Songs Written with a Machete #9: Don't dig a grave for me!
I spent eighteen months of my three-year South American adventure in the Colombian wilderness, in a mountain village near the infamous Medellín. As a bluesman, I was impressed by local songs, whose lyrics would wake up even Oblomov from his lethargy. I decided to translate the juiciest pieces and bring them to you in the series Songs Written with a Machete.
Death is experienced differently in Colombia than it is in our part of Europe. Their obituary probably wouldn't say that the funeral was held without a service at the request of the deceased. That is not possible. In a strongly Catholic country, they believe in an afterlife. The omnipresent magical realism adds lyrical sentiment to the sad event. When you die, you are displayed in a coffin in the street, where anyone can tip part of the lid over your face and say one last thing to your glazed eyes – perhaps that they have already forgiven you the money you owe them. Or ask your forgiveness for stealing some corn from their field.
This year marks the 80th anniversary of a tragicomic event. 80 years ago, Abel Antonio Villa, an outstanding and well-known musician and composer of the unique vallenato style of music, was considered dead for five nights. However, the person who had been murdered during the bank robbery was a different Villa. On that fifth night, the presumed dead man Villa returned home drunk as a fresh civilian after completing his military service. After his shocked neighbours saw him alive, he decided to wear white for the rest of his life and composed a song in honour of the event, which became iconic and has been recorded by almost all famous musicians in Colombia, including the most respected representative of the vallenato today, Alfredo Gutiérrez.
La Muerte De Abel Antonio
Oh, the death of Abel Antonio
was felt by the people from my land.
They spent five nights holding a wake for me,
They still owe me four nights out of nine.
My poor mother,
You suffered so much for my death.
Abel Antonio is not dead yet,
Abel Antonio dies when God needs him.
My whole family
mourned my death with doubt,
Abel Antonio returned five days later,
He came back alive to open his grave.
Abel Antonio, don't cry,
This happens to people.
Abel Antonio, don't burst into tears,
This happens to those who leave home.
Oh, what a miserable thing happened to me,
I will tell you this so that it doesn't happen to someone else.
Hear what I know, this will end between the two of us,
Death will win me or I will win it for myself.
This death that torments me
wants this nigger to die.
Dont dig a grave for me,
I live inside and I'm out.
The vallenato genre, which local intellectuals call "our blues", is not just a musical style, it is a direct reflection of life and magical realism in Colombia. This was also the impression of the Nobel Prize-winning writer Gabriel Garcia Márquez, who drew inspiration for his magical stories from vallenato songs.
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