Calliope's Replacement Muse. Gluten-free Chicano's Membrillo. On-line Floricanto.

Poesia Para La Gente Fundraiser: One Dollar, One Poem
Michael Sedano

Calliope, the muse of poetry and rhetoric, wandered through the parking lot near the stadium in Los Angeles' Elysian Park, looking for someone to inspire. She was on the verge of giving up hope when Calliope recognized a kindred soul whose love and need for poetry matched her own. With that, Calliope semi-retired, appointing Jessica Ceballos the muse of Los Angeles’ street corners, subways, and public parks.

There’s no other possible explanation, other than divine inspiration, for the energy and passion that drives Jessica Ceballos’ enchanting forays into poetry in Los Angeles’ public spaces: monthly Bluebird Reading Series at Avenue 50 Studio; regular Poesia Para La Gente events taking poetry to subways, street corners, and other exceptional sites. LA is Poesia City owing to Calliope Ceballos.

Last weekend, Ceballos and Calliope were seen hanging around Los Angeles’ Pershing Square, Ceballos pushing a grocery basket filled with give-away books, being interviewed by a crew from an NBC O&O, and organizing poets to stop passersby, and in exchange for a dollar, compose a poem on-the-spot.

Jessica Ceballos and Peggy Dobreer help kids choose a free book.

Urban Voodoo works from memory. He writes the words as aide-memoire.

Brandon Brown and Karineh Mahdessian canvass the ice skating crowd to come buy a poem for a dollar.

I chatted up the NBC crew and pointed out Iris de Anda as one of the city's finest poets and a
top-notch reader. They filmed her first, then caught footage of several others.
The interviewer bought herself a Brandon Brown disco poem.

Yago Cura reads for teevee while Urban Voodoo works on his memory.

F. Albert Salinas, sponsor of Ventura's Laureatepalooza, writes.

Elena Secota reads for teevee.

Urban Voodoo reads for teevee.

Brandon Brown writes on repurposed vinyl; que groovy.

Iris de Anda's incandescent blue ink and feather quill with poem-in-process.

Delight, puro delight, that’s how gente responded when they accepted the invitation to spend a dollar for their own poem. One woman, a German tourist, burst into tears when she received her poem. A pair of girls noticed the sign announcing the event as a fundraiser for Para Los Niños and yelled excitedly, "that's our school!"

For me, the highlight of the event was a local family entertaining a guest from the eastern edge of California. Drawn to Pershing Square Park by its seasonal ice skating rink, I approached the familia as they waited for a child to come off the ice. Stop, have a poet write you a poem, I invited. And they did.

The family circulated among the poets scattered about the cement, chatted with poets, received their verse and read with quiet delight. Perhaps they stopped out of courtesy, but they became involved in the experience and the friendliness of the poets and lingered, taking at least three poems home with them.

Abram Gomez reads the poem he's written for Daisy de Leon from El Centro Califas.
Daisy posed for a portrait with Abram and his skateboard. That's Calliope on Abram's shoulder.

I asked the girl if she'd read Daisy's poem aloud. She elected not to, but
reads to herself as her mom shares the delightful novelty of custom-made poetry.

Calliope eavesdrops as Karineh Mahdessian chats with Daisy's tia. What a fabulous day, come for the skating, meet a poet.

Daisy's prima and Iris de Anda chat preliminary to Iris' composition on a
picture postcard.

 Parents read Iris' poem for and about their daughter. What a
well-spent dollar. This familia took home three poems.

Her own Iris de Anda poem delighted the girl. Her parents eagerly supported
the girl's delight and got so involved in the experience
they forgot they'd already paid their dollar and offered a second.

Brandon Brown's innovative approach to writing media delights another family. Calliope appears in a flash of light between them.

June Kim reads her just-composed poem while bubbles float about.

Sean Hill reads his just-completed poem.

This is what Poesia Para la Gente looks like.

For Jessica Ceballos, the event marks yet another in a series of triumphs. Such nearly complete satisfaction to see an idea blossom and bear a cosecha of poetry, relationships, and a few dollars for a worthy school.

Yet, there’s a frustration. Ceballos is a poet--a good one--but so often finds herself locked up in meta-poetry, administering and organizing events about poetry but not doing her own poetry.

La Bloga intends to alter that course next week, when our La Bloga Online Floricanto will feature the poetry of Jessica Ceballos.

The Gluten-free Chicano Cooks

Cajeta de Membrillo

Many a Unitedstatesian has little use for Quince fruit. It's misshapen, fuzzy, hard, dry, bitter, grainy, and not often found in grocery stores. Yet, when prepared as cajeta de membrillo, Quince is one of nature's most delicious preserved fruit.

Membrillo is right up at the top of The Gluten-free Chicano's autumn shopping list when his back-yard membrillo tree doesn't produce bumper crops of that misshapen, fuzzy, hard, dry wondrously flavored fruit.

A quince fruit starts as a delicate lavender-pink simple blossom in Spring.

Bees carry pollen from flower to flower and in a few weeks the petals dry and waft away in a breeze, leaving behind the tiny beginnings of the cosecha. Thriving in the Summer heat, the fruit grows under leafy cover. It's a hardy tree that doesn't require a lot of water, and unlike apples, grows at all elevations.

Wash the fruit well to scrub off the fuzz. Use a potato peeler to scrape the skin away. I squeeze lemon juice on the fruit to retard discoloration, just like apples.

I steam the fruit in a small amount of water until a fork easily passes through to the core. Cut the fruit away from the small seed pocket, trim off any shiny cellulose sheathing, and the woody parts from the stem and blossom end.

Return the chunks of fruit to the water and set to boil. Add a cup of sugar. You can always sweeten it with more, so go easy on the "cup to a cup" dictum of jam and jelly makers. Really sweet membrillo spoils the flavor of the fruit.

After a few minutes you can use a potato masher to pulp the fruit into a rough paste. You don't have to stir constantly, but make sure you stir frequently.

As the membrillo cooks it begins to take on a rich caramel color. When the potato masher no longer does any good, use a hand blender (or a stand-alone processor) to turn the fruit into an applesauce consistency.

Now begins the constant stirring as the fruit boils. Membrillo forms big lazy bubbles as the thick paste cooks and develops some body. Taste it now. Put a dollop in ice water because this stuff is incredibly hot! If it's not sweet to your taste, add a little more sugar, stir, taste.

I suppose a candy thermometer would be useful. I learned to make membrillo from my grandmother and Uncle Pete. My Uncle Pete was a cook and baker extraordinaire who cooked entirely by look and feel. Pan dulce, piña sauce, leche quemada, you name it, Uncle Pete could teach you how to make it. Leche quemada, for example, is almost ready when it gets thick like baby spit.

Membrillo calls for constant stirring on medium heat until the membrillo se agarre, it begins to stick to itself and forms a sticky mass that doesn't flow back onto itself when stirred.

Use the candy maker technique of dropping a dollop into iced water. When the membrillo attains soft ball stage, cook it a few more minutes until it's good and stiff. The foto above is after half an hour's stirring at medium flame.

I cook my membrillo to a stiff paste, and stop. Keep cooking and stirring another five or ten minutes if you want to produce a loaf of sliceable candy.

Transfer the membrillo to a container. Let it cool.

Wheat-eaters spread membrillo on toast or waffles, and make empanadas. The Gluten-free Chicano loves a membrillo taco. He serves membrillo where applesauce goes well, like pork chops or roasted pollo.

Provecho, gente.

December's First of Five: On-line Floricanto
Frank de Jesus Acosta, Mario A. Escobar, John Martinez, Andrea García Mauk, Christopher Carmona


A five-week month is a commissioned sales professional's favorite type of month because last year's same month was a four-week month. That means an extra week to write orders and make goal.

It's a similar pleasure in On-line Floricantos. 2012's December brought four Tuesdays and four On-line Floricantos. 2013 brings us a bonus week and we'll have the opportunity to close the year with five fabulous floricantos.

Kicking off the month, the Moderators of the Facebook group Poets Responding to SB1070: Poetry of Resistance selected four poets and one prose writer who bring six pieces to the month's first On-line Floricanto.

Frank de Jesus Acosta

Frank de Jesus Acosta is the principal of Acosta & Associates, a California-based consultant group that specializes in professional support to public and private social change ventures in the areas of children, youth, and family services, violence prevention, community development, and cultural fluency initiatives. In 2007, Frank authored, The History of Barrios Unidos, Cultura Es Cura, Healing Community Violence, published by Arte Publico Press, University of Houston. Acosta is a graduate of University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA). Acosta’s professional experience includes serving in executive leadership tenures with The California Wellness Foundation, the Coalition for Humane Immigration Rights of Los Angeles (CHIRLA), Downtown Immigrant Advocates (DIA), Center for Community Change, and the UCLA Community Programs Office. He is presently focused on completing the writing and publishing a two book series for Arte Publico Press focused on best practices to improve the well-being of Latino young men and boys. He most recently co-authored a published “Brown Paper” with Jerry Tello of the National Latino Fatherhood and Family Institute (NLFFI) entitled, “Lifting Latinos Up By Their Rootstraps: Moving Beyond Trauma Through A Healing-Informed Framework for Latino Boys and Men.” Acosta provides writing and strategic professional support in research, planning, and development to foundations and community focused institutions on select initiatives focuses advancing social justice, equity, and pluralism. Acosta is also finalizing writing and editing a book of inter-cultural poetry and spiritual reflections.

Salmon Spirit Song
by Frank de Jesus Acosta

I am the salmon spirit
child of the great rivers
Born to toil up stream
an ancient calling deep inside
Perennial motion as I swim
timeless currents to the sea
I become the grizzly and the eagle
in this balance dance of life & death
Nourishing those who take in temperance
a sacred covenant of being
The waters tell me of their suffering
poisoned dark and robbed of freedom
I grieve with scarred & ravaged lands
wounded from the carnage of greed
As I journey river valleys & mountain cascades
the ancient stones implore us to pray
Our mother suffers, wails, & shakes
a desperate plea to humankind
I am the salmon spirit of the great rivers
sibling to the seas, snow & rain
The circle we share grows septic & fractured
an ever fragile balance of life
Let us share the waters, earth, and sky
in a spirit dance and song of harmony


Mario A. Escobar

Mario A. Escobar (January 19, 1978-) is a US-Salvadoran writer and poet born in 1978. Although he considers himself first and foremost a poet, he is known as the founder and editor of Izote Press. Escobar has stated that his exposure to “poetic sounds” began during his childhood and that his foundation in poetry stemmed from what he witness during the Salvadoran Civil War. Escobar began his writing career by the age of 13 as a poet. He cites Roque Dalton, Tato Laviera and Jaime Sabines as some of his early poetic influences. Escobar’s work has been feature in UCLA’s publication Underground Undergrads which recognizes the poet as an activist for the undocumented Student Movement. In 2004, Escobar was placed under arrest and was scheduled to be deported. In 2006, Escobar won his case for political asylum making him one of the last Salvadorans to win a political case fourteen years after the Salvadoran Peace Accords were signed in 1992. Escobar currently lives in Alhambra. Escobar has been featured in documentaries like Mimoun en Mario, studenten met een missie and in The healing Club. Some of Escobar’s works include Al correr  de la horas (Editorial Patria Perdida, 1999) Gritos Interiores (Cuzcatlan Press, 2005), La Nueva Tendencia (Cuzcatlan Press, 2005), Paciente 1980 (Orbis Press, 2012

La voz del inmigrante / Immigrant Voices
by Mario Angel Escobar

La voz del Inmigrante
por Mario Angel Escobar

Yo soy la espina dorsal
El canto al final del día
El que acaricia
la voluptuosa tierra
Ella y yo somos uno
Las manos que arrancan
y recogen
el fruto
para satisfacer
tu hambre
Yo soy el tierno callo
el viento desnudo
la nueva lengua
la sangre buscando paz
Yo soy el labio silente
y la mirada que grita.


Immigrant Voices
by Mario Angel Escobar

I am the backbone
An equal to any
The chant at the end
of the day
I am the caresser
of voluptuous earth
Her and I become one
The hands that pluck and pick
to satisfy your hunger
I am the tender callus
The naked wind
The new tongue
Flesh seeking peace
I am the silent lip
The gaze that shouts


John Martinez

John Martinez. I began writing poetry again after the death of my brother. Every published poem, prior to this, is either forgotten, or written so long ago, I no longer feel that it is necessary to discuss. Only that, I studied poetry, at Fresno State, as a child and then abandoned it, entirely, to seek a career and family. My brother was a writer, a poet, a novelist. The best times of my life, was when we got together to talk poetry. In those days (late 70's-early 80's) we both read everything we can get our hands on; the Italians, the Spanish, the Swedish, Hungarian, everything that was relevant at the time. We argued about who was great, who was not, how they compared to the Americans, etc., etc.  We were poetry nerds. The feeling of being touched by words, being elevated into my subconscious, with the specialized surrealism of Vallejo, sent to darkness, with the grim existential landscapes of Ungaretti. I was already into the ghostly feeling of being a poet at an early age, thanx to my Brother, Victor. So, when he died, three years ago, he scolded me for being a "fool." "You are a fool and now you have years to catch up, now go write" he said. And I listened to him, like that young boy, who loved him so much, who listened, intently, to his teaching. 30 years later, I find myself writing, in this new cyber world...and I won't stop, until I catch up. Thank you, Vic.

Abuelita Raquel y La Llorona Maria
by John Martinez

Abuelita Raquel said
She felt like a dark tree
In the wind,
Brown,
Alone
In her own
Ugliness,
So she scrubbed
Her face with Clorox,
Got sick,
Blistered,
And hobbled
Like a monster
To the river
To wash it off

There she saw
La Llorona Maria,
Bunched in her infinite
Weeping,
Fondling
Her hair
Of ragweed,
Veins,
Like dried grape vines
Protruding,
Her eyes hollow,
Eaten by June bugs

There, La Llorona Maria
Told Abuelita Raquel,
Something she should have known

And as the stars burned
Light into the darkness,
The silver clay moon,
Watching,
While the crickets
Sang and stopped,
Abuelita Raquel told
The succinct story of

Abuelita Raquel y La Llorona Maria

Shirtless,
Like small brown
Salamanders
On the wooden porch,
We listened,
Watching her lips
As she described in detail;

“La Llorona Maria,
With her dead horse body,
Her nails curled,
Lifeless as drift wood,
Her nose, a snout,
Two key holes,
Her mouth, a hole
From a missing
Door knob,
She howled like
An animal at me”

“Usted, Raquel, eres la Más Bonita en todo el mundo,”
La Llorona Maria said with a sigh

And as La Llorona Maria
Dragged her true Ugliness away,
Down that
Disappearing river bank,
Abuelita Raquel
Made her own way
Back to her love,
Lit by gasoline lamp,
To her home
At the edge
Of the campo,
Back to her children,
To a blanket she stitched,
To her husband,
Strong as a man
Can ever be,
His hand
Cupped on the seam
Of a Bible,
And as she felt her
Face healing,
The kissing wind,
The magic of the stars
Turned her back,
Into the beautiful brown
Abuelita Raquel
Who we all knew
And loved


Andrea García Mauk

 Andrea García Mauk grew up in Arizona, where both the immense beauty and harsh realities of living in the desert shaped her artistic soul. She calls Los Angeles home, but has also lived in Chicago, New York and Boston. She has worked in the music industry, and on various film and television productions. She writes short fiction, poetry, original screenplays and adaptations, and is currently finishing two novels. Her writing and artwork has been published and viewed in a variety of places such as on The Late, Late Show with Tom Snyder; The Journal of School Psychologists and Victorian Homes Magazine. Both her poetry and artwork have won awards. Several of her poems and a memoir are included in the 2011 anthology, Our Spirit, Our Reality, and her poetry is featured in the 2012 Mujeres de Maiz “‘Zine.” She is a regular contributor to Poets responding to SB 1070. Her poems have been chosen for publication on La Bloga’s online Tuesday Floricanto numerous times. She has also been a moderator of Diving Deeper, an online workshop for writers, and has written extensively about music, especially jazz, while working in the entertainment industry. Her production company, Dancing Horse Media Group is producing a unique cookbook, Corazón en un Platillo: Recetas y Poesia de Amor,  that blends healthful recipes with poetry and prose from the community. She publishes a monthly online poetry journal that is associated with the cookbook’s website. You can visit the cookbook’s website at http://www.corazonenplatillo.com

The Complexity of the Human Condition
by Andrea Mauk

We have a need to press our hands together,
light candles, sing and praise,
hold incense to our foreheads,
turn to the four directions,
raise palms to the sky,
give offerings, build altars,
speak to the ancestors,
read the book as gospel,
believe in
miracles,
in reindeer and Santa Claus,
in good,
see heaven illuminating edges of clouds.
We have the need to bow,
stand low, kneel, hunker down,
before the ultimate force,
immense, almighty.
We have a need to subordinate.

We have a desire to have faith
in thy lover whom shalt not wander
(though science has proven that monogamy
is not natural for the male
of the species),
in thy neighbor, who we must
turn to in time of need,
to help those in far worse conditions
than our own
(and who decides?)
We know that our problems are real
and put upon us,
mostly unfairly,
that our illusion is what
we believe it to be.

We have a need to be right,
(even when we speak of controlling the ego)
to be acknowledged,
be recognized,
be better than,
to instruct,
pass knowledge down
like a well-worn garment,
to stand on a soap box,
to preach and convert,
to prove beyond a reasonable doubt,
to enlighten,
filibuster,
to be wiser, smarter, cooler,
better dressed,
to be omnipotent.

We have a desire to love, to be tender,
an instinct to hug and hold,
cuddle and touch,
smile and flirt and attract,
and procreate.
We have the ability to find perfection
in fleeting moments
and want to hold on
forever,
to answer the question
of life after death.

We have a tendency to
seethe just below fault lines,
grit teeth,
blow steam,
percolate, explode, rage,
attack boldly,
or on tiptoes,
wearing masks,
or openly, with a smile,
brazenly,
calculatedly,
by invitation
or without notice. We have a tendency to
wage war.

We have a need to organize and label,
categorize things that are alike,
homogenize,
like milk,
separate,
alienate,
regulate,
colonize,
lord over,
compare and contrast,
let in, keep out,
find comfort in familiarity
and fear in difference,
as if different was unknown.

We have a penchant for crying,
sniveling, groveling,
drowning sorrows,
looking back
(though we rarely ever turn to salt
in modern times)
making amends,
mending ways
like knees of jeans,
restoring the old,
fixing what's beyond repair,
mourning the end before it comes,
loving the good old days
over an icy glass of lemonade.

We are f'ing complex.

Christopher Carmona

Christopher Carmona is a Chican@ Beat poet from the Rio Grande Valley of Deep South Texas.  He was a nominee for the Alfredo Cisneros de Miral Foundation Award for Writers in 2011 and a Pushcart Prize nominee in 2013. He has two books of poetry, beat and I Have Always Been Here. Currently editing The Beatest State In The Union: An Anthology of Beat Texas Writings with Chuck Taylor and Rob Johnson and is the Artistic Director of The Coalition of New Chican@ Artists (CONCA).

My Language/Mi Lengua
by Christopher Carmona

When I was seven years old, I remember sitting outside of my elementary school’s principal’s office. My parents inside discussing my behavior. You see, I only spoke Spanish when I was a kid. When they came out they didn’t look angry at me, they simply looked perturbed. After this moment I remember they only spoke to me in English. The principal had explained to them that the only way to succeed in this country is if you speak English and my parents took that to heart. It was from this point on that my ability to speak Spanish began to die and almost forgotten.

Language is the most recognizable transmission of culture.

I never really lost touch with my Spanish language. It was my grandparents’ (both my mother’s and my father’s) first and most frequently used language. They spoke it to me and my brothers and sisters constantly. I grew up along the Rio Grande river in deep South Texas where there were three dominant languages: Spanish, English, and Tex-Mex. Tex-Mex dominated most of what was spoken in the area. Words like “yonque” and “parquer” were and still are commonly used. So as much as the public school system tried to erase Spanish from my brain and tongue, my environment lived and breathed Spanish. But as I grew up I became more and more pochofied. I only listened to English language music, watched only English language TV television and movies and dreamed of having the “American” dream of being “white” middle class. But I always knew I wouldn’t be. I just hoped I would be accepted in the“white” middle class world. But my dark skin and Spanish last name wouldn’t allow it.

When I was in high school I swore to my mother that I would become a doctor, not a medical doctor but a PhD and here I am holding a PhD in English. Not in literature or grammar but in Rhetoric and Poetics, in essence: writing. What does that mean? It means I study the art of persuasion. I study the importance and power of words. What they do. How they are used. And how they can shape the way we see the world. I have always had a fascination with words, I suppose that is why I am a poet and a writer.

Words are the basic building blocks of a language.

In high school I wanted to get as far away from Spanish as possible. My brother and sister had taken it and my father had always corrected their pronunciation. They were just as pochofied as I was. I didn’t want that, I wanted to do something different, to escape the fact that I couldn’t speak Spanish, so I took French. That was a sophisticated language. The language of the great thinkers and artists of our time. That is what I told myself but in reality I was hiding from the fact that I couldn’t speak it anymore, the muscles in my mouth wouldn’t form the words anymore. They were atrophied. I was terrified that the other kids in the class who were just taking it because it was an easy A for them because they spoke Spanish fluently would laugh at me, so I escaped. I hid in another language. I even started to reject everything Mexican, except for the food of course. I didn’t want to be Mexican not because being Mexican was shameful but because I couldn’t even speak the language. I was an outcast. I wasn’t quite Mexican and I wasn’t quite American, I was somewhere lost in translation.

Once you learn a language it is always a part of you, it shapes the way you speak about bread because now it has a new name.

The first job I ever had was a security guard in a hospital and in that job I had to deal with lots of patients and families that did not speak a word of English and so I had to relearn Spanish or so I thought. When I began to listen to them I realized I understood them. As much as I only chose to speak in English, I still heard Spanish all around. So I practiced in private canned responses to their questions about where things were in the hospital. vaya derecha. izquierda. este pastillo. Hand gestures always help too. I regained a bit of control over some of my lost Spanish. But when I left the Rio Grande Valley and moved away to Austin and then to Texas A&M University in College Station my Spanish atrophied again. Not enough Spanish around to keep it going. I never really spoke it well anyway. That always terrified me and still does. It was at A&M that something extraordinary happened. I was introduced to Cherokee. There was a professor there, Qwo-li Driskill that offered an informal class in learning the Cherokee language and for a year I was exposed to the language, learning enough to know greetings, colors, numbers, food, and simple exchanges. Osiyo? (Are you well?) became a common greeting amongst the five of us who took the class. We were all given tsalagi names (Cherokee). I was given Soquil (horse) and I used it several times throughout our sessions.

Learning a new language not only gives you access to new words and sounds but also to a different way of thinking and seeing the world.

The more I learned about the Cherokee language, the more I appreciated the fact that many Cherokee peoples don’t even know their own language. Native peoples have been decimated in more ways than just genocide and exile for their own lands. No, native peoples have had their language washed from their memories, replaced by Spanish and English. This changed my view on language forever.

Language allows someone to touch another culture, sometimes our own forgotten cultures, and allows us to reconnect to others like me. I have always struggled with my native language of Spanish—replaced by English—but then I realized Spanish replaced the native languages of the Americas. They are both colonizing languages. This is a hard truth that many of us have to face. That does not deter or minimize my journey to regain my Spanish tongue but it set me on a path to relearn native languages as well. Spanish is the language of my grandparents and my parents and the people around me, but the languages that have been mostly erased, those languages are my people’s languages too.

Whenever we speak a language that was once cut out of ancestor’s tongues, we give life to that long lost culture and reconnect who we were with who we are now.


La Bloga welcomes your comments and observations. Poets deeply appreciate feedback on their efforts. Click the Comments link below to join the conversation. Be sure to check the box to be notified when others join the conversation.

Contratiempo, Chicago

Por Xánath Caraza

Contratiempo  is a group of exceedingly talented artists, writers, poets, journalists, photographers, translators and producers who weave literature and journalism into the fabric and textures of the Latino community. --Moira Pujos

My first direct contact with Contratiempo was with ReyAndújar with whom I had the privilege to share the stage along with Lila Downs  in the panel: ‘Writing & Performing the Latina/o Midwest’  in Iowa City for the Latino Midwest Symposium, University of Iowa in October 2012. 

After six months of conversations with Moira Pujols about my visiting Revista Contratiempo in Chicago, most recently I finally had the opportunity to do so and to meet Moira Pujols.  I was invited to a poetry workshop with Contratiempo.  “On Sunday September 22, 2013 from 1 – 4 p.m., I had the amazing opportunity to work with a talented group of writers from Revista Contratiempo at the headquarters of their organization.  Executive Director, Moira Pujols, was instrumental in this taking place.   What a sincere pleasure it was to work with such a devoted group of writers.  Most of the writers who attended the session were already published authors, a combination of novelists, poets, short story writers, essayists and editors.  During the session, participants shared their work and feedback was given to each person in a professional manner and at times with no mercy.  I was gladly surprised to see the intense dynamic in this group.  They are seasoned writers ready to expose their words and most importantly ready to listen to their colleagues’ comments.   This was my final activity in Chicago before returning to Kansas City.  Cerré con broche de oro.” (Lo quetrae la marea/What the Tide Brings) 

Revista Contratiempo is having a fundraising event on December 6.  If you are in the Chicago area, this is an event you do not want to miss.  Following is an interview with Contratiempo:

XC: How did Contratiempo start?

MP: We started as a monthly Spanish-language magazine, Revista  Contratiempo, conceived in April 2003 by a group of Latin American writers living in Chicago desiring to express the impact of the Irak war in themselves and the community, and thus to meld politics and social commentary with their literary work.  It slowly grew until it became incorporated as a not for profit organization, and it developed to include not  only the magazine, but a continuous creative writing program, a book imprint, Ediciones Vocesueltas, and event collaborations with other organizations. Contratiempo is now a 501(c)3 tax exempt literary, publishing and presenting organization whose mission is to preserve and highlight the cultural identity and contributions of the Spanish-speaking Latino population of the United States.

XC: Who is Contratiempo?

MP: Contratiempo is a group of exceedingly talented artists, writers, poets, journalists, photographers, translators and producers who weave literature and journalism into the fabric and textures of the Latino community.  

WHO IS CONTRATIEMPO

Por Julio Rangel 

Escritores, traductores, diseñadores, editores, ilustradores, fotógrafos.  Gente encargada de perseguirlos por e-mail y por teléfono. Obsesivos del diccionario. Procrastinadores de toda índole. Voluntarios generosos. Personas encontradas por azar leyendo la revista en la CTA. Gente que al mudarse envolvió sus platos con nuestras páginas. Gente que aportó dinero, asistió a las actividades,  criticó, nos felicitó o nos mentó la madre. 

A todos un abrazo de gratitud, y a prepararse para los próximos 100 números.

MOIRA PUJOLS, Dominican interpreter and translator, contratiempo nfp´s  Executive Director

El momento de sacar la revi de la imprenta no pierda nada con los años. Después del remolino de producción, es imposible estar tranquila hasta que Don Pedro y su esposa Olga traen los últimos dos paquetes que reparten para verla finalmente en papel, como la ve el lector local . Y ahí, a menudo, puienso lo mismo sobre la revista: en los múltiples talentes de los que la conforman, en la capacidad de renovación que demuestra  y la abundancia de energía que la rodea. Sus personajes, una singular mezcla de extravagancia y nobleza, aquí aprenden, enseñan, y terminan creando una comunidad.

GERARDO CÁRDENAS, Mexican writer, contratiempo magazine´s Editorial Director.

“Más pronto cae un hablador que un cojo”, decía mi abuela. En 2003, al nacer contratiempo, escribía yo para el diario Hoy. Al enterarme del surgimiento de la revista, escribí en una columna mis dudas sobre que el proyecto editorial viviese más allá del sexto mes. Hoy, director editorial de contratiempo, entiendo que si hay algo que nunca debo hacer, es predecir el futuro.  Y mi abuela sigue teniendo razón. Y hoy me trago mis palabras con orgullo, porque aquí estamos, cien números más tarde”.

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OLIVIA LIENDO, Venezuelan journalist and graphic designer, contratiempo´s Art Director

Cada vez que sale el número de contratiempo, voy al correo a enviar ejemplares a los colaboradores gráficos que contribuyeron con alguna imagen. EN la primera visita mané pocos sobres, pero cada vez se suman nuevos lugares. Algunas de esas imágenes se pueden ver en la recopilación del número 100 de aniversario, otras esperan para ser publicadas el próximo año. Hago envíos a Europa, Asia, ciudades remotas de Estados Unidos, y sobres locales muy cerca de nuestras oficinas en Pilsen. Todo el tiempo hablo con artistas que quieren mostrar su trabajo y cada día gano más amigos en la distancia. Estoy muy orgullosa de poder abrirle las páginas a tanto talento de que nuestros lectores los disfruten.

FEBRONIO ZATARAIN, Mexican writer, Contratiempo magazine cofounder and creative writing workshop coordinator

 “Contratiempo fue un proyecto latinoamericano humanista en Estados Unidos, pues la razón fundamental por la que más de tres decenas de hispanos nos congregamos y decidimos sacar esta revista, fue la oposición a que el ejército estadounidense invadiera Irak. Además una gran porción de sus páginas tendría que dedicarse a la literatura, y otras, al arte que estuviese sucediendo en Chicago. Luego se propuso una sección para informar y reseñar lo que se estuviese dando en la ciudad en términos artísticos o culturales, y ya para rematar inventamos un rincón donde alguno de nuestros colaboradores meditara sobre cualquier aspecto de la vida”.

GENERAL MEMBERS OF THE EDITORIAL BOARD

  LUIS ALEJANDRO ORDÓÑEZ, Venezuelan writer

  “Me ha sucedido ya varias veces: conozco latinos en Chicago y cuando intercambiamos impresiones y comentamos sobre intereses profesionales, de pronto me recomiendan contactar a una gente que tiene una revista. La gente es contratiempo y por suerte la contacté hace mucho tiempo, pocos pasos después de poner mi primer pie en Chicago”.   * Luis publica en www. laoficinadeluis.com 

 MARCO ESCALANTE, Peruvian writer

 “Lo que siempre me atrajo de Contratiempo es el hecho de haber puesto el mayor énfasis en temas sociales y políticos, a diferencia de las revistas que existieron antes en Chicago, que privilegiaban la creación literaria. Considerando el contexto político actual –el avance de la ultra-derecha, las campañas contra los inmigrantes, la radicalización de los grupos religiosos, etc- es de vital importancia que exista una revista que analice críticamente estos hechos y los incorpore en el debate público de la comunidad hispana”.

 VERÓNICA LUCUY ALANDIA, Bolivian writer and dentist

 “Esta revista nuestra: que es de todos y para todos y que contra viento y tormenta sale caliente y puntual: contratiempo, me es tan necesaria como para los vecinos mexicanos son sus tortillas o para mí las marraquetas en el desayuno. Me urge que exista, así de elaborada, llena de cultura, diálogo y pensamiento... porque es el ancla que me sujeta en el puerto de mi idioma y previene que me suelte a la deriva del cotidiano inglés gringo. 

JORGE FRISANCHO, Peruvian poet

“Contra tiempo. Contra todas las maldades del reloj —time is money— que nos desespera y nos ata, que tira de nosotros en mil direcciones abusivas, que nos corroe y nos saca de quicio con sus reclamos y sus obligaciones perpetuas, el reloj que nos deshace: contra tiempo para rehacernos, para estar aquí de una manera distinta a la que se nos impone, para afirmar nuestra presencia y nuestras palabras, nuestro idioma, para no permitir que estas horas sean ya irremediablemente ajenas, para que al menos este lugar nos pertenezca; contra tiempo, entonces, para afirmar lo que estamos siendo, a despecho de su paso inapresable, en el revés de ese horario que no es nuestro. Contratiempo, porque ese tiempo engaña y quema.  Contra tiempo —contra los infinitos “no”  ese reloj irremediable—, porque sí, sin ninguna otra razón, y sin ningún otro adjetivo, que el hecho de su persistencia”

 REY EMMANUEL ANDÚJAR, Dominican writer and performer

“La mudanza desde Puerto Rico [en donde tuve a mi disposición la más selecta oferta artística e intelectual] era un reto que me agarraba de espanto. Aunque Jess y el gran Rafa me auguraban que todo marcharía, fue un ejemplar de contratiempo lo que refrescó mi corazón. Su calidad me causó una impresión tremenda. Años después, instalado en Chicago, celebro la suerte de ser partícipe de este proyecto. Sin importar lo brutal que pueda ser la ciudad para la costilla caribe, es re-confortante saber que contratiempo estará siempre como casa firme del pensamiento universal en el español de la pasión”.

STEPHANIE MANRÍQUEZ, Mexican writer, journalist and producer

No fue hasta el mes de Mayo del 2005, en un famoso café de Pilsen que mi atención fue capturada por una portada, en donde un carismático niño sonriente, proveniente de algún rincón de América Latina, mostraba su gran lengua; contratiempo celebraba El Coloquio de la Lengua: El español en Estados Unidos. Con ansias localicé y entrevisté al que fungía como Director Editorial en aquella época, Francisco Piña. A mis escasos 21 años,  quede impactada con la historia detrás contratiempo y de su empeño por reservar el español. Me convertí en fiel seguidora en los años consecuentes, hasta mi primer encuentro con Catalina Ma. Johnson; quien me invitó a colaborar esporádicamente a partir del 2008 y a co-coordinar mi primer dossier: La mujer en el 2010”

 CHEMA SKANDAL!, Mexican graphic artist   
“Aunque ya había leído Contratiempo anteriormente, mi relación directa con esta publicación fue a partir de una entrevista  que me hicieron sobre mi trabajo gráfico. ¿Una revista de cultura latinoamericana, literatura y arte en Chicago? Así es. En ese primer encuentro, además de la entre-vista, se usaron ilustraciones mías para alguna sección. Recuerdo que la imagen que se usó en la portada formaba parte de una exposición sobre el juego de la lotería en Columbia College. Poco después volví buscando colaborar, cosa que agradezco y tengo el honor de hacer”

JOCHY HERRERA, Dominican writer

El tiempo, en realidad no existe. Lo que existe es la eternidad. Y todo es un presente continuo”. Lo dijo Bioy Casares, quien en 1936 fundó junto a Borges la revista bonaerense Destiempo. Siete décadas después, contratiempo ha navegado las deshoras y los destiempos -extras y de sobra- cien relojes encima al compás de la palabra; y como bitácora que registra los avatares del idioma español en estos Estados Unidos de Latino-américa, ha abrazado no sólo el pensamiento y la inquieta identidad de sus pobladores, nosotros, sino también el ejercicio lúdico de su arte y el paradero de sus sueños

IGNACIO GUEVARA, Costa Rican educator and writer

Después de veintidós horas en tren me fui a buscar las oficinas de la revista. Hundí tres veces el botón del intercomunicador hasta que alguien me abrió. Subí las escaleras y caminé hasta el fondo del edificio. Pilas de revistas, computadoras, dos mesas juntas, sillas alrededor, libros, papeles, café frío en el percolador, sobras de pan y nadie con quien poder hablar. Dejé que pasara el tiempo mientras hojeaba ejemplares viejos y crecía mi ansiedad por ser parte de aquel proyecto de papel. Esperé por más de una hora, nadie apareció; aquella soledad fue mi silencioso bautizo en la vida de contratiempo”. 

ESMERALDA MORALES-GUERRERO, Mexican graphic designer

“Para mí, contratiempo no solo es una revista literaria y una organización cultural, sino que contratiempo es una comunidad que me recibió cálidamente cuando aún estaba en el proceso de adatarme a vivir en este país. Contratiempo le da, a todo el que quiera participar, la oportunidad de ser vocero de la muy particular visión de quien pertenece a dos culturas. Aquí reencuentras y descubres la riqueza del arte y la lengua de tu origen. “ 

RAFAEL FRANCO, Puerto Rican writer and poet

“De camino al camión que me llevaba a la fábrica de lechugas, paré en la biblioteca de la 18 para mirar mis correos electrónicos y de salida ahí estaba, la copia de contratiempo. Encontré la promo del taller en una de sus  páginas y mi vida en Chicago tomó su primera curva bienvenida. Desde entonces la ciudad es otra. “

Foto: Ignacio Guevara

 TANYA VICTORIA, Mexican conservationist and educator

Mi encuentro con contratiempo se dio por casualidad en el consulado de España. El primer número, literalmente, llegó a mis manos, un chico me entregó un paquete de revistas al tiempo que dijo: ¿conoces la revista? Es la revista en español más importante de Chicago. Y se fue. Puse las revistas en una mesa y me senté a leerla. Después de una ojeada vi la invitación al taller y ese fin de semana comencé una inevitable relación con contratiempo, la revista en español más importante de Chicago.

CATALINA MARÍA JOHNSON, Mexican-American journalist

Uno de mis primeros contactos con contratiempo se dio en relación a conocer al maestro Carlos Monsiváis como parte del coloquio sobre el español en Estados Unidos. No recuerdo sus palabras exactas, pero me murmuró al oído, ¿y tú también eres parte de este iluso esfuerzo por mantener vivo el español en este país? Si ya hasta en México se habla un español que no reconozco”. A los siete años de ese encuentro, sigo orgullosa de participar en la tarea quijotesca de preservar en nuestros seres, aunque sean restos mínimos del español, pequeños y bellos ámbares de vocabulario y sintaxis con los que adornamos una existencia en inglés.”   

XC: Could you share with us about the different events that Contratiempo organizes?

MP: We publish ten issues of contratiempo magazine per year and have published 6 books from local Spanish language writers.  One of those books has been an anthology of 17 writers that have assembled in our bi-weekly creative writing workshops for five years now.  We have invited poets during the workshops, the most recent having been Xánath Caraza, to whom we are very grateful. 

In the midst of all that, we organize readings by local poets, most recently had an exhibit by our three photographers within the programming for Chicago Artists Month, and collaborate with other literary or educational organizations for additional presenting.

Our major feat as art presenters is our collaboration with DePaul University, the Poetry Foundation and Instituto Cervantes, to organize Poesía en Abril, an international poetry festival to highlight Spanish language poetry in and outside of the States. Here we honor one or two Latin American poets per festival and invite anywhere from 8 to 15 poets from outside Chicago and present an equal number of local poets.   In Poesía en Abril we give a platform to new talent as well: we host open mics in the community and conduct three contests: one for written poetry, another for visual poetry and a third for declamation of poetry.      

XC: Could you let us know about your fundraising event?

MP: We are holding Notas del Caribe on Friday December 6, at the National Museum of Mexican Arts in Chicago as part of a new effort to hold annual fundraisers. It is part of a fantastic organizational development program from the Chicago Community Trust, Smart Growth. 

We are going to celebrate one more year of accomplishments -- our tenth! -- with the gifts of food, drink, literature, art, music and dance from the Caribbean. 

We are honored to feature as keynote speaker, Dominican author and multidisciplinary artist and musician Rita Indiana Hernández, one of Latin America’s most innovative artistic voices, in Chicago for the first time!  Rita Indiana is a key player in contemporary Caribbean literature and music. The former leader of the Rita Indiana & Los Misterios band, Rita has authored two short fiction collections: Rumiantes, 1998; and Ciencia succión, 2002; and two novels (La Estrategia de Chochueca (2000, soon to be reprinted by Periferica), and Papi (Periferica, 2011). It was the latter that became a cult book across the Spanish speaking world upon its first print run.

Attendees can enjoy the culinary experience of Chef Gabriel Moya´s Sobremesa Supper Club hors d´ouvres , and drinks all night.

And to finish the evening in style, we´ll dance to the grooves of Chicago’s funkiest live musicians ¡ESSO! Afrojam Funkbeat,  the sounds of pan-Latin American cumbia Dos Santos: Anti-Beat Orquesta and the vintage Latin sounds of vinyl of (((SONORAMA))) Djs.  

For Contratiempo to continue to offer high-quality programs, and that most of our programs are offered free of charge to the community. It is, then, thanks to our supporters that we have been able to serve the Chicago community since 2003. Your support is critical. 

Since 2003, Contratiempo provides readers with a multifaceted perspective on the arts, literature and culture produced by Latino artists in Chicago and across the United States, offering unparalleled cultural coverage.   Funds raised at the event will be used to support continued publication of our beloved Revista Contratiempo. It is easy to contribute! 

HOW TO SUPPORT US

Just click on the ticket button at the top of the message or here  and buy your ticket! Please consider donating a ticket to someone who might want to attend and can´t afford to do so, if you can´t be present.  All contributions are appreciated. 

XC: How has the public received Contratiempo?

MP: We feel the support of the community in the amazing representation of artists and writers we have working with us, and the outstanding attendance to our events. Our readers are very proprietary about Contratiempo. Which we love. They tell us exactly what they think of any change we make, good or bad.  Nobody is lukewarm about Contratiempo. People from outside of the community, from outside of the U.S., are impressed with the quality of the writing, the art, the look and content of the magazine, so we feel a bit like ambassadors of our Latino community in the U.S. It is so often thought of as non-readers.

XC: What is next for Contratiempo?

MP: Our Poesia en Abril 2014 festival will be special. We are honoring the 100^th year of the birth of Octavio Paz and of the publication of Carl Sandbug´s Chicago. We are incorporating those special Centennaries (the title of our festival next year) into the programming. Stay tuned!

We have great development plans. We are devising ways to grow our distribution and our programs so that we can reach more people. We are engaged in a MacArthur Foundation grant for International Connections that will bring a literary exchange and symposium to Chicago from different corners of the world in 2014 and possible new platforms for the magazine. We are excited about our next two years.