Poesía
at The Bronx Music Heritage Center
by
Xánath Caraza
 |
| Los poetas |
Founded
by the Women’s Housing and Economic Development Corporation (WHEDco), the BMHC
is committed to preserving and promoting Bronx music, cultivating Bronx
artists, spurring neighborhood revival, and providing free and low-cost
cultural programs for the community. WHEDco is a community development
nonprofit organization whose mission is to give the South Bronx access to all
the resources that create thriving neighborhoods – from beautiful, affordable
homes, high-quality early education and after-school programs, and access to
fresh, healthy food, to cultural programming and economic opportunity. See https://whedco.org/ for more
information.
WHEDco’s
Bronx Music Heritage Center (BMHC) is a performance and community space
designed to showcase and amplify the Bronx's rich musical legacy. Envisioned as
a “lab” space, the BMHC encourages artists and community members to gather,
participate in performances, and express their vision for this cultural
facility. Building off the success of the BMHC lab, WHEDco will open a
permanent music venue and cultural center, the Bronx Music Hall, in Bronx
Commons, its third affordable housing development, currently under
construction—the Bronx Music Hall will open summer 2020. Bronx Commons will
transform the final undeveloped parcel of the Melrose Commons Urban Renewal
Area into a vibrant center for living, working, learning, shopping and
entertainment – including 305 affordable apartments, a landscaped public plaza,
places to eat and shop, all anchored by the Bronx Music Hall. For more
information, visit https://www.thisisbronxmusic.org/
On
Thursday, July 25, I had the opportunity to share the stage at the BMHC with
three amazing Latinx Poets: Mercy Tullis-Bukhari, Modesto Flako Jimenez, and
Carmen Bardeguez-Brown. Today, I want to
share with our La Bloga readers some of their poetry and thank Elena Martínez and Bobby Sanabria for their hard
work and support at the BMHC.
Mercy Tullis-Bukhari is a poet, essayist, and fiction writer
who is Bronx-bred Afro-Latinx, Honduran and Garifuna, of Jamaican descent.
Mercy is a Callaloo Fellow, and obtained her MFA (her second Master's) in
Creative Writing from The College of New Rochelle. She was named one of the “8
Authors Bringing Afro-Latina Stories to the Forefront”
by Remezcla magazine and was a Pushcart Prize nominee in 2016 for her
essay "Black Dolls for Everyone." She is also an English Language
Arts high school teacher in the Southeast Section of The Bronx. Mercy is
currently completing her first novel, having her third book of poetry edited,
and lives in New Rochelle, NY with her two children.
La Gringa’s First Ride to Los Hondos
by Mercy Tullis-Bukhari
Esta
gringa flew to Honduras when she was five years old on
the
lie that she was going to meet Mickey Mouse because
esta
gringa could not stop crying while boarding this
monstrous-size
thing that was supposed to stay afloat
high
in the air. We flew from Kennedy Airport into clouds,
then
over pineapple plantations and banana fields, cows
roaming
and campesinos working, sand and beaches con
hondos
strong as the ancestors pleading from
esta grown
gringa to go back. When we landed,
esta gringa asked, Where
is
Mickey Mouse? Because, of course, Mickey Mouse should
be
waiting for esta gringa on the tarmac. Her mami ignored the
question.
She pushed her pass the initial slap of hot humid air,
took
her down the aircraft stairs, walked her across the tarmac
into
the building of the airport. We searched for our suitcases
in a
room where suitcases were thrown at random places on
the
floor. We were like roaches scattering when the light goes
on,
looking for our bags, yelling across the room “encontre una”
when
we found a bag. Mami, slipping a ten dollar US bill
to
the woman who manually checked the suitcases we found,
patted
the top of the tightly packed items of clothes and soaps
and
shoes and more clothes and unknown ducktaped packages
from
Tia Melba y Tia Lorna y Tia Carmen (all of whom were
not really mis tias), for abuelita, fulano y fulano y
fulano. We
had
to return to the airport the following week for one missing
suitcase.
Esta gringa, played futbolito barefooted in the sand
that
was her soil. Within the confused gaze of the neighbors,
esta
gringa swam in the sand granules, and poured buckets of
sand
on her head. Esta gringa washed the sand off her body in
the
big sink behind the house, the same sink her mami used
to
handwash our clothes. Esta gringa chased chickens around
the
house, danced punta, ate la comida of split coconuts, and
heard
her mami yell to curious passerbys con urgullo, “¡Ella
es
Gringa! ¡Ciudana Americana!” Esta grown
Gringa looks
back at a time when Gringa status
mattered.
Esta gringa watched
a
Garifuna man walk to a canoe with a net, come back to shore
with
fish in his net. She watched a Garifuna woman take a fish
from
that net, scrape the scales of that fish, split it open, salt it
and
fried the fish en aceite de coco. Her mami squeezed lime on
the
fried fish and tajadas. Esta gringa, ate
fried fish con tajadas
for
lunch. Gracias a dios, Columbus said, that Honduras saved
his
lost ass from the depths of the storm, y esta gringa was
saved
from a contrived fantasy world of fake-believe dreams
and
its minstrel mouse.
Modesto
Flako Jimenez
is a Dominican-born, Bushwick-raised theater maker, producer, and educator.
HOLA Best Ensemble Award Winner for 2015. ATI Best Actor Award Winner for 2016.
HOLA Outstanding Solo Performer for 2017, NY Times and Wall Street Journal
profiled. Flako is best known for original productions and three signature
festivals – Ghetto Hors D’Oeuvres, One Catches Light, and Oye! Avant Garde
Night! – produced with his company Oye Group. Flako has appeared on
TEDxBushwick, Esperpento (Sundance), Early Shaker Spirituals (Wooster Group),
Last Night At The Palladium (Bushwick Starr/3LD), Yoleros (Bushwick Starr/IATI
theater), Conversations Pt.1: How To Make It Black In America (JACK). Take Me
Home (3LD/ Incubator Arts Project), Richard Maxwell’s Samara (Soho Rep.),
Kaneza Schaal’s Jack &. (BAM/On The Boards). Modesto received the 2016
Princess Grace Award Honorarium in Theater. In 2018 he became the first
Dominican-American Lead Artist in The Public Theater Under The Radar Festival
with his show Oye For My Dear Brooklyn. He has performed at REDCAT and Z Space
in California, St. Ann’s Warehouse, Brooklyn, Theatre Studio at deSingel,
Antwerp, Belgium, Sound Live Tokyo festival, Spiral Hall, Tokyo, Japan, Centre
Pompidou for Festival d’Automne à Paris, France. New York Live Arts, Walker
Arts Center Out There Festival Minneapolis, MN, at Cincinnati Contemporary Arts
Center, BAM Next Wave Festival, Brooklyn, NY, PICA (Portland Institute of
Contemporary Art), Portland, OR, Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago, IL, On the
Boards, Seattle, WA and Contemporary Arts Center, Cincinnati, Ohio.
Gracias Margarita Agramonte
by Modesto Flako Jimenez, translated by Roberto Crespo
Ella aguanto mi maleta nueva
Mientras lagrimas bailaban sobre su cara.
Olvidadizo, yo miraba
Hacia los gigantes metales que se levantaban
Mientras asustaban las palmas dominicanas
A decir adiós
Hacia su gente.
Hechizado,
No me di cuenta de las señales.
Sus lágrimas eran tibias mientras nos abrazábamos.
“Tú vas a ver
A América,” me dijo a mí,
“Compórtate bien.”
Su último beso de protección fue mezclado,
Con sus disculpas a los juegos
Que no podía comprar;
Sus últimas palabras de sabiduría,
“Tu abuela te comprará tu primer Nintendo.”
Yo era indiferente a las preocupaciones adultas.
Mis ojos estaban llenos con los monstruos
gigantes.
Pronto escapaba de su agarre, persiguiendo los
monstruos.
Después de este punto pasajeros solamente.
Sigo extrañándola.
19 años, 4 meses, 9 días, y sigo contando…
Que
no la veo.
Thank
You Margarita Agramonte
by
Modesto Flako Jimenez, translated by Roberto Crespo
She
held on to my brand new luggage
While
tears danced all over her face.
Oblivious,
I stared
Towards
the awakening metal giants
As
they scared the Dominican palms
Into
waving
Goodbye
to their people.
Spellbound,
I
didn’t notice the signs.
Her
tears were warm as we embraced.
“Tú vas a ver
América,” she told me,
“Compórtate bien.”
Her
last kiss of protection was mixed
With
her regrets at games
She
could not afford;
Her
final words of wisdom, “
Tu
abuela te comprará tu primer Nintendo.”
I
was indifferent to adult concerns.
My
eyes were still filled with the giant monsters.
Soon
I was escaping her grip, chasing the monsters.
Passengers
only beyond this point.
Still
missing her.
19
years, 4 months, 9 days, and counting…
Que no la veo.
Carmen Bardeguez-Brown es poeta y
educadora de Puerto Rico y residente de la ciudad de Nueva York. En los noventas se incorporó a la escena
poética debutando en el conocido Nuyorican Poets Café bajo la tutela de Bob
Holman, Louis Griffith, Miguel Algarin y Keith Roach. Fue miembro del taller literario Stoop dirigido por Steven Cannon y Bob
Holman.
Su trabajo fue documentado en Latino Poets in the United States, un documental producido por Ray
Santiesteban, donde reconocen su trabajo como una de los miembros fundadores
del movimiento poético The Nuyorican Poets Café a la par de Pedro Pietri y
Willie Perdomo. Ha participado,
entre otros festivals, en The New York Poetry Festival en Governors Island, The
Bowery Poetry Club, Sarah Lawrence College Poetry Reading series, Bronx Music
Heritage Center y The Caribbean Cultural Theater Literary Festival. Es parte de
la exhibición itinerante Homenaje curada
por Ricardo Muñiz y adquirida por el Centro of Puerto Rican Studies de Hunter
College en la ciudad de Nueva York. También ha sido antologada en Afro Latino Poetry, es miembro activo
del taller de poesía Woman Writers in
Bloom por varios años. Su primer
poemario es Straight from the Drums: Al
ritmo del tambor, su segundo poemario es Dreaming Rythms.
EL BRONX
by Carmen Bardeguez-Brown
Songo
Songo
Soñando en la
Jungla de asfalto
Conga
Ritmos
En medio de la
Canción de cuna urbana
El Bronx
THE BRONX
Suéñame en dos
Dos por dos
Ámame hoy
Timbales
Tócame
ARRIBA Y A
B
A
J
O
Hmmmmmmmmmmm
Suéñame
Congonéame
Así, así
Bamboléame
Tito
Me toca
Caliente
Y Baretto
Me hace sudar la frente
En PS. 52
Los músicos gozaron
Creando sonidos
Que Obalatá y Shagó bailaron
¡Ay! Salseros del ayer
Sáquenme
Los sonidos
Y el ¡ay, bendito!
En la ciudad de Babel
El Cross County Express
Nos dividió
Mientras el Caribe
Nos bautizó
Y sé que estoy aquí en Nuyol
Pero
No es Nuyol
Es El Bronx
The Bronx
Da’Bronx
El South Bronx
El South Bronx del Yankee Stadium del 73
Del Mambo
Callejero
De sueños olvidados
En una maleta
Guardados
En el closet
Hasta el Próximo viaje
Sí
El próximo viaje
Porque, tú sabes
Los puertorriqueños aquí están
Y allá
Pero no
Estamos aquí
En Da’Bronx
Songoneando
En Da’Bronx
Guaracheando
En Da’Bronx
Sandongueando
En Da’Bronx
Salseando
Congoneando
Sonando
Estamos aquí
¡¡¡¡¡¡Escúchame, mundo!!!!!!
Estamos aquí para quedarnos.
Es todo por hoy, queridos lectores de La Bloga. Que la
poesía nos salve.
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