Remembering and Interpreting “Choncholí”
Many of the accounts I drew upon for “The Legend of Choncholí” reflect the “collective memory” of Los Hoyos and the larger community of color in Santiago. Collective memory can be considered a conglomerate of individual memories, passed down over generations within a given group such as a family, community or nation. According to historian Ana Lucia Araujo, this “mode” of memory “does not preserve the past, it rather reconstructs the past” (ch. 1). Drawing on the work of Jan Assmann, Araujo describes “cultural memory” as “material and ritualized,” using rites, ceremonies and objects to give meaning to the past (ch. 1). Both of these modes of memory, collective and cultural, can define and strengthen group identity and influence individual perceptions of the past. When a group mobilizes its past to assert its identity before the larger society, this can be considered “public memory;” when public memory is recognized and legitimized by political authorities it becomes “official” (ch.1). In the case of “Choncholí,” all of these modes of memory are present.
Official memory in Cuba
Official memory in Cuba reflects a master narrative that legitimizes state power by portraying the 1959 revolution as the definitive realization of the nation’s frustrated 19th-century aspirations for sovereignty (Miller 147, 151; Perez 238; Quinn 379, 382). Prominent tropes include continuity, rebellion, struggle, and mobilization. Continuous rebellion is central to the concept of “One Hundred Years of Struggle:”[1] the framing of The Revolution as the necessary culminating phase of a protracted effort that began in 1868 when a nascent Cuban nation first rebelled against its colonizer (Castro; Perez 259-260; Quinn 385). Continuity also suggests “a myth of interchangeability between old and new revolutionaries” (Quinn 385). This myth equates reverence for certain historic martyrs with patriotism and passionate support for the Revolution. Heritage scholar Pablo Alonso González also describes a myth of “massive popular participation and lucha (struggle). Almost every social reality was conceived in military and sacrificial terms” (69). Due to the state’s heavy hand in monitoring all forms of expression and repressing opposition, public memory in Cuba is almost always compatible with official memory. In the case of “Choncholí”, the predominant narrative of rebellion is consistent with official memory and therefore allowed to thrive, at times with help from state institutions.
Collective Memory and Official Narratives
Different people in Santiago recall “Choncholí” differently, but most accounts associate the refrain with the Black war hero Guillermón Moncada and the mambíses (19th century rebel soldiers) and describe it as a call for Black Santiagueros to alzarse (rise up) against the Spanish, remembering the central role that they played in fighting for independence. In many cases, those with a sense of loyalty to or reverence for La Conga de Los Hoyos (“The Conga”) emphasize the connection to this group and its community. These narratives become public memory when they are disseminated, often elevating the prestige and strengthening the identity of The Conga and its community as sites of rebellion, patriotism and Black resistance; they become “official” when they are amplified or sanctioned by state institutions. Memories of Choncholí can be utilized to reinforce the official narrative/memory of Santiago as “Cradle of The Revolution,” whose motto is “rebellious yesterday, hospitable today, always heroic.”
Official memory in Cuba
Official memory in Cuba reflects a master narrative that legitimizes state power by portraying the 1959 revolution as the definitive realization of the nation’s frustrated 19th-century aspirations for sovereignty (Miller 147, 151; Perez 238; Quinn 379, 382). Prominent tropes include continuity, rebellion, struggle, and mobilization. Continuous rebellion is central to the concept of “One Hundred Years of Struggle:”[1] the framing of The Revolution as the necessary culminating phase of a protracted effort that began in 1868 when a nascent Cuban nation first rebelled against its colonizer (Castro; Perez 259-260; Quinn 385). Continuity also suggests “a myth of interchangeability between old and new revolutionaries” (Quinn 385). This myth equates reverence for certain historic martyrs with patriotism and passionate support for the Revolution. Heritage scholar Pablo Alonso González also describes a myth of “massive popular participation and lucha (struggle). Almost every social reality was conceived in military and sacrificial terms” (69). Due to the state’s heavy hand in monitoring all forms of expression and repressing opposition, public memory in Cuba is almost always compatible with official memory. In the case of “Choncholí”, the predominant narrative of rebellion is consistent with official memory and therefore allowed to thrive, at times with help from state institutions.
Collective Memory and Official Narratives
Different people in Santiago recall “Choncholí” differently, but most accounts associate the refrain with the Black war hero Guillermón Moncada and the mambíses (19th century rebel soldiers) and describe it as a call for Black Santiagueros to alzarse (rise up) against the Spanish, remembering the central role that they played in fighting for independence. In many cases, those with a sense of loyalty to or reverence for La Conga de Los Hoyos (“The Conga”) emphasize the connection to this group and its community. These narratives become public memory when they are disseminated, often elevating the prestige and strengthening the identity of The Conga and its community as sites of rebellion, patriotism and Black resistance; they become “official” when they are amplified or sanctioned by state institutions. Memories of Choncholí can be utilized to reinforce the official narrative/memory of Santiago as “Cradle of The Revolution,” whose motto is “rebellious yesterday, hospitable today, always heroic.”
Choncholí as Hoyero (native of Los Hoyos)
Lazaro Bandera, current director of The Conga, is extremely proud of the group’s history and reputation. Lazaro, like several other sources, describes “Choncholí” as a satirical protest song, intended to be understood by Cubans and not Spanish authorities. The coded nature of the song and the use of the regionalism choncholí, marked the song as Cuban and Oriental (Eastern Cuban or “from Oriente”) at a time when the nation was in an early stage of self-definition. Lazaro also describes Los Brujos as a predecessor to or early version of The Conga. In several similar accounts, many of which are in state-sanctioned publications, Moncada is described as a member or founder of The Conga (see Egrem, Hernández Fusté, Millet and Brea, Palma, Perez Sarduy, Velazquez, etc.). For example, an article on the state’s Tvsantiago website describes Moncada as an active member of The Conga who mocked the Spanish authorities by singing “Choncholí” in a carnival procession. By linking Moncada and Choncholí directly to the contemporary conga and omitting/forgetting Los Brujos (a far less famous group), these texts make the connection stronger and more immediate. The bust of Moncada in The Conga’s clubhouse, along with the above-mentioned accounts, incorporate Los Hoyos’ collective and public memory into the official realm.
Lost Verses: Fragments of Memory
While “Choncholí” is usually remembered as a brief refrain, I am aware of two occasions where witnesses recall verses; the popular memory of these verses seems to be in a process of fading with the passing of generations. In a 1989 interview, Sebastian “Chan” Herrera, who was born in 1920, joined La Conga de Los Hoyos in the 1930s and led the group for several years until his death in 1999, recalled other lyrics:
Verse (lead singer):
Mira con qué disimulo
Van Los Brujos de Limón
Con su batuta en la mano
Para armar revolución
Choncholí se va pa’l monte
Cójelo que se va
Verse (lead singer):
Look, how shrewd
The“Brujos de Limón”
With their baton in hand
To stir up a revolution
Chorus/Refrain
Lead: The Blackbird is headed for the hills
Chorus: Grab him, he’s getting away…etc. (Bettelheim 148)
When Judith Bettelheim writes “today a famous carnival song [“Choncholí”] refers to this [Los Brujos],” she implies that this verse was publicly performed in the 1980s, possibly in conga processions (147). Chan’s verse seems to be a tribute to Los Brujos, rather than an attempt to recreate verses from the 1860s. The overt uncoded reference to revolution is a way of emphatically remembering Los Brujos’ role, and by extension that of Moncada, Hoyeros (Los Hoyos natives) and Black Cubans as founders of the Cuban nation. Chan, who Millet et al. describe as an “archive of memory” has been fondly remembered in the group’s clubhouse and the state-run Carnival Museum (Millet et al. 185).
Lazaro Bandera, current director of The Conga, is extremely proud of the group’s history and reputation. Lazaro, like several other sources, describes “Choncholí” as a satirical protest song, intended to be understood by Cubans and not Spanish authorities. The coded nature of the song and the use of the regionalism choncholí, marked the song as Cuban and Oriental (Eastern Cuban or “from Oriente”) at a time when the nation was in an early stage of self-definition. Lazaro also describes Los Brujos as a predecessor to or early version of The Conga. In several similar accounts, many of which are in state-sanctioned publications, Moncada is described as a member or founder of The Conga (see Egrem, Hernández Fusté, Millet and Brea, Palma, Perez Sarduy, Velazquez, etc.). For example, an article on the state’s Tvsantiago website describes Moncada as an active member of The Conga who mocked the Spanish authorities by singing “Choncholí” in a carnival procession. By linking Moncada and Choncholí directly to the contemporary conga and omitting/forgetting Los Brujos (a far less famous group), these texts make the connection stronger and more immediate. The bust of Moncada in The Conga’s clubhouse, along with the above-mentioned accounts, incorporate Los Hoyos’ collective and public memory into the official realm.
Lost Verses: Fragments of Memory
While “Choncholí” is usually remembered as a brief refrain, I am aware of two occasions where witnesses recall verses; the popular memory of these verses seems to be in a process of fading with the passing of generations. In a 1989 interview, Sebastian “Chan” Herrera, who was born in 1920, joined La Conga de Los Hoyos in the 1930s and led the group for several years until his death in 1999, recalled other lyrics:
Verse (lead singer):
Mira con qué disimulo
Van Los Brujos de Limón
Con su batuta en la mano
Para armar revolución
Choncholí se va pa’l monte
Cójelo que se va
Verse (lead singer):
Look, how shrewd
The“Brujos de Limón”
With their baton in hand
To stir up a revolution
Chorus/Refrain
Lead: The Blackbird is headed for the hills
Chorus: Grab him, he’s getting away…etc. (Bettelheim 148)
When Judith Bettelheim writes “today a famous carnival song [“Choncholí”] refers to this [Los Brujos],” she implies that this verse was publicly performed in the 1980s, possibly in conga processions (147). Chan’s verse seems to be a tribute to Los Brujos, rather than an attempt to recreate verses from the 1860s. The overt uncoded reference to revolution is a way of emphatically remembering Los Brujos’ role, and by extension that of Moncada, Hoyeros (Los Hoyos natives) and Black Cubans as founders of the Cuban nation. Chan, who Millet et al. describe as an “archive of memory” has been fondly remembered in the group’s clubhouse and the state-run Carnival Museum (Millet et al. 185).
Berta Armiñan Linares, a retired singer and dancer born in 1943, is known for her vast knowledge of traditional Afro-Cuban and Haitian-Cuban music from Santiago and the surrounding region, which she learned from elders in her youth. During my singing lesson, she struggled to remember verses to “Choncholí,” which she referred to as an old, coded canto de puya (a song which mocks or challenges an adversary) from “the war” that can be adapted to either the tajona or conga rhythm. Her efforts to remember the following lyrics prompted her to note the importance of preserving traditional songs:
Verse (lead singer):
Juanito Totó y la tabla (?)
Oigan su conversacion
Que Aqui el que no cae resbala
Tiene que pedir perdon
Chorus/Refrain
Choncholí se va pa’l monte
Cójelo que se va
Verse
Juanito toto and Latabla (?)
Listen to their conversation
Around here if you don’t fall, you’ll slip
You must ask forgiveness
Chorus/Refrain
Choncholí se va…etc.
This verse is challenging to interpret. One possibility is that “Around here if you don’t fall, you’ll slip” refers to the weakening of the Spanish empire during Cuba’s Ten Years War; the Spanish didn’t “fall” (lose their colony), but they did “slip” (lose some of their control of the island).
Cultural Memory: Inviting Choncholí to the Bembé
Several musicians born in the 1970s and 1980s said that “Choncholí” was rarely if ever performed in contemporary carnival, leading me to perceive this refrain as remembered more than actually performed. Andrés Cobás, who initially associated “Choncholí” with Moncada and the mambises, also described a contemporary practice which forced me to completely reconsider:
Verse (lead singer):
Juanito Totó y la tabla (?)
Oigan su conversacion
Que Aqui el que no cae resbala
Tiene que pedir perdon
Chorus/Refrain
Choncholí se va pa’l monte
Cójelo que se va
Verse
Juanito toto and Latabla (?)
Listen to their conversation
Around here if you don’t fall, you’ll slip
You must ask forgiveness
Chorus/Refrain
Choncholí se va…etc.
This verse is challenging to interpret. One possibility is that “Around here if you don’t fall, you’ll slip” refers to the weakening of the Spanish empire during Cuba’s Ten Years War; the Spanish didn’t “fall” (lose their colony), but they did “slip” (lose some of their control of the island).
Cultural Memory: Inviting Choncholí to the Bembé
Several musicians born in the 1970s and 1980s said that “Choncholí” was rarely if ever performed in contemporary carnival, leading me to perceive this refrain as remembered more than actually performed. Andrés Cobás, who initially associated “Choncholí” with Moncada and the mambises, also described a contemporary practice which forced me to completely reconsider:
Nowadays, in folkloric songs--Bembé de Sao, Bembé del Monte [Afro-Cuban religions which developed in rural Oriente] congo songs, “Choncholí se va pal monte” is sung as a way of attracting a congo [native of the Congo river basin region], a spirit…we seek to attract a spirit which in this case presents as a congo, a guerrillero (guerilla soldier). In this case, the spirituality is the same as Choncholí [the character]…we call upon Choncholí to participate in our religious celebration. With this song, we invite him to come back from the bush (El Monte); we’re trying to attract him, to gratify him.
Here, Choncholí is reactivated as a multifaceted entity incorporating various icons from the past. When “Choncholí” is actively sung by and for a religious community, it/he (the song and the character) is deployed to fulfill present spiritual needs. In this case, the song’s power lies in its actual performance; it is not merely recalling the past but asking it to be present at the celebration. In most other cases (Lazaro, press accounts, etc.) the song’s significance derives from its recollection more than its actual performance.
Choncholí as Cimarrón
In a short clip he sent me, Andrés uses “Choncholí,” and “cimarrón” interchangeably at some points. In addition, he explained to me that the guerrillero spirit (Choncholí) refers to all those who rose up: rebel soldiers, Maroons, congos, free Blacks, etc. This fusion incorporates the Maroon and other icons of Black resistamce into the national origin story. This is consistent with official memory tropes of Cuba as “maroon nation, vowing eternal flight from the global snares of neoliberal imperialism” whose “revolution started with slave uprisings” (Routon 635, Luis 6). Collective and official memory of slavery are materialized in Monumento al Cimarrón, which is "not only productive of an image of the slave's magic as a viable force of resistance and liberation but. . . also metaphorically extends that power to the revolutionary nation-state" (Routon 635). In this monument, the Maroon’s hand is a bird (Choncholí?) taking flight. Significantly, this shrine is not far from where the raids that inspired Moncada and Los Brujos took place, in a certain sense giving birth to Choncholí. It is also close to Basílica Santuario Nacional de Nuestra Señora de la Caridad del Cobre, a shrine to the patron saint of Cuba.
Choncholí as Cimarrón
In a short clip he sent me, Andrés uses “Choncholí,” and “cimarrón” interchangeably at some points. In addition, he explained to me that the guerrillero spirit (Choncholí) refers to all those who rose up: rebel soldiers, Maroons, congos, free Blacks, etc. This fusion incorporates the Maroon and other icons of Black resistamce into the national origin story. This is consistent with official memory tropes of Cuba as “maroon nation, vowing eternal flight from the global snares of neoliberal imperialism” whose “revolution started with slave uprisings” (Routon 635, Luis 6). Collective and official memory of slavery are materialized in Monumento al Cimarrón, which is "not only productive of an image of the slave's magic as a viable force of resistance and liberation but. . . also metaphorically extends that power to the revolutionary nation-state" (Routon 635). In this monument, the Maroon’s hand is a bird (Choncholí?) taking flight. Significantly, this shrine is not far from where the raids that inspired Moncada and Los Brujos took place, in a certain sense giving birth to Choncholí. It is also close to Basílica Santuario Nacional de Nuestra Señora de la Caridad del Cobre, a shrine to the patron saint of Cuba.
Conclusion
“Choncholí” is multifaceted, incorporating various icons of Black resistance in Cuba such as the congo/Maroon, Moncada, the mambí, and guerillero. The song’s origin story mobilizes Moncada and the mambíses to defend Los Hoyos’ place identity as site of memory, an epicenter of Black Cuban culture and rebellion, and perhaps even an alternate birthplace for the Cuban nation. Bembé performances deploy the guerrillero/Maroon/congo to meet contemporary needs and tie “Choncholí” to a spiritual community. All of these manifestations reflect a deeply rooted collective memory. While many facets of this memory are compatible with official narratives, “Choncholí” transcends the politics of the Cuban Revolution: it is an enduring and transformative hymn of freedom.
“Choncholí” is multifaceted, incorporating various icons of Black resistance in Cuba such as the congo/Maroon, Moncada, the mambí, and guerillero. The song’s origin story mobilizes Moncada and the mambíses to defend Los Hoyos’ place identity as site of memory, an epicenter of Black Cuban culture and rebellion, and perhaps even an alternate birthplace for the Cuban nation. Bembé performances deploy the guerrillero/Maroon/congo to meet contemporary needs and tie “Choncholí” to a spiritual community. All of these manifestations reflect a deeply rooted collective memory. While many facets of this memory are compatible with official narratives, “Choncholí” transcends the politics of the Cuban Revolution: it is an enduring and transformative hymn of freedom.
Notes:
[1] This phrase was coined by Fidel Castro in a speech commemorating the 100th anniversary of the start of the Ten Years’ War, Cuba’s first major attempt at independence.
[1] This phrase was coined by Fidel Castro in a speech commemorating the 100th anniversary of the start of the Ten Years’ War, Cuba’s first major attempt at independence.