Memoria De Un Ayer

Sitting on the third step of the stairs I look at my grandmother giving my cousin a scolding for not behaving and for trying to get over on some 'Quenepas' he was supposed to share with the rest of us. I sat silently on the steps waiting for my uncles to come into the yard, it was the weekend and that meant Musica en el patio!
Finally the men of the family start to pour in, wives and kids at their sides. My bigger cousins had to help carry the things I always waited for the most, the drums!
Once everyone had said their hellos, etc., the rum started to flow, more family members would join us coming in from the back side of the yard, through the front and at times they seem to just appear in front of me out of nowhere cause I never saw them come in. La cosa es que once the place was full of all these Negros y Negras, eran cuando el guarapo de ca~a se ponia bueno!
Tia Wichin would belt out a song and everyone would respond to her call. Tia Wichin was a tall statuesque woman, her skin was black, the kind of black that shines against the light. She was a force to be reckon with and she sang like her life depended on it, her voice full of feelings for those that came before her and that I never had the pleasure to meet. She would sit on a chair and sip on a small cup filled with, what else? Rum! and would point with her finger as she sang to emphasize the story told. Everyone in El Batey, danced and sang. We, the little ones would run around between them creating havoc between their sweating bodies and spilled rum on the floor. Food would be everywhere on tables, cups full of different kinds of drinks - but mostly rum; and we would just try to play it cool while taking sips from the cups. We really thought that went unnoticed, but that was never the case.
I felt a hand hold my arm tightly as another hand pulled the cup away from my mouth - too late! I had drank it already! Don't remember how much, but enough to make things swirl around me a bit. I was sat down by my oldest cousin who was supposed to look out for me and to do so he gave me a Maraca.
The music was so loud in my ears, Aristalco Alfonso danced with my grandmother and I was so intrigued by the way they danced that I started to really pay attention. I realized that one of the drummers followed everything Aristalco was doing, it seemed like he guessed what he was going to danced next and I loved it! My grandmother too had tricks of her own and the drummer seem to get even more focused and would lower his head but never his eyes as they would always be fixed on their feet and body. From time to time he would look at their faces but only for what seemed like a second.
They stood tall, heads held high, they seem like they owned the world when they danced. They were like a King and Queen!
As the dancing group got bigger, Cecilia joined the couple and as she did she slightly bowed her head to Aristalco and my grandmother, who returned the gesture; then she turns to the drummer who had been playing and did the same thing. Another voice called out a different song, this time it was Malen and the song made everyone get up, respond and spill a bit of rum on the floor. It was for the Muertos and everyone knew it.
"Veni a llora to' lo hombre... por que un difunto...."
Suddenly I became aware of myself and realized that I was shaking the maraca, how did I start playing? I don't know. But there I was, shaking the Maraca and later on that day I would prove that I was a drummer in the making. As everyone took a break to eat drink and chat, I sat in front of a Buleador and began to play what has been my most favorite rhythm in Bomba - Yuba.
Everyone turned to look to see me and my little hands playing and so my uncle joined med and played the Primo. That day I began my real training in Bomba; there was no telling me "this is how you place your hands" or "strike the drum this way" it was just sit there look at what i do and keep up if you can. No time to lecture me. In my family, if this is what you want to learn you have to keep up or get out.
From that day on I was the little drummer girl at the end of the line. And so I did keep up and learned from the best in my family and close friends, the way Bomba is played in Mayaguez.
Today whenever I sit and play my Barriles in a performance, I think of all those family members and friends -that were more like relatives- and I thank and pay homage to them. It is at these moments in my adult life that I see them in the crowds, standing between people in the audience. I see their smiling faces, I feel their presence around me and feel their energy that gives me the stamina to play hard just like any guy out there. For them I play always and with them I walk for ever.
A to' mis muertos que me acompa~an, igbae!
A to' mis muerto que me dan la musa pa poder cantar improvisa'o, Modupue!
Gracias por su Ache, sus bendiciones y sus recelos para conmigo, yo soy su hija por siempre. Sangre de su sangre y carne de su carne.
Pa' Uds. es mi voz profunda y mi sentimiento.
Por Uds. yo canto, bailo y toco como lo hago, de no ser asi dejaria de ser quien soy Norka 'La Flaka' Nadal! Hija de un Rumbero de esquina y una bailadora de Bomba.
Echo fuego si me quieren quemar y llevo la clave en mi corazon!
Soy el melao de la melaza y llevo lo que endulza el guarapo,
llevo el Carabali en las Manos y Congo en los pies!
Soy flor de ca~a brava en noche de luna llena.
Conmigo resuenan las voces del mas alla,
y al bailar, la sandunga de mi guacandao me lleva
y tiembla la tierra, tiembla!
Lo mio es de ayer, lo mio es de tiempo Espa~a
que al sonar de cualquier tambo'
eso negro' se revuelcan pa' hacerse sentir.