Greetings, @lkd1, this post has great meaning for me. There is an important connection. My maternal family comes from Caucagua, a small town on the Venezuelan coast called Barlovento. Inhabited by descendants of many who were kidnapped and separated from their families, brought here from their different tribes to form a group of enslaved people. My mother - born in 1917 - told me that as a child she had met an older cousin of hers who had the mark of the shackles of slavery on his ankles. It is not necessary to go into painful details about what their life was like, what I do want to remember is the fact that after a whole year of forced labor, mistreatment and poor nutrition, the owners of the coffee and cocoa farms on the coasts gave slaves a day off: June 24. Day of Saint John the Baptist - the cousin of our Lord Jesus Christ who was the one who baptized him, - and anyone would think what they would say. "A day off... to sleep! Well no... that was a day of making music and playing and dancing drums. In Caucagua, my great-grandmother was the "flag bearer." She came out with the flag raised and all the The people followed her on Christmas Eve, the night of June 23, because at 12 o'clock at night, to begin June 24, she shouted: Saint John, Christian! And it was the signal for her to christen! The entire town came to bathe in the waters of the river that at that time were blessed. There the celebration began, the drum dance, the singing of fulías... a tradition that is still maintained today, despite the crisis, the Go spend San Juan Day in Curiepe or any other area of Barlovento.
(And the song says "Windward, Windward, burning land and drum)
And... I love music... but the drum goes beyond, as you say, just a song, a melody, a rhythm... it is something that makes your blood boil. Maybe here in Hiver there are blood relatives of mine, because sometimes the faces in the photos remind me of the features of my uncles, my granddaughter... and in this convoluted story that we have had to live... the wonderful African music It has given rise to a contact that is distant and a meeting that is virtual. I don't know what tribe my ancestors came from... all that was lost in time. Although caring for babies by singing rhythmically "katanga, katanga, tanga" I know that they are words from a lost dialect here but that there in Africa must still be in force. I loved reading you, and telling you a little about my roots, which are also yours
Wow such a an historical moment so much has happened during those days but God protect us and our family from morden slavery.
Ma which country are you from?
@lkd1, I am from Venezuela. I am 64 years old and the things I tell about Caucagua, in Barlovento, on the Venezuelan coast, were experienced by my mother (who was born in 1918). In that entire area, the predominant music is music of African origin and its influence is also very marked in other regions of our country, even though in other places it is a fusion of our three cultural roots: Africa, Spain and the aboriginal roots of the autochthonous indigenous people.
Yes very true ma but sorry to ask ma are you into music or any way manage artist ?
@sayury