Red and yellow and pink and green,
Purple and orange and blue.
I can see a rainbow
See a rainbow, see a rainbow now
BLACK HISTORY MONTH DAY: 20
The african origins of Salsa.
To understand the development of
Red and yellow and pink and green,
Purple and orange and blue.
I can see a rainbow
See a rainbow, see a rainbow now
BLACK HISTORY MONTH DAY: 20
The african origins of Salsa.
To understand the development of what we call salsa today, we need to examine its historical and cultural development from the time when en-slaved African people were shipped to the Americas, including the Caribbean. From its African roots, salsa first developed in Cuba. As Thomas Guerrero, the Director of Santo Rico Dance Company has said, the origins of salsa lie in Africa and the Cuba. It became popular throughout the Caribbean and Latin America, and finally made its way to mainland America and even the U.K. It is now truly global.
Salsa music is sometimes described as the African drum and the Spanish guitar which is African in origin. The guitar was brought into Spain by the Moors of North Africa who conquered Spain in AD 711. In 1492 they were overrun by the house of Castile and Oregon and ousted out of Spain. The Catholic Church banned Moorish stringed instruments from being played in the streets. Interestingly enough 1492 also saw the arrival of Christobel Colon in the Americas and the beginning of the removal and destruction of native people and cultures. In the Age of Spanish Colonisation of South and Central America approximately 700,000 Africans were taken to Cuba. Spanish political and ecclesiastical authorities put great pressure upon them to accept Catholicism; but a number of them, who came to reside in the remotest parts of eastern Cuba, enjoyed more freedom to practice their own African traditions and ways of perceiving God (the ALL).
Had some fun with these little dudes today
Collection goals! Very cute!
Total Praise feat. Richard Smallwood
Only 28 days for the bullet to Martin’s head.
Only 28 days for 12-year-old slaves legs spread.
28 days for the Black mother’s whose 16-year-old son is dead.
Only 28 days for Black boys claiming colors, blue or red.
Only 28 days to realize no need to send money overseas, Black girls and boys right here in America will not be fed.
Another 28 days that lead to another 365 with no words said.
Only 28 days for Rosa at the front of that bus.
These 28 days go for the other 337 that the world don’t give a fuck about us.
Only 28 days, the Black community gets off its ass and makes a fuss.
28 Days for the Million Man March.
28 Days for Rodney King’s stitches to the face.
Only 28 days before once again, they erase our race.
All 365 days, says the Golden Arch.
Because we’re the first ones with diabetes, heart disease, HIV and STDs.
How can I help you? Welcome to Mickey D’s.
Only 28 days for our grandfathers, stabbed in the heart and spit in the face.
28 Days for the White man who walks free and the Black man who gets 28 to life for the same case.
Only 28 days for our Great-Grandfathers who were not considered citizens but paid taxes, couldn’t vote and were in war zones and murdered at army bases.
28 days means nothing because half of my generation does not know these names, dates, facts and places.
When our 28 days are over, there are those who are still and will forever remain racist.
Only 28 days for the blisters of Harriet Tubman’s feet.
Only 28 days for the immortality of Willie Lynch’s speech.
28 days for ‘For Colored Only’ water fountains, exits and seats.
Only 28 days for Blacks lynched for learning to read and capturing knowledge.
They only admit for 28 days that there are more of us in college than in bondage.
Beyond these 28 days, we were the first beings to walk this planet. Everything on this Earth comes from us. You have it.
Only 28 days for Malcolm X, Ossie Davis and Langston Hughes.
Only 28 days for Maya Angelou, Josephine Baker and Billie Holiday.
This lady sings the blues.
Only 28 days for Black crimes with no “useful” clues.
28 days for Willie Lynch’s permanent bruise.
Only 28 days for Sojourner Truth, Angela Davis and Emmitt Till.
28 Days for Coretta’s husband buried at 39.
28 days for twelve year olds carrying pistols and nines.
Only 28 days for over four thousand lynched and murdered slaves.
We are that 16 year old boy who is dead.
We are the descendants of that twelve year old slave girl, legs spread.
28 days to let these Black boys know they are claiming colors on a land they will never own.
By the end of these 28 days, they are already dead.
So for every 337 days we go with no words said, we will forever be 337+28 days the bullet in Martin’s head.