Carlos Aldama's Life in Batá: Cuba, Diaspora, and the Drum

4. Diaspora

97 * Umi * Diaspora entails continuity and change, harmony and dissonance, familiarity and foreignness. When I think of my study with Carlos I am inspired by the possibility of reaching back into my own ancestral past through the drum–its transcendental musical beauty and its historical lineage. Our experiences together often evoke for me a deep feeling of unity within the African Diaspora. However, many of Carlos’s experiences traveling the world reveal the limits of identification between diaspora groups and force us to acknowledge real conflicts. In this chapter Carlos tells of his adventures as a traveler and performer in Africa, Europe, Latin America, the Caribbean, and the United States. His most detailed stories are about his experiences as a batá drummer in the Bay Area of California. TravelinginAfrica,CarloswasfascinatedthattheYorubahelearned inCuba(theYorubabroughtbyhisancestorsacenturyearlier)wasintelligible to contemporary Yoruba speakers in Africa. He greeted people, ordered food, and asked directions in Yoruba. He was surprised to learn that many Africans did not know about the trans-Atlantic slave trade thattookmillionsofblackstotheAmericas,toCuba.Infact,theydidnot knowwhereCubawas.Inothercases,theAfricansknewaboutCubaand identified the island with Fidel and revolution. Carlos delights in moments of recognition between Cubans and Africans, but these encounters do not translate into sustained, transformative cultural exchange for either group. Diaspora 4 Carlos Aldama’s Life in Batá Umi 98 Carlos shows that Cubans often struggle to separate themselves from the politics and revolutionary identity of their nation. In Panama, when authorities mistreated group members because they disagreed with Fidel’s policies, Carlos’s identity as an oricha priest was a saving grace. Because he is a priest of Changó, he could avoid being totally and only identified with Fidel. His experiences moving throughout the African Diaspora also underscore the fact that it is mainly in the context of music and sports that black Cubans have the chance to travel the world. * * * Añá drumming batteries or ensembles are like professional guilds, wheretheactualdrumtraditionispassedfrommasterteachertoapprentices . They offer rich opportunities to understand the evolution of the batá tradition, to comprehend the relationships between marginalized groups (like Latinos and African Americans in the United States), and to see how performance speaks volumes about history and culture in the context of the Black Atlantic. Carlos is engaged in what Mason calls “transcultural war,” and knows it full well.1 I am too, and perhaps so are all bataleros. The aim of the struggle, though, is not control for its own sake, but to ensure the continued life and health of the batá tradition. As dance anthropologist Yvonne Daniel writes, “Dance and music are centraltoadescriptionofAfricanAmericanlife;[they]interconnectand referenceotherdimensionsbeyondthesocialarena.”Shereferstopoliticalactsthroughperformancethat “vibratewithbothspiritualandsocial ideals.”2 Batá drummers today, like Carlos Aldama, exhibit the ongoing andstrongtensionsthatarecharacteristicwithinsituationsofcontinuity and change–in this case, among drummers and within the dominant, mainstreamsocietythatisatonceracistandsuspectofAfricanreligions. On one hand, the descendants of enslaved Yoruba who play the batá in Cuba and other reaches of the diaspora continue to thwart the destructive intentions of their former masters. They see their main responsibilityasprovidingtheircommunitieswithtraditionalculturethat will bolster worshipping practitioners and others in the onslaught of any future conquerors. They understand Añá and the batá as the representa- Diaspora Umi 99 tion of camaraderie and community. The drum is a metaphor for life. In Carlos’s words, “It will be here tomorrow, we will die”; so today we should play with all our heart and teach. Maintenance of the batá tradition is a tremendous offensive counterattack in the transcultural war between “tradition” and “destruction.” On theotherhand,thereare tensions amongCubanbatádrummers based on stylistic differences and perhaps a generation gap, and between Cubanandnon-Cubanbatádrummers(particularlyAfricanAmerican) in the United States. These conflicts or clashes are based on even more complex issues. There are questions of authority and authenticity within transcultural wars, where two African-descended groups assert their statuses as heirs of those ancient Africans who came bearing the drum, and as viable leaders in the continued transculturation of the batá. When Carlos makes the assertion that there are similarities and differences between him and me, between Cubans and African Americans , he hints at the definition of diaspora and speaks to one of the main themes of this book. He celebrates common roots at the same time as he acknowledges distinct, even conflicting, idiosyncrasies within each community. He is aware of tensions between various diaspora groups (for example, Cubans, African Americans, and Puerto Ricans), as the drum tradition is carried on and reshaped in the United States and elsewhere . A Nigerian is not a Cuban is not an African...