There is a markedly different feeling here in Peru that I seldom feel in Canada: pride in one’s country. I often hear: “¡Que viva el Perú! ¡Que viva!” or “¡Arriba Perú!” which loosely translates to “Long Live Peru!” or “Go Peru!” depending on the context. You’ll hear it every time you sing the national anthem, at every sports game, and often in the news to create solidarity.

Sometimes, we also find the same pride for all of Latin America. That’s what shone through in Calle 13’s new single, Latinoamérica, which currently holds the Latin Grammy nomination for Song of the Year. With an introduction in Quechua from a radio station in Cuzco, Peru, these Puerto Rican brothers celebrate what it means to be Latin American, featuring female singers from Peru, Colombia, and Brazil. What’s so beautiful about this work of art is how it presents the true range of faces, experiences, and images you’ll find in Latin America. Peruvians are particularly proud of this short film because many of the shots are from their country, the graffiti artists are Peruvian, and a famous Afro-Peruvian singer, Susana Baca, sings part of the chorus. Calle 13’s Latinoamérica is our Latin America:

Here’s a translation of some of the poetic lyrics of Calle 13’s Latinoamérica:

  • Soy el desarrollo en carne viva, un discurso político sin saliva.
    [I’m development in the flesh, a political speech without saliva.]
  • Soy la sangre dentro de tus venas. Soy un pedazo de tierra que vale la pena.
    [I’m the blood in your veins. I’m a piece of land that’s worth it.]
  • Soy lo que sostiene mi bandera. La espina dorsal del planeta es mi cordillera.
    [I’m what supports my flag. The dorsal spine of the planet is my mountain range.]
  • Soy lo que me enseño mi padre: “Él que no quiere a su patria no quiere a su madre.”
    [I’m what my father taught me: “He who doesn’t love his country doesn’t love his mother.”]
  • Tengo los lagos. Tengo los ríos. Tengo mis dientes para cuando me sonrío.
    [I have lakes. I have rivers. I have my teeth for when I smile.]
  • Tengo mis pulmones respirando azul clarito.
    [I have my lungs breathing clear air.]
  • Soy las muelas de mi boca mascando coca.
    [I’m the molars of my mouth chewing coca.]
  • El viento que peina mi cabello. Soy todos los santos que cuelgan de mi cuello.
    [The wind that combs my hair. I’m all of the saints that hang from my neck.]
  • Trabajo en bruto pero con orgullo. Aquí se comparte. Lo mío es tuyo.
    [I work brutally but with pride. Here we share everything. What’s mine is yours.]
  • Este pueblo no se ahoga con barullo y si se derrumba yo lo reconstruyo.
    [This town doesn’t drown in disorder and if it collapses, I’ll reconstruct it.]
  • Tampoco pestañeo cuando te miro para que te acuerdes de mi apellido.
    [I don’t even blink when I look at you just so you’ll remember my name.]
  • La operación cóndor invadiendo mi nido. ¡Perdono pero nunca olvido!
    [The Operation Condor invading my nest. I forgive, but I never forget!]

The ladies sing in the chorus, “You can’t buy the wind…the sun…the rain…the heat…the clouds…the colors…my happiness…my pain,” speaking to the fact that what is truly valuable isn’t bought with money. And through their lyrics, Calle 13 seeks to demonstrate that what we can be proud of has nothing to do with politics or the economy. It’s about the land and about who we are as humans.

What makes you most proud of your country?

In the Heights

I don’t think any other New York experience will top my first time seeing a broadway musical. My friend and I had second row discount tickets that evolved into front row seats when the lady in front of us asked to switch spots because she had a neck problem – I didn’t mind at all, but she was so apologetic that she bought us free pop in souvenir mugs during intermission. What a deal!

Front row seats meant that we could take a peek in the orchestra pit underneath the sewer-like grates at the front of the stage. They meant that we could make eye contact with the actors, notice them wink at one another, and see their hard work expressed in the sweat on their faces. They meant that we could feel their energy and the movement of air when they danced past us. It was intense!

And there was no better musical for me to have chosen at this point in time than “In the Heights.” I had briefly read about it on the internet – I liked that it was about a Latin American (more specifically, Dominican) community in northern Manhattan and that its music style would be a mixture of rap, hip hop, salsa, merengue, and soul, mixing Spanish and English in its lyrics and dialogue.

I already knew that I would like the performance, but I didn’t expect that I would also be able to connect so deeply with the themes and messages.

1. There was the barrio sweetheart who had the opportunity to go Stanford but came back ashamed about losing the scholarship and disappointing her parents who had sacrificed so much for her to go there. They supported and loved her still.

2. The electricity was out and the heat was scorching, but the neighbours were resourceful. Instead of sitting around and complaining, they took advantage of the moment to have a carnaval – they used maracas and wood blocks for music, set the fire hydrants off like sprinklers to cool them down, and danced salsa in its mist.

3. “When there’s an issue or a problem,” the mother reminds both her daughter and husband, “you go back home.” The initial reaction may be to escape or walk out; the grass always seems greener, but when the family core is strong, we are all individually strong. The narrator, in the end, also decides to forego the lottery money he won and the allure of moving back to the Dominican Republic to stay with his community in the Heights.

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