was the day a great walk, one of firsts for me. This should be early May, 2004.
Within three days, authorities have decreed that a million people would walk down the Malecon. Así of sencillo.
I've got a front row seat as the casa particular where I live at this time overlooking a street used as parqueo. In front of my window all night, I hear the bus coming to the pitch, filled, are parked one behind the other, and invade the neighborhood.
is even a little scary to see those who clog the streets one after another, unbroken lines of buses of all kinds, ceaseless noise. Overnight.
On the Malecon, from 7am, nonsensical posters filled with swastikas, a few years kids screaming into microphones that imperialism does not happen, and a crowd rushing to march, obedience to conviction A small flag paper by hand.
Printing disheartening to have to face yourself with people who have given food for thought, which submitted their ability to judge, question, responsibility to others later.
This short morning (walking itself ends at about eleven o'clock in the morning, and presto, everyone at home to enjoy the holiday improvised) depresses me: And seeing the mobilization mechanisms, and what they imply abdication, docility leaves a bitter taste, which has little to do with the image of an impressive crowd-river view of helicopter who comes and goes on television all day.
In late afternoon, friends call me. They invite me to join them at a peña, a concert in "El hueco" (the hole), a small open-air amphitheater at the corner of G to 19 (or 21, I doubt). "It's a trovador, a type owl, you'll see .
On the way, I remember the flamboyant covered with flowers, I collect a few, delicate, bright orange, a makeover. On site, the place is amazing, charming, a sort of large hole below the streets, sheltered by giant ficus. All tiers concrete filled, and settles on the small stage a bearded man, round, smiling, in his fifties. Pedro Luis Ferrer.
(Image resumed Blog Pedro Luis Ferrer, slideshow.
As for me, I am at 4 th rank toward the middle, jajaja ...)
Then he sang a few songs again in chorus by the audience. Her voice is beautiful, powerful. Bystanders watching from the street. There is a joyous atmosphere, free. It's been a few weeks I'm here, and for the first time I feel a kind of spontaneity in public. " Ciento cubano por Ciento , and the public rejoiced.
At the end of the concert, my friends drag me with them, continue the party at Pedro Luís, they know. Late into the night on his porch, several trovadores improvise, there's always this lightness in the air, a chispa makes a good crazy.
Peña de Pedro Luis, to be monthly, was suspended after the second number only. He then gave a few concerts at La Casona, in peña organized by actor Renecito de la Cruz on Sunday night - before it fell victim to its success and more or less closed.
In the years that followed, I often reviewed Pedro Luís, I spent a beautiful afternoon asado in his house full of friends, singing, children, until he eventually leave at half move to Spain and return a few months here and there.
One of my last nights in Cuba, I had the chance to see him in the Great Hall of the Amadeo Roldan. It was packed, even if the concert had not been announced publicly. When he came, he took his guitar in hand, moved, looked at the public slowly, smiling: "It's nice , it's been long time since we had not seen "
Everyone applauded, and later, the whole world held its breath when he began to sing the song of Paco abuelo at the end of the concert: " Grandfather built this house, and while we all lived with the sacrifices it means to care for move the slightest thing, he must ask permission and if grandfather disagrees, nothing changes in the house ... "
(The video was a march organized in January 2006. Sound recordings of the concert of Amadeo Roldan, February 2007)
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