On March 22 2020 a brigade of 52 doctors were sent to Italy from Cuba. The Cuban medical missions are something of a miracle when you think about it. And so are the sounds of Roberto Fonseca, Daymé Arocena, Orishas, and the Buena Vista diaspora. A Lo Cubano!
On March 22 2020 a brigade of 52 doctors were sent to Northern Italy from Cuba. I watched the news footage as the medics, in full protective clothing, descended the stairs from their charter plane - looking like they would be sent directly to the COVID-19 intensive care hospitals in Lombardy.
I had no idea about this ‘Cuban medical internationalism’. Since the 1959 Cuban Revolution, Cuba has been sending medical personnel overseas, particularly to Latin America and Africa. Cuban medics are based in over 60 countries, from deep in the Amazon jungle to the shanty towns in Africa and the victims of natural disasters such as the Haiti 2010 earthquake. And now, pandemic-ridden Europe. Remarkable. These Cuban medical missions are something of a miracle when you think about it - a quirk of a communist, otherwise isolated nation, that has seen many thousands of Cuban medics find a new life outside the country with better pay (even though the majority of it it claimed by the state and put back into Cuba’s local health system).
Unbelievable to think the USA government has recently heavily criticised the scheme as a threat to democracy in Venezuela and as a form of “modern slavery” (based on reports of poor work conditions, low salaries and coercion). I would imagine the pros & cons of the scheme amount to a long list, but surely the fact that it exists at all is something to celebrate - and to improve - rather than shout down altogether. But then politics isn’t my thing, music is.
These Cuban doctors (along with the most wonderful escapist television ever that currently happens to be about Cuba) had me revisiting some of my favourite Cuban music this week. Maybe the sunshine did it as well. The irony of an early summer sun beaming down on a London largely deserted, when usually the first rays of spring has Londoners breaking out in collective better mood along with various forms of semi-nudity, is not lost on us. Posting a playlist of joyful, rhythmic, celebratory music from a communist Caribbean island is pure madness. And that is perhaps why there is no better time to do it.
Think of it this way, drop the streaming dance and yoga classes for an hour or so, mix yourself a classic Daiquiri (Cubans never go anywhere without one) and stick on our Cuban Music Medicine collection.
I first came across the music of Cuba the same way millions of others did - via the Wim Wenders and Ry Cooder 1999 documentary The Buena Vista Social Club. What a project that was - to revive a culture and reveal it to the outside world like that so successfully, and provide a window of stardom no matter how short, for all those amazing musicians. The most recognisable artists in the ensemble: Compay Segundo, Rubén González, and Ibrahim Ferrer, all passed away very shortly afterwards; Segundo and González in 2003, then Ferrer in 2005. All feature in this list along with others from the diaspora such as Omara Portuondo and of course the Afro Cuban All Stars.
Since then, I have kept coming back to the music of Cuba only occasionally, but always extremely gratefully. I can’t quite pin down my first experience of hearing the music of Roberto Fonseca, which surprises me. I always make a point of remembering anything that connects in such a way, but never mind. The important thing to say is that after a long time not listening to his music I read a five star review of Roberto’s 2016 album ABUC by The Guardian’s John Fordham. He described the record as one of “incandescent Cuban contrasts” and he nailed it. I don’t think that record has left my Spotify album library since then for more than a few weeks before I add it back, terrified in case I forget it exists. It is a musical odyssey - pure genius - and a fabulous listen. If you are getting close to the point of needing a release from your isolation then look no further. I’ve been so stuck on that record I have barely dipped into Fonseca’s more recent outing Yesun. But that is just proof that us music lovers always - no matter what is going on in this crazy world - have something to look forward to. When Roberto came to London touring ABUC I was lucky enough to see him. For me, there are few modern musicians expressing themselves through nationality in such a way as he does. One of the great things about Cuban musicians is that they operate in a highly connected way, supporting and nurturing each other. In 2010 and 2016 Fonseca was the musical director and support act for Omara Portuondo's USA tour. God when this is over we will all be desperate to see live music once again.
Well, the thing with live music, and that of Cuba is, it will always come back around. Mention that you love it, and chances are you will come across someone else who does. That’s when recommendations can blossom. The next Cuban discovery I came across happened that way and I am eternally grateful to Eric Picot for another one that stuck to me hard: Orishas - a Cuban hip hop group from Havana, formed in 1999 (ha, just as Buena Vista Social Club was finding its way into living rooms everywhere, nice).
Anyhow, Orishas feature heavily here - bringing Cuban tradition bang up to date. I see the band is approaching a million followers on Spotify now, though I can’t help feeling that number should be even greater. I hope their music will continue to reach a wider audience. Something that may have helped is that in 2018 Havana was suddenly hard to ignore, when a certain song about the Cuban capital was a global smash. I chose to include it here, after all Camila Cabello was born in Havana and when you listen to the tune now it really is a modern Cuban classic.
And there we have it, almost. I could not resist but sneak in a little more Afro-Cuban influence via a non-Cuban band, Senegalese Orchestra Baobab, since they play the most wonderful blend of Arican and Cuban fusion. This connection between Cuba and Africa is a musical miracle in a way. The 1959 Cuban Revolution brought with it the ambition by Fidel Castro to aid African nations in the fight against imperialism. He developed diplomatic ties with newly independent African nations like Senegal by creating the Cuban missions - sending doctors, teachers and aid workers throughout the 1970s until many thousands of Cuban citizens were living in Sub-Saharan Africa. This attracted many Cuban bands to the continent and from there a beautiful new genre began to form, building on the Afro-Cuban jazz that had been in circulation since the 1920s.
Dedicated to Cuban medics, health workers and teachers all over the world and non-Cuban ones too. Your next Daiquiri is on me.