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In Cuba music lives everywhere
A living memory of Cuba’s complex and contradictory social fabric
In the airport musicians play a folk song of Che Guevara
In Habana, street fairs reel with sound of salsa
In a restaurant, a guitarist sings songs of the Buena Visa Social Club
In a churchyard, a band plays Christian rock, a new phenomena
In a starkly humble sidewalk apartment
Tamboleos play the cosmology of sacred rhythms for a Santaria ceremony
In the elegant Teatro Roldan a brilliant young, black, dreadlocked pianist plays a nine-foot grand piano
traversing with ease from Chopin to Cuban composer Felix Guerrero

But on the Isla de la Juventud
in the town of Nueva Gerona
I saw again music playing its role as living memory

Sitting across from us, 4 women…
Three generations of the Iha family
The elders were nisei’s, Benita Eiko,
Retired librarian who is writing a book about Japanese on the Isla
And her sister, Maria, a retired accountant
Both could look like our mothers or aunties
Maria’s daughter, Julieta, a hapa, is a child psychologist
With eyes Japanese but features fading into Cuban
And her 16 year old daughter, Narryman,
A yonsei, only one quarter Japanese
Narryman studies piano at the International School in Habana
We asked who her favorite pianist was
"Keith Jarrett…" she replied…"jazz"
The blockade has not stopped music travel

They served us Café Cubano apologizing for un-matching cups
A small privation compared to the many they suffer from the blockade
Of course, I wouldn’t have matching cups for 5 guests and my family
At my house either

They told us stories of their father and mother’s journey
From Okinawa to Camaguey in central Cuba in the 20’s
Working on plantations
Finally making their way to the Isla De La Juventud in the 30’s
Hearing the land was rich
During WWII Senor Iha was imprisoned on the Isla
With 350 other Japanese Cubanos
Separated from their wives and families
For hours we traded stories, comparing experiences
Then I asked if they knew any Japanese songs
They looked at each other and unabashedly broke into an old folk song
Their beautiful voices brought us all chills and tears
Realizing how far that song had traveled
Wanting to reciprocate we circled the room to see what songs we knew
I could only remember one childhood song
"Po po po hato popo…."
They jumped in singing "mame oyadekada toden dekko ye"
A song…we all knew…together
Passed on for a hundred years
From Okinawa and Japan
To Cuba and California
A simple song, that will always make me feel
the Iha’s are my Cuban family