Susana Baca: “I will be a singing minister”

 When Susana Baca de la Collina, aged 67, made it to the very first Peruvian minister of African descent, she herself was the most surprised. The artist, singing to “relieve pain and overcome death”, is of humble origin and belongs to a people that has suffered racism and discrimation for centuries. Approximately seven to ten percent of 29 million Peruvians are of African descent, exact figures are not available. “My country is a melting pot of whites, blacks, Andinos and Chinese”, says Baca. “Through the centuries their blood has been mixed so many times that in our country the notion of racial purity is anyhow outdated.”

A former army general, Ollanta Humala at first took Venezuelan leader Chávez as his example, but, under the influence of Brazilian ex-president Lula, he has taken a more moderate line. So in his recent campaign against social exclusion he touched the right chord: now, with 46 of 130 seats, his party Gana Peru is the biggest in national parliament.

Susana Baca was about to embark for the US to promote her latest CD Afrodiaspora when the president offered her the position of minister in his government. Some call it a clever PR-stunt. Indeed, Baca is not only a star in her homeland but also the most important cultural ambassador of (black) Peru abroad. The past 20 years she has almost single-handedly saved the cultural heritage of her marginalized people from sinking into oblivion.

Roots

Susana Baca grew up in a poor fishing village south of Lima. She is a descendant of the African slaves whom the conquistadores shipped over to the New World by the thousands in the sixteenth century. To be sure, in 1854 slavery was abolished in Peru, but the black population remained slighted. To the white rulers all of their cultural traditions were inferior. Thus dances like lando, tondero, festijo or alcatraz, which helped the Afro-Peruvians express their joy as well as their sorrow, were banned because of their so-called obscenity. “As a child, I quickly understood the relation between skin colour and social class”, says Baca. “In Peru all rich were white, all poor coloured.” Black musicians for instance couldn’t afford real instruments, so they used cheap percussion instruments, like the quijade de burro, a shaker made of donkey jawbone, or the cajòn, a wooden case used to store food, also used to ruffle.”

By the end of the twentieth century most black Peruvians, sick and tired of the humiliations, had repressed all that reminded them of their African descent, consciously or not. It seemed they had purposedly wiped their memory. Oral traditions were ditched. It made the younger generations of Afro-Peruvians feel as if they were growing up in a cultural vacuum. “The underlying message was: we are a people without history” says Susana Baca. “This had a paralyzing effect, led to despondency and passivity. Through them being treated as second-rate citizens, many blacks had complexes about their race and origin. A person who feels inferior, automaticly shows less vigour, less perseverance, will be less inclined to develop his talents. Whereas exactly this is essential to improve your position in society. You only realize who you are and what you are capable of when you know where you come from.”

Already as a young adolescent Baca revolted against the mostly negative stereotypical characteristics the Peruvian elite imputed to her people. So after she finished her studies in pedagogics, she decided to do all she could to record all relics of the Afro-Peruvian heritage for posterity, before they would be definitely wiped out. For years she crossed the country, armed with a blocnote and a taperecorder in search for forgotten rhythms, dances, stories and popular tunes. What testimony she registered from the elderly would be the starting point of a large-scale historical and musicological study. “I too was searching for my cultural identity”, the singer acknowledges. “And our traditions do hold a mirror up to our face. They throw light on who we are.”

Rebuilding confidence

All information Susana Baca gathered needed to be archived so it could be passed on to future generations. For that Baca and her husband and sociologist Ricardo Pereira founded in the early nineties the Instituto Negrocintuo, a cultural centre with a library, a studio and rooms for seminars. Baca: “Knowledge stimulates self-confidence. I wanted to show the Afro-Peruvians they were not the savages or scum they were thought of so often. Thanks to thorough research I could now prove that my community did contribute to the development of the nation, including to gastronomy. It was high time to get rid of the trauma of slavery, to start developing a sense of pride and self-esteem.”

With revenues from her tours abroad Baca paid lecturers to teach the underprivileged in the Institute. Slowly a cultural renaissance and a wave of emancipation rose. “Many young who discover the Afro-Peruvian heritage want to do something with it, create new mixtures. Whatever purists may claim, to me this is the best waranty to keep folkloristic traditions alive.”

La negra

Baca thinks she herself had to deliver a double struggle: as a negra and as a woman. “I was raised in a macho-culture. In the sixties in Peru it was unthinkable a woman should choose an artistic profession. The social position of a female singer equaled a streetwalker’s. So when I wanted to sing, my dad a lorry-driver who played music himself, said no straight away. Women were supposed to stay at home, take care of the kids. Mom did support me, but she too knew most artists were poor devils. She insisted I learn something more useful than singing and she sent me to university, even though it required big financial sacrifices. I owe it to her that I have always been able to decide for myself.”

An honour and a dury

When Susana Baca was offered the position as minister, she felt it was her moral duty to accept. “It is an honour to serve my country, especially because until recently Afro-Peruvians were litterally invisible. If only my mother who delivered a lifelong struggle to survive, had lived to witness this kind of recognition. I reached something that most of my people couldn’t believe was possible.”

As Susana Baca became a member of the Humala-adminstration, she followed in the footsteps of other Latin-American singer-songwriters, such as Panamanian lawyer and former presidential candidate Rubén Blades, becoming minister of Tourism in president Torrijos’ cabinet in 2004, and as the Brazilian star Gilberto Gil, holding the Culture portfolio under Lula. When I asked Baca a few years ago whether she ever had considered going into politics, she answered her view of society wasn’t clear enough. Neither did she like the radicalism and black and white rhetoric of most politicians. “You instantly forget a political statement, whereas the beauty and nuance of poetry remain with you all of your life”.

So, what convinced her in the end? “Peru is one of the world’s fastest growing economies. However, racism, prejudice, discrimination and cultural inequity hit both Peruvian blacks and the original native people daily. This is unworthy of a democratic country. I want my fellow Peruvians to understand that cultural diversity is not disabling, but indeed very valuable. I know I am facing a tremendous challenge, but I am convinced the minorities really must be involved in politics more actively, and I am determined to make a difference. Art and culture shouldn’t be the privilege of the well-off middle class. I will take steps as to make sure everyone can participate. Am I to give up my musical career? No, I will be a singing minister. It will be a fine balance, but I got me a team of brilliant assistants whom I can trust implicitly. This is a historical opportunity to eradicate inequity for good. I will make the most of it.”