A renewed love affair with Cuban jazz

Oh right! I went to the Barbados Jazz festival this week, and I must tell you about it. The festival ran every day from January 11th, and ends tonight. I took in two shows: the dinner set at the Crane featuring Elio Villafranca, the Cuban jazz pianist; and yesterday's Jazz on the Hill with Martiniquan band Bwakoré, Tizer and Robin Thicke, yes the American dude, and no he's not a jazz performer but we'll get to that.

The dinner set was plenty swanky, with the proper amount of double-cheek kissing and wineglass brandishing before dinner. It was a mixed but generally older crowd of, say, my parents' generation. Everyone seemed happy to be there, and there was very little of the "I am so over this" eye-rolling that you find among the glitterati of my age group. That was a relief, but not enough of a relief for me to start hanging with my parents. I heard tell there was only one bartender during the cocktail hour, to the exasperation of some. Dinner was crowded and a little awkward to navigate, but tasty enough and well served by the staff, who seemed just as pleasant and mellow as the guests. There's something in that Crane air, I tell you.

At the start of the show, the host mentioned what was on everyone's minds: the earthquake in Haiti and the fact that the festival was engaged in its own effort to raise money for the country. There is a feeling of solidarity in Barbados and I'm sure across the rest of the Caribbean that is almost palpable in the wake of Tuesday's disaster. It's a sense that all we are is fortunate*, some of us more so than others, and that realizing this, there is no choice but to give, and what I hope is an extension of that, to stay committed to helping Haiti thrive in the long term.

When Villafranca took the stage with the rest of his quintet, he straight away set a very easy tone. We were all sat out under the stars on the Crane's stunning grounds, well liquored up and ready to hear some music, so his job getting us to loosen up could have been harder. Still, the unrehearsed, off-the-cuff introductions in his second-language English made us feel like we had wandered into his studio and were watching an oddly professional jam session, which was exactly as it should have been. His quintet included percussion, soprano sax and flute, congas and acoustic bass performing Cuban classics as well as original interpretations like Ogere's Cha from his debut album Encantaciones, and selections from his 2008 The Source in Between.

There is nothing ordinary about Elio's music. Even his take on the classics reflects the most refreshing amalgam of early Afro Cuban music like son and danzón, Latin and American jazz that you will ever hear. Throughout, there are shades of Hancock and Coltrane, and the clincher for me: an unmistakable Thelonious Monk flavour. He uses a light but steady hand as bandleader, and is always the star, even with the other instrumentalists' solos. Most of my Cuban jazz piano experience has included the dancey, more traditional sounds of Sacasas and Valdés, but if this is where new Cuban jazz is going, I'm definitely following.

A bit on Saturday's show in a subsequent post.

*There is a thankfully far less palpable sentiment of the Pat Robertson variety, which I'm quite happy to ignore.

Are we still saying that? Because we should stop

While I was doing my post-grad work in Economics (capitalizing that word feels like such a joke), and even well before then, the academics in the know never tired of mentioning that We, as a collective of thinkers and activists, had ceased to use the expression Third World. Instead, we talked about developing nations, or less/least developed countries, a move to which I wholly subscribed, because although I feel quite alone in this, I detest the phrase Third World.

But all of a sudden, everywhere I look, I see it springing up again. And I'm starting to wonder whether I only dreamt the popular rejection of the term years ago, or whether it's enjoying some kind of rebirth. It certainly hasn't been redefined: it's a handy little moniker that encapsulates any brand of nastiness or degradation you might imagine, and it's quite the punchline. Hate the state in which your office bathrooms are kept? Liken it to a Third World country. Annoyed that your hotel only offers three varieties of cream cheese at breakfast? Call it a Third World diet. It's an exaggeration, see? So it's funny! Lawl and stuff!

Implicit in these comparisons is the realization that the speakers not only have no idea about the reality of life in the so-called Third World, but further, don't give a crap. They're able to so flippantly refer to the poverty and lack of opportunity in some of these nations because they're comfortable - not with the actual state of things, of which they have only a vague knowledge, or none - but with the fabled state of things. Starvation, disease and war existing on such a scale for such a length of time need not be treated with any reverence or respect, one, because it is completely removed from their lives and doesn't affect them, and two, because some of the countries of the global South have, in the estimation of these speakers, become horror stories in themselves, and thus have transitioned into some kind of mythical status. Except, we're not talking about centaurs and unicorns here. We're talking about real, live, accessible people's lives, of which, if someone can hit Enter on a keyboard, they can approach some basic understanding.

Further, the term Third World obscures all parts of a country's culture apart from those which are to be pitied or improved. By no great coincidence, so does the mainstream media. Back in March, I highlighted the efforts of Chioma and Oluchi Ogwuegbu: two Nigerian sisters who had purposed to tell the story of the Africa behind all that media footage of distended bellies and power-hungry rebels. It's not that a discussion of the problems of developing nations is not needed. It is. But when you commit to systematically representing a country solely as victims, you show only one part of who its people are, and not the greatest part. Third World also implies homogeneity across all the countries that are meant to comprise this class, one which simply does not exist economically, socially or politically. It suggests that regardless of level of economic and social development, comparative advantages or system of governance, they are all to be singularly treated always as less than.

And the final issue I have with this term is perhaps the most obvious: it suggests a hierarchy that in people's minds is not neatly restricted to some ranking of progress in development indicators, and certainly not to the historical allegiance of nations during the Cold War, as its origins are claimed to be, but is attached to real people and by association, their ethnicities. It suggests that the US with its White majority is innately better than, say, India, and encourages not an examination of global inequality as a result of historical exploitation, but of the notion that these countries have less because they are objectively worth less. And that was its intent. When Frenchman Alfred Sauvy coined the term half a century ago, he was so inspired to do by the presence of the Third Estate in France, the commoners who, by virtue of their position, Sauvy thought destined to be in an eternal state of revolution against the higher classes of the First and Second Estates. "Like the third estate," he famously wrote, "the Third World has nothing, and wants to be something."

Leaders at the Bandung Conference that followed in 1955 embraced the designation as an indication of a new bloc, but that designation, tenuous even then, means nothing now. And anyone from a developing country who wants to reclaim the expression can, I suppose, go ahead and do so. I choose not to. I, as a Black woman from the Caribbean, am third in no one's pecking order. This is not sensitivity to a useful academic category or definition - although even those types of objections often have merit. This is the thorough rejection of a highly stigmatized, completely arbitrary categorization that serves no purpose other than to equate a certain geographical provenance and ethnic heritage with lack and degradation.

I do not accept it, and I would encourage allies of we who originate, live and work on human rights and development in the global South to also reject it.

I’m in “Good” Company: Hitler, Mussolini and Pinochet

The mongoose has her first guest post. Last week, Archbishop Jose Cardoso Sobrinho became famous in the news for the excommunication of the adults involved in providing an abortion to a nine-year-old child who had been raped by her stepfather. Today, Jodi, a writer from Jamaica and one of the directors of WHAN, shares her thoughts on the incident from a religious and philosophical perspective. Welcome, Jodi and take it away:
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“Practical Wisdom is the combination of moral will and moral skill.” – Aristotle

Tonight I read that a nine year old girl had an abortion and as a result a Brazilian archbishop of the Roman Catholic Church, Father Sobrinho, excommunicated her mother and the medical doctors who carried out the abortion. Apart from the fact that the girl is nine, the medical doctors decided to carry out the abortion because:

1. The child was going to die because she only weighs 80 pounds and can’t support two foetuses. The little girl was pregnant with twins. (Attention Father Sobrinho supporters: if the child was going to die, chances are the foetuses weren’t going to make it either.)
2. The child was raped by her step-father.
3. The child is nine years old.
4. Nine.
5. Years.
6. Old.

The fact that the child’s life was in danger is enough for a logical person to feel that the abortion was a sensible decision taken by the adults in her life in order to save her life. Without even knowing it, we automatically apply Aristotle’s definition of Practical Wisdom in order to come to these decisions. Moral skill allows us to know what is right and moral will allows us to do what is right, often in spite of what the rule book, society or our family says we should do. Rather than apply practical wisdom, however, the Catholic Church has chosen stupidity and hatred in the form of excommunication.

Excommunication in every practical sense of the word means nothing to a non-religious person such as myself. In the Roman Catholic Church, it is merely a formal announcement (not usually made public) that someone is no longer allowed to receive sacraments other than reconciliation. Reconciliation is the act of asking a priest for forgiveness and paying penance. Penance is usually the recital of a few well-rehearsed prayers such as the Hail Mary and the Our Father. If you’ve been really, really bad you can only be reconciled by the Pope himself. Otherwise, you can more than likely be reconciled by the local archbishop. Hallelujah!

Though excommunication may seem like a silly consequence to people like me, to someone who is religious and who relies on the Catholic Church as their community and a major source of support in times of difficulty, I can imagine that excommunication is a cause of great shame and may create a sense of hopelessness and confusion as well as loss of self esteem. For them, excommunication from the Church is the same as being sentenced to hell.

I know all of this because I am a Roman Catholic. I should say that though I am not a practicing Catholic, I have not yet been excommunicated. Apparently, I am in good company; other non-practicing, non-ex-communicated Roman Catholics were Adolf Hitler, Benito Mussolini and Augusto Pinochet who each managed to avoid being excommunicated from the Church while they were alive.

I can’t argue this from a biblical standpoint. I am not a Christian and I can’t even pretend to know the bible. In my own opinion, religion has been and continues to be a tool used by men for centuries to carry out atrocities upon groups of people they hate. Unfortunately, women have always fallen into that category. Some will argue that just as religion has been used to carry out atrocities, it has also been used to carry out good. Well, I am sorry, but I do not believe that the end justifies the means. I’m sure that Hitler, Mussolini and Pinochet did nice things for people they liked on the same day as they were ordering the murder and torture of others. I also believe that the people who do good in the name of religion would do good without the existence of religion. However, some people who carry out evil in the name of religion would think twice about doing so without the support of their religious leaders and followers.

This is not a rant against religion, and I apologise if it seems that way; it is a rant against this ugly act against this family and a plea for humanity to apply a little practical wisdom each day in spite of rules of law, religion or society.