slowly descending, as if from the clouds above, thinking of africa, i find myself enthralled! rhythmic africanism swell and dwell inside the fingers of my cuban mambo eyes.
the african rhythms i hear are native, native from my cuban land, it is as if my guaguanco was shipped to africa, when it was the other way around, but nevertheless all my colors are the same.
i hear the merengue in french haiti and in dominican blood, and the guaracha in yoruba, and the mambo sounds inside the plena so close to what i really understand, sometimes i think that cuba is africa, or that i am in cuba and africa at the same time, sometimes i think africa is all of us in music, musically rooted way way back before any other language.
yes, we preserved what was originally african, or have we expanded it? i wonder if we have committed the sin of blending? but i also hear that AFRICANS love electric guitars clearly misunderstanding they are the root, or is it me who is primitive? damn it, it is complicated.
i had a dream that i was in africa, it took me along time to find the gods inside so many moslems and christians, but when i did, they were the origin of everything! then i discovered bigger things, the american dollar symbol, that's african; the british sense of royalty, that's african: the colors in catholic celebrations, that's african; and ... ultimate listen here ... closer . come on closer ... sshhhhhh . two whites can never make a black . two whites can never make a black . two whites can never make a black . but two blacks, give them time ... can make mulatto ... can make brown can make blends ... and ultimately can make white.
oyeme consorte, pero no repita esto, porque si me cage el klu klux klan me caen encima con un aleman me esparrachan con una swastika y me cortan la cabeza. pero, es verdad: dos blancos no pueden hacer un prieto.
i went to africa and all of it seemed cuban, i met a cuban and all of him was african,
this high-priest, pedro, telling me all of this in front of an abandoned building.
the salsa of bethesda fountain
the internal feelings we release when we dance salsa is the song of manu dibango screaming africa as if it were a night in el barrio when the congas are out
the internal soul of sa]sa is like don quijote de la mancha classical because the roots are from long ago, the symbol of cervantes writing in pain of a lost right arm, and in society today, the cha-cha slow dance welfare
the internal spirit of salsa is an out-bernbe on sunday afternoons while felipe flipped his sides of the cuban based salsa which is also part of africa and a song of the caribbean
the internal dance of salsa is of course plena and permit me to say these words in afro-spanish: la bomba y la plena puro son de Puerto Rico que ismael es el rey y es el juez meaning the same as marvin gaye singing spiritual social songs to black awareness
a blackness in spanish a blackness in english mixture-met on jam sessions in central park, there were no differences in the sounds emerging from inside soul-salsa is universal meaning a rhythm of mixtures with world-wide bases
did you say you want it stronger? well, okay, it is a root called africa in all of us.