Pure Joy

I found something really wonderful the other day.  I was cruising around on the internet trying to find online resources that would help with my Spanish classes.  I came across Spanish Grammar Exercises and was enthralled by what was there.  Barbara Kuczun Nelson has developed a site that uses pictues and music and a dozen other modalities to get the language across.  Check it out. 

That was wonderful enough, but the most wonderful part was one of the songs she uses to teach vocabulary and syntax:  Ojala que llueva cafe by Juan Luis Guerra.  Its a song of humble urging for abundance by people who work the fields for their life and livlihood. As you listen to the song, the near religious reverence of the plea -- it's really more of a hymn or prayer -- comes through.  The word, 'Ojala' comes from the Arabic influences in the Spanish language, from the time of the Moorish domination of that country.  You might translate it as 'Oh Allah,' or 'Let there be;' in either case it is a requestm, a prayer or a wish.  The music and singing -- you can hear it on the Spanish Grammar site -- is bouncy and alive with hope and joy. 

As a piece of music, I was immediately taken with it.  In a world where we either overcomplicate what we describe or strip everything down to its basest elements, here is a song that celebrates the simple joy of farmers wishing for life giving rain.  There is an innocence and a wisdom about it that grabbed and shook me shouting, 'Wake Up!  This is what's real!'  And then there were the words.

The song is used as part of a Spanish language lesson.  It teaches vocabulary and syntax in a most inventive way.  As I worked through the lesson and began to understand the words, I was deeply moved by the lyrics.  Here they are:

Ojalá que llueva café en el campo
que caiga un aguacero de yuca y té
del cielo una jarina de queso blanco
y al sur una montaña de berro y miel
oh, oh, oh-oh-oh,
ojalá que llueva café.

Ojalá que llueva café en el campo
peinar un alto cerro (d)e trigo y mapuey
bajar por la colina de arroz graneado
y continuar el arado con tu querer.
oh, oh, oh-oh-oh...

Ojalá el otoño en vez de hojas secas
vista mi cosecha de pitisalé
sembrar una llanura de batata y fresas
ojalá que llueva café.

Pa'que en el conuco
no se sufra tanto, ay ombe
ojalá que llueva café en el campo
pa que en Villa Vásquez oigan este canto
ojalá que llueva café en el campo
ojalá que llueva,
ojalá que llueva, ay ombe
ojalá que llueva café en el campo
ojalá que llueva café.

oh, oh, oh-oh-oh...

Ojalá que llueva café en el campo
sembrar un alto cerro de trigo y mapuey
bajar por la colina de arroz graneado
y continuar el arado con tu querer.
oh, oh, oh-oh-oh...

Ojalá el otoño en vez de hojas secas
vista mi cosecha de pitisalé
sembrar una llanura de batata y fresas
ojalá que llueva café.

Pa que en el conuco
no se sufra tanto, oye
ojalá que llueva café en el campo
pa que en Los Montones oigan este canto
ojalá que llueva café en el campo
ojalá que llueva, ojalá que llueva, ay ombe
ojalá que llueva café en el campo
ojalá que llueva café.

Pa que to(dos) los niños
canten en el campo
ojalá que llueva café en el campo
pa que en La Romana oigan este canto
ojalá que llueva café en el campo
ay, ojalá que llueva,
ojalá que llueva, ay ombe
ojalá que llueva café en el campo
ojalá que llueva café...

Although translating is the wrong thing to do when learning a language (it causes you to solidify a conversion process that will impeded your ability to listen and respond to natural conversation), here is roughly what the words mean:

Oh! Let there be a rainstorm of coffee in the fields!

A falling torrent of yuca and tea!

A squall from the sky of white cheese!

And to the South, a mountain of watercress and honey!

Oh! let there be a rainstorm of coffee in the fields!

Comb out the high fields of wheat and maupuey!

Descend the hills with grains of wild rice

Continue to plow with your heart

Oh! in Autumn, instead of dead leaves,

Let me see my fields dressed in ham

Sew a farm of yams and strawberrys

Oh! Let there be a rainstorm of coffee in the fields.

And so on. 

I don't know.  Something happened to me this weekend in the Mexican wine region.  I saw people living well without electricity, without supermarkets and sexy sportcars.  I saw close towns with no gay bars, festivals with no rock n' roll.  I bought a Mexican cowboy hat in Tecate:  you know:  one of those big white things that the Campesinos (farmers) always wear.  When I put it on I feel lighter.  My attitude changes.  I dream of dressing plainly in the early dawn and spending the day working hard in the field.  I take my dinner at two and sleep until five.  Then I return to the fields or to the corral until it starts to get dark.  I come into my small one room house, eat a piece of fruit from the trees in the yard, step out to talk briefly with my neighbors . . . and go to bed.  It is a pure and delightful life.  I envy it.

Ojala! que llueva cafe en el campo! 

I discovered that Juan Luis Guerra is very prolific.  He's written and recorded many dozens of songs.  It's odd that I haven't heard him before as I am such a fan of Latin music.  His home is the Dominican Republic, where he lives and works.  He sings with joy and hope that smacks slightly of the innocence and optimism of Cat Stevens or Jim Croce.  It's simple music that makes you smile and causes you to dance.  I recommend it.  Even if you don't speak Spanish.