Place and Date:	Brooklyn, NY 2007
Interviewer:	Banning Eyre and Sean Barlow

Afropop.org Senior Editor Banning Eyre interviewed Andy Palacio at the Afropop studio in Brooklyn New York on January 19, 2007 as Andy and the Garifuna Collective were getting ready to perform at GlobalFest 2007. They talked about Andy’s life, the story of the Garifuna people of Central America , and Andy’s superb new album “Watina” (Cumbancha). Transcribed by Misha Turner and Sean Barlow.

BE: Let’s start with a bit of your background and how you came to music.

Andy Palacio: I was born in the village of Barranco on December 2^nd, 1960. Barranco is a small village. Today it has less than 250 inhabitants. And it’s in the extreme south of near the Guatemalan border. Growing up in Barranco, I was exposed to typical Garifuna rural life which would mean parents involved in subsistence farming and fishing. And a community that was almost completely Garifuna in terms of its population. On the streets and at home we spoke Garifuna to each other. On the school grounds we were required to speak English (Laughs). That was pretty much the social environment.

Music was an occasional part of the life of the community. Within Garifuna society, there is music for almost every type of occasion. There are the more popular forms that fit into the festive environment, notably punta and paranda. And there are other forms that take on a more serious side of life such as the songs associated with the traditional healing ceremony known as du gu. Songs of the du gu are deeply spiritual and they aren’t performed regularly unless and until such a ceremony is required. And there are other semi-sacred forms of music such as the a capela songs sung by women, called “abueymahani.” And there’s a similar form done exclusively by men called “arumahani.” The music is so diverse and I was exposed to all of these growing up in addition to the music from the radio stations we were able to access in Baranco at the time. Mainly Radio Belize which broadcast music from North America, Europe, Latin America and the wider Caribbean, particularly Honduras and Guatemala. And their programming exposed me to Latin music. So all these genres came together by synthesis.

BE: You had all that happening when you were a kid?

AP: Yes, different languages, different styles of music, fitting into all types of environments and social situations.

When it comes to the actual playing of music, I didn’t pick up until pre-teen years when I was able to get a hold of my father’s harmonica and taught myself to play based on what I heard him doing. My father loved music. He was able to play the guitar and the harmonica, and he also told me that he played the coronet, but I never saw one at home and I never saw him play. He also loved to sing. However my father was not very prolific with Garifuna music. I think his music instruction came from a time in during the colonial days when there was a heavy focus on singing songs associated with that type of setting---songs of the Catholic church, songs from teachers from the colonial period, and that type of choral rendition—that was what he was really good at. I never heard my father singing traditional Garifuna music.

BE: So traditional Garifuna music would probably have been more of an underground phenomena at that time, or wasn’t encouraged officially, right?

AP: Yes, it was not something that was looked at as worth exposing, worth recording or worth passing on to the next generation. If this was to happen, it was to happen without deliberate and systematic effort.

BE: What is the story of Garifuna?

AP: The Garifuna currently inhabit the Central America countries of Nicaragua, Honduras, Guatamala and Belize.  Many of our people have migrated to other countries including the where there are significant populations in New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Miami, Houston and New Orleans.  And there may be others in the Diaspora, in other countries including Canada, theU.K. and Lord knows where else.

Originally our ancestors were the result of intermarriage between Africans who escaped slavery and aboriginal Caribs and Arwarks on the island of St. Vincent . This hybrid community resisted slavery and colonization by the Europeans for a very long time until the year 1795 when the Garifuna nation was defeated by the British. And the captives –at least most of them—were forced into exile by the British landing them on the shores of Central America in 1797.  So it is from that period that the survivors started to scatter to inhabit the four countries that I mentioned earlier.

The Garifuna arrived in —according to our archives--as early as 1802. We celebrate the 19^th of November every year as a national holiday to commemorate the arrival the largest contingent of Garifuna settlers to the shores of in 1823.

BE: I didn’t realize it all started in St. Vincent , that’s fascinating.  Why St. Vincent, what was it that happened there that made this happen?

AP: St. Vincent was the stronghold of the Caribs and Arwarks.  The expansion that had taken place in pre-Colombian times—beginning from the Amazon region of South America coming through the lesser Antilles—I think came to it’s culmination on the island of Saint Vincent. And it was there that the actual intermarriage of Africans and aboriginal Caribs and Arwarks really took place. So this, for us, would signify the genesis of this group of people known as Garifuna. Who, according to anthropologists, speak a language that is essentially based on the Caribbean and Arawark languages with borrowed words from the various African cultures that we have come in contact with, in addition to French and today English and Spanish which has had a significant influence on our linguistic patterns.

BE: So you inherited this as a distinct, separate language –it became a distinct, separate language probably in late 18^th Century, or 1802?

AP: No, it would go back at least perhaps a century of two before then.

BE: So the reason that St. Vincent was a strong hold of the Arawaks and all this could happen—this suggests to me that this is a place that was not so much under the thumb of the colonialist—the British and so forth.

AP:  It wasn’t. And as a matter of fact, the Garifuna presence was so strong that they were able to resist subjugation for a very, very long time. And there were what are known as the Carib Wars; and the Garifuna were able to form strategic alliances at times with the British against the French—and at times with the French against the British—depending on who was giving them a better deal.

And the exiled Garifuna were just approximately 2,500 who landed on the shores of an island off of Honduras in 1797.  Today we number over a quarter million in the various territories.

BE: And that arrival in that you celebrate every year, how many was that roughly?

AP: You know, I don’t know that. But by historical accounts, it was the largest single contingent of settlers to come ashore in Belize.  And they were actually denied permission to settle by the colonial governor.

BE: So what happened?

AP: According to our records, the governor said “yes, you can settle, but you need to settle below the Saboun River", which at the time the Saboun River was the border of Belize and the rest of Central America . So by settling below the Saboun River, we were actually outside of Belize.  But the Garifuna settle and raised the British flag.  [laughs] So, in other words, our ancestors claimed this southern portion of the country for what then became the settlement of Belize on the bay of Honduras .

BE: And the border ended up including this region?

AP: Exactly.

BE: When you talked about those kinds of music that you inherited through the tradition of sacred music, and the women’s’ songs and the men’s songs, this is stuff that goes back centuries within this Garifuna context?

AP: Yes it does. We’re told that the forms of that include drumming tend to reflect more of our African heritage.  While those with the acapela forms, which are accompanied by linking to each other by holding hands and rocking, reflect more the aboriginal, Amer-Indian side of our heritage.

BE: Fascinating. I’m sure it’s difficult to separate those things out.  Sean was remembering a story that you told about a ship.  Was that the story of the arrival of the Africans in Belize?

AP: No. On St. Vincent there is one account of a ship coming from Africa loaded with Africans bound for slavery. And that a shipwreck occurred, and the Africans made their way to the shore –supposedly with the assistance of the Caribs and Arawaks who inhabited the island at the time.  What it was a Carib-Arawak mix, because these two groups where already mixing even before the Europeans came.  So, the Africans were welcomed into this community. And that’s the reason why even today the Garifuna take pride in the fact that we as Black people were never enslaved by the Europeans.

BE: So that’s really the whole genesis of the original Garifuna community!  Do you know about when that was?

AP: In the 1600s, perhaps early 1600s.  And there is another theory that the Garifuna could have also come about from a mixture of Africans and the Carib-Arawak mix as it is believed that there were Africans in the western hemisphere even before the Europeans came.  Now I don’t want to get into that dispute, but I would want people to express what they uncover from their research and let’s come to a consensus—or it may be all of the above.

BE: Yes, it’s difficult to sort all these things out.  I see there’s this bit of a divide there in the scholarship.  So coming back to your youth and your sort of inheritance of this music; you talked about those traditional forms, and you also talked about punta and paranda.  How do they fit into that traditional context? What are the origins of these forms?

AP: We’d have to look at the setting where these forms usually are practiced. Paranda, for example, tends to be associated quite heavily with the festive Christmas season.  Where groups of “paranderos”--men with their guitars and the drums and maracas, and improvised percussion: with a fork and a bottle to give a kind of a chiming sound…an enamel plate with a spoon to give a grating sound…All this would come to life as this group would go from house to house entertaining with bottles of rum, and food, and merry-making.  So that was quite popular. And this would be recreated when there is another festive season, such as a marriage in the community.  And the punta also fits into that same kind of festive atmosphere.  And by the sexy nature of punta—the movements are very suggestive signifying the flirtation between man and woman—that in itself adds to making it more interesting and appealing, so it’s performed more frequently.  And when it crossed over from the Garifuna community into the wider community it was met with easy acceptance.

BE: When about did that happen?

AP: I think the biggest crossover period was in the mid-80s, or perhaps we should start with the late 70s, when Punta rock came into existence.  That was due to the experimentation being done by a group of musicians in a town called Dangriga in Belize led by a painter and musician named Pen Kayetano. Pen and the Turtle Shell Band took on traditional Garifuna drumming focusing on mainly punta and paranda rhythms. This driving beat, call-and-response vocals, catchy hooks infused with riveting electric guitar strum. [chuckles]…People were just going wild in the streets of Dangriga and that went onto Belize City and became a part of the weekend-dance and club scene.  And it became further electrified with amplifiers and big speakers, adding the bass guitar and keyboards, arrangements for these various instruments which became popularized by groups such as Sound City Band and Sounds Inc. And Sounds Inc. could be credited with actually taking the music from the rural setting into the urban setting in such a way that they were able to reach the masses with electronic power.

BE: What’s the distinction between punta and paranda? You mentioned this sexy vibe that the Punta stuff has, is that the main distinction?

AP: Actually (traditional, acoustic) punta has a faster tempo than paranda. The basic difference between Punta and paranda, first of all being the tempo—punta is a bit faster.  And in terms of instrumentation, paranda includes the acoustic guitar, while punta is limited to the drums, and maracas and voices. The dancing is also different. For paranda, you simply shuffle your way along, with Punta there’s emphasis on the hips, well the pelvic area.  It’s a very pelvic dance, I’d say [chuckles].

BE: So when this Punta rock explosion happens in the late 70s and early 80s, what was your experience of that personally?  You were pretty young then?  You were right in the middle of it probably!

AP: Well, I would say.  Actually I was teaching high school at the time—even before then I was an elementary school teacher—and I think I’d just returned to Belize from an experience in Nicaragua when the music of Pen Kayetano came to my attention.  I was able to identify the potential that this music had for appealing to a younger generation of the Garifuna people in Belize to make them more interested in the culture through music.  The fact that it was causing this kind of hysteria I felt that was a tool that we could use.  Because I had experienced in Nicaragua first hand Garifuna culture at a point of decline that seemed almost irretrievable. And that to me was very disheartening, and in a more positive way it was inspiring, and gave me the determination to return to Belize to prevent the Nicaraguan experience from happening in Belize.  So punta rock came to my attention at that very critical point in my personal growth and development.  And I felt that I could contribute.  I was already writing songs, I was already playing music, but I was not focusing on Garifuna music. I was utilizing all the influences that I had taken on from my childhood and trying to emulate the people I admired—the artists from North America and the wider Caribbean that I was listening to. So I was trying to compose reggae songs, I was trying to compose pop songs, ballads, but the advent of punta rock allowed me to focus on making my mark using Garifuna music. So I decided to divert and compose songs in Garifuna, patterned on what had been started by Pen Kayetano and the Turtle Shell Band.

BE: So when did you start actually bringing this to the public--recording, doing performances, in that mode?

AP: In the early 80’s (around 1984 or ‘85) I actually did my own recording using a cassette deck with a stereo microphone I did a recording of my Garifuna compositions with one Garifuna drummer, myself on the acoustic guitar, and two guys playing maracas and a little bits of percussion. We positioned ourselves in front of the microphone and just played and pressed record.  I made ten copies of that cassette and I’d like to buy them back from anyone that has them [laughs].

BE: We’ll see if we can get the word out! So, eventually you were doing commercial recording….

AP: My first commercial recording came about in 1987. In which I compiled all the material I had recorded, including some stuff that I had worked on while I was working in London .  I had befriended Lenny Hadaway, who was a producer of Caribbean music—a musician originally from Saint Vincent —we became very good friends.  And Lenny heard my Garifuna compositions, and it intrigued him.  He offered to work with me and he arranged a few of my songs.  And I was fascinated, because prior to meeting Lenny I felt that I was able to compose songs but I didn’t know how to make a record.  I didn’t know about arranging parts for other instruments other than accompanying myself with an acoustic guitar and having somebody play a drum for rhythm and the beat. So, when I came across this new technology, I was fascinated and I decided that this is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life because it was so easy. 

BE: And satisfying, I imagine.

AP: Yeah. And it was helping me to accomplish what I wanted to do.

BE: So, you made that recording in ’87 and did it do well in Belize?

AP: Yes, it do quite well. And by doing well it means that I sold over 1,000 copies. And what that did was  to bring me to the attention of others within the music business in Belize—including Belizeans outside of the country.  Which then put me in touch with Patrick Barrow, who owns a record label in Los Angeles called Key Records.  Patrick made me an offer that he would be able to record an album of my music if I made my way to Los Angeles —which I did!  From ‘88 to ‘94, I was (traveling back and forth from LA to Belize) and recording a single every year on the Key Record label. Each of which, to a lesser or greater degree, were hits on the Belizean scene.

BE:  How big a band are you performing with at this stage?

AP: By then we were at least a 6 or 7 piece on stage, which would include—back then we were using drum machines—two keyboards, electric guitar, bass, a Garifuna drum and lead vocals—that was pretty much the line-up at the time.

BE: Now, if we were to just look a the trajectory from that stage to where we get to with this latest album, “Watina”, what changes in terms of the music, in terms of the band, in terms of the concept?

AP: Essentially what happened was that we had utilized available technology to deliver the live performance in such a way that we were able to reach a big audience with amplification and playing bigger venues, increasing the amount of attention that the music was getting through live performances. And then utilizing recording technology helps to expand our base using these available resources. Now what happened as a result was that the interest also grew in the roots and origins of this highly electrified art form. So Garifuna drumming started to get more attention. And Garifuna singing, likewise. And the artists who were at the forefront of this music, started to pay attention and started to deliver what we felt the people were looking for.  In my case, I went from doing highly electronic recording with no Garifuna drumming at all, to doing a Punta medley which is a compilation of traditional Garifuna songs devoid of keyboards or the bass guitar and even an electric or acoustic guitar.  It was basically drumming, percussion and voices.  And that was very successful within the Belizean and the Garifuna community. And, to me, that gave me the encouragement I needed to go even further back.

It wasn’t long afterwards that I was approached by Ivan Duran of Stonetree Records to experiment and to see how far we could get with some fusion work.

BE: Now by this time Stonetree is releasing artists like Aurelio Martinez? Or was that earlier?

AP: This is around 1995.

BE: I don’t exactly remember when they started, but it’s a pretty young label.

AP: Yes, started in 1995. And my CD was the first (Stonetree) recording. And Ivan had this vision of doing this huge collaboration between us and some musicians who were his friends and classmates from Cuba. So we set about with this recording.  He brought in Elian Gonzalez from Cuba. He worked with us in Belize. And our album “Kaymoun” more or less built upon what we had started with the variety of instruments including the bass guitar, the keyboards, and now we were using live horns.  And also we utilized the skills of these musicians from Cuba along with the raw traditional skills that we possessed in Belize. And that was what “Kaymoun” became in 1995.

I guess it wasn’t long after that that I introduced the music of Paul Nabor to Ivan.  And the more he listened to it, and the more he became familiar with the status of this particular genre music that he was inspired to take on the challenge of traveling through the various countries and recording this style of music known as paranda.

BE: Yes, I remember Paul’s paranda record.  He’s an older guy?

AP: Yes, he’s now in his late 70s.  And that there were very few of his generation doing this type of music in our community, and not many of us were going to pick up from where they left off.  So it was interesting to do this cross generational project which brought in Aurelio [Martinez]—in comes Aurelio, and we did a duet together.  And the CD “Paranda” sort of shed some light on what the possibilities were for the future.  So it was from that experience that Stonetree then went on to do the “Garifuna Soul” CD with Aurelio. And now building on the “Garifuna Soul” experience, starting with Paranda, we went even further back now to explore not only the paranda rhythm, but to look deeper into the music of the Garifuna and try to unearth some of the other rhythms that have not been publicized to the world.  And here comes “Watina” which is an even bigger collaboration in looking deeper into the soul of Garifuna music.

BE: So let’s talk about your new album “Watina.”  Who are the musicians?

AP: There are quite a few of us, spanning at least four countries, including Belize, Guatemala, Honduras, Mexico. I did some drumming myself [laughs]. And we have Rolando Sosa, he’s an excellent musician—he’s currently working with Aurelio—he did a lot of our drumming, did some guitars. Aurelio himself plays on the album, as well as Edwardo “Guaya” Cedeño—he’s an excellent lead guitarist from Honduras.  Adrian Martinez who does lead on one of the songs also plays guitar.  And then Josh Arana, he’s an excellent Garifuna drummer; he did primero Garifuna drums on it. It’s such a huge team! 

We brought in Sophia Blanco from Guatemala with her daughter Sylvia—they did excellent background vocals on it.  Paul Nabor collaborated with me on some lead vocals. And Jacob Edgar did conch shells on one of the songs. I may miss some people.

BE: Yes, it’s a beautiful album. I have a much richer sense of where it’s all coming from.  We should talk about some of the songs.  There are a number of composers here too.  Tell me about some of the songs on a lyrical content.

AP: The songs are as diverse as our experiences in the Garifuna community. There’s one theme that seems to permeate the album—and that the spiritual connection. There are some songs on it—take for example Adrian’s “Baba” and “Weyu Larigi Weyu”, which I composed—these songs were recorded using the rhythm which is the beat that is utilized for the sacred du gu ceremony.

This brings a certain kind of seriousness to the work.  And in addition to that, it focuses on the faith and spirituality of the Garifuna community.  That comes out very strongly through these songs—the belief in a higher power and the need to refer to that higher power for guidance and protection and wisdom and survival in this day and age.  And then there are songs focusing on the politics of daily life. For example there is the issue of land rights, land tenure in Honduras which the song “Miami” refers to.

BE: I love that song.  What does it say?

AP: “Miami” refers to the current situation of land tenure within the Garifuna community where the community has come face-to-face with encroachment on lands traditionally held by Garifuna people which is now being opened up and sold to wealthy land interests for tourism development.  And all of the sudden people find themselves being excluded from lands that they previously had unlimited access to.  And once such area is a beach in Honduras that they refer to as Miami Beach—and the song is about that situation.

And then there is the collaboration with Lou Gosantano. A man comes home after partying all night and then gets put out by his wife: “Beiba,” which means “get out!” [laughs] So like I say, there’s music for just about every occasion.  The collaboration with Lloyd Agustine is almost like a lullaby: “Gaganbadiba”, means “pay attention” or “be obedient” that kind of thing.  It’s about a parent giving advice to a young child—when you grow up you will see places, you will go places, make sure you are at your best behavior.  That kind of advice.

BE: What about “Watina” itself?

AP: ”Watina” is a social comment. The character in the song is stranded on the roadside trying to get a ride to go somewhere, and each vehicle just passes without paying him any attention. Simply perhaps because he doesn’t look the part; because of his appearance, he’s presumed to not have any money, so nobody—not even the bus—would stop to offer him a lift to his destination.

BE: What does it mean “Watina”?

AP: “Watina” means “I call out.”

BE: So it’s the guy by the road calling out and nobody pays attention.

AP: Yeah.

BE: Are there any of the songs that specifically talk about some these spiritual themes that you were talking about? Maybe you give me an example of one in terms of the lyrics.

AP: ”Baba” by Adrian [Martinez]. [translating lyrics from the song] “Anihein Baba wama” means “the father is with us.” “Furieigiwama,”- “let us pray to him.” “Ideralamungawa lidangien sianti,”—“so that He can help us out of the impossible.” Those words alone signifying, you know point the direction, or that need for spiritual connection.

“Aguyuha Niduhenu” is “my people have moved on.” Where the singer says: “Anirein Baba hadan au, laransehana hege,” means “The Father is with them, and He’s preparing a place for me.” And that, again talks about the after-life--looking further ahead.

BE: And the idea of reconnecting with ancestors.  What about “Sin Precio”?

AP: “Sin Precio” looks at this situation within a Garifuna community.  This woman who composed a song is commenting about the fact that people in her community look at her and call her “cheap,” or with low price, or no price—at no cost—that she’s really worth nothing.  But that they don’t know what she actually does, or how hard she works for a living to raise her son. So it’s a reflection on the social dynamics of the community, a situation of who is perhaps a single mother trying to raise a child.

BE: And the title is in Spanish.  Is the song also sung in Spanish?

AP: No, it’s in Garifuna, but the fact that within the community we utilize all the languages we have facility with.  That it is not uncommon for someone to make a reference in Spanish or English as the case may be.

BE: I can’t wait to see your show!  It’s going to be great. I’m excited.

AP: I’m looking forward to it.