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Transatlantic Returns: The Habanera
in Catalonia |
Galina Bakhtiarova
|
University of Southern
California |
In the summer of 2000, readers
of the Barcelona newspaper La Vanguardia could easily spot
the following advertisement, in oversized font, occupying an entire
page: |
|
Fig. 1. Gran Casino de Barcelona.
Advertisement. La Vanguardia. 4 Aug. 2000: 12. |
The advertisement is a kind of
invitation to voyage: “Your grandfather went to Cuba. You may
go much closer. Because we organize sailor nights. Every Friday and
Saturday, a buffet dinner of seafood and fish, and singing of habaneras,
and to conclude the party, the traditional Cremat. It’s
much easier to enjoy the sea in the Barcelona Gran Casino. You don’t
have to go to Cuba.”
This essay seeks to explore to what meanings, exactly, does this
hybrid bilingual sign point. What is the connection between the
singing of habaneras, the “sailor nights” and Cuba,
and why would the advertisers of the Barcelona Gran Casino appeal
to the memory of “grandfathers who went to Cuba” to
cater to the public, and do so by mixing the two languages spoken
in Barcelona in a Spanish-language newspaper? The first line of
this advertisement evokes perhaps the most popular Catalan habanera.
Its almost obligatory performance at every cantada, public
singing of habaneras in Catalonia, arguably makes it an emblem of
cultural identity comparable to such broadly acknowledged cultural
emblems as the sardana, the Catalan national dance, the
castells, building and competitions of human towers that
involve hundreds of participants; and the Nova Cançó
movement of the sixties.(1)
As Salvador Giner points out, Catalonia may be seen as a “small
‘advanced’ stateless nation” where “symbolic
acts of ethnicocultural affirmation” continue to play a major
role in the assertion of national identity (Giner
1984: 10). These small nations, such as the Baltic nations of
the former Soviet Union, survived the suppression of their languages
and autochthonous cultures during the times of dictatorships and
managed to preserve their cherished cultural identities through
such cultural signs as traditional dances, festivals, or sports.
The exploration of the habanera, a musical genre whose very name
points to the connection with the Cuban capital city, may offer
a new perspective of Catalan culture and identity. Even though the
habanera continues its trajectory in many regions of Spain, the
permutations of this genre in Catalonia, a stateless nation with
a strong feeling of a national identity, offers a privileged space
to reflect on the ever-shifting nature of cultural identities.(2)
Since the nineteenth century, Catalan cultural identity was constructed
on two major pillars: the attachment of the Catalans to their language,
in which the literary masterpieces of the early Renaissance were
written, and on their national character, a complex of beliefs,
values and practices attributed to the nation. As the philosopher
Ferrater i Mora formulated it, the Catalans possess the following
virtues: ironía (an ironic outlook on life), mesura
(taking a measured, balanced view of things), continuitat
(working persistently over the long term to achieve objectives),
and seny (good, old commonsense) (Ferrater
i Mora 1967: 239-75).(3)
The idealistic terms in which Ferrater i Mora and others described
the Catalan national character definitely do not represent the richness
of the national character. I will argue that the habanera, a transnational
cultural sign, constitutes a site for viewing the emergence of an
unconventional identity space for Catalonia. Through Catalan involvement
in Spain’s colonial enterprise reiterated in nostalgic songs
that evoke a lost tropical paradise embodied in the figure of a
mulatto woman, the habanera questions the traditional construction
of Catalan identity, built on the opposition to the Other, the Castilian,
with its black legend of involvement in slave trafficking. Songs,
film and fiction that elaborate on the subject of Catalan involvement
in Cuba and the Caribbean, create an identity that acquires new
traits, which highlight Catalonia’s complex space within a
heterogeneous Spain and a new globalized world.(4)
Similar to other regions of Spain, the habanera gained popularity
in Catalonia after 1898, with the return of immigrants and soldiers,
and through its recurrent appearance in the zarzuela, a major source
of entertainment at the turn of the twentieth century. A legacy
of the massive immigration of Spaniards to Cuba, habaneras were
transformed at the Costa Brava into a kind of fishermen’s
folklore as male trios sang them at taverns in Costa Brava towns
all through the twentieth century. During the uneasy years of the
civil war in Spain and the post-war decades, the escape into the
images of Cuba and the Caribbean, with its palm trees, sensual women,
and the sea, became a major means of entertainment. The recurrent
motives of the habanera such as a desired mulatto woman left behind
in a distant tropical paradise, the sea and a ship--an emblem that
brings prosperity to the hard-working nation--arguably served the
need for a self-fashioning of Catalonia as a seafaring nation with
a place of its own in Spanish colonial enterprise.(5)
A watershed event in the story of the Catalan habanera took place
in 1966 when a group of enthusiasts from a small Costa Brava town,
Calella de Palafrugell, published a collection of songs, Calella
de Palafrugell i les havaneres. The presentation of this book
to friends and family turned into a spontaneous singing of beloved
songs, and the participants decided to organize an annual public
cantada, which took place for the first time during the
summer of 1967. The organizers of this event were motivated by a
desire to preserve traditional forms of popular culture that seemed
threatened by drastic changes brought about by the boom of the tourist
industry. The success of this nostalgic summer-night singing exceeded
all expectations, and groups of habanera singers started to form
all over Catalonia. Some specific facts underscore the outstanding
place that the habanera has occupied in Catalan popular culture
in recent decades. The annual Cantada d’Havaneres of Calella
de Palafrugell has attracted between thirty-five and forty thousand
spectators to a town with a winter population of three hundred people.
Another popular event is the Mostra de l’Havanera Catalana
in Palamós. The story of this highly acclaimed annual event
itself presents an opportunity to reflect about the permutations
of the habanera as an emblem of Catalan identity. Started as Festival
de Cançó Marinera de Palamós in 1972, it became
Mostra de l’Havanera Antiga by 1982, and since 1984 is celebrated
annually as Mostra de l’Havanera Catalana de Palamós.
The change of the title reflects the transformation that the habanera
underwent in Catalonia. The representation of the habanera as a
dominant song genre on the one hand, and as sung exclusively in
Catalan on the other, took place at the time when Spain and Catalonia
were passing through a transition triggered by the changes after
the death of Franco. Mostra de l’Havanera Catalana de Palamós,
which only accepts habaneras in Catalan, may be viewed as a clear-cut
attempt at representing the habanera as an autochthonous cultural
sign that is an intrinsic part of Catalan identity.
However, habaneras were sung in Catalonia in Spanish for the most
part of the twentieth century.(6)
As other forms of Spanish poetry and cancionero, they existed
in oral tradition and were passed on from one generation to the
other.(7)
The first collection of Spanish habaneras sung at the Costa Brava
was published by Xavier Montsalvatge in 1948.(8)
Lavishly illustrated by Josep Maria Prim with a prologue and comments
by Néstor Luján, Álbum de habaneras
can be seen as a successful attempt at giving folklore a written
form.(9)
Both Álbum de habaneras and Calella de Palafrugell
i les havaneres contained habaneras with lyrics only in Spanish.
However, the title, the prologue and comments in Calella de
Palafrugell i les havaneres were in Catalan. Soon after, the
interest towards the habanera led to the massive creation of new
habaneras in Catalan. These new habaneras sometimes continued the
tradition of praising the beauty of a woman, often a woman of another
race, but they also acquired new themes that sounded as an assertion
of Catalan cultural identity and values. The juxtaposition of some
habaneras that resound most frequently on the shorefronts of the
coastal Catalonia may help to explore the phenomenon of the Catalan
habanera, which includes traditional Spanish habaneras and new habaneras
in Catalan. If one looks at the programs of Cantada d’Havaneres
of Calella de Palafrugell from 1993 to 2003, one can see that the
finale of this event always includes two habaneras--the traditional
habanera “La bella Lola,” whose author is unknown, and
“El meu avi,” the habanera by José Luís
Ortega Monasterio (1918-2004). First notated in Montsalvatge’s
Álbum de habaneras, “La bella Lola”
may be explored as a paradigm of a traditional habanera. It is performed
in the two four time classical for the habanera, the lyrics are
in Spanish, and the subject revolves around the encounter with a
lovely woman left behind in an overseas port. The first stanza of
this habanera offers an explanation of events whose meaning is transparent
to anybody familiar with Spanish history:
|
Después de
un año de no ver tierra
porque la guerra me lo impidió,
me fui al puerto donde se hallaba
la que adoraba mi corazón.
(Montsalvatge 1998:
65)
[After a year of not seeing land because the war did not allow
me to, I went to the port where the woman whom my heart adored lived.] |
The evocation of war reminds
the audience of the participation in the Spanish colonial war at the
end of the nineteenth century, which ended in a debacle known in Spanish
history as “disaster.” The hyperbole of not being able
to see the land and the beloved woman for a year creates the effect
of the unjustified suffering of the protagonist, which invokes numerous
victims of the last colonial war conducted by the Spanish officials
“up to the last man and the last peseta.” The refrain
of this habanera alludes to the sensual enjoyment and pleasure of
the long-anticipated encounter: |
¡Ay! qué
placer sentía yo,
cuando en la playa
sacó el pañuelo y me saludó.
Pero después llegó hasta mí
me dio un abrazo, y en aquel acto creí morir.
[Oh, what pleasure did I experience when she got out her kerchief
and greeted me on the beach. But then she came up to me, hugged
me, and in this act I thought I would die.] |
The first instant of the greeting
on behalf of Lola brings the sailor pleasure, perhaps mixed with vanity
as other sailors can observe him and Lola together. Habaneras often
tell a story of a soldier or a sailor--a story traversed by his sentiments,
deeds and nostalgia for the adventures left behind in an outlandish
place across the Atlantic. The sailor’s pleasure is collectively
embraced today when the public massively participates in the performance
of this song waving white kerchiefs during the singing of the refrain,
thus physically reenacting the cultural myth each time that the habanera
is performed.(10)
The pleasure achieves its climax when the woman approaches and embraces
the protagonist, which is underscored through the hyperbolic metaphor
of death of love when the narrative voice / protagonist believes that
he dies in the woman’s arms, which evokes another trope frequent
in Spanish poetry, that of morir de amor, to die of love.
In Montsalvatge’s transcription, the refrain is followed by
the second stanza:(11)
|
Cuando en la playa
la bella Lola,
su larga cola luciendo va
los marineros se vuelven locos
y hasta el piloto pierde el compás.
[When the lovely Lola walks on the beach, graciously showing the
long tail of her dress, the sailors go insane and even the pilot
loses direction.]
|
In this stanza the first person
narrator disappears, and the story loses the emotional quality of
a personal narrative. However, it acquires a universality that can
be projected on other males, who become insane because of Lola’s
beauty. The love madness of the sailors achieves its climax in the
fact that “even the pilot” loses direction. The metaphor
of pilot and direction points to the maritime lexicon and mindset
of those for whom the song was once created and by whom it was sung
and preserved. Habaneras sung in Spanish may be seen through the
prism of Catalan involvement in Spain’s colonial enterprise
that made Catalonia economically the most prosperous region within
Spain. As with the flamenco in flamenco bars in Andalusia, the habanera
is performed in taverns and casinos in Catalonia regularly. The
regular singing of habaneras by hired habanera singers at taverns
and restaurants in Catalonia represents a reenactment of what may
well be another cultural myth. It is the myth of habanera singing
at the Costa Brava--nostalgic songs that evoke the times of the
lost empire represent the yearning for times long gone when the
beaches were not crowded, the problem of parking did not exist,
and the fishermen sang the songs in the intimate atmosphere of the
tavern for a few sophisticated fans that would come from the big
cities during the summer.
In the late 1960s, the time of the tourist boom all over Spain,
habaneras not only leapt from the intimacy of a small tavern to
the megawatt amplification of town squares and stages by the Mediterranean,
but they also started addressing the audience in Catalan. Some habaneras
were then translated from Spanish as well as many new habaneras
were created. Among these new habaneras, “El meu avi,”
composed in 1968 and first sung in public in 1971, may be viewed
as a crucial point in the story of Catalan habanera. On the one
hand, “El meu avi” followed the tradition of wartime
narrative habaneras such as “Adiós mi península
hermosa,” “El adiós del soldado,” “El
Catalán.” On the other, it told a story that had a
precise “local” connection: the protagonists of this
habanera were from Calella de Palafrugell, a specific location that
gave the audience and singers a chance to identify themselves with
the imagined past and with Catalan “small motherland.”
At the time of the creation and the first public singing of this
habanera, Calella de Palafrugell was becoming more and more popular
every year with its newly established tradition of public cantades.
The song told the story of “my grandfather” and of fourteen
sailors from Calella de Palafrugell who during the colonial war
were sent to Cuba on board of a ship with an emblematic name Catalán.
A triple evocation of the grandfather, “el meu avi,”
at the beginning of the song tuned the audience into a mood suggestive
of collective memory: |
El meu avi …
El meu avi … El meu avi …
El meu avi va anar a Cuba, a bordo del “Catalán,”
el millor barco de guerra de la flota d’Ultramar.
El timoner i el nostramo i catorze mariners,
eren nascuts a Calella, eren nascuts a Palafrugell.
(XXXVI Cantada
2002: 16)
[My grandpa, my grandpa, my grandpa... My grandpa went to Cuba
on board of the Catalan, the best warship of the overseas
fleet. The helmsman, and our master, and fourteen sailors were born
in Calella, were born in Palafrugell.] |
It also gave a very personal
note to the story as it created a feeling of close connection between
the younger generation of Catalans and the nation’s history--in
this case a larger nation, imperial Spain. By focusing on the sacrifice
of the sailors from Calella de Palafrugell killed by the Americans,
the song highlighted Catalonia not only in its secular opposition
to the central government, but also to the “Americans,”
in other words, it represented Catalonia as a nation directly involved
in the colonial enterprise in its own right, identifying Catalan sacrifice
with the sacrifice of a larger Spanish empire: |
Arribaren temps de
guerra, de perfidies i traïcions,
i en el mar de les Antilles retronaren els canons.
I els mariners de Calella, el meu avi enmig de tots,
varen morir a coberta, varen morir al peu del canó!
Quan el “Catalán” sortia a la mar
cridava el meu avi: Apa nois que és tard.
Però els valents de a bordo no varen tornar;
tingueren la culpa els americans.
[Wartime came, the time of perfidy and treachery, and cannons
thundered in the sea of the Antilles. And the sailors from Calella,
my grandpa among them, died on the ship’s deck, died by the
cannons. When the Catalán was going to the sea my
grandpa shouted, “Up, fellows, it is late.” But the
courageous sailors did not return, the Americans were to blame.] |
However, asserting this identification
with the interests of Spain’s and Catalan bourgeoisie, the song
went far beyond in using the feelings of the audience. Through the
connection of the protagonists to a small town, “El meu avi”
enhanced the significance of the small motherland and asserted familiar
values of Catalan nationhood and identity. “El meu avi,”
probably for the first time in habanera history in Catalonia was a
self-reflexive habanera, a habanera that acknowledged the habanera
tradition as part of local identity. The refrain of the song evoked
both the tradition of singing in Calella de Palafrugell and the emblematic
cremat, a hot beverage made of rum put on fire to evaporate
the alcohol--hence its name--which assumed the status of a ritual
accompanying the singing of habaneras. In recent years, during public
cantades, cremat in small plastic cups is offered to the
audience as part of the festivity at the expense of the organizers,
usually the municipal authorities: |
Quan el “Catalán”
sortia a la mar
els nois de Calella feien un cremat;
mans a la guitarra solien cantar:
Visca Catalunya! Visca el “Catalán”!
[When the Catalan went out to the sea, fellows from Calella
made a cremat; they palyed their guitars and sang: Long live Catalonia!
Long live the Catalan!] |
Most importantly, at the time
of its creation through the present, “El meu avi” contained
an exclusively significant line, “Visca Catalunya! Visca el
“Catalán”! (Long live Catalonia! Long live the
Catalan!). These words that apparently escaped the censor’s
attention turned “El meu avi” into an emblem of identity
unanimously embraced by the nation. Behind the name of the ship,
the performers and the audience perceived a second meaning with
a transparent allusion to the vernacular language and its significance
for Catalan cultural identity. The importance these words had during
the last years of a dictatorship that sought to eradicate the language
and all traces of national culture and identity is self-evident.
“El meu avi” may be viewed as a kind of a simulacrum,
a nostalgic evocation of a song genre that did not exist in Catalan,
however, was accepted as such by the whole nation. The “unisonance”
highlighted by Benedict Anderson “for the echoed physical
realization of the imagined community,” when national anthems
or the like are performed, was and is evident in the case of “El
meu avi,” as the audience tended and continue to get up and
sway sideways with their arms on each other shoulders during the
singing of this song thus reenacting the unity of the nation.(12)
The impact of “El meu avi” on Catalan cultural imaginary
can be seen through the prism of other works of different genres
that responded to it. The habanera-sardana, “L’avi
Quim no va anar a Cuba,” by Francesc A. Picas and Paco Viciana,
pretended to give tribute to those who refused to collaborate with
the colonial politics of Spain’s imperial machine. The author
speculated that if the sailors of Palafrugell had followed the example
of his grandfather Quim who refused to be recruited to go to the
war in 1898 and hid in the Pyrenees, they would not have died in
the Caribbean. Thus this unique hybrid--a pacifist habanera-sardana--entered
into a polemic dialogue with “El meu avi.” However,
even as it created this opposition, it enhanced the mythical stature
of the sailors from Calella de Palafrugell. Though seemingly opposed
to “El meu avi,” “L’avi Quim” reiterated
the slogan that made so significant the habanera “El meu avi.”
Slightly changed, “Visca, sempre, Catalunya,” it was
now enhanced by a religious formula, “i el bon Déu
que ens l’ha donat,” (and the good God who gave it to
us). It evoked the senyera, the Catalan flag, and Montserrat, a
geographic and religious symbol of Catalonia,(13)
underscoring established national emblems.
The habanera “La meva àvia,” “My grandma”
by A. J. Carrau, bore a transparent allusion to “El meu avi”
in its title and in the first verse, “Quan per anar a fer
la guerra a Cuba, el meu avi va embarcar,” when my grandpa
embarked to make war in Cuba. It told a life-long story of a woman,
the narrator’s grandmother and a wife of a sailor who left
her to go to war in Cuba. The woman left behind on land is a traditional
motif for the habanera. Yet in this habanera the motif was reinvented.
When the grandma was told that the Catalans would not return--another
evocation of “El meu avi”--she remembered the words
that her husband said to her before he left: |
En els teus fills
i els teus néts, tu els hi has d’ensenyar,
les quatre regles primeres per a ser un bon català.
Que s’ha d’estimar la llengua, que s’ha d’estimar
la llar,
que s’ha d’estimar la terra, que s’ha d’estimar
la mar.
(XXXII Cantada
1998: 4)
[You will teach your children and your grandchildren four major
rules of being a good Catalan. That one should love the language,
that one should love the home, that one should love the land, and
should love the sea.] |
The song clearly identified the
major values of the nation, which were necessary “to be a good
Catalan.” The reiterated representation of the sea in the habanera
reasserted Catalonia’s self-fashioning as a maritime community.
New habaneras were indicative of a transition from the nostalgia for
a lost tropical paradise in the Caribbean, explicit in “La bella
Lola” and other traditional habaneras, to the reiteration of
Catalan traditional values. The switch from Spanish to Catalan as
well as the shift in the subject were explicit in the habanera “La
ciutat cremada,” created by Manuel Valls Gorina as the main
theme of the musical score for Antoni Ribas’s film La ciutat
cremada (1976). This complex historical saga concerned with issues
crucial for the construction of Catalan nation and identity was perceived
at the time of its release as the foundation for a new Catalan cinema.
“La ciutat cremada” invoked the subject of popular habaneras--participation
in the war in Cuba--and in this function may be explored as a tribute
to the traditional habanera. Yet it was also indicative of more complex
processes that showed the ambivalence of the habanera in Catalonia.
The first stanza of this habanera sung with the opening credits of
the film was in Spanish, even though the rest of it was in Catalan.
One can explore this sign as an evocation of the traditional genre,
on the one hand, and as a conscious and explicit antecedent to the
switch to Catalan, which was taking place at the time, on the other:
|
En mi Cuba me espera
una mulata gentil,
de labios rojos de fresa, de dientes blanco jazmín.
Sus ojos son dos luceros, su nuca perfume de abril.
Ay mulatita querida, escucha el triste son
que te canta mi vida un soldado español.
(Febrés 1986:
12)
[A graceful mulatto woman, with red lips like strawberries and
teeth like white jasmine, is waiting for me in my Cuba. Her eyes
are two stars, her neck is April’s perfume. Oh, dear mulatita,
listen to the sad song sung to you, my life, by a Spanish soldier.] |
The description of the mulata’s
attractiveness evoked the lavish language of traditional habaneras,
one of those “rebuscado” texts, in the words of Luján,
that were typical of professional habanera authors at the end of the
nineteenth century (Luján
1998: viii). However, the second stanza switched to Catalan language
and was concerned with a new subject. The protagonist, represented
before as “a Spanish soldier,” was now an explicit Catalan
patriot who was leaving Cuba for good and who would not return to
“his” mulata, and neither would he sing her a
habanera. He would also find his real love in his native country: |
Mulata meva, no tornaré
a cantar l’havanera
dels teus ulls presoner. A Catalunya em quedaré:
Perquè en retornar a aquesta terra oblido la pena, retrobo
al meu cor;
perquè a la bella patria nostrada terra catalana retrobo
l’amor.
[My mulata, imprisoned by your eyes, I will not come
back to you to sing you a habanera. I will stay in Catalonia because
upon return to that land I forget my pain, I find my heart again;
because in our beautiful motherland, Catalan country, I find love
again.] |
The perception of the habanera
as a signifier of a relationship between a white man and a mulatto
woman in this song may be viewed as a self-reflective discourse
concerned with the relevance of the habanera for Catalan identity.
New times bring along new songs. Some new Catalan habaneras followed
the tradition of the discourse of love and desire for a woman, frequently
a mulata, while some may be viewed as self-reflection and
parody of the stereotypes of the habanera. The representation of
the protagonist in “Lola la tavernera,” by Carles Casanovas,
sounds as a self-indulging parody due to a detailed description
of the protagonist’s masculinist virtues: “mariner jove,
tibat i fort/ amb fulard negre lligat al coll/ alt, roda-soques,
perdonavides i adulador,” (a young sailor, conceited, strong,
/ with a black scarf tied around his neck, / tall, a drifter, a
bully and a flatterer), enters a tavern and asks Lola--an evocation
of “La bella Lola”--to run and bring him a glass of
wine while he will be singing his song to her (XXXVI
Cantada 2002: 5).(14)
The linguistic means chosen by the author parody the romantic and
evasive language of the traditional habanera. While in the traditional
habanera the beauty of a mulatto woman was hidden behind the descriptions
of flowers and allusions to exotic tropical fruit, aimed at inflaming
the imagination of singers and listeners, this habanera is frivolously
naming the parts of the woman’s body in a plain and straightforward
language: “ella mou el cul, balanceja els pits, xiscla una
rialla,” (she swayes her hips, swing her breasts, screames
a laugh). “Lola la tavernera” can be perceived as a
post-modern evocation of motives and themes of the traditional habanera
as the protagonist tells “mulateta bella,” (beautiful
mulatto woman), how her body ignites him, the sailor, who will love
her until the end of his days if she wants to be his. In response
to this offer, the beautiful Lola “llença el dalantal,”
(throws away her apron), perhaps an evocation of the “delantal”
of the traditional habanera “La caña dulce,”
and dances gracefully for her lover.(15)
Interestingly, the encounter between Lola and the sailor is directly
associated with the habanera as a means of communication between
the man and Lola. In addition to an indirect evocation of the traditional
habanera through linguistic means, “Lola la tavernera”
directly evoked the traditional habanera, a song originated in Cuba,
with its paradigmatic elements, a mulatto woman and the sea: “amb
la guitarra i un got de vi, / cantará alegre tota la nit,
/ cançons de Cuba, cants de mulates i blau mari,” (with
a guitar and a glass of wine, / he will happily during the entire
night sing songs of Cuba, and of mulattas and the deep blue sea).
“Lola la tavernera” is performed together with “El
meu avi” as the finale of the annual Mostra de l’Havanera
Catalana in Palamós. Thus it tends to represent a Catalan
analogue of “La bella Lola,” a paradigmatic traditional
habanera.
The perception of the habanera as a beloved genre resounds in the
habanera “Vestida de nit,” lyrics by Gloria Cruz and
music by Càstor Pérez. A sensitive artist, Cruz fills
her lyrics with pictorial images. Some of these images are frequently
used and abused in habaneras, however, Cruz offers a non-trivial
perspective of what makes the habanera the beloved genre for a century
and a half. Her perspective is visual and auditory at the same time:
|
Pinto les notes d’una
havanera
blava com l’aigua d’un mar antic.
Blanca d’escuma, dolça com l’aire,
gris de gavina, daurada d’imatges,
vestida de nit.
(Pérez Diz
1995: 117)
[I am painting the notes of a habanera, blue as the water of an
ancient sea.
White as sea foam, sweet as the air, gray as a seagull, gilded with
images,
embellished by the night.] |
The refrain of this habanera
with its search for the images of the past represents the quintessence
of the habanera not only through the evocation of the world long gone
with its nostalgia, love and calmness, but also through the implicit
nostalgia for this world. Thus this habanera arguably represents a
kind of nostalgia for nostalgia. This longing is created through familiar
tropes often reiterated in the traditional habanera: the moon, fire
and rum, palm trees and sea shells. Yet in this habanera they invoke
the milieu that is associated in Catalonia with the singing of habaneras: |
Si pogués fer-me
escata
i amagar-me a la platja
per sentir sons i tardes
del passat,
d’aquell món d’enyorança,
amor i calma,
perfumat de lluna, foc i rom.
[If I could cover myself with scale / and hide on the beach /
to hear the
music and the nightfalls of the past, / of that world of longing,
love and
calmness / fragrant of the moon, fire and rhum.]
|
A refined and sophisticated picture
of the habanera as a genre with its major themes is envisioned in
the last stanza. At the same time, it evokes the maritime identity
of the protagonists of the songs and gives tribute to them as “princes
of fishing nets,” “heroes of tempests,” “friends
of good times.” The sea and its attributes continue to be a
major theme in the habanera, which becomes a truly seafaring song
in Catalonia: |
Els vells em parlen
plens de tendresa
d’hores viscudes amb emoció.
Joves encara, forts i valents,
prínceps de xarxa, herois de tempesta,
amics del bon temps.
Els ulls inventen noves històries,
vaixells que tornen d’un lloc de sol.
Porten tonades enamorades,
Dones i pàtria, veles i flors.
[Full of freshness, the sails speak to us / of hours lived with
emotions. / So
far young, strong and courageous, / princes of fishing nets, heroes
of
tempests, / friends of good times. / The eyes invent new stories,
/ ships
that return from the place of sun. / They bring enamored songs,
/ women
and motherland, sails and flowers.] |
A proof of the viability of the
habanera can be seen through its propensity to influence other forms
of popular culture. Among such newly created cultural traditions is
the creation of gegants, gigantic figures maneuvered from
the inside.(16)
In the coastal community of Vilassar de Mar, Barcelona, this couple
is formed by a figure of a legendary captain nicknamed El Pigat,(17)
the Freckled, and his beloved mulatto woman La Lucía brought
by him from the Caribbean, according to a local legend. They perform
their dance to the music of a habanera composed for them. Thus the
mythical mulata, a frequent addressee and / or desired object
of longing in the traditional habanera, acquires new visual forms
in Catalonia. In Badalona, a community with strong maritime tradition,
the couple of giants, la Maria i l’Anastàsia, also perform
a complicated dance to the music of the habanera. |
|
Fig. 2. The giants El Pigat and La
Lucía, Vilassar de Mar. Photo courtesy of Mayor’s Office,
Vilassar de Mar, Barcelona. June 24, 1998. |
Cuba is fantasized as a nostalgic
space associated with the exotic beauty of an outlandish mulatto woman
by Catalan nation that for centuries has fashioned itself in opposition
to the central government. Yet, from nostalgic songs that invoke what
may be perceived as colonial desire, the habanera evolves into a new
cultural sign that contributes to representing Catalonia as a maritime
community with strong overseas links and its own history of colonial
enterprise. The permutations of the habanera in Catalonia are directly
related to the complex issue of the Catalan language and diglossia
characteristic for Catalonia. Language is perceived as a basic element
of national identities in most models of nation building, yet in Catalonia
it has been continuously claimed as a core issue of identity. The
story of the Catalan habanera underscores it. The linguistic transformation
of the habanera in Catalonia may be seen as a key element in this
nation’s self-representation related to its overseas adventure.
At the time of the renewed assertion of Catalan nationhood, the habanera
becomes an emblem claimed by certain circles as an autochthonous Catalan
cultural sign and therefore part of Catalan cultural identity. However,
the exploration of the habanera phenomenon in Catalonia shows that
the habanera in Spanish forms an intrinsic part of Catalan cultural
imaginary. Thus the exclusion of habaneras in Spanish from such highly
reputed event as the Mostra de l’Havanera Catalana in Palamós
contradicts the inclusive character of Catalan identity propagated
by its ideologists. The analogy with the sardana is useful
here, as the Catalan national dance is represented as inclusive, in
which everybody may participate; however, to be able to do it one
should master the steps and be able to follow a rather complicated
rhythm. Both sardana circles and audiences of cantades
of habaneras are formed mostly by mature population. It will be interesting
further to see if the habanera and the sardana will continue
to survive and fulfill their functions as emblems of cultural identity
in the twenty-first century with further globalization and disappearance
of national and economic frontiers and barriers. |
Bibliography
UTILITZEU EL BOTÓ "ENRERE"
DEL VOSTRE NAVEGADOR PER TORNAR AL LLOC DE LA CITA
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SPOT |
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|
NOTES |
1 - The sardana
is traditionally considered to be the most distinguished element
of Catalan popular culture. One can see it performed regularly by
the public that gathers at parks and squares in Catalan cities and
towns. In Barcelona, one can join the sardana circle on
Sunday mornings in front of the Barcelona cathedral. About the sardana
as a distinctive feature of Catalan society and a basis for Catalanism,
a theory and a practice of Catalan nationalist movement, see Balcells
1996: 52; Brandes
1990: 24-40; Conversi
1997: 133-134. The movement of the builders of human towers
is growing definitely into the twenty-first century as it embraces
more participants outside of the traditional areas of Valls or Tarragona
where it originated. The Nova Cançó movement, which
started in the sixties, combined highly politically charged auteur
songs with the folk elements and flourished in the last decade of
the Franco regime. Its political repercussions, in the words of
Salvador Giner, went beyond anyone’s expectations (Giner
1984: 62). Having started with translations of songs in the
style of Joan Baez and George Brassens, soon the creators of the
Nova Cançó turned to highly politically charged texts
by Catalan authors. About the role of the Nova Cançó
for the promotion of Catalan language and for the assertion of Catalan
national identity see Balcells
1996: 146; Giner 1984:
62-63; Johnston 1991:
178-183, 220. [tornar]
2 - One can hear old and new habaneras
in regions with traditionally strong links to the Americas, such
as Alicante, the Basque Country, Cádiz, the Canary Islands,
Catalonia, Murcia, and even Castile. Different regions of Spain
claim to sing the habanera with their own distinctive features.
In the Basque Country, habaneras are performed by traditional otxotes,
groups of eight men divided into four voices. In Totana, Murcia,
habaneras are sung by female corales, a practice dating
back to the times of the massive packaging of fruit for export in
this rural area. A clear indicator of habanera’s popularity
across Spain and elsewhere is the Annual Habanera Choral Festival
of Torrevieja, Alicante, celebrated since 1954 and broadcast nationwide,
attracting choirs from all over the world. [tornar]
3 - Seny, however, tends to be
the most controversial of these qualities, as Catalan history arguably
abounds in outbursts of rage and uncontrolled actions. John Hargreaves
mentions rauxa as “the other side of seny--a propensity
to seek relief, on occasion, from social constraint by indulging
in uncontrollable emotion and outbursts of irrational behavior:
from getting drunk and fornicating to burning churches and convents”
(Hargreaves 2000:
22).[tornar]
4 - Antoni Verdaguer’s TV miniseries
Havanera 1820 highlighted the participation of Catalans
in Spain’s colonial enterprise. The protagonists of this cinematic
habanera are Catalans involved in slave trafficking in Cuba in the
early nineteenth century. Likewise, the habanera was reinvented
in popular novels published at the time when Spain and Catalonia
were rethinking the impact of the disaster associated with the end
of Spanish colonial empire in 1898. Two recent novels, En el
mar de les Antilles (1998), in Catalan by Manel Alonso i Català,
and Habanera: El reencuentro con un oculto pasado antillano
(1999), in Spanish by Ángeles Dalmau, may be explored as
a space where one can view a reinvention of popular discourse concerned
with the participation of Catalonia in Spain’s colonial enterprise
from the perspective of the late twentieth century. [tornar]
5 - Catalan connections with overseas colonies,
among which Cuba and Puerto Rico remained within the Spanish empire
until 1898, have received much attention in recent Catalan historical
discourse as well as in fiction and film. Between 1985 and 1993,
the Generalitat de Catalunya, the Catalan regional government, sponsored
five conferences, entitled Jornades d’Estudis Catalanos-Americans
that explored the economic, political, sociological, and cultural
aspects of Catalan immigration to the Caribbean. In view of 1998,
the year when Spain was rethinking the impact of the loss of the
last overseas colonies of the Spanish empire, various exhibits were
held at the museums of Barcelona and other Catalan cities and towns.
See Comissió Catalana del Cinqué Centenari del Descobriment
d’Amèrica, Jornades d’Estudis Catalanos-Americans.
(Barcelona, 1985, 1987, 1990, 1992, 1993). Catalunya
i Ultramar: Poder i negoci a les colonies espanyoles
(1750-1914) (Barcelona, 1995); “Americanos”
“Indianos”: arquitectura i urbanisme al Garraf, Penedès
i Tarragonès (Baix Gaià), segles XVIII-XX,
(Vilanova i la Geltrù, 1998); Escolta
Espanya: Catalunya i la crisis del 98, (Barcelona, 1998).
[tornar]
6 - Xavier Febrés mentions a collection
of habaneras published in 1927 that contained various habaneras
in Catalan, however this collection is lost and is not available
(Febrés 1995:
97-98). According to Anna Vicens, the first known habanera in Catalan
dates back to 1868 (Vicens
1993).[tornar]
7 - In addition to the recurrent appearance
in the zarzuela, habaneras together with other popular
songs were transmitted all over Spain by the blind who sold pliegos
de cordel, lyrics printed on separate folded sheets of paper.
The popularity of pliegos de cordel offers an opportunity
to reflect how oral and written traditions converge. The Centro
Etnográfico de la Diputación de Valladolid has a broad
collection of pliegos de cordel with various habaneras.
According to Mendoza Díaz-Maroto, it was women who bought,
read and very often learned by heart the contents of these popular
sheets sold by the blind (Mendoza
Díaz-Maroto 2000: 19). [tornar]
8 - The late composer Xavier Montsalvatge
(1912-2002) mentioned in his autobiographical notes that habaneras
which he heard once in 1945 in coastal Catalonia not only opened
to him a whole world of overseas images, but also, in a certain
way, suggested the style of his “Canciones negras” and
gave birth to the antillanismo of some of his works (Montsalvatge
1988: 71-75).[tornar]
9 - As only a thousand copies were published,
Álbum de habaneras soon became a bibliographic rarity.
A facsimile edition was published in 1998. An analogy with Cancionero
de palacio and other collections of Spanish traditional lyrics
is useful here, as these anthologies preserved poetry that already
existed for decades or even centuries in oral tradition.[tornar]
10 - At the annual Cantada of Calella
de Palafrugel, the booklet with lyrics of the performed songs includes
a white kerchief thus suggesting an opportunity for the audience
to sing along and wave the kerchiefs. [tornar]
11 - In some printed versions of this
song, the second and the first stanzas are interchanged. [tornar]
12 - Benedict Anderson attributes a central
role to poetry and songs in the realization of imagined communities:
“[T]here is a special kind of contemporaneous community which
language alone suggests--above all in the form of poetry or songs.
Take national anthems, for example, sung on national holidays. No
matter how banal the words and mediocre the tunes, there is in this
singing an experience of simultaneity. At precisely such moments,
people wholly unknown to each other utter the same verses to the
same melody. The image: unisonance. Singing the Marseillaise, Waltzing
Matilda, and Indonesia Raya provide occasions for unisonality, for
the echoed physical realization of the imagined community.”
(Anderson 1983: 132-33)[tornar]
13 - As is well known, Montserrat hosts
the most prominent religious center of Catalonia, a monastery and
a sanctuary of the major Catalan religious relic, the Virgin of
Montserrat. This religious center played an exceptional role in
the organization of the silent protest of the Catalans against the
Franco dictatorship.[tornar]
14 - I am grateful to P. C. Garriga for
help with the translation of “Lola la tavernera.” [tornar]
15 - See Montsalvatge 1998: 13.[tornar]
16 - These figures usually form a couple,
which represents a town, a city or a district, during annual processions
of festes majors at which they perform their dance. Though
historically the roots of the creation of giants can be traced back
to medieval Corpus Christi processions, Vilassar de Mar, a coastal
town with 250 year-old history, never had a pair of giants. The
giants were created in 1998. [tornar]
17 - El Pigat was the nickname of Pere
Mas i Roig, a native of Vilassar de Mar who in 1868 made a failed
attempt at slave trafficking from Africa long after the prohibition
of slave trade in 1820 (Masriera
1926: 160, Fradera
1984: 44). Mas i Roig is also one of the protagonists of the
three part documentary Retrats d’indians produced
by the Catalan network TV-3 and first aired on July 11, 18 and 25,
2001.
[tornar]
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