{"id":12620,"date":"2022-12-12T00:00:17","date_gmt":"2022-12-12T05:00:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/?p=12620"},"modified":"2022-12-11T11:08:29","modified_gmt":"2022-12-11T16:08:29","slug":"marlen-fuentes-las-canelas-de-cuba-ml-explosion","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/en\/marlen-fuentes-las-canelas-de-cuba-ml-explosion\/","title":{"rendered":"Who stops you, Marlen?"},"content":{"rendered":"

I've been walking down the same block for a while when, finally, I recognize her house. I approach and call out her name, shyly, like someone who thinks she is mistaken. \"Ay, mi negra!\" she shouts from a blacked-out living room. \"I saved you the last little bit of coffee I have; until I come in, you know. Now we'll do it.\"<\/span>.<\/span><\/i> I'm content to see her, and a little water. We spend some time talking about life, hers and mine, catching up.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Marlen Fuentes, dancer, guarachera, math teacher, self-taught musician, who traveled from La Tropical to Romania and back, who during her time at Las Canelas in Cuba learned to play the bongo and then did not stop until she mastered other (various) percussion instruments, who now defends her own project -ML Explosion-, has had to overcome one by one the obstacles that life has put in her way. That is why he is here today. The last time we met was short and there was no time, but this time it will be different: we have all day for her to talk and I, meanwhile, enjoy her laughter, her ways, her phrases and her story that, I warn, also contains tears.<\/span><\/p>\n

***<\/span><\/p>\n

He remembers a rather happy childhood. Her relationship with music began at the old Escuela Experimental, located on Ermita and Lombillo, which, she tells me, grouped students with high IQs. \"Whenever there were cultural activities, Marlen was in the cultural activities. Anything that got away that had to do with culture, with dance, I was there.\" At home, her mother, perhaps to bring her closer to music or to imagine a dream she never fulfilled, invented a career as a singer. \"I owe all the repertoire I know to her\".<\/span><\/p>\n

She became a math teacher, in part, thanks to the support of her parents. Marlen loved teaching, preferring elementary school, she says, although she was qualified for high school. \"I went through almost every elementary school in Centro Habana.\"<\/span> He invented didactic games to help his students assimilate the subject more quickly and for this he received prizes for the <\/span>Best New Teacher<\/span><\/i> of the municipality.<\/span><\/p>\n

But teaching wasn't Marlen's only passion. For the 21-year-old teacher, dancing was another. Every night, she would go \"in her boat\" to Regla to watch the iconic Guaracheros de Regla rehearse.<\/span>,<\/span><\/i> in the stadium. It was not just admiration, it had a whole intention: to capture the steps of the choreographies in case he had the opportunity to \"sneak in\" at some point. One night it happened: of the 80 couples, one was incomplete. \"The female part was missing,\" he tells me,<\/span> \"and without anyone authorizing me, I <\/span>col\u00e9<\/span><\/i> and I started to dance. Nobody noticed that I was new because I was already doing the perfect steps; except, of course, the director, who asked me who I was and where I had come from. To which I humbly replied: <\/span>Oh, director, this is the dream of my life. Give me the opportunity<\/span><\/i>. And I stayed dancing in Los Guaracheros de Regla\".<\/span><\/p>\n

In the company, Marlen confirmed that she did indeed have an aptitude for dancing: it was her school, she learned from the best. She started in the \"patana\" and managed, despite her short stature, to position herself in the \"rainbow\". But, dissatisfied, he wanted more. He knew he could do more. Three years later, he settled in the cabarets of Havana's nightlife: the Palermo, the old Cabaret Nacional de Prado, and the Cabaret Nacional de Prado. <\/span>(today Tablao)<\/span>She danced in Las Vegas, Las Vegas, the Parisi\u00e9n, the latter under the direction of Andr\u00e9s Guti\u00e9rrez Gonz\u00e1lez and Rafael Hern\u00e1ndez Fauret. She says that at that time, when they had been dancing for a period of time, they were evaluated; that is how she became certified as a professional dancer.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"En

In Regla, year 92. Photo: Courtesy of the artist.<\/p><\/div>\n

Math teacher by day and dancer by night, that's how it was for several years until she had to decide which path to follow. \"I could no longer cope with the hours of sleep, the fatigue, the hours of rehearsal, the school...\". There comes a time when the <\/span>superwoman<\/span><\/i> I don't think it's enough, and that it's not necessary to reach everything and do everything. So, he retired from teaching and went to Tropicana.<\/span><\/p>\n

Things at Tropicana were not easy either. \"To begin with, I came in under age, <\/span>because it was already 27<\/span>. I had to tell my little lies to get in\".<\/span> Her height was still a problem and she was expelled several times from the company by Santiago Alfonso himself because of her 5'7\" height. She not only recognizes herself as insistent, but she is also aware of how talented she was (is) and Santiago saw that: \"He called me one day and told me: I will give you the opportunity because you are good at what you do, but to enter the Tropicana school, not the show\". And he adds:<\/span> \"It was a step! Something!\". Learning the ballet techniques for the choreographies was hard for her, because the physical conditions demanded it, and she had flat feet. But that couldn't stop Marlen either, she was in constant pain, but she kept pushing herself. \"Y<\/span> I enter Tropicana, the joy of my life! From Tropicana to there, there is nothing else, it is the flagship cabaret of Cuba\".<\/span> When the official show went on tour, an exhaustive selection was made at the school from which the dancers who would go on the trip would come from; she was selected and, she clarifies to me, not to dance in \"the trees\", but in the center; although not as a principal.<\/span><\/p>\n

She left Cabaret for a national television commercial to audition as a dancer in a project that would promote the Havana Club rum brand in Romania. She thought this would open doors to the world. She applied, even though one of the main requirements was to be over six feet tall. \"There were a lot of pretty women, a lot of tall women. I didn't even reach their shoulders.\" He had high hopes for the project.<\/span> To this day she does not know if it was a mistake, but among hundreds of women, her picture came back marked in red, telling her that yes, she was going to \"put the name of Cuba high\" in Romania. Six months later he returned to Havana \"in glory\".<\/span><\/p>\n

It was 1999 and Marlen, the dancer, did not know that she would leave the stage that year. Although dancing is still in her life in some way. It is difficult for this woman to stop moving when a rumba or a salsa is played, or in life, in general. Nobody stops her. Not even not knowing how to play an instrument stopped her when she found out that Las Canelas de Cuba existed and that the band was led by her cousins Zoe (paila), Giselda (bassist) and Jes\u00fas Fuentes (musical director). \"My uncle takes me to the rehearsal room of Las Canelas and there they tell me:<\/span> Let's see cousin, we want to help you, what do you know how to do?<\/span><\/i>\". He sat them down on a couch and sang them the <\/span>ZunZun, babae<\/span><\/i> of Celia Cruz that she had learned at Tropicana. There was applause, yes, but her cousins told her that what they needed were not singing dancers but musicians. \"You have to learn to play some instrument, even if it's minor percussion.\"<\/span><\/p>\n

Her first attempts as a g\u00fcirera were with a bottle of oil \"with stripes\" and a fork. She would sit in front of the television and follow the performers of the instrument to practice. Watching\u00a0 <\/span>Palms and Reeds<\/span><\/i> learned to play maracas. I notice that she was proud of being self-taught. But the guiro was already occupied in the group and she decided to play the bongo; then she became a student of Joaqu\u00edn Pozo. One day they called her from Germany to tell her that they had to do without the bongos player who played in the group: \"It was my chance to finally get into the group.<\/span> Las Canelas\". But another call would take away her happiness: \"They called me again and told me that they wanted to change the sound of the group, that they no longer needed the bongo. I was very depressed, I had already learned the bongo and I could not officially join the group. Then they told me: <\/span>we don't know what you're going to do, but we're going to buy a battery. <\/span><\/i>This was like a stick through the head for me.\"<\/span><\/p>\n

I stare at her in bewilderment. Her way of telling me the story ties me to her living room couch, still in blackout. Her life seems unbelievable, sometimes. No one stops her, I think again.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"Marlen

Marlen Fuentes rehearsing. Photo: Courtesy of the artist.<\/p><\/div>\n

\"Learning to play the drums was not easy. First of all, I didn't even know what to play with. My father, who was a carpenter, made me, without having the slightest idea of what a drumstick was, some kind of tiny ball bats. Also, he was watching what we saw on the television. Of course, the sonority of a drum set with drumheads cannot sound the same as the sound you give to a board. Then I filled the armchair with pans. And I was banging on those armchairs, because that wasn't music, it was banging.\"<\/span>. <\/span><\/i>Since he had no training or opportunity for it; he started knocking on doors, walking the streets with no direction. Wherever he heard a drum kit playing, he would \"humbly\" ask if they could teach him. \"Since at that time there were no cell phones, and I had no way to record them, I would go with the cells they showed me in my head and rehearse them at home.\"<\/span> At that time he was already living in the Kholy neighborhood, and the amphitheater was close by.<\/span> of Almendares Park, which was another source of knowledge for Marlen. \"I would go down every day to watch the drummer and ask him for exercises: the <\/span>hand to hand<\/span><\/i>I had my dad make me a practice pad (wooden base with truck rubber). I had my dad make me a practice pad (wooden base with truck rubber)\". He even got to use a sewing machine. <\/span>Singer<\/span><\/i> looking for it to sound <\/span>metal-table<\/span>The cymbal was the little wheel of the sewing machine, the bass drum was the pedal, which moves in only one direction. I gave it the sonority with my mouth, the one I wanted, but the movement was only one. It was crazy.<\/span><\/p>\n

When he returned from the tour, Las Canelas lent him the drums and, in order not to disturb his neighbors,<\/span> get<\/span> a wheelbarrow with which he used to go down to the Almendares River every morning to practice. She also received private lessons, but it was all by ear. Marlen never learned to read music. \"I lost contracts because I didn't know how to read music. I wish life had given me the opportunity to be in a music school. I think I would have been a little better as a musician. But I don't regret anything; I feel happy.\"<\/span><\/p>\n

It really strikes me: if you don't know how to read music, how do you get a song to come out? He explains: \"I had to write my own score, which only I understood. I would write down the sound I heard, for example, I would listen to <\/span>cupr\u00e1<\/span><\/i>and wrote <\/span>cupr\u00e1<\/span><\/i>what it is to play in the <\/span>tom <\/span><\/i>standing (base) and close with the two drumsticks on the snare bit\".<\/span>. <\/span><\/i>In the middle of the conversation he picks up a piece of paper and writes down a block of <\/span>Barracks<\/span><\/i> to 6\u00d78, so that I understand how Marlen Fuentes writes music:<\/span><\/p>\n

Cun pr\u00e1 c\u00facun - cunc\u00fan pr\u00e1 c\u00fac\u00fan - cunc\u00fan pr\u00e1 cuc\u00fa<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

(patap\u00e1) with pra cocon pr\u00e1<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Tocotoco conco pr\u00e1<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Cun pr\u00e1 c\u00facunpr\u00e1<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

With coton<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Co pas... (cymbal)<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Thus, she performed in international festivals, tours, even on a cruise ship. There, sailing, Marlen spent her last weeks of pregnancy. They returned to Cuba when her only son was about to be born and in the first week after the birth she was already, drumsticks in hand, in a <\/span>Musical\u00edsimo<\/span><\/i> at New Year's Eve. I can imagine the effort and sacrifices she had to make to reconcile motherhood and music. What excites me most about her life is precisely that: how, if caregiving has historically been a \"feminine\" affair, did Marlen manage to manage both?\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\"Marlen

Marlen Fuentes on drums. Photo: Courtesy of the artist.<\/p><\/div>\n

And this is where the tears start.<\/span><\/p>\n

Tomasa Mercedes Molinet Gonz\u00e1lez, his mother, played a fundamental role. \"I am who I am, because of her and for her, may she be glorified.<\/span> I suffered because I couldn't be with my son full time, but my mother was a nurse; she helped me express my milk and froze it. I knew how important it was for his development, so we did it that way.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Did you freeze the milk, in the year 2000,\" I interrupt her and she can't imagine what this means to me: \"bad mothers\" they sometimes call us for doing this. \"Yes, but I suffered a lot when after three hours my blouse would start to get wet in the<\/span> Zorra and the Raven, in the middle of the presentation, in the wee hours of the morning. I felt my son was hungry. I owe it all to her\", and she gestures for me to stop the recording, her voice choked. As luck would have it, the day of this interview coincided with the anniversary of his mother's death. I hugged her as tightly as I could, she wiped her tears, because she allows herself to suffer just enough, and we continued.<\/span><\/p>\n