Music is Life!

Was it 4 am or 5 am when I was woken up by people chanting outside our window?

Half dreaming I listened to their voices, warm, powerful, singing about love, life and God. I listened and my dreams took me to another place, a place where people spoke Spanish and a female voice whispered to me “they’re crying because they don’t want her to cry”…I fell back to sleep, feeling the light on my face and woke up blinded by the 7 o’clock sun, I thought about that sentence whispered to me in Spanish by a voice I didn’t know with a meaning I didn’t understand.

Today was January 12th, the anniversary of the earthquake that ripped Haiti apart 2 years earlier. People had been chanting for their deads, it was now quiet outside. As quiet as it is at 7am, goats bleating, roosters singing, neighbours sweeping the dirt path, morning greetings. Quieter than usual. People were mourning the 500 000 that perished 2 years ago, they wouldn’t go to work today, they would spend the day remembering the unforgettable day that was January 12th 2010. Haitians always refer to it with exact details using the exact date even the exact time. They will start their story with “On January 12th 2010, I was…”, “On the day of the catastrophe, January 12th 2010, I was…”, “The 12th of January 2010, the day of Goudougoudou, I was…” It’s never referred to less.

Memorials bear the date and the time. Memories bear the date and the time, and all Haitians know that in less than 40 seconds their lives changed. One second they were and now they are. Now they are, what are they? They are People with amazing resilience who go through life with closed facial expressions, empty looks, chagrined eyes, severe composure. Who seem so very distant and impossible to befriend. People who wake up everyday and pray hoping that God will hear their prayers. People who out of all the surrounding chaos are humble and dignified. People who take pride in cleaning the path outside their tents, wooden shelters and makeshift homes. People who labour hard before sunrise and after sunset to be able to feed their children and friends. People who are always impeccably dressed despite the lack of running clear water, the very dusty tracks and the exhausting heat.

It takes one smile and one word for their facial expressions to soften, their looks to fill up with light, their eyes to shine and the composure to relax. One smile, one word, is all I can give to them. It took one minute of silence at the dance club tonight for the room to be filled with emotions and for us to remember the 500 000 deads. We stood up, remembering them and remembering one of the dancers.  In the same silence and with the same respect, they played bachata, Aventura’s obsession. I felt my legs twitching to the rhythm and happiness. I looked around and saw people crying, in communion, embracing each other. Pain is still visible, trauma is still present under their skin, underneath their solemn look and despite joyful tunes.

 We sat, watching, letting the music take over our thoughts, minds and emotions. I felt the song, I felt shivers down my spine when I saw the picture of this once talented dancer, now far away from the music and the dance floor he was so passionate about. A voice said “we have to carry on being courageous, we are not here to cry, but remember, music is life!” and Celia Cruz’s Rie y llora (laugh and cry) filled the room, they danced, I danced, we remembered January 12th 2012.

I am still wondering whose voice it was and the meaning of it.

Hugs and music to you all!