Lucas Cuervo

Maciene is not your typical handicraft-producing community development project. At its core, the essential principles of sustainability, environmental awareness, and community empowerment are solidly in place. But its Maciene’s “luxury end product” that sets it apart: handmade artisan goods of the highest quality ready for consumption by the world market.Maciene is the brainchild of Eduarda Cipriano, HIV/AIDS Coordinator at Foundation for Community Development (FDC), a Maputo-based non-governmental organization headed by Nelson Mandela’s wife, Graca Machel. Maciene aims to appeal to a clientele that buys its products because of their high quality, functionality and beauty, and not as a gesture of charity towards those who produced them. It just happens to be an extra bonus that Maciene’s customers receive the added gratification that they are helping to support the local community through their purchase.

Maciene is not only a brand name, but also a village located about 20 kms from Xai Xai, directly off the EN1 highway that runs North-South through Mozambique. The Maciene community has been irrevocably altered for the better in very real terms through the impact made by this grassroots project. In contrast to the more typical “handout” approach of development ventures, Maciene’s mission is to provide opportunities for income generation, which motivates and empowers community members who can better provide for themselves and their families. Profits return to the community, 20% of which are directed towards a community trust fund that supports Maciene’s AIDS orphans.

While in the process of becoming an artisan cooperative, Maciene’s Paulo Mabumo Arts Centre has already trained over 60 elderly women in embroidery and as many as 100 artisans in techniques such as weaving, dying and making recycled paper. More than 300 families from the community supply the Centre with raw materials including a host of different leaves, bark, roots, petals, and recyclables which are found in the immediate environment and used to make Maciene’s more than 500 different products.
Maciene’s product line includes four basic categories. Paper made from banana fiber is used in the assembly of artisan stationery, scrapbooks, photo frames, boxes, notebooks and lamps. Cloth is hand-dyed using inks extracted from the roots and bark of cashew and mafureira trees, and then turned into exquisite shawls, scarves, bedspreads, pillows, curtains and bags, all with batik and needlework detailing. An array of different materials including recycled tire, plastic bags, and colorful “capulana” fabric, are used in the weaving of rugs, place mats, runners, and bags. Finally, some products are given the added touch of embroidery based on drawings done by village children. A personal favorite is the embroidered commentary on the diversity of African women’s hairstyles found on select bags and shawls.

At first blush, you wouldn’t expect that Maciene wares are produced in a rural village. They look like high-end, well-designed and expertly crafted merchandise that one might find in an eco-artsy boutique in the middle of Cape Town, Rome or New York. But when you learn of the concept behind the products and how they are made, it makes Maciene that much more appealing.

Luckily, Maciene welcomes visitors, and the beauty of community members perfecting organic goods drenched in natural colors is a site to behold. Simply call Ruy Santos from FDC to make arrangements. Basic lodging is available, and you are welcome to observe, photograph, and learn alongside Maciene’s skilled artisans. The village is also in walking distance to the beach, and there is an on-site gallery store where goods are available for purchase.

But perhaps it’s more likely that Maciene will make its way to you first. Maciene is already a well-recognized brand within Maputo, and before we know it, Maciene will appear in South Africa’s specialty boutiques and beyond. Although the Maciene team is actively looking for more retail outlets, products are currently available in Maputo at the boutique at Holiday Inn and at the Airport Gift Shop inside the departure lounge. Maciene also has a showroom at FDC’s offices located in the JAT building on Avenida 25 de Setembro where you can browse and purchase the full line of goods. The showroom is open Monday – Friday, 8:00 – 4:30 PM, but it is best to contact Ruy in advance if you plan to give back to the people of Maciene by indulging in some retail therapy.

Ruy Santos: +258 82 387 2499 or rsantos@fdc.org.mz

Maputo: Cosmopolitan Culinary Capital

-published by Out There Travel Guide, Cape Town, South Africa, Winter 2008.

With a little bit of savvy, it’s not difficult to satisfy your inner foodie in Maputo. Aska Japanese Restaurant, Café Sol and Pinga are three “top spots,” linked by their owners’ quest for the very best ingredients and the fact that they offer novelty menu items in Maputo. Bring on the sushi, gourmet coffee, and French cuisine!

Aska Japanese Restaurant: a Refined Addiction

Walking into Aska is to be transported to another time and place: a refined restaurant with a tranquil ambience where soft Japanese instrumental music plays overheard and well-trained staff deliver ceramic pots of green tea, steaming earthenware bowls of soup, and large wooden boats teeming with high-grade sushi.

Owner and executive chef, Jun Seong Hyun, traded in his life as a high school History teacher in his native South Korea, for the less frantic pace of Maputo where he has more time to spend with his wife and two children. But after hearing him describe the transportation logistics required to bring the best quality fish to his restaurant, I started to wonder what kind of deal he had brokered for himself.

Because handling procedures in Mozambique don’t meet sushi-grade standards, Jun gets most of his fish from South Africa, and imports salmon from Scotland and Norway. Twice a month he drives to Joberg to do shopping for the restaurant and load a special sub-zero freezer with salmon and tuna that he then drives back to Maputo. He explains that with this type of freezer, raw fish can be preserved at its peak freshness for six months. I always thought Aska’s sushi was a bit overpriced, but when I heard what Jun goes through to ensure his customers have the highest quality fish available, I gained a new appreciation for what I was paying for.

Not only does his restaurant score five stars for quality control, Jun also receives high marks for his aesthetically beautiful presentations. This includes his delectable entrees, which should not be dismissed as menu-fillers for non-sushi eaters.

Sitting alone at the sushi-table counter watching Jun prepare his sushi, one customer looked at me and confessed, “I’m addicted.” Try Aska once, and despite the fact that your tab might be high for Maputo, you’ll understand this vice, and undoubtedly be back for more.

Café Sol: Good People, Great Coffee

It’s not difficult to get your espresso fix in Maputo, but if you want to get your daily cup brewed from locally roasted African beans, look no further than Café Sol.

Unsatisfied with the quality of coffee available in Maputo, Tim Hobgood and Kevin Kehus (American “Mr. Moms” living in Maputo) went into business together and opened Café Sol in May 2007.

While most coffee consumed in Mozambique is imported from Portugal via other far-off places in the world (like Brazil), Tim and Kevin seek to promote the “African bean.” And why not? Africa is the birthplace of coffee.

The entrepreneuring duo traveled to Malawi, where they tasted coffee in twelve different sub-regions of the Mzuzu highlands area, until they finally honed in on one fully farmer-owned coffee cooperative.

After bringing their beans back to Maputo, other parts of their niche business began to fall into place. Tim and Kevin brought over a Diedrich IR12, one of the most high-tech roasters on the market, from Sandpoint, Idaho, USA. They use it to do fresh roasts every other day.With its motto, “good people, great coffee,” Café Sol has a decidedly American feel. Not only do you walk inside and feel like you could be in Southern California, Café Sol has a sincere desire to “get it right” – with its high quality coffee and gourmet food, and service with a smile.

Pinga: French Bistro à la Maputo

When I phoned Maputo’s only French restaurant, Pinga, I became concerned when I was told that “Frenchy” (the iconic French guy with the unruly white beard) was no longer running the place. When I asked the new Mozambican owner about meeting for an interview, he quickly suggested that Frenchy join us.

Luckily, for Pinga’s new owner and its customers, Frenchy has agreed to help out during the restaurant’s transition. This means that Pinga’s menu will not change and that most days Frenchy will be in the kitchen before the restaurant opens, giving orders on how best to fillet a fish and demanding the same high standards of cleanliness and order in the kitchen.

Frenchy ran Pinga with an iron fist for six years. Each night, he could be found waiting tables and every plate that was served had to pass his inspection first. “I have all the bad side of a French chef. If an order came out the kitchen and the food was cold, the plate would go flying back,” he says.
After growing up in France, going to cooking school in Lausanne, and spending time in Northern Africa, he started to make his way South until he eventually gave up his vagabond ways and created just another unlikely existence in Maputo. To this day, he vows he doesn’t speak Portuguese (only French and English), and I have never heard him utter a word of it to staff or customers.

When I asked Frenchy how he developed his menu, he began a lament on the subject of how Pinga’s food is based on “what they can get, not what they want to serve.” “One third of the Larousse cookbook is based on veal, and the last time I had local veal (from Swaziland) it was so tough I lost the few teeth I had left,” he says. Despite this, Pinga manages to do quite well in its recreation of French bistro fare such as escargot, French onion soup, cow tongue, fish and vegetable gratins, steak smothered in Roquefort cheese, and rabbit, when available.

It is only fitting that the quixotic Pinga is located in the Feira Popular (a Maputo-esque amusement park and outdoor/indoor restaurant food court of sorts). Be warned that on Friday and Saturday nights, thumping music coming from neighboring restaurants can sometimes drown out your dinner conversation at Pinga; but for some, this is just all part of the wild anomaly of eating fine French food smack in the middle of a by-gone Maputo fairground.

Aska Japanese Restaurant
JAT Building, 420 Avenida 25 de Setembro
Lunch: Monday – Saturday, 12 – 3
Dinner: Monday – Saturday, 5–11
+258 21 302 618 or +258 82 311 8690

Café Sol
Tuesday – Friday, 7 – 7
Saturday and Sunday, 8 – 7
+258 82 516 8527 or +258 82 316 3000

Pinga
Feira Popular, Avenida 25 de Setembro
Dinner: Monday – Saturday, 7:00 – 10:30
+258-82-325-5830

Saying Goodbye to One of Mozambique's Unsung Heroes

-published in Portuguese by Notícias - Cultura. Maputo, Mozambique, July 15, 2007, p. 6.

As a foreigner living in Maputo, Mozambique, I have observed how Mozambique glorifies the heroes of its past, as do most countries around the world. Valorizing heroes of the past is important for national heritage, but not at the expense of overlooking the heroes of the present. The heroes of today’s Mozambique are many, but more often than not they are common folk toiling in every field of work to make a difference in the lives of the people, and to make the country a better place.

As he prepares for what we hope will only be a temporary departure from his motherland, it is appropriate that we recognize one such hero in our midst – Luis Sala. Popularly known as “Lulu,” Luis Sala is a soloist with the National Company of Song and Dance, a choreographer, and a teacher of dance.

Abroad, Lulu has shared Mozambique’s rich culture with audiences from around the world on the many tours he has made with the National Company. At home, he has delighted heads of state and foreign officials on countless occasions with the contagious energy and skill he brings to traditional dance. He has sought out collaborations with artists from other countries, and has pioneered his own contemporary works in an environment where financial support for the Arts decreases more each day and access to the avante-guard is limited at best.

I have had the privilege of getting to know Lulu both professionally and personally during the past two years I have spent in Maputo. I have come to recognize him as a hero not only because of the talent he exhibits on stage and in the rehearsal studio, but also because of his sincere desire to make a difference in the lives of the vulnerable and orphaned children of Mozambique.

Over the past several years, Lulu has taught dance classes for orphans and vulnerable youth at Matola Children’s Center and for Mar Azul, a Capoeira group that works with street kids. In 2005, he mounted a piece with children from Rainbow Ministry entitled “Flowers that Never Wilt,” with support from UNICEF and the National Company. The piece explores how today’s youth cope with growing up in the midst of their country’s full-blown AIDS epidemic. This piece premiered at Cinema Africa on December 1, 2005 for Worlds AIDS Day, and was subsequently performed at schools throughout Maputo. The Rainbow students who participated in this project became a family of sorts, with Lulu presiding at the head as their esteemed leader and role model.

On the heels of the “Window of Hope” project with UNICEF, Lulu began working for “Dance for Life,” a project I developed to bring a curriculum that combines HIV/AIDS education and dance to three Maputo-area orphanages. While observing him teaching in the “Dance for Life” project, I came to appreciate the essence of Lulu’s heroism. He demanded 110% from young people who typically suffer from low self-esteem and don’t expect much from themselves. He inspired them not only with his physical gifts in dance but with words that made them believe in themselves, and believe that they could reach the goals Lulu set for them. He educated them about HIV/AIDS, how to prevent transmission, and why it’s important to support people living with this unfair illness. He educated them not just as dancers, but as human beings. The results on performance day spoke for themselves.

If one were to count the orphans and vulnerable children Lulu has reached, the number would easily reach into the hundreds. To know Lulu is to marvel at how he manages to juggle so many different things, most of which require intense physical energy, day in and day out. While driving between orphanages, talking into a cell phone balanced on his shoulder, and shifting gears, I once asked him how he coped with such a demanding schedule. He responded that he had no choice if he wants to survive and make a living (which would be next to impossible if he were to depend only on the small salary he earns as a “cultural ambassador” and soloist regarded by most as the National Company’s best dancer).

Lulu has now set his sights on Canada where he will study dance, perform with various companies, and continue teaching. To stay in Mozambique would be to stagnate as he has already reached the ceiling in terms of what the country has to offer in opportunities in dance. Mozambique can only hope that one day he will return to his homeland to use the skills he gains abroad to help develop the Mozambican dance scene which is in desperate need of facilities, choreographers, and teachers. Perhaps one might argue that the Arts are a luxury in a country trying to put an end to absolute poverty, but those seeking creative solutions for Mozambique will find promising answers in people like Lulu and in the Arts. Please join me in wishing Lulu a safe journey and a speedy return, and in honoring him for his achievements as one of Mozambique’s young heroes.

Pekiwa - Innovations in Wood Sculpture

-forthcoming in Portuguese in Notícias - Cultura, Maputo, Mozambique

When you arrive at Pekiwa’s atelier on the Matola River, about 20 km from Maputo, you know that you have arrived at a residence that is unmistakably that of an artist. Although the space is still a work in progress, it is immediately evident why Pekiwa has chosen to live just far enough away from the noise and confusion of the capital city in a natural paradise built by the artist’s own hands.

With his modest home and studio residing on the same property, Pekiwa has transformed his large plot of land into what functions essentially as an outdoor sculpture gallery. Amidst native plants and artistic landscaping, visitors are warmly welcomed and left to appreciate the wide range of sculptures gracing the property.

Pekiwa is legacy to Mozambique’s rich heritage in wood sculpture, both artistic descendant biological descendant of the sculptor, Govane, his father. Govane is a contemporary of Alberto Chissano, who gave birth to Modern wood sculpture in Mozambique. Even after committing suicide in 1994, Chissano remains one of Mozambique’s most famous artists, alongside the painter, Malagatana. Chissano opened the floodgates for Pekiwa’s father and a generation of sculptors who emerged around the time of Mozambique’s independence and whose work was considered to be a voice of resistance against colonial power and oppression.

If Chissano and Govane represent the old, Modernist guard, perhaps Pekiwa and his works—which are typically recycled and found objects sculpted with a Modern aesthetic—herald a new Postmodern, generation. But Govane, a well-respected sculptor in his own right, didn’t react favorably when he learned that his son possessed a similar inclination to create art from wood. Fearing disapproval from his father, an adolescent Pekiwa used to pick up tools when his father was out tending his crops and began to teach himself to sculpt. Upon seeing what he had made in secret, Govane flew into a rage and broke his son’s first works.

Pekiwa has many stories to tell about the battles he had with his father (including the time when his father cut his nascent dreadlocks), but it was not until Govane finally threw Pekiwa out of the house at age 18 that he began the process of “freeing himself from the influence of his father” and defining his own artistic identity.

Shortly after striking out on his own, Pekiwa abandoned his given name, Nelson Augusto Carlos Ferriera, and put together different sounds he liked to form “Pekiwa,” the artistic name by which he has been known ever since.

Pekiwa says he’s happy that people now tell him that “they look at his work and can identify it as his.” Although he also sculpts on sandalwood and other woods, Pekiwa is one of the few, if not only, sculptor in Mozambique working with recycled and found objects. He says that these materials—aging wooden train tracks, and old doors and windows frames—“transmit messages because of their historical richness.” He’s fascinated by “transforming something old into something new, but allowing the old to retain its rustic integrity.”

Pekiwa has developed an ongoing love affair with Ilha de Mocambique where he has done two-month long residencies over the past few years. For Pekiwa, “Ilha,” now a UNESCO World Heritage site, is a treasure-trove of historic artifacts and architecture, much of it dating back to the 1800s and beyond. During his residencies on Ilha, Pekiwa says he wanders the neighborhoods and the ruins, and finds pieces and objects which call to him, asking to be given new life.

It’s not only the relics of days gone by that inspire him, but also the people of Ilha, the colors, and the differences from his native province of Maputo. Unlike his father’s generation which expressed suffering, hunger and violence in their work, Pekiwa’s sculptures are characterized by the quest to find hope and beauty in human experience, and are inspired by the simple things of daily life—how bodies move, ancestral tattoos, relationships between people, women and children in the market, and people finding happiness despite their daily struggles. He says that he “sees beautiful things” when he sits with the “old guys drinking beer at the barracas,” and just observes and listens to the knowledge they have accumulated.

Although Pekiwa began his career selling his sculptures at downtown Maputo’s Saturday wood market, these days he sells primarily to individual collectors who purchase his pieces at exhibitions or after visiting his atelier. He has always been able to live solely off his sculptures which have garnered the attention of many a discerning eye. His output is steady and his works generally sell quickly, but fortunately Pekiwa, who recently turned 30, has a long career of innovation in the art of wood sculpture ahead of him.

Visits to Pekiwa’s atelier can be arranged by contacting pekiwa77@yahoo.com.br or +258-82-8958770.

Dance Delivers HIV/AIDS Prevention Messages in Mozambique

-unpublished

“You can’t catch AIDS by hugging.” “I am sexy, cool and strong.” “People living with HIV/AIDS can contribute a lot to society.” These were just some of the messages that more than 75 OVCs (“orphans and vulnerable children,”) shared with their communities during three different performances that were part of an innovative project called “Dance for Life.” This project was started by Stephanie Scherpf, a U.S. citizen living in Maputo, Mozambique, in partnership with a traditional song and dance group based in Maputo called “Milorho,” meaning “dreams” in the local Shangana dialect.

Dance for Life initially got off the ground with seed money from a PEPFAR (President Bush’s Plan for Emergency AIDS Relief) small project grant awarded by the U.S. Embassy in Maputo. With start-up funds in hand, the group busied themselves with training in preparation to implement a curriculum developed and written by Stephanie that aimed to educate youth from three local orphanages in the areas of HIV/AIDS education and life skills.

Having worked as the Director of Outreach and Education at a major ballet company in the States for five years before arriving in Maputo, Stephanie brought what she knew from the arts-in-education field in the U.S., combined it with basic HIV/AIDS education, and put the combined result to work in Mozambique, a country where the national HIV/AIDS prevalence is at 16% and growing. The Dance for Life curriculum includes a comprehensive and sequential plan of twenty lessons that treat areas such as self-esteem, gender, risk-taking, STDs, how to use a condom, modes of HIV/AIDS transmission and prevention, and understanding stigma.
The approach is unique in that all subject material is integrated with the mediums of traditional dance and music, highly popular art forms that make up an important part of Mozambican cultural identity. In an environment where the international donor community is being called upon to “mozambicanize” HIV/AIDS prevention messages and campaigns due the fact that preventions efforts haven’t been as successful as expected, this methodology holds particular promise because it engages youth through a cultural activity that is very much their own while simultaneously imparting knowledge critical to a healthy future.

Dance for Life was implemented at three orphanages, all within an hour’s drive of Maputo, the country capital. At each orphanage, youth between the ages of 10-14 were selected to participate in 25 classes that took place during a period of 8 weeks. The classes were taught by a teaching team of Milorho dancers and musicians who underwent extensive HIV/AIDS and curriculum training with Stephanie and advisors from the international organization PSI (Population Services International).

On any given day, one could walk into an improvised dance studio at one of the three orphanages, and find young people engaged in how to use dance to best represent the human immune system or feelings of stigmatization experienced by people living with HIV. Not only energized by the fresh approach to HIV/AIDS education (now in danger of becoming overplayed to urban youth), the students were also motivated by the prospect of a “performance” day on which the entire surrounding community, as well as the media and important Embassy and international officials, would be invited to see what they had learned.

On three different Saturdays in August and September, 75 youth rose to the occasion and shed the label “OVC” to become community HIV/AIDS educators who entertained, educated, and enlightened the young and old who had gathered that day to see their culture servicing the effort to stop a disease that infects more Mozambicans each day. At each performance, the young dancers were joined by senior members of Milorho who had prepared their own choreography about HIV/AIDS especially for these events.
Where the orphanage youth were more didactic, juvenile, and clear-and cut in their messaging, Milorho presented a piece which was more nuanced, sophisticated, and artistic. Scenes where a young woman seductively implores her partner to use a condom were met with reactions of shy laughter by the Mozambican audience who appreciated the dancer’s tactics to wield more power in the bedroom, a place where men generally dictate. This is no small matter in sub-saharan Africa where experts talk about the “feminization” of HIV/AIDS as it continues to increasingly impact women due to both their biological and social vulnerability.
Will Dance for Life prevent x number of new HIV/AIDS infections? That’s difficult to say, but at the end of the day, approximately 2,000 community members were exposed to a piece of living culture that transmitted key HIV/AIDS prevention strategies and artistically reflected the conundrum of living as a sexually active adult in Africa. Seventy-five “OVCs” cum HIV/AIDS activists received in-depth HIV/AIDS education through a participatory method that allowed them to internalize the information in a way much more potent than any traditional classroom approach. Rather than hard statistical data, perhaps the results of Dance for Life are more like sound waves produced by a drum, rippling across the community, registering with one Mozambican and then another, and then another.