^IN URUGUAY, THE MUSIC KNOWN AS 'CANDOMBE' UNITES BLACK AND
WHITE@<
^By ZOLTAN ISTVAN@<
^National Geographic Channel@<
^c.2003 National Geographic Channel@<
^(Distributed by New York Times Special Features)@<
A warm night breeze floats through a poor, mixed-race neighborhood
of
colonial-era houses in Montevideo, Uruguay _ and carries the music of
liberation.
On Peatonal Curuguaty Street, hundreds of young people gather
around 10
drummers pounding out the scorching rhythms of the traditional music
known
as candombe.
Soon dancers surround the drummers and, then, spontaneously, the
crowd
becomes a carnival parade, snaking through the streets. As drummers and
dancers move from block to block, more Montevideans pour out and join
in.
The so-called Sunday night jam is the sight and sound of a new
society.
The crowd includes whites and blacks _ an integration almost unheard-of
25
years ago.
Like reggae in Jamaica, candombe energizes the movement to bring
recognition and a voice to the Afro-Uruguayans, as the descendants of
slaves call themselves. But this street music has become a cultural
outpouring that black and white Uruguayans now embrace as their
national
music.
"Candombe has always been a celebration of the black spirit," says
Waldemar Silva, a director of candombe theater shows during
Montevideo's
Carnival and throughout the year. "When that spirit was taken from
Africa
to Uruguay, it became a tool for change and for freedom."
Candombe, traditionally played on a tambor-like drum, springs from
the
music, dance and drama of Central and West Africa, researchers say.
Candombe's origins still resonate in certain rhythms and dance
gestures.
"Candombe is very interactive," says Lyneise Williams, a doctoral
candidate at Yale University writing a thesis is on the Uruguayan
artist
Pedro Figari, who frequently painted candombe scenes.
"There is drumming, dances and performances with specific
characters.
As the drummers march down the street they will occasionally put down
their
instruments and act out scenes. Spectators will also join in, playing
the
role of a certain character."
The slave trade shipped millions of Africans to the Americas.
During
the 18th and 19th century, slaves from Argentina and Brazil were
imported
to Uruguay. They brought their candombe with them.
During the 19th century, colonialists tried to ban candombe but the
slaves took it underground. The outlaw music, practiced in secret, came
to
symbolize defiance.
Today the Afro-Uruguayans number around 100,000, or about 6 percent
of
the population. Last year a U.S. State Department report on human
rights in
Uruguay pointed out that on average they earn less than 60 percent of
the
median income of the white population.
During the past 30 years, candombe has come into the mainstream.
Under
an 11-year military dictatorship that ruled Uruguay from 1973 TO 1984,
interest in the music intensified. Its rhythm and rebelliousness
influenced
white musicians and, with the addition of Spanish elements, it became
ever
more widespread.
"Candombe differs from one black neighborhood to another," says
Williams. "(Those local forms) are in turn quite different from the
popularized fusion candombe that is Uruguay's export."
"Candombe has grown much larger than anyone ever thought it would,"
says Lagrima Rios, president of Mundo Afro, a black cultural and
political
organization. "At Mundo Afro we're thrilled with its growth since
candombe
is still strongly associated with the Afro-Uruguayan cause for racial
equality."
However, "it's not like there's enormous amounts of discrimination
going on against Afro-Uruguayans," says Alicia Garcia Suarez, a
coordinator
for GAMA, a black women's organization.
"It's just the small things _ like many black women continue to be
maids for white people and their businesses because it's too difficult
to
get jobs doing something else. It's the same kind of work that black
women
have been doing for nearly three centuries. It's time for a change."
To its adherents, candombe symbolizes the imagination, energy and
passion of a people poised for change.
Candombe, on the tambor and on contemporary instruments, reigns at
Carnival and in everyday celebrations like birthdays. Clubs and bars
like
the popular El Pony Pisador feature it. Street performers play it for
the
tourists in the Plaza Independencia. The music also goes along when
protesters rally in front of Montevideo's police headquarters.
Mundo Afro holds weekly classes on instruction in candombe drumming
that blacks and whites attend.
"The message is always the same," says Luis Julio Acuna, who works
in
the Mundo Afro Media Center. "We try to teach the basics of the music
and
rhythm. But we also remind students of candombe's history and its use
as a
tool to end racial injustice."
On Peatonal Curuguaty Street, after the Sunday night jam moves on,
the
candombe spirit lingers in the air.