Tag Archives: African Diaspora

The Moving Blog

MAGIC NIGHTS OF LISBON II: KALEMA CLUB. Livia Jimenez Sedano

After last week’s visit to one of the classical African houses of Lisbon, A Lontra, today I propose taking us to a newer one. The landscape of houses for dancing African music in Lisbon is so dynamic, and the craze for dance is so strong that we can find new clubs opening even in the hardest times of financial crisis in Portugal. A good example of this is Kalema Club: each disco has its own personality, and Kalema attracted my attention from the first time I stepped into the house.

ENTRANCE DOOR OF KALEMA
ENTRANCE DOOR OF KALEMA

Kalema Club is a warm and welcoming house with a capacity of a bit more than 100 people. It is situated in the northern zone of Lisbon, at Avenida Frei Miguel Contreiras 18C. The golden and earthy colours of the lights and furniture, the comfortable sofas where you can sit freely and the non-huge but crowded dancefloor make you feel at home since the moment you arrive.

PICTURE 2. General view 1

GENERAL VIEWS OF KALEMA
GENERAL VIEWS OF KALEMA

Whenever you decide to go to the bar and ask for a drink, you will always find the beautiful smile of Zanatt, barwoman and co-owner of the club with Ricardo Rodrigues.

ZANATT SERVING A DRINK
ZANATT SERVING A DRINK

One night in Kalema: ethnographic description

“Raluca, the promotor of Friday nights of Kalema Club is waiting at the door to welcome us with her shiny smile as we arrive. She is a really nice Romanian young woman who became a lover of African music in Lisbon. As she has great social skills, she has been recently included in the team of promotors of Fridays nights in Kalema. It means that we are on her guestlist and she invites us to sit on her table. The security man gives us a paper card of consumption. This is the most extended system in this kind of clubs in Lisbon: you don´t need to pay when you enter, and everything you ask for will be marked on your card. To anyone who is used to pay right in the moment of serving, this card system makes you feel that you are not spending money at all (until the moment of leaving, of course!). Before you leave, you pay the total amount and your card is stamped. This is the proof of payment that you must show to the security staff to be allowed to leave.

VIEW FROM THE STAIRS
VIEW FROM THE STAIRS

After crossing the entrance door, as you go downstairs you can feel the beats of kizomba reverberating closer with each step. Once at the level of the dancefloor, we go to the table where some friends are sitting. After being introduced to the rest through the smile-and-kiss ritual, we can sit down as part of the group. We can now be considered part of the collective social subject “our table”. I look around and see that all the sofas are occupied by groups of people that chat together and lean their drinks on the tables beside. Everyone is dressed in a weekend fashion, in varying degrees of formality that don´t go to the extremes (neither suits-and-ties, nor sport shoes-and-jeans). All the tables and sofas are oriented looking at the dancefloor and, as the space is not big, it is possible to observe almost every corner from any seat. The dancefloor is never totally empty but never totally packed up, leaving space for dancing without accidents. Most people come back to their original tables of reference after each dance.” (Fieldwork Diary)

This continuous cycle of going to the dancefloor when favourite songs are played and coming back “home” afterwards made me remember what I had witnessed in other African houses such as Mwangolé or Sussussu. But…this is not what I was used to see in any of the typical kizomba parties I have attended here in Lisbon…

The riddle of Kalema

Kalema became a mystery for me since the first night I went there: I was very curious about was what I perceived as a striking mix of ambiences. As far as I have witnessed in my fieldwork until today, in a “typical African disco” of the old style (80s and 90s), we will find people drinking and chatting in groups sitting on sofas beside tables around a dancefloor. Most of the time they will be talking and watching people dance (what is usually called convívio), and only in certain special moments they will jump on the dancefloor. By contrast, in the houses and parties that kizomba school people prefer, most of the time they are not sitting: instead, they are dancing or standing around the dancefloor, so that chatting and drinking is much of a secondary activity. In these contexts (such as Barrio Latino on Thursdays or, more recently, B.leza on Sundays), chairs and sofas become an obstacle for the dance or an improvised bengaleiro (place to leave their coats and bags). Apparently, Kalema broke that rule: being frequented by a mix of kizomba school people and Africans, all of them shared the habit of sitting on the sofas in groups and talking. Why? What was going on? I decided to resolve this intriguing fact that made Kalema such a special place. An interview with the co-owners, Ricardo Rodrigues and Zanatt, finally led me to the answer.

THE DANCEFLOOR ON FRIDAY
THE DANCEFLOOR ON FRIDAY
THE DANCEFLOOR ON FRIDAY (from facebook, courtesy of Kalema Club)
THE DANCEFLOOR ON FRIDAY (from facebook, courtesy of Kalema Club)

History of Kalema 

Kalema Club opened just a few years ago, the 8th November of 2013, as Ricardo remembered immediately. The place already existed, and it was known as Terra da Música. To give it a new life, it was essential to change the name, the decoration, and the ambience. Interestingly, Ricardo spent a part of his life in Cape Verde and opened a house that called RClub. He used to go to another disco that was called Kalema, and the name inspired him. “Kalema” is the name given to a strong swell that beats the Western African coast (what could be considered a metaphor for the emotional state in which people get into through dancing.) Apart from the beautiful sound of the word, one of the reasons why Ricardo chose this name is because, according to him, we can find this term everywhere in the PALOPs: a general reference of Portuguese-speaking Africa that is not specific of any country. In this way, it could make people from diverse African countries feel identified with it. The two co-owners are well knowers of the African nights of Lisbon: Zanatt, from São Tomé, has lived in Lisbon for a long time, and Ricardo, Portuguese, has a quite interesting history of relations with Africa. Their intention was opening up a new African disco with a special personality that could make it different from the others. The boom of kizomba changed their plans: school kizomba lovers started to come and introduced their social rules. As the house started receiving more and more clients of this kind, it became an unexpected social mix and it had to adapt to the needs of both types of public: a good balance of recent hits and old music, a combination of living-room-like space with kizomba workshops some nights. As a result, today we can find a quite interesting mix of nightclub cultures, social rules and dance styles that develop through crossed influences in a small-medium space.

Nevertheless, these cultural diversity provide with some difficulties to keep everyone happy. The first key point is the music: how can the DJ guide such a heterogeneous community through the night?

DJ KLAUS, THE RESIDENT DJ (from facebook, courtesy of Kalema).
DJ KLAUS, THE RESIDENT DJ (from facebook, courtesy of Kalema).

For this reason, the solution found was the following: Kalema offers the possibility of experiencing a night more focused on kizomba on Fridays and a more “African night” on Saturday. At this moment, on Friday night we can find some of the DJs most appreciated in the world of kizomba schools and festivals joining DJ Klaus, the resident DJ. On Saturday, the invited DJs are specialists in African audiences; for example, DJ Zauzito was there for a noite do semba (semba night).

PICTURE 9. Workshop on Friday

FLYERS OF FRIDAY PARTIES (from facebook: courtesy of Kalema Club)
FLYERS OF FRIDAY PARTIES (from facebook: courtesy of Kalema Club)

Summing up, if you go on Friday, you may find a kizomba workshop or a show by a well-known teacher; if you go on Saturday, you may find something more similar to the nostalgic African discos of the 80s and 90s. Or you may find a surprise, as new realities are being created every weekend. What are the new shapes that African-ness is taking in Lisbon´s nights? Are we helping the blending of social groups and night cultures through the love for music and dance? The answers are waiting on the dancefloor of discos like Kalema in the next years, starting from tonight. We´d better not miss it!

Livia Jiménez Sedano is currently member of INET-MD (Instituto de Etnomusicologia-Centro de Estudos em Música e Danca) and her work is being funded by FCT (Fundação para a Ciencia e Tecnologia) of Portugal. She is a collaborator of Modern Moves Project and will become a full member on September 2015.

The Moving Blog

MAGIC NIGHTS OF LISBON I: A LONTRA by Livia Jimenez Sedano

The first time I heard about A Lontra disco was the night that Luísa Roubaud, one of the best experts in the dance scene in Lisbon and a great colleague and friend at INET-MD (Instituto de Etnomusicologia), talked to me about it. We were enjoying a night out with some of her friends who used to go to African music clubs since the eighties. Having witnessed all the transformations of the last decades, they were making a contrast between nowadays´ kizomba fashion night life and the golden times they remembered in the 70s and the 80s. As memories started popping up, their eyes shone when talking about A Lontra, a mythical dance club that opened in Lisbon after the outbreak of the independence wars of Portugal’s former African colonies. The owners were a married couple that came from Luanda and landed in Lisbon in 1975, running away from the war of independence in Angola, like other more than 500.000 people after-25th April 1974 (see Machado 1974). These frequent visitors of A Lontra remembered that the couple consisted of an incredibly beautiful Black African lady (Dinah) and her husband, a White Portuguese gentleman (Carlos Correia). Just like in fairy tales, the beauty of Dinah was well-known and admired in the kingdom of the African nights of Lisbon. They insisted that I should go and speak to her to know the whole story from her lips. Since that day, I had been looking forward to meeting her and making her an in-depth interview. I had seen the front door with the old metal sign representing an otter (that´s the meaning of “Lontra”) many times when passing by Rua de São Bento, and it was the night of Saturday 28th February that I decided to visit the place.

1_A Lontra´s door

DOOR OF A LONTRA

2_A Lontra´s metal icon

METAL ICON OF A LONTRA

As I entered and approached the bar to ask about the politics of consumption, an ageless beautiful lady dressed in an elegant black suit came along walking slowly to attend. At that very moment, I said to myself: “no doubt, there she is”. Indeed, she was the legendary Dinah. I was lucky enough to get an appointment for an interview to know more about the history of the place and its secrets.

A Lontra was opened in 1977, right after Angola achieved its independence. This means that it was one of the first African discos of Lisbon. Like all the people who went to Portugal running away from the African wars of independence, they had to restart their lives from zero. Until they could find a way to make a living, they depended on public subventions aimed at “retornados” (“returned people”) and on the hospitality of their extended family. As they were experienced in managing discos in Luanda (such as the ones they owned, Cave Adão and Veleiro), they decided to start up a new business in the same branch. It was directed in principle to an audience of “retornados” that missed Africa and their lifestyle there. Gathering for listening to their beloved music became an urgent need, and A Lontra came to offer a home to alleviate homesickness through dancing together. The following images show some of the original spaces of A Lontra.

3-First Bar A LontraFIRST BAR, A LONTRA

4_Second Bar A Lontra[1]

SECOND BAR, A LONTRA

5-Dance Floor A Lontra

DANCE FLOOR, A LONTRA

A Lontra is situated in an emblematic place (Rua de São Bento 157), less than 5 minutes from the Assambleia da República, the most emblematic political institution of Portugal. It was not long time before some deputies, as well as intellectuals and artists heard of A Lontra and came to satisfy their curiosity. This nucleus of the political, artistic and intellectual elite of Lisbon became a faithful group of clients: these were the golden times of A Lontra, between the 80s and the 90s. In those days, DJing was combined with live music. Among other treasures, Dinah still keeps a large chest full of old vinyl discs of African music:

6_A Lontra chest of vinyls

THE CHEST OF VINYLS7_Some old vinyls

SOME OF THE OLD VINYLS (WE SEE IMAGES FAMILIAR FROM OUR RECENT VISIT TO COTONOU!)

Dinah also possesses  a beautiful collection of art handcraft bought during travels to Angola, which are also displayed in the disco.

8_Elephant wooden chair

ELEPHANT WOODEN CHAIR

9_Wooden African female with baby

FEMALE FIGURE IN WOOD

10_African mask

MASK IN WOOD

Another jewel that she keeps carefully is a collection of pictures of those days. Some deputies used to gather in A Lontra for a drink after their sessions in Assambleia da República. Sometimes, they held meetings in a private room that Dinah gently opened for them. It means that important decisions for the future of Portugal were taken inside A Lontra´s walls.

11_A lontra antiga 2

A LONTRA, A NIGHT IN 1996

Through the 70s and 80s, more African houses opened up in Lisbon. Dinah and her husband Carlos opened a second house in 1980, “Cave Adão”, following the style and fame of the disco they had opened in Luanda, and in 1989 Dinah opened the disco “Rainha Njinga” (an epical Angolan queen known for her fierce resistance to the Portuguese colonizers). The clientele changed through time, and A Lontra started being visited by more and more people from Cape Verde. Vinyl music changed to CD, and later to digital files in the DJ´s computer, and the styles and ambience of the house changed too. With the recent boom of kizomba music and dance throughout the world, A Lontra adapted to the new times and DJs started introducing the most recent hits of kizomba. This is an excerpt of the fieldnotes I took that night:

“The night starts with loud afrohouse music, what indicates that the audience will probably be mainly people in their twenties. As expected, young boys and girls start coming since approximately two o´clock at night. The first beats of recent kizomba hits make some couples jump to the dancefloor. There is a pair of couples doing school-like steps, but the rest are dancing free style. Two boys leaning on the bar encourage themselves and finally leave their glasses on the counter to go and invite some of the girls that gather in groups by the edge of the dancefloor, but they refuse. Only when one of them insists and pulls a girl´s arm she accepts with a facial expression of resignation. Anyway, she abandons him in the middle of the song. It seems that it´s a hard job for boys. Then the DJ turns to Brazilian and international commercial music, such as Enrique Iglesias´ “Bailando” hit. Girls go crazy dancing in groups and having fun. The moment of funaná creates a new atmosphere: there are not many people dancing in couples, but mostly girls dancing among themselves and joking with and through the music. There is a girl dressed in a stripped blue and white tight dress who dances in an amazing and crazy way, moving her hips and feet in every possible way without ever losing the beat. Dinah is looking at her from the counter and smiling with pleasure. Then the DJ moves to batuque and people get even crazier, shaking hips and bumping navels on the dancefloor. Popular music from Cape Verde, mostly from Santiago, is played for a long time and intertwined with musical blocks of kizomba and afrohouse.” (Fieldwork diary, 28th February 2015) (To know more about batuque music and dance in Lisbon, see the work of Ana Flávia Miguel and Jorge Castro Ribeiro, INET-MD)

In conclusion, A Lontra can be proud of being one of the oldest African houses of Lisbon still open today and of having witnessed the recent history of Lisbon. It has resisted the changing times through adapting to the social and cultural transformations of the city. The dance steps of artists, politicians, intellectuals, curious visitors and people of all ages and from every corner of the PALOPS, have written on its dancefloor the history of relations between Portugal and Africa for at least the last 38 years. But, unlike an old museum, music has kept A Lontra young and alive. When asked about the secret for this, Dinah smiles and says: “this is something you do because you love it”.

Livia Jiménez Sedano is currently a member of INET-MD (Instituto de Etnomusicologia-Centro de Estudos em Música e Danca) and her work is being funded by FCT (Fundação para a Ciencia e Tecnologia) of Portugal. She is a collaborator in the Modern Moves Project and will become a full member of the team in September 2015.

REFERENCES:

Machado, Fernando Luís (1994) Luso-africanos em Portugal: nas margens da etnicidade. Sociologia: Problemas e Práticas 16: 111-134

Featured image: Archival photo of A Lontra, a night in 1996

The Moving Blog

Of Checked Skirts And Big Drums

It was hot and sweaty and we were swathed in fabric. Big bias-cut skirts in bold and bright checks. Barefoot, barely pausing to gulp down water, we danced to the beat of the gwo-ka drums. While Christian marked the rhythm for us dances on his gwo-ka (the ‘big drum’), Ralph’s sounded out the intricacies of the toumblak, or the Guadeloupean rhythm of joy. Ten women dancing the toumblak in madras fabric: it could have been in Guadeloupe, but no– we were in a studio in East London on an unusually warm English summer’s day. One more example of how dance collapses time and place through the trans-corporality of the body.

This Saturday, Francesca and I attended a masterclass by Zil’oKA, a London-based percussion and dance organisation that focuses on the rhythms, songs, and movements of the French West Indies- the islands of Martinique and Guadeloupe. At the end of May, we had enjoyed their tremendous performance at a day dedicated to the French Caribbean at the Hoxton Arches. Ever since then, we had been waiting for an opportunity to hang out with and learn from Zil’oKA. Excitement mounted when we were informed by email of their plans for their masterclass in toumblak, one of the seven rhythms current in Guadeloupean rhythm repertoire.

Zil’oKA at the Hoxton Arches. Photo by Ananya Jahanara Kabir
Zil’oKA at the Hoxton Arches. Photo by Ananya Jahanara Kabir

‘What is a masterclass?’ A friend asked me that evening. I guess in the context of dance, it indicates a few focused hours of accelerated learning, which pushes the pedagogic envelope because a higher level of dance experience is assumed. My dance-learning capacities have certainly improved over the years that I’ve been dipping into Afro-diasporic movement worlds: could I have imagined, even a few years ago, walking into a dance class, learning the basic steps of a new form, and ending up with a mini-choreography at the end of three hours!!! Yet that is exactly what we accomplished together on Saturday! Hooray for great teaching!

Ananya, Francesca and Zil’oKA teacher Sara Brucy. Photo by Ananya Jahanara Kabir.
Ananya, Francesca and Zil’oKA teacher Sara Brucy. Photo by Ananya Jahanara Kabir.

My body recognised steps from other Afro-diasporic traditions: for instance, the umbigada (belly-button-bumping), which was such a talking point for Lusophone colonial authorities, gave rise to the Angolan social dance semba (from the Kimbundu word ‘massemba’, or the touching of navels) and, on the other side of the Atlantic, the Brazilian samba…. So amazing to see it reappear as the Guadeloupean piting bo!! A jump, kick and back-cross reminded us again of carnival samba. A four-step move with an accentuated hip thrust recalled both Dominican bachata and Colombian cumbia. It was delicious to sense the echo of a Cuban three-step move in one of the tri-page basic steps.

Ananya trying out the tri-page pas-de-base with Zil’oKA teacher Rita Lencrerot. Photo by Ananya Jahanara Kabir.
Ananya trying out the tri-page pas-de-base with Zil’oKA teacher Rita Lencrerot. Photo by Ananya Jahanara Kabir.

For me, it was so exciting finally to do a class in the rhythms of the French Caribbean. I have long enjoyed a range of music from these islands—from the oldest creolized Biguine songs (I adore most of all Leona Gabriel, diva songstress from Cayenne), to the funky world music sound of Kassav’, as well as the cerebral experiments of Malavoi and the return to the islands’ roots music, chouval-bwa, by Dédé Saint-Prix. These are on-going dialogues with the rhythms of the gwo-ka, which, like creole drumming through the Caribbean, continues to be a flashpoint of debates around policing, identity, and reclaiming of tradition.

Kassav’ at the Zenith, Paris, in June 2013 (Ananya was at this concert!)

With my apprenticeship in this musical tradition, I wasn’t too slow in picking up the names of the steps and even some creole phrases that we had to chant with attitude during the choreography! – So much so that Zil’oKA members asked me if I actually spoke Creole! But it’s not only sounds and rhythms that had begun to enter my world in the past ten years that I discovered: there were unmistakeable traces of Indian dance movements in some of the basic steps. Rita Lencrerot of Zil’oKA did not find this surprising. ‘Our islands are full of Indian people’, she reminded me. Yes! Another step forward in Modern Moves’ excavation of hidden histories across the oceans….

Celebrating Indian Arrival Day across the Islands. Photo by Ananya Jahanara Kabir.
Celebrating Indian Arrival Day across the Islands. Photo by Ananya Jahanara Kabir.

Of course a material reminder of these entangled transoceanic histories is the madras fabric, which finds its way into the folkoric costumes of almost all the smaller islands of the Caribbean, starting with the Francophone ones. And where there is folkore, there is dance… As the name indicates, these striking checked fabrics were woven in Madras and shipped to the Caribbean through imperial trading routes. Till today, in the era of post-slavery, post-indenture, and postcolonialism, they are produced in South India and exported to the islands- as a new exhibition by the Costume Institute of The African Diaspora will soon demonstrate in glorious detail.

When I was growing up in India, the story of Indian diasporas on sugar plantations were a completely sealed off corridor of history. Noone went down those corridors. Despite some welcome new ways of talking about those old Indian diasporas today, there is still very little out there about the Indian populations in Francophone islands like Guadeloupe, and nothing at all about how Indian and African populations creolized each other in the realms of music, dance, language and food. It meant something indescribable to me when a student of Indian origin from Guadeloupe presented me recently with a swathe of madras fabric to make into a sari—watch this space for the transformation!

Ananya’s Guadeloupean proto-sari. Photo by Ananya Jahanara Kabir.
Ananya’s Guadeloupean proto-sari. Photo by Ananya Jahanara Kabir.

For me, dancing in a Madras skirt on a hot London day, marking the toumblak, the rhythm of joy, was an act of performing and reclaiming a supressed history of displacement, survival and encounter. As we moved in unison, and performed the piting bo to each other and the drummers, giving and taking energy, the heaviness of the fabric (which was for me also the heaviness of history) transformed into something that gave the body velocity and grace when we moved. As I spun around, knelt down, struck the floor thrice, I noted with pleasure how my skirt settled around me- when I sprung up, flicking my skirt just so, I felt feminine and powerful. Who said skirts couldn’t be serious??? And that long skirts couldn’t be fun?! Here’s to making and remaking history with a long skirt and a drum!

**Feature Image Courtesy of Francesca Negro**

ANANYA JAHANARA KABIR