SPIRIT OF HAVANA
HAVANA
Callejón de Hamel is less
a street than a kaleidoscope
of colour. A famed centre of
Havana street art, its walls are
covered in bright murals the
size of tennis courts, and every
corner is filled with sculptures
made from engine parts, horse
shoes or bathtubs.
Music fills the air. It’s the
rhythmic chant of voices
singing to the tippity-thump
of a double-ended batá drum
and the rasping rattle of a
shekere – a polished gourd
strung with cowrie shells.
In a small courtyard off the
Callejón de Hamel, a young
woman in a headscarf is
twirling in a dress of red, black
and white. She stamps her feet
on the rough-paved ground, her
face alive with an infectious
grin. Soon she’s swept up in a
circle of fellow dancers. Theyall spin in their silken dresses,
raising their arms in the air.
This foot-thumping and
drum-beating is much more
than a simple performance.
Callejón de Hamel is a centre
for Havana’s Afro-Cuban
community, and this display is
a fervent prayer, a communion
with the orisha, the gods
brought to Cuba in the 16th
century by slaves from what
is now Nigeria.
Thairumy Rangel Chirino
emerges from the dance and
sinks into a plastic chair,
happily out of breath. ‘You see
here,’ she says, ‘in this dance
each person is not just a person.
They represent a god, an
element of nature. For example,
my blue colour represents the
water of the sea.’ She indicates
her sapphire skirt and towering
headdress – she is Yemayá, themother of all living things and
goddess of the ocean.
Thairumy’s grandmother
and mother passed down these
sacred songs and rhythms to
her when she was three years
old, as part of her Santería
religion – a unique Cuban meld
of the West African Yoruba
faith with Roman Catholicism.
The music draws curious
passers-by to peer through
the courtyard’s wrought-iron
gate. She beckons them inside.
‘I love to share this with
people,’ she says. ‘This dance
is my life. How can I explain it?
It makes me so angry when
people dance without heart,
without passion. When I dance,
I feel it singing in my blood.’
OCallejón de Hamel runs between
Espada and Aramburu streets in Old
Havana. It’s best to visit on Sunday
afternoons for music and dancing.