My Ode to La Guarachera de Cuba y Del Mundo

babalu blogBy Jorge Ponce,  Babalú Blog

I must stop my daily chores today to pay homage to Queen of Salsa Celia Cruz on the 10th anniversary of her death.

During my acculturation period when I came to the Washington, DC area in the 1960’s, Celia played a big part in the search for my true identity. Yes, these were turbulent and confusing years in reshaping my true self. Questions like “should I give up my Cuban heritage?” or “should I fully integrate into the American culture?” populated my mind in those days. And while I, as a teenager, was struggling with these issues, my parents were hoping for the day when they could go back to their homeland, to a free Cuba. I was a young man trying to find a path to the future, while my parents were dreaming of a return to their previous golden years. And, yet, we had one thing that bound our destinies together – Cuba.

Around this time, my father, Claudio Ponce, became president of Casa Cuba of the Washington, DC area. As an accountant, he saw a great opportunity to maximize the finances of this institution by bringing Celia Cruz to DC. And true to his dream, he made it happen.

I cannot describe the emotions felt by Cubans and other Hispanics when Celia came out on stage. They gave her a lengthy standing ovation which stood for something more than just a simple acknowledgment of her talent. They felt reassured that having Celia in front of them made it a lot easier to go on living in a culture that was so different from their own. In those moments, they and Celia were one and the same.

For me, Celia became the embodiment of the Cubania that I had been struggling so hard to keep. The minute that I saw Celia interact and thank her fans with such tenderness and class, the minute that I heard her sing traditional hits like “Yerberito Moderno,” I knew right then that I would always retain my Cuban heritage with the honor and dignity that it deserved. It is true that subsequently I became a hybrid Cuban-American, but the Cuban side of my being remained just as dominant as my American side. And it is to Celia that I owe this huge debt of gratitude.

I met Celia and her husband Pedro Knight on several occasions, and I found them to be down-to-earth people. They embraced a highly contagious “la vida es un carnival” mindset that highlighted extending a helping hand to anyone who needed it. Similarly, they lived Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s dream of judging others by the content of their character and not by the color of their skin. One thing that I found amazing is that when it came to Celia, race was not a factor at all. To Cuban-Americans, Celia represented “lo major de lo nuestro” to the world. To them, Celia was their only hope for a better Cuba where tolerance and democracy would become the law of the land.

I leave you with one of my favorite boleros that I had the privilege to listen to Celia sing in person – “No Me Hables de Amor,” with the incomparable accompaniment of her partner in crime Johnny Pacheco.

This article was first published in Babalú Blog.

[Photo by University Musical Society]

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