OBÁ ILÚ

By Serafín (Tato) Quiñones

When the drum began to beat itself,

all those who had been dead for years rose to their feet

and came to witness how the drum beat the drum.

Amos Tutuola

On the night of May 30, 1937, when the curtains of the curtain of the Campoamor Theater in Havana were pulled back with a squeak of pulleys, the audience was not about to enjoy the projection of a film or the staging of a theatrical piece. Those attending the legendary hall of Industria and San José -nowadays unfortunately in ruins- would have the opportunity to listen, in the very first hearing, to a singular concert of Yoruba music performed by a batá drum orchestra and a mixed choir integrated for that purpose. That night, for the first time in the history of Cuba, the ancestral sacred music of the Lukumí would be sung and played outside the ambit of the Ilé Ocha "without sacrileges or uneducated fears, for the glory of Cuban music and its respected universal contributions".

After the stage was closed, Mr. Fernando Ortiz, already recognized as one of the most solid and fruitful Cuban intellectuals of all times, stood in the middle of the stage and, with a clear voice and gestures that seemed unusual to many, addressed the audience:

- Esteemed audience! -he said: Aggo Ilé! Aggo ya! Aggo Olofi! Olórun mbáa! These phrases and ritual gestures are a simple invocation to the Yoruba gods so that, by reproducing their sacred chants here, the spirits will not be offended and stop treating us with pious benignity.

Then, "the third discoverer of Cuba" spoke with profound erudition about the roots and significance of the show that, sponsored by the Sociedad Hispanocubana de Cultura, the audience would have the opportunity to enjoy. Ortiz spoke about the Yorubas, their African origin, their forced arrival to the island during the slave trade, their remote culture, their rites, their music, their songs, their dances and their drums -genuinely named batá in Africa and Cuba - which he described in detail in all their sonorous and ritual complexity. Lastly, the Cuban scholar presented the odoríThe musicians of the orchestra that would perform the concert: firstly, in charge of the Iyá -the largest and most difficult drum to play- the legendary drummer Pedro Roche, master of masters, called Opkilakuawhich in the Yoruba language means "wonderful arm". Percussing the Itótele -second for its size- the also famous odorí Aguedo Morales. In charge of Okónkolo -the smallest drummer- the young Cuban musician Jesús Pérez, who was 22 years old at the time and was embarking on a brilliant artistic career that only death would stop almost 50 years later, when his fame as Batalero Mayor had acquired legendary dimensions.

Art: Chabeli Farro

I did not know Jesús Pérez personally. I knew, yes, of his reputation as an unsurpassed master of the drum, although we occasionally shared the counter of a tavern in the neighborhood of Cayo Hueso -his neighborhood- surrounded by ecobios and mutual friends. I remember him as a strong black man, jovial, a friend of jokes, witty, witty and it was said that he was a womanizer, a party animal and a heavy drinker, as befits a legitimate Oní Changó.

"His joy was permanent," his colleagues at Danza Nacional de Cuba would later tell me. "He was only upset when things did not go well at work; in that he was very demanding," they would tell me. "But later, when things were organized and the work was well done, he would go back to being the usual Jesus and to cheer us up he would tell us some of the thousands of stories of old black men he knew."

Thus, I was told, one of the last times he was at the headquarters of Danza Nacional, he told his companions the story of a black man, congo, freedman and muzzled, who was deceived by his wife with a caravel. When he found out about the betrayal, one morning the congo pretended to go to the conuco, but returned a short time later to surprise his wife with a caravel. in fraganti adultery. He entered the hut, leaving his lover just enough time to hide inside a barrel of flour that at the time was in a corner of the room. Machete in hand, he searched the dwelling inch by inch; he was already leaving, convinced that he had been the victim of a hoax, when the other, pressed by asphyxiation, emerged from the barrel, white as a ghost, to catch his breath. Impressed by that vision, which seemed to him to be from another world, the Congo jumped up and lifted the dungeon.

- Who are you?" he asked in horror.

- I am pritu santo," answered the other.

- Holy Ghost? And how come you're not flying?

- It is not flying because it is a holy pigeon and it is still smoking.

And it was Jesus who was the first to laugh, anticipating the unanimous laughter of his companions.

Founder of the Conjunto Folklorico Nacional, Danza Nacional de Cuba and Grupo Oru, Jesús Pérez appeared in numerous films and recorded albums in Cuba, Mexico and France. He traveled extensively in Latin America, Europe and Africa.

Rogelio Martínez Furé, founder of the Conjunto Folclórico Nacional, friend, neighbor, disciple and companion of Jesús for more than 25 years, assured me that much of what he knows -which is not little- of the Yoruba contributions to Cuban culture is thanks to Jesús Pérez, to the breadth and depth of his knowledge.

Art: Chabeli Farro

As for his mastery as a percussionist," Rogelio told me, "I can tell you an anecdote that attests to his virtuoso quality. In the 1970s, at the time of the First Black Art Festival in Lagos, the Folkloric Ensemble traveled to Nigeria. Jesus amazed the Nigerians. So much so that he had the privilege of playing the drum. batá before the Oni from the city of Ife, cradle of the Yorúbà culture. The old monarch listened with emotion and, at the end of the concert, gave Jesus a rooster as a 'right' to the drum and tributes of palm wine and kolá nuts to the drummer who played batá drumming, preserved in Cuba, which had been lost in Africa".

In addition to being the best known and most respected of the drum builders and drum players batá of Cuba, Jesús Pérez was a composer of sones, boleros, rumbas and guarachas, a remarkable tres player and an avid trumpet player. He was also an archive, a living library that treasured vast knowledge about the Yoruba contribution to our national personality. His disappearance was an irreparable loss for Cuban culture, although we are left with his disciples, to whom he taught -he was a master- the difficult art of the execution and construction of the drums. He also left us a book on the technique of playing drums. batáwhich I hope will be published sooner rather than later.

Jesús Pérez was born in Havana on April 4, 1915. In 1982 he was honored with the Distinction of National Culture. He died on April 5, 1985. Obá Ilú in Yorúbà language means King of the Drum.

*This text was taken from Afrodescendants (Aurelia Ediciones, 2019), an anthology of texts by Serafín (Tato) Quiñones.