{"id":7544,"date":"2021-02-08T00:00:09","date_gmt":"2021-02-08T05:00:09","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/?p=7544"},"modified":"2021-02-10T09:47:59","modified_gmt":"2021-02-10T14:47:59","slug":"lucia-huergo-poeta-de-praderas-verdes","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/en\/lucia-huergo-poeta-de-praderas-verdes\/","title":{"rendered":"Luc\u00eda Huergo, poet of green meadows"},"content":{"rendered":"

One day they told him that when you scream, the pain is less. So he yelled. He screamed whole nights, as loud as he could. It was not enough. Luc\u00eda Huergo had died and for Niurka S\u00e1nchez, wife, producer, manager, friend, there was nothing in the world more terrible than that reality.<\/span><\/p>\n

A reality that had begun months ago, when Luc\u00eda's face turned red \u2014 like when she went to the beach \u2014 and a team of doctors diagnosed her with rosacea. When the spots spread over the thighs and back, then indicated giardiasis. When even with treatment, it did not improve. Lucia complained that she was short of breath when going up the stairs. How is it possible that a few simple stairs seemed like Kilimanjaro to someone whose lung capacity was amazing, the result of years devoted to the study of the saxophone and the flute? It had to be because of the cigarette, they thought. Lucia used to smoke a lot, although those times were behind her. After several tests and hospitals, the definitive diagnosis arrived: it was cancer.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

"If it is nodular, it has no chance, because the cells spread through the respiratory system," said the doctor. But Niurka decided to seek another opinion. \u201cWhat's wrong with this man? How is Lucia going to die, is he crazy? Confirmation of the diagnosis was inevitable and chemotherapy was started. Lucia only managed to put on the first serum.<\/span><\/p>\n

As night fell on the last day of April, Niurka felt that something was not right. He thought about calling an ambulance, but she stopped him. What for, if they had everything they needed. The room looked like an intensive care unit and barely 15 fifteen days had passed since his previous admission. He told her that he was already feeling better, that he just needed to sleep. A few hours later, the situation was untenable. So he called. He went down the stairs again and again, looked out the door, walked to the corner. Return. Called again. "Don't worry, don't despair, the ambulance is on its way," they said. Twenty minutes later, in his arms, Lucia collapsed. \u201c<\/span>Lucerito<\/span>Please don't do this to me," she begged.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

From a corner, Jerry \u2014the white shepherd, a gift from Liuba Mar\u00eda Hevia\u2014 watched the scene without stopping barking. They say that he did not do it all night and, when Niurka returned from the hospital, he lay down at the foot of the stairs and died.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe went with her. The two of them left me alone\u201d, recalls Niurka, for whom her home \u2013 for 23 years, the happiest place on the face of the earth \u2013 has become an empty, sad, silent place. His house has been a torment ever since.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"Luc\u00eda

Lucia and Niurka. Photo: Courtesy Niurka S\u00e1nchez.<\/p><\/div>\n

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

In the early hours of May 1, 2015, Luc\u00eda Huergo died at the age of 63. When you ask Google about her, the first thing you get back is precisely that: her death.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLuc\u00eda Huergo, essential figure of our music, died\u201d<\/span><\/a> (<\/span>Granma<\/span><\/i>)<\/span><\/p>\n

"<\/span>Luc\u00eda Huergo, one of the most versatile Cuban musicians, dies<\/span><\/a>\u201d (<\/span>The New Herald<\/span><\/i>)<\/span><\/p>\n

"<\/span>Luc\u00eda Huergo, light and virtue of Cuban music, dies in Havana<\/span><\/a>\u201d (<\/span>Cinema is cut<\/span><\/i>)<\/span><\/p>\n

Then, each article makes reference to the extraordinary musician that he was, to his talent and versatility. As an artist, Luc\u00eda was always in the clouds. Niurka was his ground wire, although he always tried to fulfill his dreams. Those that began as one and became projects of both.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

"Luc\u00eda's ideas were wonderful, it was impossible not to fall in love with them," says Niurka.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

For a long time, Luc\u00eda had put aside the instruments to concentrate on orchestrating, composing, directing and producing music. The latter had become his new <\/span>hobby<\/span><\/i>. From the piano he did everything. He played guitar, bass, drums, strings. It was kind of<\/span> nerd<\/span><\/i> of technology, at a time when it was not common for a woman to record, mix and remaster. But she was above all clich\u00e9. Austere and authentic in her artistic work, she was one of the first women entrepreneurs in the 90s.<\/span><\/p>\n

He was working in Mexico when he felt he needed a change. He decided to extend his stay in that country. He needed money to set up his own studio. A comment from Luc\u00eda was enough for Niurka to join the idea. "Upstairs, we're going to put him in," he replied without thinking twice. And it was then that, in the middle of the Special Period, they set up the recording studio, Lucero Records. They spent almost all the money they earned on advanced equipment. The first computer they bought was black and white. Then came the console, the cassettes, the amplifiers. Luc\u00eda bought the equipment, sent it; while Niurka received them and rode in Havana. Every year they were changing, renewing.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"Luc\u00eda

Lucia Huergo. Photo: Courtesy of the Office of Liuba Mar\u00eda Hevia.<\/p><\/div>\n

Sara Gonz\u00e1lez, one of her closest friends, once told her jokingly: \u201cKeep sending cables and don't send food because you're going to 'literally' eat a cable\u201d. However, with the<\/span> study in progress, the artists began to arrive one after another: Beatriz M\u00e1rquez, C\u00e9sar L\u00f3pez, Robertico Carcass\u00e9s, Mayra Caridad Vald\u00e9s, Ra\u00fal Verdecia, Sexto Sentido, Telmary, Liuba Mar\u00eda Hevia, Maraca and Sara herself, whom later the saxophonist she asked, ironic: \u201cdid you see the cable that I'm eating?\u201d.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

While the composer was in charge of the music, Niurka \u2014as producer\u2014 was in charge of planning the agenda, recording shifts, answering the phone, responding to interview requests, job applications. They formed a team. At home, for her part, Niurka took on all the chores. For her, everything was very clear: if what Luc\u00eda had in her head was music, then that was what she had to concentrate on. If he had an idea and was composing, he didn't want to interrupt it because "the errands came to the store" or to feed his pet. It gave her pleasure to dedicate herself to these tasks, so that Lucia would not stop her creative work.<\/span><\/p>\n

Before, that role was assumed by the instrumentalist's former partners and her mother, Delia Guiti\u00e1n, who created all the conditions for Luc\u00eda to only do what she knew how to do well.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

In that, Huergo's story is similar to that of other successful male musicians. Unfortunately, women have always had more obstacles to achieve their goals: the house, the children, the husband, the family, the parents... Society was designed for them to be choristers, never soloists. Luc\u00eda, from that point of view, we could say that it was a \u201cfailed\u201d product.<\/span><\/p>\n

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

Luc\u00eda and Niurka's \u201cboat\u201d was always full. If they had a birthday, they had a party; if anything was celebrated, they would have a party; if someone released a record, then the pretext was to get together to listen to it. There was always a bottle of wine waiting or one of whiskey or beers. On Sundays, the tradition was to buy ribs and make them on a BBQ brought from Canada. With the roast ready, all that remained was to pick up the phone and invite friends.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

They all agree that Niurka was an excellent hostess. And Luc\u00eda was the soul of the party and the promoter of \u201chey, \u00e9cha pa'ca\u201d.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

To his father, Gervasio Huergo \u2014a Spanish lyrical singer known as El Fray\u00f3n\u2014 he owed his musicality and the nickname of Lucerito. When they spent time together, he sang songs to her while she, barely six years old, played the melodies by ear on the piano. Absolute musical ear that was perfected over time.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"Luc\u00eda

Luc\u00eda Huergo with Carlos Gait\u00e1n. Photo: Courtesy Niurka S\u00e1nchez.<\/p><\/div>\n

The obsession with tuning was something he shared with Carlos Gait\u00e1n, his pianist and right-hand man. The only difference was that he was embarrassed to point out such errors to a musician and Lucia was not. She was extremely direct. She was like a little girl, she had no evil and her sincerity was overwhelming, without filters or political corrections. To bread, bread; and wine, wine. Without detours or half measures. She was indiscreet, and tactless. If she saw any defect in a person, from a squint to the loss of a molar, Luc\u00eda would point it out to her. And no matter how famous he was, if he missed a note, I'd tell him, \u201cYou didn't tune. You sang very badly." There were not a few upsets it caused.<\/span><\/p>\n

They say that once at Sara's house, the troubadour took the guitar to unload. Just playing the first chords, Luc\u00eda, in a high pitched tone, as if she were half deaf, warned: \u201cthat guitar is out of tune\u201d. Marta Campos tried to fix the situation, she grabbed the guitar, tuned it up a bit and passed it back to Sara. She began to play and Luc\u00eda: \u201cthat guitar is out of tune\u201d. So on the scene was repeated, until Niurka intervened and made him see that it was not the time to be in tune. Nobody, at that moment, cared about harmony, except her. For her the sound had to be perfect.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

His creed was one: musicians cannot stop studying, just like doctors. That's why every morning he got up and picked up the saxophone, then the flute, then sat down at the piano. This is how his day went. At the same time he liked to review orchestrations, arrangements. He really enjoyed American pop music, especially the one with showy productions. It kept the entire discography of C\u00e9line Dion. Classical, but always open to all kinds of rhythms and styles.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"Luc\u00eda

Lucia Huergo playing the sax. Photo: Courtesy Niurka S\u00e1nchez.<\/p><\/div>\n

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

At parties, Luc\u00eda had two drinks and began to shoot poetry. "From my book <\/span>the green meadows<\/span><\/i>\u2026", He said.<\/span> Then he made up words and repeated them one after another. His loquacity, rhyme and seriousness were such that the spectators stayed attentive until someone realized that everything was a joke and they laughed out loud.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Thus arose the myth of "the Casa de las Am\u00e9ricas award, <\/span>the green meadows<\/span><\/i>, by Lucia Huergo\u201d. Her improvisations of \u201ccontemporary poetry\u201d became so famous that during a concert in Mexico in the 90s, Amaury P\u00e9rez introduced her as \u201cthe poet Luc\u00eda Huergo<\/span>, <\/span><\/i>who also plays saxophone and flute\u201d. The joke came out \u2014as if it were true\u2014 in the Aguas Calientes press. Motivated by the success, Huergo "edited" a second notebook: <\/span>Oh James<\/span><\/i>, in honor of a member of the state security who traveled with them on tours: \u201cOh Jacobo! Where are you going, where do you come from? You are but a lectern of life.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

During the time of the "alumbrones" in Cuba, many families used kerosene oil lamps and candles to shed a little light in their night lives. If economics permitted, then they switched from bright light to flashlights or battery lamps. But neither of these options was ideal for Luc\u00eda, whose mother was an elderly woman who needed to move around the house with her hands free to maneuver. Solution? A miner's helmet. That brought the composer to Delia, who was walking around the house in the dark, happy, with her helmet on her head, the batteries on her waist and the light that was projected forward as if it were a locomotive.<\/span><\/p>\n