In journalism school, they teach us not to become part of the story. But when Oak Park dentist Sarita Woodson and the American Dental Association donated more than $1,000 worth of toothbrushes, toothpaste and mouthwash for the Afro-Indian-Haitian-Cubans of the rural El Gurito village of Baracoa partially destroyed by Hurricane Matthew, I could not refuse.
After all, we’re humans first, reporters second. Respectfully, I handed one of the El Gurito leaders a suitcase filled with gifts. As a show of appreciation, they fed us a delectable buffet and played “changui” (Cuban blues) with our musicians while we all danced to this glorious cultural diplomacy in the wake of the U.S.-Cuban relations thaw.
Changüí is a style of Cuban music that originated in the early 19th century, according to Hothouse founder Marguerite Horberg, who organized the trip. It arose in the sugar cane refineries and in the rural communities of the eastern region of Guantánamo Province, specifically Baracoa. Changüí combines the structure and elements of Spain’s canción and the Spanish guitar with African rhythms and percussion instruments of Bantu origin.
According to Horberg, “The blues patterns of Changüí have similarities to music that also migrated to Chicago,” a city founded by Haitian explorer Jean Baptiste Point Dusable. We saw the lights of Haiti 30 miles away at night in Baracoa where the mix of music, cultures and languages have created a rich mosaic. All of this made us feel at home.
I’m here shooting photos and video for a delegation of Chicago blues musicians who jammed with “changui” counterparts in Baracoa, Guantanamo and Santiago de Cuba as part of the Hothouse Chicago-Guantanamo Blues Exchange in the Eastern Province called “Oriente” (where Oak Parker Jan Pena-Davis has relatives).
I was also able to reunite with Elario Navarro, a former Cuban solider-turned-musician who fought in two conflict zones in Angola during the time I was there covering the war.
The public story is the Cubans saying, “The decades-old U.S. embargo is strangling our country and the illegal U.S. military base and prison at Guantanamo is giving us the blues.” The U.S. Navy base has been here since 1903 and extended in 2003 because of what’s called the Platt Agreement, which Cubans signed under duress of occupation by the U.S. military more than a century ago. Today, Cubans argue, it’s an affront to their sovereignty.
According to Reference.com, “Senator Orville Platt introduced the amendment and it passed by a vote of 43 to 20. In addition to allowing the United States its say in Cuban affairs, it also dictated that Cuba lease or sell the U.S. lands for use as naval stations or for coaling, including the naval station located at Guantanamo Bay.” Cubans we talked to cited human rights abuses connected to the U.S. base.
Politics aside, coastal, pastel-painted Baracoa with its cacao farms, fishing industry and prolific art scene was a great place to end our week-long excursion into what Oak Park activist-educator Nancy Mikelsons calls “Cuba’s oft-neglected area to the more popular Occidente or western area.” She was surprised we were able to get into Baracoa since 80 percent of this area was ravaged by last fall’s hurricane. Mikelsons has visited and lectured in this region at least a dozen times and, along with Pena-Davis, inspired me to forgo the more popular western and touristy Havana area for the more rustic, rural east. Luckily, the whole country — government as well as private citizens — converged on this mostly industry-poor, culturally-rich eastern area to rebuild it to its 95 percent capacity.