Reflections On A Dance Workshop
in Santiago de Cuba
by Jim Lepore, Prof. of Dance, George Mason Univerisyt

Santiago, Cuba’s second largest city, is located at the eastern end of the island, well removed from the itinerary of the beach-seeking tourist. It is a vital cultural hub of the Oriente (Eastern Cuba), and the birthplace of son, an important Western Hemisphere contribution to global music. It is also the home of Cutumba, a sixty-member ensemble of dancers and musicians with a repertory that includes traditions unique to the Oriente--Conga Santiaguera, Tumba Francesa, Cuban Voudun and Changüí. Our goal was to spend a week in Santiago studying with Cutumba, and absorbing as much of the ambient culture as was humanly possible.

Apart from the endless parade of ham sandwiches offered for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the most frustrating thing about a trip to Cuba is getting there. For our group, comprised of faculty and students from the Washington DC area, our journey included a flight to Toronto, a brief overnight at a Toronto hotel, and a 6:30 a.m. charter flight for Holguín, Cuba, where we were greeted by our official translator. After a two-hour bus trip we would finally arrive in Santiago. All told, we were in transit nearly 24 hours to arrive at a destination less than an hour’s flying time south of Miami. The return would be no quicker. Yet, the explosion of music and dance that was our lives for six days obliterated memories of the travel hassles. Cuba is on fire.

Our workshop began with a song class taught by Berthe Arminan. Berthe, who sings with an electrifying nasal tonality, comes from a family of distinguished Santiaguera folk artists. Her brother, Ernesto, would deliver our afternoon’s history lecture; her sister, Nereyda, also sings with Cutumba. Our first lesson, a call-and-response song from Cutumba’s Cuban Voudun repertory, would accompany the dances we would learn that morning. Once the initial shock and shyness wore off—"we have to sing?!"—we relaxed into a groove. While we improved marginally in our overall singing skills, we made tremendous strides toward the fullness of the experience lying ahead. We had already begun challenging preconceptions and working through barriers imposed by our self-consciousness. These skills would prove invaluable.

Two dance classes and a history lecture rounded out our first day of course work. While Spanish skills are not a prerequisite to studying dance in Cuba, by day’s end we all knew what hombros meant. Perpetual shoulder rotation, which we practiced relentlessly, is a distinguishing characteristic of the Cuban Voudun dances. As our teacher pointed out, when someone from Santiago hears the Voudun rhythms, their immediate response is to begin rolling their shoulders—no matter what step or arm pattern is executed, the shoulders circle continuously. To a person, our hombros were screaming sore. Nevertheless we ventured out into Santiago that evening and were rewarded with our first of many serendipitous events.

While heading for the Casa de la Trova, we heard drumming coming from the Museo de Carnaval that very much resembled the rhythms that we had danced to all day. A performance by a local group of dancers and musicians had just begun. After paying an admission price of one dollar, we found seating along a short cobblestone wall. As we had suspected, the program opened with a Voudun suite. Sitting practically on top of the performers, we witnessed a breathtaking rendition of the dances we had studied that very day, and even recognized some of the songs and steps. The virtuosity and professionalism of these young amateur (by Cuban standards) dancers caught us off guard--how privileged we felt to have happened upon this performance! We were also given a preview of the week’s "coming attractions" in the guise of Changó, the Yoruba deity of lightning and fertility, who exhibited a special display of his skills in close proximity to our group. Finally, in true Cuban form, we were all invited to participate in a rousing, processional conga to close the evening’s performance.

The Cutumba company members proved to be capable teachers. They were adept at contextualizing dance idioms, and authoritatively demonstrating movement phrases and styles. Furthermore, the host of teaching assistants, present at all of the classes, gave each of the workshop participants ample individual attention. Most classes were accompanied by three or more musicians and often included a short period dedicated to improvisation in the idiom that was being taught. Once again, our ability to overcome our self-consciousness was critically tested.

The son originated in the Oriente, and has evolved over the decades into the music known today as salsa. In Santiago, however, the styles that were developed in the early half of the twentieth century, with instrumentation that is percussion and strings (tres and/or guitar) have remained popular. This folksy, lyrical style of son is a welcome antidote to the bright, brassy sound of most of today’s formula-driven salsa. Its current renaissance, driven principally by the critical and popular success of Buena Vista Social Club--many of the performers of which were born in the Oriente--is long overdue.

As our luck would have it—such things happen with uncanny frequency in Cuba—our week in Santiago would neatly overlap with the city’s bi-annual "Festival of the Troubador." The city’s narrow streets reverberated nightly with son, featured at a half -dozen different venues, and by mid-week our days consisted of one long dance lesson. One of my favorite groups, La Familia Valera Miranda, was scheduled for four different appearances during the week. (This past summer they completed their first US tour.)

Our final full day in Cuba was a fitting culmination of the week’s events. We paid a visit to the Shrine of the Virgin of El Cobre, considered to be Cuba’s most important Roman Catholic church and an important symbol of the syncretism of Catholic and Yoruba traditions. We witnessed a memorial service for a famous Santiago conguero which included performances of Santería rituals, and later attended a bembé (a Santería ceremony honoring the Yoruba deities). We concluded our day with a wild farewell dance with our Cuban friends.

Of late, Cuba has achieved vogue status in magazines and periodicals. It’s hard to pass a newsstand without noticing a feature article about Cuba and Cubans (e.g. Frank Bruni’s article in the NY Times Travel Section, 8/8/99, as this article is being written!). Some of these articles speculate that US travel restrictions to Cuba are responsible for its recent trendiness—that we want to go where we’re not allowed. While there may some truth to this statement, this perspective undervalues much of what makes Cuba different and uniquely informative for North Americans.

An outsider looking at Cuban culture is struck by the extent to which African traditions are acknowledged and researched. They are a crucial component of Cuban culture, and are celebrated as such. In North America we have yet to recognize, credit, and embrace the depth of African contributions to our own culture. As a model, Cuba can assist us in prying open doors, and should be looked at by all serious researchers of Western Hemisphere culture.

Many in our group remarked that Cubans congregate, rather than disperse, at the end of the workday. This tendency toward social gathering, as opposed to virtual gathering, is no doubt an important element in maintaining the vitality of Cuba’s performing arts. Performing artists thrive on live audiences, and Cuba has them in abundance. Consequently, the arts are immediate, direct, and unavoidable!

In Santiago, live music is found everywhere--whether due to a scarcity of consumer products or an abundance of government-salaried musicians—in clubs, cafes, and homes. The result is that an important hallmark of West African culture has been retained in the form of a critical communication between dancer and musician. While this is preserved in small pockets of North American popular culture, in Cuba it is a common phenomenon. A Cuban drummer’s "chops" are often measured by the degree to which the drummer can establish a dialogue with a dancer. Interdisciplinary, a buzz-word on college campuses, is at the heart of a long-established, playful relationship between musician and dancer.

Our group was also impressed by the extent to which Cubans use their bodies as a means of personal expression. Movement is a vital, abundant, and critically regarded part of Cuban culture, one that cuts across racial, ethnic, chronological and gender delineations. In fact, one of the lasting impressions I have of Cuba is that of men dancing. There do not seem to be gender biases regarding who is allowed to dance, and the free and joyous declaration of movement, by males, is encouraged and valued. Sadly, such expression for most North American men has been lost. A page from this Cuban model could indeed enrich our lives.

Jim Lepore is an associate professor of dance at George Mason University, and can be reached at jlepore@gmu.edu. He will be leading another dance workshop to Santiago de Cuba in January 2000. For information on this upcoming workshop, please contact Ana Alonso at the Center for Global Education at (703) 993-2161 or LAFI at (202) 518-0754.