Languages, Literatures and Cultures

The article draws on the Kongo term mpambu nzila of crossroads, that equally signifies altar, to discuss the paintings and drawings of Cuban-born artist José Bedia. He is a practitioner of Palo Briyumba, a syncretic Afro-Cuban religion that combines Kongo religious beliefs, Regla de Ocha, Spiritism, and Catholicism. The article examines six works by the artist from 1984 to 1999 and how Bedia represents Palo in his art. Additionally, the centrality of the nganga (a cauldron that paleros use to work for and protect them) is discussed historically, philosophically, and religiously as a physical and spiritual embodiment of the crossroads. Bedia’s work is also analyzed using the Sankofa bird as metaphor (of flying forward and looking back) and as an example of the West African notion of coolness. The article also examines Palo as a de-colonial way of knowing and ends with the crossroads through the example of Lucero Mundo (Elegguá).

cultura popular cubana. Allí, entre rumberos, santeros, náñigos, coros de clave y músicos, ella describe "una amorosa energía africana" que emanaba de sus calles, nutriendo su poesía que se ha publicado durante cincuenta años de producción literaria. En varios poemas Morejón alude directamente al mundo de los orishas, estando "Elegía a Nieves Fresneda" y "Los ojos de Eleggua" entre los más conocidos. Más provechoso es explorar los trazos de la fi losofía yoruba o konga en poemas que no tratan directamente del tema. Creo que es signifi cativo porque Morejón siempre ha rechazado, poéticamente hablando, un manejo "folclorista" de la cultura afrocubana, especialmente en sus expresiones religiosas (Regla de Ocha o Santería, la Regla de Palo y la religión Abakuá). Se trata, entonces, de una fi losofía o visión del cosmos sentida y vivida en la piel, en los humildes ritmos de la calle, no un elaborado sistema de aparatosos conceptos que supuestamente ayudan a "explicar" el texto. En "Los muertos", poema dedicado al crítico francés Jacques Gilard en su libro La Quinta de los Molinos (2000), no hay ningún "tema santero" en el sentido más obvio. Veamos cómo la poeta elabora el poema: Los muertos son la ausencia, el olvido, lo inerte. Una campana suena balanceando su soledad entre las rosas. Los muertos vienen de noche o vienen por la tarde En la gota de agua está la cara de los muertos. En el trozo de mar que mira el transeúnte se esconde el universo de los muertos. Los muertos cuelgan de las horas. Mitigan la sed de un poeta amigo. Los muertos son. Los muertos cantan. (Morejón, Quinta 13-14) Aun los no santeros en Cuba entienden la importancia que tienen los muertos (los egún) en la Regla de Ocha, pues en el orden ritual de las ceremonias se le rinde homenaje a los egún antes que a los orishas. Como dice Patricia González, The eggun-gun are the spirits of ancestors and some are the spiritual guides to a person at birth. After death, spirits remain around their relatives here on earth, for protection and guidance. Invoked in every religious ritual, they often participate in family decisions, giving their approval or disapproval in family affairs. (955)

The article is a theoretical testimonio of my experience as a translator of Luisa Capetillo (1879¿1922), pioneering feminist, anarchist, union organizer, activist, and espiritista. Translating Mi opinión sobre las libertades, derechos y deberes de la mujer provoked many questions about the nature of translation and gender: What happens when a male author translates a female author? Do you simply put the female author in the male role, and vice versa so that everyone involved ends up cross-dressing, so to speak? Does language become a father tongue instead? Is there a way that translation can be seen in a less adversarial, predatory or suspicious light that still respects gender, sexual, and racial difference? What are the political implications of translating Luisa Capetillo into English, since in her time and to this day Puerto Rico is a colonial possession of the U.S.? The article offers a tentative model of gender-sensitive translation based on Gemma Corradi-Fiumara¿s philosophy ...

Using the title of Ignacio Pireiro's'No Juegues con los santos" (Don't Mess with the Saints), this talk will examine the influence of Ocha, Palo, and Abaku3 in Cuba's music and their intimate relationship with Cuban daily life. Whether it is love, health, friendships, food, ethical dilemmas, hanging out in the streets, or expressing faith, these religions are deeply embedded in everyday activities. Using examples like "Yerbero moderno" (Nestor Mili), "Mambo Abacuh" (Arsenio Rodriguez), NiAo santo' (Omar Sosa), Soy todo" (Los Van Van), Canto para ElewA y ChangW (Orishas), "Ponle fe" (Eley6), "Misa cubana' (Jose Maria Vitier), and Loke Aye" (Sintesis), these everyday expressions are deeply linked to Cuban notions of justice and joy, along with the Yoruba concept of coolness. And equally, both the music and the religions embody a wisdom, a cultural memory, and a spirit of resistance. Dr. Alan West-Durhn is Associate Professor of Latin American Studies in the Department of Cultures. Societies, and Global Studies at Northeastem University in Boston. He is a poet, translator, critic, and essayist. His interests and research are in Caribbean literature, Afro-Cuban culture (art, music, religions, and literature) and Latin American film. He is the author of Cuba:A Cultural History (2017) and editor-in-chief of Cuba: People, Culture, History (2011). This event is free and open to the public. To confirm your attendance and for more information, please call (305) 348-1991 or write cri@fiu.edu.

Ch. 4 The Spider Queen Shinichiro was led into a vast, bright room facing a garden of green leaves. A mahogany table had been set upon a blue, floral-patterned carpet and was surrounded by five or six armchairs with blue cushions. The cushions on a reclining sofa by the wall were also blue as were the curtains. The blues reflected off the surrounding white-papered walls and gave the room a summery, refreshing feel. Shinichiro sat on a chair as instructed, with his back to the door, and looked around at the decor calmly. Mew oil paintings had been hung on three of the walls. To his left was a nude by Mizutani, an emergent western-style artist who had earned quite a reputation upon his exhibition the previous year. In this, the bare-naked body of a timid young girl was immersed up to the knees in a cold-looking spring. The hanging of a nude in her reception room indicated that the mistress of this house was not a slave to convention. Everything here, from the ashtray on the table to the clock and a flower-filled vase on the mantel, seemed to reflect the delicate and keen tastes of the mistress. The sound of the piano did not resume, but neither did the player appear. Nor did he hear anyone approach after the boy had brought his tea. Three minutes passed, five minutes, then ten. Shinichiro gradually grew anxious and then irritated. It was vexing-it had been imprudent to impulsively visit this lady, whom he had only barely glimpsed, without an introduction. Suddenly he noticed that he could see his own face in the mirror above the mantel. As he was staring blankly at his own face, he heard the swishing sound of silk as the door behind him opened silently. As he hurriedly tried to stand, the pale, beautiful face reflected in the mirror smiled coquettishly in greeting. "Sorry to keep you waiting, but I hadn't even changed after the funeral." Her voice was familiar and flirtatious, as though she were talking to an old friend, and didn't even consider him a man. The charm and beauty of that voice! Shinichiro was confused at first, having been granted such unexpected intimacy. "No, I shouldn't have come without notice…" he replied. His voice was oddly high and he blushed like a schoolboy. The lady, wearing a brocade kimono of ocean blue, fastened by a swallowtailpatterned obi in black and green, eased her long, slim body into a chair like a snake. "It was truly a gorgeous funeral. But it is unbearable that Jun should die such an unexpected death. So sudden, it is like a dream. " Without even exchanging the usual first-time greetings with her guest, the lady continued to speak without reserve. Beaten to the punch, Shinichiro sat speechless for a moment, unable to think or clearly answer. The lady was relaxed and cheerful as though she didn't notice his confusion. "Jun was only 24, and he was a Saturn. Was he like a Saturn, I wonder? Like me, he often read the horoscopes in the newspaper. Ha ha ha ha…" Entranced by her beauty as though caught in the silken threads of a beautiful spider, Shinichiro sat blankly for a while. 2. There was no sign, not a shadow, of mourning in the lady's bright expression. She merely appeared a bit sad that an acquaintance had died, as though he had been someone of shallow importance to her. Shinichiro was taken aback. Was it his misunderstanding that the youth, calling out the name Ruriko in his dying moment, had had a deep relationship with her? Was he in fact no more than a slight acquaintance for whom she felt only a mild sorrow, as her appearance and behavior indicated? With these doubts, Shinichiro grew ashamed of his rash, dramatic actions, suddenly visiting the lady under the influence of a few words, which might have been merely the delirious cries of a dying boy, and his own imagination. The words he had planned to say if he had a chance to meet the lady stuck in his throat and he could only sit in silent agitation. "I got the time completely mixed up today. When I realized this, it was already past 3:00. Startled, I raced over there in the car. It was quite awkward, arriving so late."