The Politics of Music

The band started off with an orchestral version of the Santeria chant to Eleggua, the pathfinder, guardian of doors and crossroads, seguing into "Juana 1600," an Irakere standard. On the second song, "Yemaya," Mayra Valdes let loose with her own brand of Afro-Cuban scatting. The crowd rose to its feet, where it remained until the end.

Afterward, glowing with perspiration, the performers stood outside the convention center for a bus back to the hotel. They had to wait half an hour. Then another delay: Convention center security guards had to hunt down a key for the gate leading to Washington Avenue. Bedraggled and in need of showers, the Cubans squirmed in their bus seats. "Looks like we're going to need another visa to get out of here!" somebody cracked.

Back at the hotel some band members headed to their rooms. For others the night was just beginning. Valdes, Mayra, and Gomez, for instance, were whisked off to a friend's house in Miami, where they were joined by Carlos Averhoff, a former sax player with Irakere who defected two years ago. Together they watched the eleven o'clock news on Univision, which broadcast footage of their concert as well as an interview with Paquito D'Rivera, who said the Cubans' performance here was an offense to the exile community's pain.

"It's always politics with him," Valdes murmured.
They sipped drinks and chatted quietly, trying to unwind from the long day. At 2:00 a.m. Mayra Valdes closed her eyes and sighed deeply as a friend drove her back to the Fontainebleau. (Her brother had already left to attend a meeting with an American concert promoter.) The musicians had to be on a bus to the airport in just four hours. "When the tension breaks," Mayra said, "that's when you really feel how tired you are."

The singer had burst into tears when she stepped offstage earlier in the evening. "I really fell in love with the crowd," she explained. "I didn't know we were going to have such an affectionate reception. I was so moved I just wanted to leave the stage.

"What's really important is to get up there and sing," she added. "That's what fills your heart. It was always my dream to perform here, and I know this won't be the last time." She nodded off, awakening soon to the sight of tall palm trees along Collins Avenue and the still waters of Indian Creek. The car pulled into the hotel driveway. "You know, it really is pretty here," she observed, then went up to pack her bags.