Jamaican Warriors : Reggae, Roots & Culture: a book review

It is a book I have had in my possession for quite some years now. Over ten years, I imagine. I vaguely recall having bought it at a book section of a record store in central Amsterdam, a record store now out of business. This might even not be the case, being so long ago. It does not matter that much, of course, but it illustrates that I bought it long ago, and cannot remember well.

Yet, I never got around to read it up to recently. During those years, there was one thing that dissuaded me from reading it. The title and theme were appealing enough - “Jamaican warriors” - as was the subtitle and short summary, and the cover photo. Its author was Stephen Foehr, a travel writer from the US, living in Colorado.

What discouraged me, was a review I read once that was partly negative about it, describing the book as one clearly written by a non-Rasta, or someone disapproving of it, so even anti-Rasta. Since I was entering and later entered the (Rastafari) Livity around that time, I felt an apprehension to delve into this book. I heard that anti-Rasta, quasi-intellectual (quasi-, not really intellectual) critique a bit too much, consisting often of gratuitous observations, and irrelevant if historical facts, missing the spiritual and fundamental importance of Rastafari.

Recently I read it, and I’ll start positive: I was pleasantly surprised by this book ‘Jamaican warriors”. It was not noticeably written by an anti-Rasta zealot, but rather by a travelling journalist, sincerely interested – and appreciative! – of Jamaican culture and music. The way he wrote he seemed to me to be a Reggae fan. These nonetheless still can – of course – have some critique of aspects of Jamaican culture, or of Rastafari. I know Reggae fans, even some self-proclaimed Rastafari-adherents here in the Netherlands, that do not see Haile Selassie as divine, thus disagreeing with most Rastas on that, for instance. Others, even worse, reject Selassie as an outdated, absolute and undemocratic monarch.

The pleasant thing about Foehr’s book, however, is that such criticism on Rastafari does not seem to be a main focus. That focus seems more positive and investigating. Open-minded, neutral reporting, so to speak, on his experiences in Jamaica, and with its culture and music industry. He is used to writing travel stories, and the book can be seen as a travel account, centering on various experiences and aspects of Jamaica, but emphasizing music and culture.

NEGRIL

I have been to Jamaica too, and recognize some places he describes, so I can compare a bit with my own experiences. The book was written around 2000, and I went there in 2006 and 2008, so not that long apart. He describes his stay in Negril, which I have visited too: a tourist centre on the West Coast of Jamaica. I did not like it there. The days before, elsewhere in Jamaica, in much less touristy Kingston city and areas of the St Ann’s parish, I enjoyed much more.

This has largely to do with Negril being a very commercialized tourist resort of the more cynical type: poverty, inferiority complexes due to a colonial past, racial obsessions, and, well, commercial greed, all combined to having Jamaicans acting like manipulative gangsters approaching you, often – like a pimp - using a girl to lure White men, and when with the girl, a guy comes along to help rip you off. These were hardened criminal hustlers, with too much “street savy” and psychological, intimidating conning skills, built up over time.

Some offered cocaine to me, even after a semi-friendly – or quasi-friendly – conversation. I was as good as my money there, whereas the Jamaicans I met in Kingston were sometimes hustlers, but more often trustworthy, pleasant people, who might even be friends, with in some cases even character similarities with me, even though I’m a Dutch-born (originally Italian-Spanish), Amsterdam-residing European. You could even talk quite openly and personally with Jamaicans there, something which I not even always achieve well up to today with many (of course not all) Dutch people, or other Amsterdam residents.

Negril was on the other hand not so pleasant, I found. I walked the streets, entered a few bars, and talked with some Jamaicans in Negril. The few conversations with some substance (i.e. actually getting to know someone personally, and learning something new) – with a girl – was still in the context of manipulation: her “pimp” wanted her to make money off me (through sex, became clear), not have a loose conversation, and he became impatient and intervened. So I stopped that whole relationship – a manipulative threesome, as I can describe it -, before it was too late and I was robbed, after following eventual sexual arousal: a common trick. Cute and funny how she opened a bottle with her teeth, that I must admit, but the guy kept intervening, even slapping her at times. Brr.

Not very nice, all this, and a beach resort, like Negril is, can be nice, but was too corrupted. I had enough nice beach experiences elsewhere in Jamaica (Portmore, near Kingston), Cuba, or even in parts of Andalusia, Spain where I moreover had family living.

Well now, Foehr describes the offering of cocaine, the commercial, “artificial”, touristic atmosphere, and the general untrustworthy environment in Negril quite well, including a promised “concert of reggae stars” that never came. He even sets out consciously to find a female companion, as other hedonistically minded tourists there did too. Without success. That is however just one chapter in the book.

MAUSOLEUM AND MUSEUM

Chapters before it and after it, dealt more directly with music and culture, and related trips in different parts of Jamaica. These included again some places I also visited, such as Bob Marley’s mausoleum in the parish of St Ann’s (Nine Miles), close to the North Coast, or the Bob Marley museum in Kingston. The author seems really interested in Bob Marley as artist and person, plus he describes it well. It was – predictably – touristy, that mausoleum in Nine Miles, but without the cynicism and hardened criminal hustlers as at Negril. One a bit more persistent hustler wanted me to buy a spliff (marijuana joint) of him. Not that bad, nor disturbing.

Foehr had a similar guided tour through the Bob Marley museum (in a relatively wealthy, “uptown” part in Kingston: where Bob went to live as he got more successful), as I have had in 2006. Other epochs describe Trench Town (that I visited too), and other parts I went and not went.

He had a coffee-related trip, that is not really in my field of interest, although Jamaican coffee is known among experts for its distinct quality. He describes that trip engagingly enough, but I would not have made that effort, I think.

Later in life, I found out that there are only a few types of coffee I really got to like (the real, original Ethiopian coffee, with a nice taste), perhaps some cappuccino, but most often coffee was something I had to, rather than liked to, drink.

RASTAFARI AND LEONARD HOWELL

Foehr, in other chapters, investigates the history of the Rastafari movement, and the pioneering “first Rasta” personality Leonard Howell, and his life. He travels to the community Howell set up at Pinnacle Hill in the 1930s, using Jamaican contact persons to gain access, knowledge, broadened with historical documentation. Foehr gives an historical contextualization with those trips, including about Rastafari’s development over time and Marcus Garvey, that seems mostly correct, though not always. Howell sought to promote the worship of Ethiopian Emperor Haile Selassie, as African saviour for Black people, spreading flyers and such. Foehr comments that Marcus Garvey did not allow spreading these leaflets by Howell at his headquarter. I do not know if this is true, but I read in other, objective and academic historical sources, that Howell and Garvey as persons went along well, met sometimes amicably, and shared ideas. They maybe disagreed at points, but were not foes.

INTERVIEWS

As a journalist, Foehr further not only travels through parts of the island, but also talks and has interviews with several people, important in Reggae, Rastafari, and folk culture. These include important and interesting personalities like Mortimmo Planno, a Rasta elder and teacher, scholar Kwame Davis, musicians like Skatalite Lloyd Knibbs, Toots Hibbert, Freddie McGregor, President Brown, Sugar Minott, Yami Bolo, U Roy, David Hinds, Ken Booth, Marcia Griffiths, the Wailing Souls and others, thus representing different generations in Jamaican music. Foehr does not really devote separate chapters to each interviewee, but rather spreads the conversations out through the travel accounts, and historical and general descriptions.

This might seem haphazard and chaotic, yet he keeps all this quite readable, I must say, showing he can write well, in an engaging way. Moreover, he did not criticize Rastafari so much as I feared. He is seldom disrespectful, but rather objectively descriptive, expressing some skepticism here and there, but reserving the same skepticism for established Western religions. Overall, he sees Rastafari, and the Roots Reggae it influenced, as a positive force, when compared to other “influences” in Jamaican society and music, before and after: the history of anti-African colonialism and slavery, as well as - increasing since the 1980s -: Western materialism values in Jamaica, gun crime, shallow or negative “slackness” lyrics in Dancehall music, moving away from the positive, edifying message in earlier Roots Reggae.

DIGITAL

Also, musically he discusses the change toward more “digital” Dancehall riddims since the late 1980s. Again, Foehr takes on a quite neutral approach, even arguing that there is “quality Dancehall” too, while deploring the general trend of moving away from acoustic or live instruments. That shift was never absolute of course, but a part of Jamaican music became digitally made in the Late 1980s and 1990s, while live musicians were likewise active.. Foehr, and most interviewees, favour a return to music with real instruments, and with more conscious lyrics.

This return already started with the rise of DJ’s with more “conscious”, Rastafari-influenced lyrics, turning away from their slack lyrics from before, like Capleton, or other upcoming artists (DJ’s and singers) with more conscious lyrics. This book was published in 2000, so some artists mentioned in it are still “rising” stars in this book, while more known or “household names” nowadays (Luciano, Buju Banton, Sizzla, who started around 1990, and others). 1990s developments are certainly included in this book, though.

FOLK BELIEFS AND TRADITIONS

Another strain throughout this work is “folk tradition” as such, of African heritage, surviving in Jamaica. Nearby Caribbean islands are well-known for such belief systems, notably Vodou in Haiti, and Santería in Cuba. In Jamaica, similar African-based “spirit possession” and ghost-related beliefs exist and live on, but became less an “export article” as for instance Vodou, including as simplified stereotypes (Vodou dolls) in popular culture and even Hollywood films.

There are several books I have meanwhile read about Reggae and Rastafari, and their history., including some scholarly ones . The same I can say for other themes Foehr treats in this book: the Maroons, colonial history. These segments largely repeat information from elsewhere, in that sense. He explains well the differences between Maroon communities within Jamaica: the one, with Queen Nanny, more rebellious and less complacent than the other one, that just secured its own independence, while at times even capturing escaped slaves to give back to English masters. Not everyone knows of these differences, I imagine. It has been written elsewhere too, though.

Foehr, however, makes his book a bit more unique by paying attention to such folk beliefs, even among common Jamaicans. He speaks with adherents of Kumina, a spirit-based faith found especially in the St Thomas parish in Eastern Jamaica, but also discusses Myal and Obeah, as other “spirit”, “magical”, or “healing” traditions, with African origins. “Obeah” is the magic that has a worse name – more used for evil “casting spells” on enemies or foes – whereas Myal is more known as good and healing.

While African retentions, the Rastafari movement largely took distance from most of such practices, especially the negative aspects of Obeah, as can be heard in many Reggae lyrics. Some aspects, musical (drumming) patterns from Kumina and Burru, and folk medicine for instance, found a way into Rastafari, though.

Besides this, Foehr, also points at a common belief in “duppies”, by at least a part of the Jamaicans. Duppies are ghosts out to get you, when you are least prepared, preferably on straight roads, it seems. Another African retention: in some parts of Africa today, roads and paths are still deliberately made winding, because straight paths may invite evil ghosts.

This all might seem superstitions by uneducated people, having no more intellectual sources to make sense of their world. This might even be true, but devalues it too as less culturally, perhaps unjustly. All cultures have this kind of “magic”, sometimes connected to the natural environment, such as the ancient Celts of Europe, for whom for instance the oak tree was “sacred”, and these trees and other natural aspects harboured “special powers”.

It is in a way interesting that all these beliefs and cultural legacies coexist, I find, in Jamaica. Interesting also, how Jamaicans developed an own culture out of all this. The good and bad. The colonial history with dehumanization and cultural deracination, or attempts of it, of transplanted Africans brought by force to the West, losing their names, and part of their culture. Persisting poverty of the majority in Jamaica, up to the present. Christianity as a colonial legacy, but reinterpreted as an African consciousness arose in Jamaica, returning to the roots, and centralizing an African Emperor in the case of Rastafari. These other beliefs (Obeah, Myal, Kumina, etcetera) only confirm that an Africanness lived on in Jamaica, on which Rastafari was founded, even if many Rastas, ironically, reject certain aspects (spirit possession), or translate other aspects differently, more symbolically (“ancestor worship” for instance).

CONCLUSION

All this combines to make Foehr’s book well readable, and quite unique. He can write engagingly, I must admit, but he does not just “repackage“ well the same information, found in other (scholarly and other) sources. That is a quality that should not be underestimated, by the way. Complex themes or histories are explained better by some than by others, as one may know from own experience. The didactic “now I get it!” effect.

Beyond this, though, Foehr’s book ‘Jamaican Warriors : Reggae, Roots & Culture’, published in the year 2000, adds an unique quality because of the time of its release, and dealing with happenings/developments in the 1990s, giving insight in that specific period in Jamaica.

A time of crossroads in music (digital versus real instruments, slackness versus conscious lyrics), culture, social developments (increased violence and crime in Jamaica since the 1980s). Foehr intertwines these various dimensions skillfully through his travel accounts and interviews, interrelating his own impressions as a White US “outsider”, with interesting and knowledgeable descriptions by Jamaicans themselves, who know best from their experience. As in the better traditions of journalism..

Therefore I am glad I - finally! - read this book, not just because I felt I had to, as a task to be fulfilled or a burden to bear, but because I actually enjoyed it: also due to recognizing, or expanding on what I knew - .. and I even learned a few things from it I did not know yet.

And no, it was not an anti-Rastafari book as such. Foehr openly questions in one chapter some assumptions Rastas have about Haile Selassie, and also is slightly skeptical elsewhere, but it does not go much beyond that, and remains quite objective.

Some things Foehr wrote I considered not really correct, or had a few mistakes, though not often. He had mostly good sources, apparently. I mentioned already that Garvey and Howell in fact were not enemies, as Foehr seems to imply.

Regarding Jamaican music and lyrics, I largely agree with him and especially with what the ”conscious” artists say about the need for more positive lyrics, and “realer” music.

That the “African heritage” in Jamaican music got limited or to the background with the rise of Digital Dancehall is tempting to believe, but a bit simplistic. Purely looking at “rhythm”, Danchehall – even with digital sounds – kind of revives African polyrhythmic musical traditions, you can also say. Many do in part, at least. Not dissimilar to the Funk James Brown started to make, with more rhythmic patterns than in earlier R&B. More modern, yet with retained African, polyrhythmic traditions.

These are overall, however, minor points of critique to an overall well-written, readable book, with quite some information, though largely repeated from other sources, many of which I happen to know or have read already. This information is however placed in another context, making it even for me somewhat relevant in the whole.

The interviews I found also interesting, all the more because some of these were with artists not or rarely interviewed in other “Reggae books or documentaries”, like President Brown, Yami Bolo, the Wailing Souls, and others.

Moreover, a few of the places in Jamaica he visits – not all – I visited too. Some, on the other hand, I did not get to go to, so those descriptions were insightful for me.

Worth the effort and pleasant enough, perhaps even recommendable, reading this book ‘Jamaican Warriors’.

Mapping geographically : comparing adjacent islands Cuba and Jamaica

I have always been intrigued by geographical maps. With “always” I mean: as long as I can remember, since I was a small child. Atlases, maps, at home, at school, or in the library.. they amazed me and got my deep interest. This was largely not too specific regarding country or part of the world. I recall how the way relief was indicated through colours and other signs in atlases and maps made me dream and fantasize about those places. The same applied for the different colours in maps used for arid, semi-arid or green, cultivated or wild land. That opened an intriguing world for me. So did the relative distance between countries, land masses, islands, borders etcetera.

Then there are “political maps”, as they are formally known. These focus more on man-made, political facts about a country: the capital(s), cities, borders (provinces)… in other words how human history gave a certain meaning to natural geographical areas. While I am interested in history as well, I emotionally could not help to make a distinction between the natural landscapes and what man later made of it. In fact, I considered it unnatural and artificial how political, national categories dominated natural geographical areas, even as a child. I not only considered it artificial, it is really artificial. States, nations are political choices, stemming from power relations. National borders were often arbitrary compromises given political weight over time.

BORDERS

One of my areas of interest in this regard is “bordering or nearby countries”: do borders really mean a cultural and geographical change? Also borders within countries (provinces, regions, states) never seized to amaze me, especially the relation (or relative lack thereof) of a cultural, ethnic and historical difference coinciding with borders. In organically, historically developed European countries differences are often (though not totally) clear-cut. Wales is located there because the Anglo-Saxons never really reached that Western area, and Wales largely kept its Celtic identity. The Alps are also interesting. A part of the Alps are in Italy, a large part of these Alpine mountain areas are German-speaking, French-speaking, and a part in Slovenia (or with other languages/dialects and cultures). Not necessarily neatly coinciding with “political” borders, as many may know about the different languages in Switzerland, and the German-speaking South-Tyrol, bordering Austria, but in Italy. Yet anthropologists speak of an Alpine ethnic type, mostly associated with once Celtic-speaking Central-Europeans, albeit mixed with other peoples (Germanic peoples in German-speaking areas, Romans and Italic peoples in Italy and others).

The Pyrenees between France and Spain seem a more natural border, but on the sides the mountains get lower and thus Catalonia is relatively more accessible from bordering France, than Spanish parts west of it (like Aragón), which had predictable historical consequences. Not everyone knows that languages spoken in the Provence in southern France (including around Marseille) – now diminished to dialect and with less speakers – are related to the Catalan language of Catalonia. It is in that sense a linguistic and cultural continuum. On the other side of the Pyrenees the Basque people and language likewise cross borders between Spain and France. Basques used, for instance, to inhabit a larger part of south western France than what is now known as the French Basque country, including the area around the city Bordeaux, of which surnames, toponyms, and genetic studies are still evidences. To a lesser degree Basques also inhabited a somewhat larger part of Spain than what is now known as Spanish Basque country.

Even more artificial or arbitrary are of course the political borders of former colonies of European countries in Africa, Asia, the Americas and elsewhere. These were not even decided by local elites, but by foreign elites. Apart from Ethiopia and a few other areas, Europeans largely shaped the borders in Africa and elsewhere. Note Senegal and how Gambia is “cut out of it”, due to different colonizers, while the two areas have much cultural and ethnic similarities, but different colonizers. Several examples of course can be given of this. Kikongo speaking peoples inhabit former Belgian, former French, and former Portuguese colonies, and Akan-speaking peoples live in both Ghana (which was a British colony) as in Ivory Coast (which was French). Of course Frisians live also in different countries in Europe (Netherlands, Germany), Basques as said in France and Spain, and there are other examples in Europe (Italian-speakers in Switzerland, German-speakers in a part of northern Italy, Dutch-language variants in Belgium, French in Belgium etcetera etcetera), but these had more haphazard, historically developed origins, while in former colonies it was often due to the stroke of a pen by foreign colonizers, a distant and drastic decision, making it even more artificial.

CUBA AND JAMAICA

All this - including my interest in maps and geography - more or less comes together in the comparison I will make now between two countries that are very close to each other in the Caribbean Sea: Cuba and Jamaica. Both countries I find culturally interesting, and I have actually visited. I even had a trip in 2006, during which I visited both Cuba for about two weeks, directly followed by Jamaica for one week.

Cuba and Jamaica are former colonies by different colonizers (Spain and Britain) and are islands. This makes them inherently disconnected, some seem to think. Yet, the distance is small, especially at the eastern part of Cuba. The closest distance between the islands of Cuba and Jamaica is just about 140 kilometres. Eastern Cuba, which lies closest to Jamaica is mountaineous, just like a large part of Jamaica, so there is a continuum there too.

My plan for a “island-hop” vacation in 2006 combining Cuba and Jamaica, caused that some made remarks along the lines of: “that must be totally different (Cuba and Jamaica)”. This was by people who actually knew these places well, have been there, but also by others who hadn’t, and responded to common knowledge and facts (communist Cuba, Spanish-speaking, capitalist Jamaica, former British colony etcetera), they picked up here and there.

The question I would like to answer in the remainder of this post is thus this one: just how different are Cuba and Jamaica? In what ways? What are similarities? How can these be explained? All the more interesting, because the countries/islands are so close to each other: they are “bordering islands” so to speak. This way, I return to the contradiction between natural geography and man-made historical and political borders.

REPEATING ISLANDS

The Cuban-American historical scholar Antonio Benitez-Rojo once spoke of “repeating islands”, in referring to the Caribbean islands. Most of the Caribbean islands, whatever the colonizing country, followed roughly the same historical pattern, Benitez-Rojo argued: a slave-based sugar industry and plantation economy benefitting the European country, imported African labour, a white elite, a mixed race, somewhat intermediate class etcetera etcetera. Economy aimed at exports to colonizing country. As colonial constructs – essentially artificial – there are bound to be also similarities between Cuba and Jamaica, despite differences.

Indeed, both colonies knew slave-based plantation economies, with sugar being the main crop. There were also coffee and other plantations on both islands. The climate is of course similar. The development was in time quite different, though. For a period, Cuba was less focussed exclusively on sugar plantations and slaves than Jamaica (or Haiti). Throughout the 18th c. this was less developed in Cuba, but the slave-based sugar industry intensified there during the 19th c., especially after the Haitian Revolution and Haiti’s independence in 1804. Cynically, influential Cuban colonial economists advised to increase slave imports to take over the leading economic role in sugar that Haiti had before (18th c.). That Britain planned on abolishing the slave trade and slavery in the course of the early 19th c. – albeit hesitantly – further stimulated this aim. Of course at the cost of the human dignity (and lives) of many Africans, slave imports from Africa increased, especially expanding in Western and Central parts of Cuba (that were less mountainous, thus suitable for large sugar fields). Spain seemed, moreover, even more hesitant than Britain in abolishing the slave trade and slavery, and seemed to avoid the theme. Illegal slave trade by Portuguese and Spaniards to Cuba also continued, being the theme of the movie Amistad. It was not until 1886 that slavery was formally abolished in Cuba.

So, there is a difference in historical period, but one can conclude that Jamaican and Haitian slave-based plantation systems aimed at sugar, served as models for Cuban developments a bit later. They were indeed “repeated”. That transition seemed not so total, however, other economic sectors continued in Cuba, and demographically African slaves still made up proportionally less of the total population of Cuba than in Jamaica or Haiti. Racially the Cuban society was furthermore much more mixed, while the white population would increase later with Spanish immigration. This was in part a conscious policy by some Cuban politicians, to avoid an “Africanization” of Cuba, for racist reasons.

British white migration to Jamaica, on the other hand, occurred, but was never massive. Cuba became independent from Spain in 1892, after a war between Spain and the USA, much earlier than Jamaica from Britain (in 1962). Later indentured labourers came mostly from China, in the case of Cuba, but mostly from India in the case of Jamaica. Consequently, Havana’s “China Town” was once the largest in Latin America, after the one in Lima, Peru. Those are also differences, although there was Chinese migration to Jamaica as well.

Photo above: the entry gate to Havana's historical Barrio Chino (China Town). I took this photo in 2006

MUSIC AND CULTURE

I like nature, but was especially interested in the musical and other cultures of Jamaica and Cuba. Being a long-time reggae fan and being interested in Rastafari, this is predictable. However, also Cuban music and culture had my interest. My travels on both islands had this culture (music and beyond) as focus, though not exclusively. Of course, I also paid attention to nature, climate, and landscapes. Politics had less of my interest, social issues a bit more, but these themes inevitably demand attention. The moment you enter a country, cross borders at the customs office, you enter by definition a certain political system.

The way the people lived their lives under such political systems, and social conditions, certainly had my interest. Along with this, music and culture had my attention. I know there exists a phenomenon called “sex tourism”, whereby Western tourists focus mostly on sex with locals, and aspects like social conditions and culture are subordinated (if useful) to this lust for sex. This has the appeal of being concrete and practical, but seemed, however, too egotistic and, well, vulgar and shallow to me. My pursuits were perhaps more intellectual.

CUBA

I was already a reggae fan before going to Cuba, for the first time in 2001. I went to Cuba before I went to Jamaica. I knew some Cuban music, but got more into it when I was actually in Cuba. I liked the groove I heard of the many live performances I encountered. Towns in Cuba – large and small – tend to have central locales (music clubs) where local bands performs regularly, mostly acoustically. That’s a good network, keeping live music alive, even with state support. The Communist state’s role in culture and music has negative aspects as well, but seemed to do some good things too: musicians get paid state incomes according to skill, stimulating somehow musicians. These incomes are meagre, admittedly, but more than nothing.

The music genres played in such clubs tended to be Cuban or Cuban-influenced genres like salsa, or its main (local Cuban) precursor, called son. Also, genres like rumba, bolero, or danzón could be heard. Historically, the son genre is associated more with Eastern Cuba (with as largest city Santiago de Cuba), and the rumba more with Western Cuba (with Havana as biggest city). They assume that the origins of rumba is among Afro-Cubans in the city of Matanzas, somewhat east of Havana. What I liked about these Cuban genres were the percussive and groovy aspects of them. Bands I saw tended to include bongos, conga, shaker and other percussion players, and the songs were mostly groovy, catchy or with nice melodies, as percussion combined with guitars or bass guitars, and often also horns. That I understood Spanish helped me to understand the lyrics. It made to me clear that the lyrics had some limitations, with some themes recurring and other themes avoided, probably due to censorship. Love songs were common , or odes to revolutionary Cuban leaders, in these lyrics. That is a pity – real art develops only fully, I opine, if you can express yourself freely and honestly - , but I still heard some nice songs, and heard some great musicianship being performed.

I travelled through a large part of Cuba (sometimes day trips), and spent quite some time in Havana (at least a week in total), Cuba’s biggest city with over a million inhabitants, as well as in Santiago de Cuba in Eastern Cuba, which has over 500.000 inhabitants.

Havana is architectonically interesting and quite monumental, with remnants of the Spanish colonial baroque style, with what the French call “grandeur”, if somewhat decaying. Havana had in my experience a nice, lively, and edgy atmosphere, somehow shaping the vibe in Havana, largely due to the people’s lively spirit. Racially, it is an intensely mixed city, which was then somewhat new to me. Havana had many mulattoes (mixed European and African) people, as well as white people, mostly of Spanish descent, but also many black people, thus mostly of African descent. There were even quite some people with Chinese blood. Interestingly, parts of the African culture (of Yoruba, Congo, Calabar, or other origin) could be maintained in Cuba, among Afro-Cubans, kept alive in cultural centres.

Photo above: another view of (Old/central) Havana. I took this photo in 2006.

They say that the slavery regime under the Spanish was somewhat more mild and lenient when compared to the British or French slave regimes. This must not be exaggerated, as enslaved Africans were still largely dehumanized. Historical records show, however, that also slaves had some legal protection in Spanish colonies like Cuba, and could on free days have own cultural organizations according to their cultural heritage. Some historians describe the difference as such: in British colonies enslaved Africans were treated socially and legally as animals, in Spanish colonies as “lesser humans”. They were dehumanized a bit less, you can say. Still oppressed and at the bottom, but with some recognition of human and cultural rights. It was for instance a bit more easy for slaves to buy or obtain freedom in Cuba. Both free and enslaved blacks tended to come together on certain days in clubs aimed at shared African origins (Yoruba, Efik/Ibibio, Congo a.o.), cultivating these cultures. This had to be partly hidden still, from the Catholic powers, such as the Yoruba deities hidden behind Catholic saints in the largely Yoruba-based Santería religion, that developed in Cuba.

I encountered several Cubans who were active in such more directly African-based cultural expressions (like Santería), but also the music genres rumba and son were evidently African-influenced. I found this to be an interesting aspect of Cuban cultural life. As there was much live music, this could be practically experienced as well.

SANTIAGO DE CUBA

I had friends in the city of Santiago de Cuba in Eastern Cuba, so I returned there more often, getting to know Santiago de Cuba thus better, during the separate travels I made to Cuba, between 2001 and 2006. Santiago de Cuba is in size the second city of Cuba. I haven’t really counted, but I can say that I spent at least a few weeks in Santiago de Cuba and surroundings. That Eastern part of Cuba is known as “el Oriente” – meaning “the East” in Spanish. It is culturally, historically, and otherwise different from other parts of Cuba, such as West Cuba with Havana. Not so odd: all countries have internal differences. The East of Cuba is more mountainous than the West, which tends to have historical consequences. The southeastern part with Santiago de Cuba is known as the “most Caribbean” part of Cuba, also among Cubans, meaning probably in part that the population is mostly black or mulatto. This is the case in the cities Santiago de Cuba and Guantanamo (the latter has over 100.000 inhabitants) and the provinces these cities are capital of. The son music genre is from this area, and also the bongos as instrument (and other Cuban instruments spread globally) originate from this musically rich and varied part of Cuba. A historical Haitian influence, as well as Jamaican migration in the past to the region of Santiago de Cuba, further added to it being known as the “most Caribbean part of Cuba”. I indeed met some Cubans in Santiago de Cuba with some family ties to Haiti and Jamaica.

Also much live music in Santiago de Cuba, perhaps proportionally more so than in Havana, as there are a few active live music clubs in a city that is smaller than Havana: you notice the live music therefore more. The local, traditional son music, originated in Eastern Cuba, is the main root of what became globally known as Salsa music. I was more a reggae fan, so a “salsa pilgrimage” idea was on my mind, but not that dominant. I liked some salsa and especially son, though. I got more appreciation for the flexible instrument the bongos and other percussion instruments in Santiago de Cuba, and that has remained important in my life since then.

The city Santiago de Cuba has a comparable “baroque”, Spanish colonial style regarding architecture to Havana, but with also more French-Haitian influences (similarities with New Orleans are also there), which has an interesting vibe by itself. To be honest, from an architecture and town planning perspective: Santiago had nice parts, but seemed overall a bit less “monumental” than Havana, but perhaps because Santiago was a smaller city. Some parts of Santiago de Cuba seemed even quite chaotic. Culturally, however, I found it to be a very interesting city. I knew several people in Santiago, and that also helped me to get to know the city better over time.

Photo above: a view of central Santago de Cuba (side street Parque de Cespedes). I took this photo in 2006.

Like in Havana, many Cubans in Santiago tried to make money off tourists informally, hustling on the streets. Sometimes I found it annoying to constantly be aware of such bothering, or to have to make people leave me alone. Just walking by myself on the streets was at times impossible, such as when I got bothered – or approached - constantly. This being “bothered” had gradations of irritation, though. Sometimes I found it even funny how they tried to get my attention. Women used what they could offer and what men tend to want, men (or even boys) had other tricks. A special case: a small boy approached me and asked if I wanted a relationship with his older sister. Acting as a pimp, more or less..an example of what poverty and lack of opportunity brings people to. I declined his offer and walked on, and he did not bother me further. Many further offered cigars or rum as part of the informal sector.

As I spoke Spanish well, I could talk with people this way, being educational in some sense, even if such relations were “interested” or insincere. When I went walking with local friends, I had a bit more “protection”, when walking around the city. As a white man, and/or visually a tourist/foreigner, walking alone in a Cuban city, the assumption that you want sex with a Cuban woman seems more automatic for many Cubans, as several “sex tourists” in the past have confirmed this assumption.

In remembering my Santiago de Cuba – and broader Cuban - experiences, I recall them as educational, as I moved in a dimension whereby cynicism, self-interest, poverty, dictatorship, fake friends and tricks, but also a rich, engaging culture, good spirit of people, humour, love, and true friends came together and interchanged constantly. Beauty and ugliness, or good and bad, intertwined confusingly . A “wild suspense between heaven and hell”, as Jamaican Marcus Garvey once wrote in a poem (a poem titled ‘The tragedy of white injustice’).

I made lasting friends there, learned a lot about especially Santiago de Cuba and to a degree also Havana and other parts of Cuba, and specifically about Cuban and Afro-Cuban culture and people, and, well, life in general. My love for bongos and percussion developed there. Focussing on the positive, those are the “plus points” of my Cuban experiences, for my life.

Photo above: view of a popular, more "outer" quarter of the city Santiago de Cuba. I took this photo in 2006.

JAMAICA

In 2006 I went for the first time to Jamaica. Like I said before, after two weeks in Cuba. At least theoretically, this was in my mind more of a “pilgrimage” for me personally, as a reggae fan. Reggae music originated in Jamaica. I was not naïve to think that I would enter a paradise of marijuana, skanking on a reggae groove, and peace and love in a tropical setting. I have read a lot about Jamaica: social problems, poverty, social and cultural inequality. And criminality. That this crime was known to be more prevalent and violent – including guns and gangs – in Jamaica, was also known in Cuba. Some Cubans warned me because of this image: “there you have to be more careful”. Such a negative image spreads internationally. I cannot remember that I was full of fear, maybe I had some fears, but I thought it all to be relative. Some Cubans tried to rip me off too, even without weapons (that I did see, anyway). Besides, you have to use common sense when in Jamaica, and avoid certain areas or surroundings, I Imagined. I booked a hotel room in a relatively cheap, but decent hotel in uptown Kingston (that doubled as a pool and entertainment centre). Kingston is the capital of Jamaica, with about 800.000 inhabitants, somewhat bigger than Santiago de Cuba.

Photo above: view from my hotel in uptown/central Kingston (on more expensive hotels a.o.). I took this photo in 2006.

It was a new experience, but in an odd context. Memories about an intense, eventful two weeks were still very fresh in my mind, and now I was off to another Caribbean island, for one week. It was November and relatively rainy, by the way.

To return to the theme of this post: what are differences between Cuba and Jamaica, even if being close to each other? Cuba was, as a Communist state, in 2006 still very isolated from a globalized, US-dominated economic system. This had practical consequences. You had nowhere “pinning machines” to get money, as I was meanwhile accustomed in capitalist societies. You had no advertising, commercialism, or billboards, other than celebrating the Cuban Revolution. There was indeed “advertising” or “political propaganda”, or what someone called: “state graffiti” in Cuba, with political slogans (“Viva el Che”, “Viva la Revolución”), including often the painted images of Che Guevara and Fidel Castro. Advertising or signs of former business stores in Cuba were remnants from older times, just never removed. That is, from before the 1959 Revolution in Cuba, that brought Fidel Castro to power.

Jamaica, by contrast, was clearly a capitalist, commercialist society, with many banks, billboards for companies who want to sell you things. The wealthier areas of Kingston (“uptown”), sometimes had US-style malls, and in other ways seemed to copy Miami or Florida. That was a main difference I noted. Poorer parts of Kingston had a more “Caribbean”, popular atmosphere: colourful, but also poverty, much less cars, smaller and/or deficient housing, small-scale and informal markets and trade on the streets. As I rented a car, I could travel to several parts of Jamaica, even in one week. My return flight was from Montego Bay, on Jamaica’s northwest coast, while I arrived from Cuba in Kingston. That I had to consider too..

Photo above: view on a street near to my hotel (uptown/central Kingston). I took this photo in 2006.

In Cuba I enjoyed much live music, by actual musicians and live bands, specifically also in Santiago de Cuba. In Jamaica, I got to know some people in the music industry in Kingston (“via-via” you can say… it’s a long and complicated story..), and Buju Banton’s Gargamel studio in a part of Kingston (northwest, not very close to my hotel, which was more in the east and northeast) became an appreciated “hang-out” spot for me.. I asked about live music to Kingstonians and Jamaicans I met, so I actually sought it, but apparently live music was not so common in Jamaica, as it was in Cuba. There are many recording studios for music in Kingston, but live music did not present itself to one automatically in public life, as in Santiago de Cuba, and I went to different parts of Kingston, also “going out” at evening and nights. Another difference, apparently: vivid music scenes, but developed in different ways..

Photo above: Buju Banton's Gargamel studio in Kingston. I took this photo in 2006. A few renovations have been done since.

What Kingston, Jamaica on the other hand did have were many reggae parties with “sound systems” (a type of mobile discotheques, with large speakers, mostly outdoors). So there was much music, but in another way. A Jamaican friend, who drove us in the rental car sometimes, told me there was such a sound system party every night, somewhere in Kingston. A real “sound system culture”. I went to a few of these parties, and especially have good memories of the Sunday night “retro” party, focussed on “older” reggae music with therefore for a change more reggae than dancehall, in downtown Rae Town, a ghetto area in Kingston. The atmosphere was pleasant, with sound systems spread over different locales and bars, stands with food and drinks on the streets, quite some people in the places and on the streets. Some people approached me for money, and many women directly asked me to buy them a drink. Especially when in some locales I was the only white person. This was kind of funny. Some daring females, that I just met, touched parts of my body that can from some perspective be considered intimate/private – even one that was distinctive for my manhood - , but even this I found funny, because it was not too overwhelming. Good music and nice vibes, overall though, and I remember Black Uhuru’s great song “General Penitentiary” blazing through the large, piled-up speakers, there in Rae Town. Those are THE experiences.“Real reggae party dat!”, a Jamaican who accompanied me, said afterwards about that party.

Also uptown, predictably near the hotels, there were several Jamaicans trying to sell things or services to , or “hustle”, tourists. Like in Cuba, offering to be a “guide” was a common entry line in approaching tourists. Like in Cuba, walking alone as visibly not from there and/or white, was sometimes “tricky”, though not everywhere, not even in downtown Kingston. There is an ethnic/racial difference between Jamaica and Cuba, though less so with Santiago de Cuba (as it was located in the “blackest” region of Cuba). Anyway, Cuba has a much higher percentage of mixed-raced, “Mulatto” people, and Whites, than Jamaica, where at least 85% is mainly of African origin, and of the rest most are “brown” (mixed European and African). As a white European you tend to stand out, also in uptown Kingston. A bit less in more tourist areas, such as on the North Coast.

Photo above: view of the town Linstead, about 25 kilometres north west of Kingston. I took this photo in 2006.

I had expected this, and actually respected that it got “out in the open”, and that the difference was discussed with sincere interest, and not without humour. If you show respect, you get respect, that principle. Many times in my life people (other white people, mostly) assumed what I was, when they just could have asked. Dutch? Italian? Spanish? Or from another country? I consider that somewhat humiliating and dehumanizing, and mistrust it often, especially when combined with a preferred lack of communication. I could, in talking with Jamaicans, tell that I lived in Amsterdam, Netherlands, and could speak Spanish because of my Spanish mother, for instance (having just come from Cuba). I really got to appreciate the open mind, and good verbal culture and skills in Jamaica. Many Jamaicans have a healthy attitude in favouring real dialogue (and verbal interaction), that in my experience is not that common in all cultures. In Cuba, I found that overall a bit less common, especially with relative strangers. In Jamaica I at times talked “deeper” even with someone I just met. There is something positive in that.. Or maybe it was just because of the dictatorship and political repression in Cuba.

I went again to Jamaica in late 2008, now for two weeks. I linked up with the friends and contacts I made in 2006, around Buju Banton’s Gargamel studio, that also in 2008 became an appreciated “hang-out” spot for me..

Photo above: at Buju Banton's Gargamel studio in Kingston. I took this photo in 2008.

I travelled in 2008 even more on the island, and visited reggae and Rastafari-related places, different towns and parishes, and different landscapes, including the beautiful mountains of the Eastern parish of St Thomas. Like during my Cuban trips, good and bad mixed confusingly. There were also some unforgettable moments (in a positive sense, mainly) during my Jamaican trips, some of which influenced me to this day, both socially and spiritually..

Photo above: view of the town Falmouth, on the north coast of Jamaica, known for its Georgian colonial architecture. I took this photo in 2008.

COMPARISON

I aimed for this post to compare these two Caribbean islands/countries, that are only about 150 kilometres from each other. The flora and fauna, the mountains and other landscapes, were very similar in both countries. Mountain landscapes in Eastern Jamaica reminded me of the mountains around Santiago de Cuba (Eastern Cuba). Mango and guava, palm trees, bananas, avocado, rice and beans are very common as food and beverage in both Cuba and Jamaica. There were some culinary differences, as Jamaica developed an own “jerk” cuisine (“jerk chicken” for instance). The Jamaican food I ate was spicier (and often better) than what I mostly ate in Cuba, but that can be due to scarcity. Good fruit and fruit juices (I like mango, avocado, and guava) I ate on both islands, though. The weather and climate are of course similar.

Differences can be discerned in things relating to politics, economy, and human history. Man’s influence, so to speak. That Cuba is communist, and Jamaica capitalist is a clear, yet in my opinion not decisive difference: politics is not all that life is. Neither is economics, though some would want you to believe that: there is more to life than politics and economics.

In fact, from a human perspective, I would argue that there is really more of a similarity between Cuba and Jamaica in this regard. A tragic similarity. Once communism seemed for some poorer Cuban folks an outcome, and seemed to offer opportunities, including for many poorer black Cubans. The spread of wealth seemed to decrease inequality in Cuba, in the first stages after 1959 (the Cuban Revolution). Educational opportunities became free and accessible for all. Also positive were the banning of racial segregation and discrimination in certain areas. Over time, however, even if a part of the poorer Afro-Cubans got higher education, had/owned houses, and inequality between classes partly diminished, there came a deception, especially after the stop of USSR economic aid after 1990, made many products scarce in Cuba. Perhaps the deception is essentially due to the dictatorship/authoritarian rule that Communist leaders – including Fidel Castro – favour, and the inherent fact of communism outlawing (most) ownership or market economics by citizens. The lack of freedom, repression, and poverty and scarcity in daily life – and what people said and acted out - gave me the impression that the massive support for Cuba’s Communist state among relatively poorer black Cubans, and other Cubans from the poorer classes, has largely disappeared.

Likewise, many poorer Jamaicans feel excluded from society in their capitalist society, having limited possibilities to break the cycle of poverty, living moreover often in crime-ridden ghetto’s. You can theoretically buy more things in stores in Jamaica, travel more easily, and wages are on paper higher than in Cuba, but in order to have enough money and such a “middle-class lifestyle”, you have to of course actually acquire a job, and unemployment is high. People with darker skin and from poor areas have difficulties getting hired for jobs in Jamaica, explaining in part the strongly developed informal sectors (both in Cuba and Jamaica). Class differences are more rigid in Jamaica, including more than in Cuba differences in educational level, but the sense of limited possibilities, poverty, and exclusion among a large of the population, is essentially comparable.

There are further historical parallels in plantation slavery, but also differences. The architecture in Jamaica, especially from colonial times, is Protestant and sober, and to be honest not always very gracious, pretty, or monumental. Grandeur but without grace. Cuban cities, Havana, but also several other cities and towns, looked (in my opinion) more picturesque and graceful.

The strong Rastafari influence in Jamaica, especially among the popular classes, made however that the colourful, red-gold-and green, Lion of Judah symbols appeared on many buildings, as I also saw throughout Jamaica. This made buildings not only a bit more colourful, but also in a sense graceful. This popular culture is an important “beauty” as well as “positive power” within Jamaica. The resiliency of African culture and an own identity, despite slavery and attempted deracination, in popular music, other cultural expressions and customs. And in consciousness, to which the Africa-centered movement called Rastafari – that originated in Jamaica in the 1930s - attests. Creatively reworking culture, but from African roots.

That is another similarity with Cuba, and this time a beautiful one. This strength of popular (Afro-Cuban) culture. Also in Cuba, African culture survived, kept being cultivated, and sometimes reworked to other forms, still considering the African origins. Internationally spread contributions from Cuba and Jamaica, include music genres like salsa/son, reggae, Rastafari, several more specific musical aspects or instruments. There are cultural differences in modern times between the islands, of course. Also historically, there are differences in specific African heritages, although in both cases slaves came from different parts of Africa. In Jamaica, the Akan-speaking peoples were a bit more represented relatively among African slaves, and in Cuba relatively more Yoruba, but slaves from the Congo area were for instance quite strongly represented in both colonies. Likewise, the colonizing European countries, Spain and Britain, were also different . There were and are, nonetheless, shared African cultural values throughout expressions on both islands, and with rhythm and percussion often important in them.

Capitalist and communist oppression and exclusion of poorer people brought sometimes different types of limitations in the two countries, that were however fought against or overcome creatively. At times by using elements of the communist or the capitalist system in their favour, while in other ways subverting and avoiding them. This is the power of culture, or perhaps the natural, human spirit aimed at survival and edification, despite adversities and oppression.

Not unimportant, finally, and on a personal note: I made (true) friends easily in both Cuba and Jamaica, and I experienced both countries as relatively “hospitable”, when compared to some parts of Europe.

POSTSCRIPT

At its closest, the distance between Cuba and Jamaica is about 140 kilometres. That’s why in 2006, when I came to Cuba, I asked for a flight from Santiago de Cuba (which of course has an international airport) to Kingston, that southeastern part of Cuba being relatively closer to Jamaica. At a travel agency they told me they could arrange a place on a small plane. Some promises later, this seemed after all not possible, and I had to go to Havana to catch the plane to Kingston, Jamaica. I did not plan that, but had to do that, costing me time and money, although I saved because I could stay in Havana with an acquaintance. The difference between physical/natural geography and political geography struck again..

Graffiti intensity (Intensidad de grafiti)

(The following text interchanges English and the Spanish translation of the same text..so scroll on if necessary //

El siguiente texto intercambia inglés y la traducción en español del mismo texto..así que "scroll" adelante si es necesario)

//

I was not specifically focussing on it. It was a focus that developed spontaneously by taking all impressions loosely in. While travelling on the Canary island of Tenerife in late January, 2014, I visited for a few days the biggest town on this island: Santa Cruz, which has over 200.000 inhabitants.

Some parts of Tenerife are very touristic, Santa Cruz, the city in the North East of the island, relatively less. It has a sort of Mediterranean, lively feel. Lively and at the same time relaxed, a nice combination I also found in Mediterranean cities. The sunny weather helps of course, perhaps also the culturally ingrained Siesta break, casting a “resting” shadow over even non-siesta parts of the day.

Like I said, I was not focussing on something specific: just seeing how Santa Cruz de Tenerife as a city is like: no uptight plans..I only had loose plans, flexible plans..or no plans at all. Time that is really free and really mine… that is vacation for me. I checked the buildings, architecture, changing from quarter to quarter, visited some museums, parks, walking, drinking something ….”you done know”.. Meanwhile I tried not to get lost, but even that will work out.. I knew the address of my central-lying hotel..

Photo: Santa Cruz de Tenerife

// (No me fijé específicamente en ello. Fue un enfoque que se desarrolló de manera espontánea, absorbando todas las impresiones libremente. Mientras viajé en la isla canaria de Tenerife a finales de enero de 2014, visité por unos días la ciudad más grande en esta isla: Santa Cruz, que cuenta con más de 200.000 habitantes.

Algunas partes de Tenerife son muy turística, Santa Cruz, la ciudad en el noreste de la isla, relativamente menos. Tiene un ambiente mas o menos Mediterráneo y vivo. Vivo y al mismo tiempo relajado, una buena combinación, que también encontré en las ciudades mediterráneas. El clima soleado ayuda, por supuesto, tal vez también la ruptura de la Siesta, culturalmente arraigada, que tira, por decirlo así, una sombra "del descanso" sobre incluso otras partes del día.

Como ya indiqué, no me concentré en algo específico: quería sólo ver cómo Santa Cruz de Tenerife es como ciudad: no tenía planes “tensos”.. yo sólo tenía planes sueltos, planes flexibles.. o ningún plan en absoluto. Tiempo que es realmente libre y realmente mío... eso son vacaciones para mí. Miré los edificios, la arquitectura, el cambio de barrio a barrio, visité algunos museos, parques, a caminar, beber algo... "ya tú sabes".. Mientras tenía cuidado no perderme, pero incluso eso no era problema: sabía la dirección de mi hotel céntrico...) //

Photo: Santa Cruz de Tenerife

Whatever my plans and where I ended up, photographing became a part of it, which I liked to do as well. Taking photos requires by itself a stronger focus. As if I need help from some apparatus to really look well at things. Nonsense of course, it is all psychological.. Still, it works out that way.

Some neighbourhoods had a lot of graffiti on walls that surrounded houses/apartments. Close to my hotel, in an old, central part of Santa Cruz was such a quarter: lower houses, some old and not well-preserved, others better preserved… Typically Canarian architecture – including as characteristics quite pleasant pastel colours for walls - shone through behind and alongside “blind walls” painted/written on. These walls, and other walls in other parts, such as near the sea-front, were very graffiti-intensive. “Santa Cruz must have a very active graffiti scene”, I thought then.

Images came to my mind of groups of young - probably in their late teens/early twenties – Canarian/Tinerfeño hip-hop fans, perhaps some with semi-legal activities, wearing “hip” clothes including the inevitable baseball cap, spraying these graffiti signs, “tags”, and images. Superficial images betraying lack of knowledge, which I admit.

I have never studied before the graffiti phenomenon too much. A little bit: some article, some documentary. I was not wrong about the connection to the hip-hop scene. I am more a reggae fan than a hip-hop fan, but I happened to know this. Hip-hop culture in the broad sense includes the music genre, break dance, and, yes, graffiti. Unauthorized, illegal signs and images on urban buildings.. youthful “rebels” marking their territory..

Photo: Santa Cruz de Tenerife (centro/Calle Santiago)

// (No importa lo que fueran mis planes, o donde terminé, la fotografía se convirtió en parte de eso, y tomar fotos me gustaba como actividad también.Tomar fotos requiere de por sí un enfoque más fuerte. Como si necesito ayuda de algún aparato parar mirar realmente bien a las cosas. Una tontería, por supuesto, todo es psicológico .. Aún así, funciona de esa manera.

Algunos barrios tenían un montón de grafiti (o 'aerosol' como también se le dice) en los muros que rodeaban casas/apartamentos. Cerca de mi hotel, en una antigua parte central de Santa Cruz, hubiera un tal barrio: casas bajas, algunas antiguas y no muy bien mantenidas, arquitectura típicamente canaria - incluyendo como características muy agradables colores pasteles para las muros – se mostró detrás y al lado de "muros ciegos" pintadas/escritas. Estos muros, y otros en otras partes, como cerca de la orilla del mar, eran muy “grafiti intensiva”. “Santa Cruz debe tener una escena de grafiti/aerosol muy activo", pensé entonces.

Imágenes vinieron a mi mente de grupos de jóvenes - probablemente en su adolescencia / veinte añeros – fanáticos canarios / tinerfeños del hip-hop, tal vez algunos de ellos con actividades semi-legales, con el uso de ropa "cadera", incluyendo la gorra de béisbol inevitable, rociando estos signos de grafiti, "tags", e imágenes. Estos imágenes superficiales traicionan una falta de conocimiento, esto admito.

Nunca he estudiado demasiado el fenómeno de grafiti. Un poco: algún artículo, algún documental. No estaba equivocado acerca de la conexión a la escena del hip-hop. Yo soy más fanático del reggae que del hip-hop, pero eso si sabía todavía. La cultura hip-hop en el sentido amplio incluye el género de la música, breakdance, y, sí, el grafiti/aerosol. Escrituras/señas e imágenes ilegales no autorizadas en edificios urbanos.. "rebeldía" de juventud marcando su territorio.. ) //

Photo: Santa Cruz de Tenerife

REBELLIOUS?

Recently I read more about graffiti, and everybody can learn more about it through Wikipedia. Illegal (non-state/government/popular) drawings on walls go back to ancient times, Roman times and other periods, for instance in Italy (hence the Italian name), but as a recent phenomenon it developed in the place where hip-hop developed as well: New York city. The earliest examples of graffiti as urban, youth culture art were, however, found in the city of Philadelphia, since the late 1960s. This was before the actual music genre of hip-hop arose (around 1980), but it got connected with it. Not necessarily though: unrelated to hip-hop culture criminal gangs also began to use graffiti to mark territory.

Unfortunately – because it makes it less “rebellious” in my opinion – the first US graffiti artists (probably) had - according to most sources - no social commentary or political aims. No “liberate the poor” was written, nor “unite against the oppressor” or something along those lines. No, a young guy wanted to act tough, show his ego, and boastfully marked his territory; mild vandalism you can call it. Some say he left texts and signs for a girl he fancied. Not too different from people who write texts or phone numbers on toilet walls, only outside, on the urban streets..

An association with groups of youth further developed since the 1980s, in New York and other urban centers, sometimes gangs, sometimes bored, sometimes somehow rebellious or wanting to express an own identity. Graffiti artists made their - most often dispossessed – voice known in the cold anonymity of the city. Those of who the voices “the powers that be” were not interested in, rendering it often inherently rebellious. Graffiti artists had own artistic “tags” build around letters, as specific markers… just like artist like Van Gogh or Velazquez had on the bottom of their paintings.

You can see it as bored, annoying youth involved in mild vandalism, wanting to “mark their territory”. Yet, I can’t help have sympathetic feelings toward such a combination of artistry and “a cry to be heard”. Apart from criminal gangs using graffiti as well, the rest of it lacks the cynicism of for instance football hooligans, criminals, or those who generally act easily violent physically against people. Or, for that matter, the cynicism of other age groups: bank presidents, capitalists exploiting people, corrupt politicians, authoritarian rulers or bosses.. A young quy wants to paint something artistic on a wall; somewhat “cute”: like the logic of a little child who starts drawing on white/light walls in the house when he can’t find paper. My mother told me that I as a child sometimes had done this – starting to draw on walls in the house.

Photo: Santa Cruz de Tenerife

// (¿REBELDE?

Recientemente leí más sobre grafiti, y todo el mundo puede aprender más sobre ello a través de Wikipedia. Dibujos ilegales (no-estatal/-gubernamental, popular) en los muros se remontan a tiempos antiguos, la época romana y otros períodos, por ejemplo, en Italia (de ahí el nombre italiano graffiti), pero como fenómeno reciente se desarrolló en el lugar donde el hip-hop ha desarrollado también: la ciudad de Nueva York. Los primeros ejemplos de grafiti urbano, como cultura juvenil, sin embargo, se encontraron en la ciudad de Filadelfia, desde finales de los año 60 (1960s). Esto fue antes de que el género de la música actual de hip-hop surgió (alrededor de 1980), pero se conectó con él. No necesariamente, sin embargo, no relacionado con la cultura hip-hop bandas criminales también comenzaron a utilizar el graffiti para marcar su territorio.

Por desgracia - ya que hace que sea menos "rebelde" en mi opinión - los primeros artistas de grafiti estadounidenses (probablemente) no han tenido - según la mayoría de las fuentes – ninguna intención de comentario social ni fines políticos. No fue escrito "libera a los pobres", ni "unense contra el opresor" o algo por el estilo. No, un chico joven quiso hacerse el duro, mostrar su ego, y jactanciosamente marcó su territorio; vandalismo leve, se le puede considerar. Algunos dicen que él dejó textos y signos para una chica que le gustaba. No muy diferente de las personas que escriben textos o números de teléfono en paredes de los aseos, sólo fuera, en las calles de la ciudad..

Una asociación con grupos de jóvenes se dearrolló desde la década de los 1980s, en Nueva York y otros centros urbanos, a veces entre pandillas, a veces por aburridos, a veces de alguna manera rebelde, o con el deseo de expresar una identidad propia. Los grafiteros hicieron su voz – en su mayoría desposeída - conocida en el anonimato frío de la ciudad. Aquellos de quienes las voces no les interesaban a "los poderes fácticos", lo que lo hace a menudo inherentemente rebelde. Los grafiteros tenían “tags” o "etiquetas" propias construido alrededor de letras/palabras, como marcadores específicos... al igual que artistas como Van Gogh o Velázquez tenían abajo en sus pinturas.

Se puede considerar esto como algo de unos jovenes aburridos, pesados, involucrados en actos de vandalismo leve, con ganas de "marcar su territorio".. . Sin embargo, no puedo evitar tener sentimientos de simpatía hacia un tal combinación de arte y "un grito de querer ser oído”. Fuera de las bandas de delincuentes que utilizan el grafiti, el resto de esto parece carecer el cinismo de hooligans de fútbol, criminales, o los que suelen actuar fácilmente violento físicamente contra personas. O, aún, el cinismo de otros grupos de edad: presidentes de bancos, capitalistas que explotan la gente, políticos corruptos, gobernantes o jefes autoritarios.. Un joven que quiere pintar algo artístico en un muro; es algo "gracioso": como la lógica de un niño pequeño que empieza a dibujar en las paredes blancas / ligeras en una casa cuando no puede encontrar un papel. Mi madre me dijo que cuando era niño a veces yo había hecho esto - dibujar en las paredes en la casa.) //

Photo: Santa Cruz de Tenerife

TENERIFE

I soon noticed that the graffiti I saw in Tenerife was very artistic: not just three or four letters intertwined which I already was familiar with, no..it included also (colourful!) faces, figures, pyramid-like figures/symbols, objects like motors, a picture of (I think) the football player Lionel Messi, trees…alongside “intertwined letters”, “curved” words in certain colours. I am willing to consider some of it without a doubt as “art”. Informal art..

We are living in 2014 in an Internet age. On the Internet I can search for information about the Santa Cruz or Tenerife graffiti scene, maybe through hip-hop culture related websites. Tenerife is a tourism-intensive island and therefore relatively international. What I thought (and hoped): that the graffiti expresses an own Tenerife or Canarian cultural identity is still not totally untrue, but it has to be nuanced. Some famous graffiti-artists in Tenerife are said to come from parts of mainland Spain (Bilbao for instance, Galicia or elsewhere), one is originally from Andorra, while yet another from neighbouring island Gran Canaria.. Besides this there were local Tinerfeño graffiti artists as well, so the link with local identity is also there… the graffiti scene – in light of the said US and hip-hop historical connection - is however by definition “international”, as expressive of a modern, international hip-hop culture some feel comfortable to be associated with. Perhaps as escape from or welcome addition to a limited local/national cultural frame..

Photo: Santa Cruz de Tenerife

// (TENERIFE

Pronto me di cuenta de que los grafitis que vi en Tenerife eran muy artístico: no sólo tres o cuatro letras entrelazadas que ya conocía, no..incluyendo también caras, figuras, figuras piramidales / símbolos, objetos como motores, todos muy coloridos. Una foto de (creo) el jugador de fútbol Lionel Messi, árboles, además de las "letras entrelazadas" como etiquetas, y palabras "curvas" en ciertos colores. Estoy dispuesto a considerar algunos de estos grafitis, sin duda, "arte". Arte informal..

Estamos viviendo en el año 2014 en la era de Internet. En Internet puedo buscar información sobre la escena del grafiti de Santa Cruz de Tenerife, tal vez a través de la cultura relacionada: en los sitios web sobre la cultura hip-hop. Tenerife es una isla “turismo-intensivo” y por lo tanto relativamente internacional. Lo que yo pensaba (y esperé) : que el grafiti expresa una identidad cultural propia de Tenerife o de Canarias, mientras no es totalmente falso, pero tiene que ser matizado. Algunos famosos grafiteros en Tenerife provienen de partes de la España peninsular (por ejemplo Bilbao, Galicia o otros lugares), uno es originario de Andorra, mientras que otro de la isla vecina de Gran Canaria.. Además de esto hubieron tinerfeños grafiteros locales también , por lo que el vínculo con la identidad local también existe... La escena del grafiti - a la luz de dicha conexión histórica con EE.UU. y el hip-hop es, sin embargo, por definición, "internacional", como expresión de una cultura hip-hop internacional moderna: algunos se sienten cómodos asociandosse con ella. Quizás como escape de o adición bienvenida a un marco cultural local/nacional limitado..) //

Photo: Santa Cruz de Tenerife (centro)

Photo: El Médano (south coast / costa del sur de Tenerife)

OTHER CITIES

I travelled quite a bit in my life, and I have visited several cities, generally staying more than one day in a city, and travelling/walking through large parts of them, including outside of the centre. I live, to start with, in Amsterdam. The somewhat larger cities – say with 100.000 or more inhabitants - where I stayed more than one day (and walked around in), and visited roughly in the period 2005-2013, include: Berlin, London, Bristol, Birmingham, Dublin, Marseille, Milan, Pisa, Lisbon, Barcelona, Madrid, Bilbao, Sevilla, Malaga, Cádiz, Valencia, Alicante, and Murcia. Outside of Europe: Havana, Santiago de Cuba, and Kingston, Jamaica.. In the Netherlands I know Amsterdam well (of course) as well as other cities as Rotterdam, Leiden, Haarlem, and Utrecht, which I visited regularly over the years.

I can safely say that with all this “city travel” experience I do not recall being in a more “graffiti-intensive” city in my life than Santa Cruz de Tenerife. I know this is quite a statement, and I have not really visited New York, which is important to point out.

Maybe I am mistaken and do not remember all I went through well, after several years. Yet, I always focussed on architecture and liked taking photos, so there must be some, if subjective “truth” to it..

To be sure, I reviewed the photos I took in most of these places, and my assumption was mostly right. Graffiti appeared mostly by accident and marginally on these photos I took. Most probably because it was less present, or in excluded suburban parts, but then you have to specifically look for it: in Santa Cruz I found a lot of it automatically.

One exception is the rural city Murcia in South East Spain, which I visited in 2009. Murcia was one of the few cities - before Santa Cruz - where I thought: “the graffiti scene must be quite active here”. Varied graffiti (images/symbols not just texts) as well. Other Spanish cities stayed behind this, though there were some spots in Sevilla or Málaga with quite some graffiti. Even less graffiti I saw in German or British cities: only rarely and small pieces. Maybe it was more hidden, cleaned more frequently, or the graffiti scene was simply relatively smaller.

Regarding the Caribbean cities I visited I can say that a hip-hop based graffiti culture as such is not really present there: on walls people write or draw things in Jamaica, especially in poorer, more neglected neighbourhoods – often social comments, or on music, or Rastafari references, which in some cases come close to graffiti, but overall without the developed forms, ”tags” and specificities of the New York-derived hip-hop graffiti culture. Perhaps ironically, since hip-hop is historically partly derived from Jamaican musical (dee-jay) traditions.

Despite the existence of a Cuban hip-hop scene in this time, Cuban cities neither have that type of graffiti tradition: partly for cultural reasons: other reasons are probably political or economical. Like in Jamaica, you of course can find in Cuba occasional writings by common people on some “hidden”walls. In Cuba you can find what some one called jokingly “state graffiti”: revolutionary statements along the lines of “Siempre con el Che” (Always with Che-Guevara) or “Revolución o muerte” (Revolution or Death), but this, while often written on blind walls, is not popular nor part of a subculture. It can better be seen as state propaganda or advertising, only not through cardboards or posters, but through wall writings. It also lacks the visual artistry of graffiti texts.

Photos underneath: (a/un "pre-dread" Michel) in/en Murcia (2009):

// (OTRAS CIUDADES

He viajado bastante en mi vida, y he visitado varias ciudades, por lo general permaneciendo más de un día en una ciudad, y viajando/ caminando a través de una gran parte de estos ciudades, incluyendo las afueras. Yo vivo, para empezar, en Amsterdam. Las ciudades un poco más grandes - por ejemplo con 100.000 o más habitantes - donde me quedé más de un día (y por cuales caminé bastante), y visité más o menos en el período 2005-2013, incluyen: Berlín, Londres, Bristol, Birmingham, Dublín, Marsella, Milán, Pisa, Lisboa, Barcelona, Madrid, Bilbao, Sevilla, Málaga, Cádiz, Valencia, Alicante, y Murcia. Fuera de Europa : La Habana, Santiago de Cuba, y Kingston, Jamaica .. En los Países Bajos Amsterdam conozco bien (por supuesto), así como otras ciudades como Rotterdam, Leiden, Haarlem y Utrecht, que visité con regularidad durante los últimos años.

Puedo decir con seguridad que con toda esta experiencia de "viaje de ciudad", no me recuerdo estar en una ciudad más “grafiti-intensiva”, o "intensiva de grafiti", en mi vida que Santa Cruz de Tenerife. Sé que esto es una declaración bastante fuerte, y yo realmente no he visitado Nueva York, que es importante señalar.

Tal vez me equivoco y no recuerdo todo lo que visité muy bien, después de varios años. Sin embargo, siempre me centré en la arquitectura y me gustaba tomar fotos, así que debe haber alguna verdad (aunque “subjetiva”) en esta constatación mia..

Para estar seguro, revisé las fotos que tomé en la mayoría de estos lugares, y mi suposición parecía por regla justa. Grafiti apareció en su mayoría por accidente o marginalmente en estas fotos que tomé. Lo más probable es que porque era menos presente, o en partes suburbanas excluidos, pero también hay que buscarlo específicamente: pero en Santa Cruz me encontré con un montón de grafiti automáticamente, sin buscarlo.

Una excepción es la ciudad rural de Murcia, en el sudeste de España, que visité en 2009. Murcia fue uno de los pocos ciudades - antes de Santa Cruz - en el que pensé: "la escena del grafiti debe ser muy activa por aquí". Grafitis también variadas (imágenes y símbolos, no sólo textos). Otras ciudades españolas se quedaron detrás de esto, aunque hubieron algunos sitios en Sevilla o Málaga con bastante grafiti. Aún menos grafiti vi en las ciudades alemanas o británicas: en contadas ocasiones y pequeñas piezas.Tal vez era más oculto, se limpian con más frecuencia, o la escena del grafiti era simplemente relativamente menor.

En cuanto a las ciudades del Caribe que visité, puedo decir que una cultura del grafiti como tal, basado en hip-hop, no está realmente presente allí: en los muros personas escriben o dibujen cosas en Jamaica, especialmente en los barrios más pobres y desatendidas - a menudo comentarios sociales, o sobre música o referencias a Rastafari, que en algunos casos se acerca a grafiti, pero en general sin los formularios desarrollados, "tags"/”etiquetas” y especificidades de la cultura hip-hop de grafiti como desarrollado en Nueva York. Tal vez irónicamente, ya que el hip-hop se deriva en parte de la historia (dee-jay) tradiciones jamaicanas musicales del reggae.

A pesar de la existencia de una escena del hip-hop cubano en este tiempo, las ciudades cubanas no tienen ese tipo de tradición de grafiti: en parte por razones culturales : otras razones son probablemente político o económico. Como en Jamaica, se encuentra a veces escrituras de gente común, en algunos muros “escondidos”. En Cuba, por supuesto, si se puede encontrar lo que alguien llamó jocosamente "el grafiti estatal": declaraciones revolucionarias como "Siempre Con El Che" o "Revolución o Muerte", pero esto, mientras a menudo escrito en muros ciegos, no es popular ni parte de una subcultura. Más vale que se puede considerar como propaganda estatal o un tipo de “publicidad” política, no a través de cartulinas o carteles, sino a través de escritos en muros. También carece el arte visual de los textos de grafiti. ) //

Photo: the city of Sevilla (barrio de Triana)

Photo: Birmingham (UK)

Photo: city of Leyden (Netherlands/Holanda)

AMSTERDAM

Due to this Santa Cruz experience, back in my home town Amsterdam, from Tenerife, I got an increased interest in graffiti. I noticed and searched more than before for graffiti going on my daily way through Amsterdam. I even had specific graffiti “journeys” on my bycicle, taking photos. Some kind of vague research on “vague” recurring aspects, of a vague “subculture”. Vague to me, but still, or maybe therefore, intriguing..

Of course, international graffiti comparisons can be made, despite the only vague knowledge I had of the Amsterdam graffiti scene. There is a large hip-hop scene in Amsterdam, which I encountered, but as primarily a reggae fan never stayed in it too long or intensively. I also knew of squatters active in tagging and graffiti art.

One thing I can say is that Amsterdam is much less graffiti-intensive than Santa Cruz, but I saw more graffiti than in e.g. British cities I visited. Maybe they cleaned it more in some cities than in others, but it seems to confirm the relatively anarchic image – which is overall partly exaggerated – Amsterdam has for British and others. Maybe I knew Amsterdam better. Spanish cities like Málaga or Madrid seemed to have a bit more graffiti than British or German cities. Perhaps also, again, because it is cleaned less often: certain parts of Spain, like Tenerife or Murcia are economically poorer than Germany or Britain: cleaning public walls costs public money..

Back to the graffiti I found in Amsterdam. I looked for it in more suburban parts of Amsterdam (West, East, South East), as well as in the city Centre and saw quite some graffiti. Then I compared in my mind with the graffiti I saw in Santa Cruz de Tenerife.

Photo: Amsterdam (west/oeste)

Photo: Amsterdam (centre/centro)

// (AMSTERDAM

Debido a esta experiencia de Santa Cruz, de vuelta en mi ciudad de residencia de Ámsterdam, desde Tenerife, ha aumentado mi interés por el grafiti. Me di cuenta y busqué más que antes de grafiti, durante mi camino diario por Amsterdam. Incluso tuve "viajes" específicas dedicados al grafiti con mi bicicleta, para tomar fotos. Algún tipo de investigación sobre los aspectos "vagos" recurrentes, de una "subcultura" vago. Vago para mí, pero aún así, o tal vez: por lo tanto, interesante.

Por supuesto, comparaciones de graffiti internacionales se pueden hacer, a pesar del conocimiento solo vago que tenía de la escena del grafiti de Amsterdam. Hay una gran escena del hip-hop en Amsterdam, que encontré, pero como principalmente un amador de reggae nunca me quedé en ella demasiado tiempo o intensivamente. También sabía de Ocupas ilegales activos en el etiquetado y el arte del grafiti.

Una cosa que puedo decir es que Amsterdam es mucho menos intensivo de grafiti que Santa Cruz, pero vi más grafiti que, por ejemplo, en las ciudades británicas que he visitado. Tal vez lo limpiaron más en algunas ciudades que en otras, pero parece confirmar la imagen relativamente anárquico - que es en realidad en parte exagerada - Amsterdam tiene para británicos y otros. Tal vez es porque yo conozco Ámsterdam mejor. Ciudades españolas como Málaga o Madrid parecían tener un poco más de grafiti que las ciudades británicas o alemanas donde estuve. Quizás también, de nuevo, porque se limpia con menos frecuencia : muchas partes de España, incluyendo Tenerife o Murcia, son económicamente más pobre que Alemania o Gran Bretaña: la limpieza de los muros públicos cuesta dinero público..

Volviendo a los grafitis que encontré en Amsterdam. Busqué en partes más suburbanas de Amsterdam (Oeste, Este, Sureste), así como en el Centro de la ciudad, y vi bastante grafiti. Luego comparé en mi mente con los grafitis que vi en Santa Cruz de Tenerife. ) //

Photo: Amsterdam (centre/centro)

Photo: Amsterdam (southeast/sureste: station Holendrecht)

COMPARISON

Amsterdam graffiti was predominantly on hidden, somewhat secluded walls, or on building lots. Never was it overwhelming or on too central places. In Santa Cruz it became in several streets or squares – even in parts of the monumental city centre - overwhelming, though to differing degrees. You had to see the graffiti: it was not marginal but central to the view. Safe some small street or an occasional isolated tunnel, this was rarely the case in Amsterdam, though there were specific graffiti spots or streets. Graffiti is, to summarize, more ”hidden” in Amsterdam than in Santa Cruz de Tenerife.

Regarding form, I noticed that Amsterdam graffiti was predominantly text-based, mostly words albeit artistically intertwined, sometimes with several colours, but often also in single colours. Political or social messages were scarce. Images or more colourful scenes were not absent, but much more rare than in Santa Cruz (or Murcia), where some graffiti pieces were complex, colourful paintings of entire scenes. In Amsterdam I found this incidentally too, but only in two or three cases. Exceptional, rather than the rule. In Santa Cruz, images and colours were more the norm, often even more than mere (artistic) texts.

Regarding “meaning”, the graffiti was for outsiders often vague in Amsterdam, probably because it consisted of “tags” by graffiti artists: words, nicknames, often abbreviations, sometimes painted/sprayed artistically, sometimes not so. Not always easily decipherable. In some cases texts seemed to have a meaning beyond personal names, referring to popular culture or other things. Some texts are enigmatic, like “karm mixer” (mixer of what?), or “rice”, which I read on walls and roll-down shutters in central Amsterdam. In Santa Cruz some street artists even wrote sayings or poems, but besides such vaguer name “tags”, the graffiti overall seemed visually more enhanced, colourful and varied than in Amsterdam.

It is hard to determine what this says about the cultural differences between in this case Amsterdam and Santa Cruz de Tenerife. A cold, Northern European culture, versus a southern, Canarian culture?: Tenerife being an Atlantic island close to Africa, with many migrations and connections to Spain (to which it belongs since the 1490s), Africa, as well as since colonial times the Americas. Perhaps the difference between a Protestant-influenced - celebrating (seeming) sobriety – culture of Amsterdam, and a “decorative” Catholic Spanish culture plays a role in these differences.

There are economic differences: Netherlands fares now economically in general much better than Spain, while the Canary Islands - despite tourism incomes - are even among the poorer regions (along with e.g. Andalusia, Murcia, and Extremadura) in Spain, with also a high youth unemployment. You might think: more time for graffiti among some youth, but less money for paint..

Both Tenerife as Amsterdam are very much visited by tourists (millions yearly, to a degree “spilling over” to the city Santa Cruz), so heavy tourism is a commonality between these cities. Berber roots of a part of the population (of Moroccan descent) of Amsterdam, and also of Canarians (overall ethnically a mix of original Berber-speaking peoples and Spaniards) is another possible commonality. Berbers in the Canary islands were never Arabized or Islamized, so the cases of Arabic script I saw in some graffiti in Amsterdam West were absent in Santa Cruz. I did see pyramids recurring in Santa Cruz graffiti, but that is something else.

Besides this, the cultural difference is evident, but at the same time there is another commonality across all modern graffiti, in all the places I visited.. There mostly is a connection of the graffiti with youth part of - or influenced by - hip-hop culture. Not every graffiti artist is of course necessarily a hip-hop fan, but the worlds are largely intertwined. There are quite some hip-hop fans in Tenerife. There are also reggae fans I noticed at a party in a Santa Cruz club – called Banda Aparte -, where they played reggae songs by Chronixx and other current Jamaican artists. Like in the Netherlands there are however probably more hip-hop fans in Tenerife and Spain than reggae fans. Unjustly in my opinion, but it is probably due to the US influence, mainstream/commercial acceptance of some (not all) hip-hop, and probably the simplistic prejudice connecting marijuana with reggae fans. And, of course also because of the overall more rebellious (anti-system), socially critical lyrics within reggae.

Photo: Amsterdam (centre/centro)

Photo: Amsterdam (centre/centro)

Photo: Amsterdam (east/este)

// (COMPARACIÓN

Grafiti en Amsterdam fue predominantemente en muros ocultos, algo solitarias, o en sitios de construcción. Nunca era abrumador o en lugares muy centrales. En Santa Cruz se convirtió abrumador en varias calles o plazas - incluso en partes del centro de la ciudad monumental -, aunque abrumador en diferentes grados. Se tenía que ver el grafiti: no era marginal, sino central en la vista. Aparte de alguna pequeña calle o un túnel aislado ocasional, esto era raramente el caso en Amsterdam, aunque hubieran sitios o calles de grafiti específicos. El grafiti es, en resumen, más "escondido" en Amsterdam que en Santa Cruz de Tenerife.

En cuanto a la forma, me di cuenta de que grafitis en Amsterdam eran predominantemente basado en texto, en su mayoría palabras, aunque artísticamente entrelazadas, a veces con varios colores, pero a menudo también en un solo color. Mensajes políticas o sociales eran escasos. Imágenes o escenas más coloridos no estuvieron ausentes, pero mucho más raro que en Santa Cruz (o Murcia), donde algunas piezas de grafiti consistían de pinturas complejas, coloridas escenas enteras. En Amsterdam encontré esto por cierto también, pero sólo en dos o tres casos. Excepcional, más que la regla. En Santa Cruz, las imágenes y los colores eran más la norma, a menudo incluso más frequente que simples textos (artísticas).

Con respecto al "significado", los grafitis en Amsterdam solían, para los de afuera, ser muchas veces “vagos”, probablemente debido a que consistía de "tags" (etiquetas) de grafiteros: palabras, apodos, a menudo abreviaturas, a veces pintadas/rociados artísticamente, a veces no tanto. No siempre fácilmente descifrables. En algunos casos los textos parecían tener un significado más allá de los nombres de personas, en referencia a la cultura popular o de otras cosas. Algunos textos son enigmaticos, como “karm mixer” (¿mezclador de que?) o “rice” (¿arroz?), lo cual estaba escrito en muros y telónes metálico en un parte del centro de Amsterdam. En Santa Cruz algunos artistas de la calle incluso escribieron frases o poemas, pero además de similares nombres "etiquetas" vagos, los grafitis en general parecían visualmente más desarrollados, colorida y variada que en Amsterdam.

Es difícil determinar lo que dice esto acerca de las diferencias culturales entre Amsterdam y Santa Cruz de Tenerife. ¿Una cultura fría del norte de Europa, frente a una cultura del sur, canario? Tenerife siendo una isla del Atlántico cerca de África, con muchas migraciones y conexiones con España (a la que pertenece desde la década de los 1490s), África, así como desde la época colonial con las Américas. Tal vez la diferencia entre una cultura influída por el protestantismo - celebrando (aparente) sobriedad -, la cultura de Amsterdam, y una cultura católica española, digamos más "decorativo", juega un papel en estas diferencias.

Hay diferencias económicas : Holanda va ahora económicamente, en general, mucho mejor que España, mientras que las Islas Canarias - a pesar de los ingresos del turismo – se encuentra entre las regiones más pobres (por ejemplo, junto con Andalucía, Murcia y Extremadura), de España, con también un alto taso de desempleo entre los jóvenes. Se podría pensar: más tiempo para el grafiti entre algunos jóvenes, pero menos dinero para la pintura..

Tanto Tenerife como Amsterdam están mucho visitados por turistas (millones anuales, hasta cierto punto extendiendose a la ciudad de Santa Cruz), siendo una coincidencia entre estas ciudades. Raíces bereberes de una parte de la población (de origen marroquí) de Amsterdam, y también de los canarios (en general étnicamente una mezcla de pueblos de habla bereber originales y españoles) es otra posible coincidencia. Bereberes en las islas Canarias nunca fueron arabizados o islamizado, por lo que en Santa Cruz los casos de escritura árabe que vi en algunas pintadas en Ámsterdam Oeste eran ausentes.También vi pirámides recurrentes en la pintada/los grafitis en Santa Cruz, pero eso es otra cosa.

Además de esto, la diferencia cultural es evidente, pero al mismo tiempo, hay otra característica común etre todo el grafiti moderno, en todos los lugares que visité.. Hay sobre todo una relación del grafiti con un parte de los jóvenes, fanáticos de - o influenciada por - la cultura del hip-hop. No todos los artistas de grafiti son, por supuesto, necesariamente fanáticos del hip-hop, pero los mundos se entrelazan en gran medida. Hay bastantes fanáticos del hip-hop en Tenerife. También hay fanáticos de reggae allí, de que me di cuenta en una fiesta en un club - llamado Banda Aparte – de Santa Cruz, donde se escuchaba canciones de reggae por Chronixx y otros artistas jamaicanos actuales. Pero, al igual que en los Países Bajos hay probablemente más fanáticos del hip-hop en Tenerife y España que fanáticos del reggae. Injustamente en mi opinión, pero probablemente es debido a la influencia de EE.UU., la aceptación comercial de (un parte del) hip-hop, y probablemente el prejuicio simplista conectando marihuana con los fanáticos del reggae. Y, por supuesto, también porque las letras y textos dentro del reggae, suelen ser en general más socialmente críticas y rebeldes (contra el sistema). ) //

Photo: Amsterdam (centre/centro)

Photo: Amsterdam (west/oeste)

CONCLUSION

Anyhow, besides such commonalities (including basic ones, like the principle of (name) tagging, youths “marking territory”, and international hip-hop (sub)culture), visually and artistically there seem to be quite some differences between the graffiti in Santa Cruz de Tenerife and Amsterdam.

A broader - or deeper - conclusion on why specifically Santa Cruz de Tenerife would be relatively more graffiti-intensive than other places is quite difficult to make, without deeper insight into Santa Cruz's or Tenerife's graffiti scene's history. I already hinted at possible reasons for this, which might be cultural, but also social, economic, or demographic, but I have no certainty there. It would be interesting to know though..

// (CONCLUSIÓN

De todos modos, además de esos puntos en común (incluyendo algunos básicos, como el principio de etiquetado de nombres, jóvenes "marcando su territorio", y la (sub)cultura internacional de hip-hop), visualmente y artísticamente parecen haber bastantes diferencias entre los grafitis en Santa Cruz de Tenerife y los en Amsterdam.

Una más amplia - o más profunda - conclusión sobre porqué específicamente Santa Cruz de Tenerife es relativamente más intensivo de grafiti que otros lugares es muy difícil de hacer, sin conociencia más profunda de la historia de la escena del graffiti de Santa Cruz o de Tenerife. Yo ya he insinuado posibles razones para esto, que pueden ser culturales, pero también sociales, económicos o demográficos, pero no tengo ninguna certeza allí. Sería interesante saber, sin embargo.. ) //