| Program Notes | The Drama of Chacumbele “Murió como Chacumbeles, él mismito se mató,” goes the popular Cuban saying. It translates roughly as “he died like Chacumbeles, he dug his own grave.” When one investigates who Chacumbele was and how he might have died, one stumbles upon a complex story that skirts the line between truth and fiction, a tragic drama that unfolds like the synopsis of an opera or modern ballet. I conducted field interviews in Havana and came across a myriad of versions about the story and its origin. But as I found out, these versions spoke more about the imagination of those I interviewed than about Chacumbele’s background. It is as though the tale of Chacumbele is a reminder of people’s own vulnerability, a warning against falling victim to their own mistakes while pursuing their aspirations. I came to the conclusion that, as if playing a game, Cubans like to entertain the many possible ways in which the legendary character could have died. In so doing, they may be secretly wishing to save themselves from their own tragic fate. Inspired by these findings, I joined the game by concocting an elaborate alternative to Chacumbele’s life and circumstances surrounding his death. My ongoing plan is to compose a symphonic score based upon my own version of the drama of Chacumbele. I take as point of departure the most elaborate incarnation of the story I found; a story of how the lone survivor of a violent cyclone rebuilds his life as a tightrope walker only to later in life succumb to jealously —a force darker than any found in nature. It is a story that takes place in a circus and also inhabits the emotional landscape of some of the worst human calamities of the 20th century, like fascism and racism. Underneath this human drama, I weave a sub-plot borrowed from the rich Yoruba mythology so prevalent in Cuban society, namely the tale of how the goddess of the oceans, Yemayá, fulfills a prophecy. The prophecy states that Yemayá must return her son Olokun to the bottom of the sea in order to restore order to the human world. Loosely following Yoruba religious practices, each character in my version of the story embodies a deity, including Chacumbele and his two sidekicks Ilona Szabo and Harry Silver. In the end, the unfolding of the entire story is the workings of Yemayá, mother of all deities. Like a great puppet master, Yemayá manipulates the destiny of the main characters in order to stop Olokun from continuing to punish the world with natural disasters and human calamities. This deed comes with a great cost to all but Yemayá, who in the end emerges as the beneficiary of her own plot. Symphonic Scene I: Olokun’s Awakening The first symphonic scene of Chacumbele depicts the main characters as youths barely escaping the wrath of Olokun. Chacumbele is seen holding on for dear life while his town is pounded by a tsunami; Ilona Szabo is being escorted out a back door right before a fascist squad storms in her home; and a terrified Harry Silver is seen hiding as he witnesses a lynch mob. An unwavering sixteenth-note riff plays peristently in the background signaling the omnipresent influence of Yemayá, while themes that identify main characters rise over a turbulent orchestration that emulates a storm. I am indebted to Ráphael Jiménez for his help during the process of conceptualizing the drama of Chacumbele and for his constructive critique of the first symphonic scene. |
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