El Chino
Lisa Yun
El Chino
you dance alone in a maelstrom of well-heeled couples
the tango, danzón, salsa, merengue, mambo, cúmbia
chachacha, guaracha on a midsummer night at
the singer shouts and you raise your hands:
el mundo se va a acabar
el mundo se va a acabar
aprovéche y pónte a guarachar
dance, old man, dance
your chest shines with the sweat
of memory, running rivers down your brown skin
down your moving waist and swiveling hips
down the strength of your sex
still alive still alive you say it
you dance the unpolished dance of the soil
of making love on leaves
burning sugar fields
chino man, your song is long, descendant
of proud men from farm lands
brought in chains to
to break bones on cane
only to die
under the harsh gaze of a
your songs of rebellion and imprisonment
of suicide
cheating the Spaniard
who paid 500 pesos for a live chinaman
estimated life span-- eight years
boarded a boat and crossed the Pacific
with the savings of a village
to find your bones and bring them back
only to find nothing
unable to return, the son repeats the father's death,
distant and unremembered
You, shouting Spanish and Chinese
chanting the names-- Lee, Lau, Yee, Yang,
singing your son in a strange uptown place
of ballet, opera, symphony, and summer dancing
disturbing the peace with
your story, shouting your name
HOY REPRESENTO EL PASADO !
You are alive
the center of the world
sweating oceans of the
stomping your feet, jerking your hips
your face lifted to the sky
tangled gray hairs escape your straw hat
your faded shirt and raggy pants are
dignified
your mouth opened, lined and defiant
aprovéche y pónte a guarachar
a proud ritual
under bright
and a $10 ticket to dance in the plaza
Sing
of your ancestors long ago, packed on ships
coolie and slave, african, chinese, indian, brown skinned pobres
to
las
your language labored under another tongue
you cut cane under the overseer's eyes
loaded guano, bird dropping fertilizer
its poisonous fumes killed you within a year
while men waited for loads in the harbor
dining under umbrellas
held aloft by silent boys
Old man
clench your hands and praise Obatala and San-Fan-Con
let us remember the leaves and shells as they were
let us remember how you chanted
run, run from the overseer
run, run from the overseer
ay húyanle, húyanle, húyanle al mayoral
how you worked the land in faith and despair
how you swept the leaves aside
making love with Juanika in the sugar fields and in the sand
hearing the peasant music of criollos and drums of africans
how you carried the gold ring of your mother
and her last advice, carry your name
el cariño que te tengo
yo no lo puedo negar
dance, dance old man
at
sing your son, sing your sex, sing your family name
EL
still alive still alive
Sing it!
from Tribes Issue 10}
Notes
Italicized lyrics are from the Cuban sons (a type of song) and other music about dancing, love, peasant guajiro life, folktales, and the plantation legacy. Songs include: "El Mundo," by Johnny Almendra y Los Jovenes del Barrio from Evolucionando, 1996, (performed outdoors at Lincoln Center Plaza July 9, 1998); "Veinte Años" by Maria Teresa Vera, "De Camino a La Vereda" by Ibrahim Ferrer, "Chan Chan" by Francisco Repilado (Compay Segundo), of Buena Vista Social Club, 1997. References to midsummer