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Adelina bites! With humor, with Spanglish wit, with batting eyelashes, with grace, con chingazos.
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The world's longest-established Chicana Chicano, Latina Latino literary blog.
Adelina bites! With humor, with Spanglish wit, with batting eyelashes, with grace, con chingazos.
The season is upon us: Halloween/Jalogüín, and/or Días de los Muertos.
In my novel Smoking Mirror Blues I suggested combining them into a three-day celebration – Dead Daze. I still think it's a great idea, and I recommend it whenever I can. Maybe one of these daze . . .
But this was the 21st century, and recomboculture was a global phenomenon. Halloween collided with the Day of the Dead, becoming Jalogüín even here in the very heart of Mexico. Someday soon it would be a mongrelized Dead Daze, just like Beto's El Lay. (From Smoking Mirror Blues.)
The Southwest is full of tales of things that go bump in the night. La Llorona and El Cucuy don't have problems inspiring fear in this climate. That upstart El Chupacabras seems to thrive on the new electronic environment. Gnarled cacti, thorny trees, and jagged mountains can send chills up the spine after the psychedelic light show of the sunset dims down. Then there's our hoodoo rock formations, vultures, Gila monsters, and scorpions that glow in ultraviolet light, and all those UFOs . . .
You don't need to go to Transylvania!
It's amazing how people can see – and live in – this place and not realize how fantastic it is. We filter our perceptions, put on blinders. This is dangerous – especially for artists, writers, and filmmakers. I'd like to see new visions that take us far beyond the stereotypical “Southwest” of motel landscape paintings and Hollywood Wild West clichés.
One such work that does this is a short story “Memorabilia” by Rudy Garcia in the ebook anthology Needles & Bones. It's packed with history and myth woven through New Mexico, bringing in dragons and sorcery to a landscape that is usually a backdrop for arid road trips. Centuries are packed into its pages. I also sense that there may be the seed of a novel that I would love to read in there.
We could also learn a few things from Mexican filmmakers, who have never had trouble creating chills in a hot climate.
And recently, René Castillo has brought to life a new La Llorona, in Hasta Los Huesos, an animated masterpiece that takes you to world of calaveras worthy of José Guadalupe Posada (only in three dimensions), and beautifully illustrates Mexican attitudes of love and death.
Here's to a bright future in celebrations of life and death!
Ernest Hogan has recently blogged about songs for Dead Daze, and horror in Mexican comic books.
Now an award-winning poet, novelist, and essayist, Baca is the recipient of UC Santa Barbara's 2010 Luis Leal Award for Distinction in Chicano/Latino Literature. The award, which is co-sponsored by the Santa Barbara Book Council, was presented at a ceremony at 4 p.m. on Thursday, October 28, in the campus's Corwin Pavilion.
Born in New Mexico of Indio-Mexican descent, Baca is the recipient of several awards and honors, including the Pushcart Prize, the American Book Award for Poetry, the International Hispanic Heritage Award, a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship, and the International Prize, which he received for his novel, A Place to Stand. He has held a Regents Chair at UC Berkeley, The Wallace Stevens Endowed Chair at Yale University, and The Endowed Hulbert Chair at Colorado College.
“From the time I starting writing 32 years ago, Mr. Leal was my inspiration,” Baca said of the scholar for whom the award is named. “I aspired to follow his model in scholarship, compassion, creativity, and commitment, but I soon realized few can do so. He stands alone. It is such a great privilege and honor to receive the Luis Leal Award and brings at least one of my dreams full circle - that my name would be associated with his one day.”
Baca jump-started his writing career in the late 1970s by sending three poems - from prison - to Denise Levertov, a poet herself, and the poetry editor at that time for Mother Jones magazine. His work was published in the magazine and later appeared in a volume titled “Immigrants in Our Own Land,” which came out in 1979 - the year he was released. He earned his general education diploma (GED) a few months later, and then went on to the University of New Mexico, where he completed a Bachelor of Arts degree in English. In 2003, he received an honorary doctorate in literature from the same university.
“Jimmy Santiago Baca is a voice of Chicano survival in a country that has too often marginalized Chicanos and other Latinos,” said Mario T. García, professor of Chicana and Chicano Studies and of history at UCSB. García is also the organizer of the Leal award.
The author of more than 11 volumes of poetry and three novels, Baca has been a guest on several radio and television programs, including National Public Radio's All Things Considered, Good Morning America, Language of Life with Bill Moyers, and CBS Sunday Morning.
Devoted not only to his craft but to teaching others who are overcoming hardship, Baca established Cedar Tree Inc., a nonprofit foundation in New Mexico that conducts literary workshops in prisons and detention centers, and at community centers and schools for at-risk youth. The organization's mission is to provide underserved communities with the tools necessary to overcome obstacles to learning.
In 2006, Baca received the Cornelius P. Turner Award, a national honor presented annually to a GED graduate who has made outstanding contributions to society in the areas of education, justice, health, public service, and social welfare.
The Leal Award is named in honor of Luis Leal, professor emeritus of Chicana and Chicano Studies at UCSB, who was internationally recognized as a leading scholar of Chicano and Latino literature. Previous recipients of the award include Graciela Limón, Pat Mora, Alejandro Morales, Helena Maria Viramontes, Oscar Hijuelos, Rudolfo Anaya, and Denise Chávez. Luis Leal died in January of this year at the age of 102.
Source: UCSB
"It is a space of written resource, but the idea is that it became a safe-space that organizers and activists could come and exchange ideas," Valdez said. "We use ‘bookstore' loosely, but the vision is more a community center to hear people's victories and struggles."
The late Raúl Salinas founded the Resistencia Bookstore in 1982. Salinas was a former adjunct professor who taught in the communications department at St. Edward's University. He is known as a Chicano beat poet and social justice advocate. During his time at St. Edward's, Salinas taught courses about social movements and multicultural communication.
"He inspired so many students and was such a presence to have here," professor Tere Garza said.
Resistencia Bookstore is a part of the legacy Salinas left behind.
"We're a grassroots operation and a mom-and-pop five and dime shop," Valdez said. "We don't aspire to be Barnes and Noble or even a Book People."
Read the rest of this story from Hilltop Views, by Kristina Schenck, at this link.
En my Viejo San Juan
They raise the price of pan
So I fly to Manhattan.
It was there that I swear
Everyone took welfare
Especially the Latins!
To El Barrio I went
In pursuit of low rent
In a five room apartment
Where by neighbors will be
Puerto Ricans like me
Dressed in tropical garments.
I know
I know, I know
I'll miss Puerto Rico
(Land of de Palm trees)
And so,
And so and so
I'll live in El Barrio's
(Latin Community)
And whennnnn
I hit the numbers
I'll return to San Juan
Afford the price of pan
Until my life is done
(Island blessed by the sun
Here I come Here I come
Donde my roots are from)
Many years came and went
Fell behind on my rent
Cursed Christopher Columbus.
Worked as hard as I could
But my luck was no good
Never once hit the numbers
Now everyday I pray
Before passing away
And going six foot under
That again I will see
People who look like me
In my island of wonders.
I know
I know I know
I'll reach Puerto Rico
(Y live to be ninety three)
And so And so
Once in Puerto Rico
(Won't be a minority)
Y Paaaaa'
El carajo with the numbers
If I can't fly I'll swim
Straight from El Barrio
Back to Puerto Rico
(Island by the sun blessed
Island I never left
I will settle there next)
Asi es how it must be
For the whole family
Dice our destineeeee!
De weather wasn't nice
Comfort cost a high price
Unlike in Puerto Rico
We kept cooking the rice
And re-heating the beans
And making cuchifrito.
De hard times were plenty
De pockets stayed empty
But the soul nunca dyyyyyed
And junto we survived
And danced after we cried
Defending nuestro pride.
I know
I know I know
Next stop's Puerto Rico
(So help me OTB
And so
And so And so
I won't be called Chico
By the Statue of Liberty)
Y thennnnn
Con familia and friends
Good times will never end
Learn how to laugh again
And stop sheeteen on ten
(Once in my country
I will be I will be
Who has always been me)
In Spanish there were bills
In English there were bills
That just kept getting bigger.
Categorized as hicks
We were called dirty spicks
Blanco trash and black niggers
Las botanicas saved
Us from an early grave
All aspirin did wass kill joo!
Muchas gracias Chango
La Plena y el Mambo
For coming to the rescue!
I know
I know I know
We have been in limbo
(We're in New York City)
And so
And so And so
Almost misplaced my soul
(Somewhere in New Jersey)
Porqueeeee blood is
Thicker than Coca-Cola
I have very high hopes
Of rejoining my folks
With them I'm never broke
Y at last I will find
That there is peace of mind
Everything will be fine.
In Borinquen we'll be
Enjoying our history
For mucho centuries
We registered to vote
Thinking that there was hope
In elected officials.
Pero as soon as they win
For a moment they grin
Then they drop all the issues.
Many dropped out of school
Others went to college
Trying hard to get somewhere.
In the land of da free
Where without a degree
You cannot collect welfare.
I know
I know I know
I'll always play dominoes
(Wherever I may be)
And go
And go And go
To local bodegas
(For Bustelo coffee)
Be-cosssss
I'm still in Puerto Rico
Only my body came
My strong spirit remains
Everything's still de same
(I truly do believe
You can leave and still be
Where Mami met Papi)
Some did assimilate
In de United States
They got rid of de accent
Tho whenever they spoke
That will always unmask them!
But de majority
Kept their identity
Never did lose their accent!
They were proud not ashamed
Of their Boricua names
If you don't believe ask them.
I know
I know I know
I am being followed
(By my destiny)B
And so
And so And so
I will never be swallowed
(By inferiority)
And whennnnn
De plane takes off again
I know that there will be
No return trips for me
Back to New York City
(Island blessed by the sun
Here I come Here I come
Donde my roots are from)
And with my family
We'll struggle and believe
That one day we'll be free.
Aztlán is my native land. That's the American Southwest, to those who aren't tuned into the Chicano politico/poetics of the last half-century. I love these mountains, deserts, these crazy mixed-up peoples, and the millennia of history lost and found.
I may never make it to Mars, but Aztlán is a Mars on Earth. No wonder Hollywood came here to create its Wild West and sci-fi mythologies. Last time I was in Utah they were filming Edgar Rice Burroughs' A Princess of Mars. I would love it if, someday, colonies on Mars looked like Aztlán.
So I was delighted to read Tom Miller's Revenge of the Saguaro. It's not science fiction or fantasy. It's non-fiction, a travel book that's stranger than sci-fi. It makes make me homesick for Aztlán, and I live here. I'll be packing it, along with David Hatcher Childress' Lost Cities & Ancient Mysteries of the Southwest on future Aztláni road trips.
Not only does Tom Miller cover the Border, Bisbee, folk songs, cockfighting, and more . . . but he charges into Chicanonautica territory. I am eternally grateful to him for letting me know about Gumersindo Esquer, who some call the Mexican Jules Verne, a Renaissance Man of the Sonoyta.
The comparison to Verne comes from Esquer's 1928 novel, Campos del Fuego (Fields of Fire) that Miller describes as “a wild sort of psychedelically inspired Mexican science fiction.” Everything I can find about the book make me drool: It starts out as a realistic account of a trip into the volcanic craters of the Sierra del Pinacate, just north of the Border, that turns into journey into an underground lost world.
So here I am, dying to read this book – unfortunately, it's out of print.
It's listed in Google Books – with no reviews and not much information. Amazon says it's, “Currently unavailable.” It was reprinted in Mexico in 1985. Around 1964, archaeologist Irwin Hayden did an English translation that has never been published.
I'll be scanning for it as I comb through used book stores and antique malls, which brings me to one of the great ironies of our so-called Information Age: There are more things on Heaven and Earth than are accessable on the Internet. Everyday more stuff is saved, but a lot of futuristico/fantastico stuff -- that, despite being old, is wonderful and can do things to your brain that will make you better able to cope with the craziness to come – crumbles to dust.
We are in a race against time. It would be a shame if Campos del Fuego suffered the same fate as Esquers' painting of futuristic Sonotya.
Meanwhile, if you see a copy of Campos anywhere, please let me know.
Ernest Hogan has climbed pyramids from Tenochitlán to Chichén Itzá.