What is Papiamentu and how do you eat it?

About a month ago, while listening to The World on NPR, I heard about this incredible group from Curaçao called Kuenta i Tambú (KiT). KiT, which means "Stories and Drums" in a language called Papiamentu, is an Amsterdam-based group that mixes Antillean rhythms with electronic music, à la reggaeton, but actually way cooler, really heavy on drums and percussion and sharp electronic beats. Check out two of my favorite KiT songs, one of them in Papiamentu, the other in English. For those of you who speak Spanish or Portuguese, you should be able to pick out some of the words in Papiamentu.

Ban Selebr'é



Jackhammer



Listening to KiT sparked my curiosity in Papiamentu, a language I had only heard about once before. Turns out Papiamentu, or Papiamento, is a creole language spoken by about 260,000 people in the Netherlands Antilles: Aruba, Bonaire and Curaçao. It is the main language of the islands and it is considered official, along with Dutch and English.

But, wait, what exactly is a creole language, you ask? Well, creole languages develop when two peoples speaking completely different languages interact heavily in a specific place (this happened a lot during colonial times). Eventually, the two groups begin speaking a very basic, unstructured speech called a pidgin language, which in essence combines bits and pieces of the two original languages. Generations later, if and when that pidgin language becomes more structured and native speakers are born, then it is officially considered a creole language. Examples of creole languages abound, from Oceania to Asia, to Africa, to the Caribbean. Some notable examples are Haitian Creole (French-based), Jamaican Patois (English-based), Cape Verdean Kriolu (Portuguese-based), Patuá in Macao (Portuguese-based), Papua New Guinea's Tok Pisin (English-based) and Chavacano in the Philippines (Mexican Spanish-based). Chavacano is another beauty of a language. Check out what is sounds like here (Spanish speakers will actually get most of it!).

There's something truly special about creole languages and their formation: the way two cultures and world views combine into one; how this process strips language to its most functional, most logical elements. It's an amazing, organic phenomenon that has been going ever since man began to speak. And yet, oftentimes, creole languages are looked down upon, considered rudimentary or unrefined. But if you think about, these languages are a product of evolution: by eliminating redundancies, they are generally more efficient than their parent language in conveying information and meaning and are easier to learn. At some level, all modern languages are themselves creoles. Spanish and Portuguese are very likely a mix of Vulgar Latin and Iberian languages; likewise, French is a creole of Vulgar Latin with Gallic Celtic languages; English is a mixture of a Germanic language (with strong Celtic and Nordic influences) and Norman French...One sometimes wonders whether the fact that we label a language a creole and others not has more to do with historical and political realities than with the actual linguistic fundamentals...

The development of Papiamentu, in particular, I find intriguing. The best-accepted genealogical theory suggests it is a Portuguese-based creole, mixed with West African languages and later influenced by Ladino Spanish (also known as Judeo-Spanish), Latin American Spanish, Dutch and English. If you listen or read it today, though, you can't help but notice that it is much more similar to Spanish than it is to Portuguese. For the word "man", for instance, Papiamentu-speakers say "homber", which is closer to "hombre" (Spanish) than it is to "homem" (Portuguese). Similarly, they say "muher" for woman, whereas in Spanish it is "mujer" (same pronunciation) and in Portuguese it is "mulher" (pronounced "mool-yair"). Linguists claim that this closer resemblance to Spanish is due to a process called relexification, in which Papiamentu has become closer to Spanish over time, due to its proximity to Spanish-speaking countries like Venezuela and Colombia. Who knows if any of this is true...What I do know, though, is that it is a beautiful and fascinating language and unique amongst creoles.

If you're interested in learning this incredible American language, check out this basic intro on Unilang.

¡Te otro bia!

El amor a tu país...

(English version)

Hace un par de semanas, mientras que los costarricenses se dirigían a las urnas para seleccionar su nuevo presidente, dos de mis grandes amigas postearon mensajes hermosos sobre su país: una de ellas, que no nació ahí y cuyos padres son estadounidense y mexicana, pero que es tan costarricense como el resto, simplemente subió en su perfil la hermosa bandera de su país; la otra escribió un mensaje conmovedor sobre lo emotivo y hermoso que es participar en las elecciones de su país. Ambos actos de amor hacia su nación me hicieron recordar un pensamiento que he tenido desde que regresé a mi propio país, México: el pertenecer a una nación y aprender a amarla es un regalo milagroso, bello e inexhaustible.

Fuente Popocatéptl, Condesa, Ciudad de México

Cuando yo llegué a este mundo yo era una criatura bi-nacional, producto de la incómoda y, a menudo, violenta colisión entre dos grandes naciones americanas. Nací en Juárez, México y crecí la mayor parte de mi vida en Estados Unidos, principalmente en la Florida. Por años, después de intentar pertenecer primero en un lugar y luego en otro y nunca lograrlo, me cansé y me di por vencido. Acepté que no era ni de aquí, ni de allá. En ese punto de mi vida tuve la oportunidad de vivir en otros dos países maravillosos, la República Dominicana y luego Colombia, y durante ese tiempo me di cuenta de que yo soy más feliz en América Latina. Me es más natural, me siento más en casa ser latinoamericano que estadounidense. Desde luego amo también la gringueza interna que en muchos aspectos me sigue definiendo, pero yo elegí ser latinoamericano y elijo vivir acá. Y así, después de brincar de un país a otro, decidí mudarme a México, mi patria, y aceptarlo con todas sus virtudes y flaquezas y simplemente comenzar a amarlo como mi nación.

Sí, estoy consciente de mis clases de Relaciones Internacionales donde me enseñaron sobre el surgimiento del estado-nación hace 500 años y también sobre cuán Moderno y poco iluminado es amar a tu nación, en vez de amar a toda la humanidad en un mundo sin fronteras. En algún momento, aspiré a ello y, hasta cierto punto, lo sigo haciendo. Amo el mundo inmensamente, sus culturas e idiomas y anhelo conocerlo todo, pero también me doy cuenta de que amar a tu nación, tu país, es una de las emociones más hermosas que podemos experimentar. Nuestro bienestar como humanos requiere que nos sintamos incluidos, que sintamos que formamos parte de algo. Para la mayoría de nosotros, además de pertenecer a nuestras familias y círculos de amistades, pertenecemos a una nación y punto. Desde luego, existe el lado oscuro de amar a una nación (múltiples guerras que se fundamentaron en una versión perversa de ello). No obstante, la sensación visceral de pertenecer a algo mucho más grande que uno mismo, la habilidad de contemplar tu situación entre millones de personas que comparten una tierra, un idioma y una historia contigo -por falso o artificial que sea el origen de todo aquello-, siguen siendo fuerzas contundentes e inestimables.

Mientras escribo este artículo veo hacia afuera por mi ventana, por encima de la Ciudad de México, la capital del país que yo elegí como nación, y observo los miles de árboles y edificios, el azul indefatigable de sus cielos, la valla gigante frente a mí con un futbolista de la Selección que grita por su país...Todo ello me hace sentir agradecido y orgulloso de vivir aquí y de por fin poder formar parte de este país. Me siento también infinitamente agradecido con los Estados Unidos, por todo lo que nos ha dado a mí y a mi familia; no sería quien soy hoy sin ser también estadounidense, pero México para mí es concreto, es incontrovertiblemente mío e irresistiblemente bello. Pocas cosas en la vida se sienten mejor que sentir que soy parte de su historia, su futuro, sus tradiciones, su cultura, su arte, sus colores, su comida, sus festividades, sus idiosincracias e incongruencias, sus calles alegres y mercados, sus hermosos pueblos coloniales, ruinas espectaculares y sus playas...

Paseo dominical en bici, Paseo de la Reforma, Ciudad de México

Me siento muy agradecido por estar aquí hoy y ahora, por poder participar en este periodo de florecimiento que México actualmente está experimentando y por poder ver cómo las calles, los parques, los barrios y la vida en general mejoran cada día. Me siento agradecido también cuando salgo de mi edificio y entro a esta magnífica ciudad verde, llena de jacarandas y con el mejor clima del planeta...cuando me desplazo a lo largo de sus bellas avenidas, plazas y palacios, sus cafés, mezcalerías y deliciosos puestos de tacos en la Condesa. Cuando pienso en todo aquello y en al amor que inspiran en mí este país y esta ciudad que ahora es mi hogar, en todo el esfuerzo y sacrificio de mis padres para que hoy yo pudiera estar aquí, no logro controlar las lágrimas que brotan de mis ojos. Me siento agradecido, extático, vivo, pleno.

Gracias, México.

The Gift of Loving Your Nation

(versión en español)

Yesterday, as Costa Ricans went to the polling booth for their latest presidential election two of my great friends posted beautiful messages about their country: one of them, who was not born there and whose parents are Mexican and American, but who is as Costa Rican as they come, simply posted her country's beautiful flag; the other wrote an incredibly moving message about what an emotional and beautiful experience it was for her to participate in her country's elections. Both acts of love towards their nation reminded me of a recurring thought I've had ever since I moved back to my own country, Mexico: belonging to a nation and learning to love your country is a miraculous, beautiful and inexhaustible gift.

Popocatéptl Fountain, Condesa, Mexico City

I came into this world as a bi-national creature, a product of the uncomfortable and oftentimes violent collision between two large nations in the Americas. I was born in Juárez, Mexico and grew up most of my life in the U.S., mostly in South Florida. After years of attempting to belong in one place and then the other and never fully accomplishing it, I became exhausted and simply gave up: no soy ni de aquí, ni de allá...(I am neither from here, nor from there)...At that point in my life, I had the opportunity to live in two other wonderful countries, the Dominican Republic and Colombia, and it became apparent to me during that time that I was happier in Latin America, that it felt more natural, more at home being Latin American than from the US, even as I cherished, too, the inner gringoness that in so many ways defines me to this day. And so, after many years of jumping from one country to another, I decided to move back to Mexico, my homeland and to accept it with all its virtues and flaws and start loving it as my nation. 

Yes, I recall all the IR lectures about the rise of the nation state 500 years ago and also about how Modern and unenlightened it is to love your nation, rather than loving all of humanity in a borderless world. I aspired to that at one point, and at some level, I still do and I do love the world immensely, its cultures and languages, but I also realize now and am comfortable with the fact that loving your nation, your country, is one of the most beautiful feelings one can have. Our wellbeing as humans requires that we feel included, that we feel we belong to something and for most of us, beyond our families and close friends, we only belong to a nation. Of course, as with everything, there exists a dark side to loving your nation (plenty of wars have been waged on that account), but on balance nationhood and the visceral sense of belonging to something much greater than you, the ability to contemplate where you stand in the midst of millions of people who share a common land, language and history, however false or contrived all that may be, remains strong and priceless. 

As I write this post, I stare out my window high above Mexico City, the capital of the country I chose as my nation, observing the thousands of buildings and trees and the indefatigably blue skies of this city, the billboard of a screaming soccer player from Mexico's national team...It all makes me feel grateful and proud to live here and to finally be a part of this country. I am infinitely grateful to the U.S. for all it's given me and my family and I wouldn't be who I am without it, but Mexico for me is concrete, it is undeniably mine and so damn overwhelmingly beautiful. There are few things in the world that feel better than sensing that I am a part of its history, its traditions, its culture, its art, its colors, its food, its festivities, its idiosyncrasies and incongruences, its lively streets and markets, its beautiful colonial towns, spectacular ruins and beaches...

Sunday bike ride, Paseo de la Reforma, Mexico City

I feel so grateful to be here right now, to be able to partake in this blossoming period that Mexico is currently undergoing and to see how every day roads, parks, neighborhoods, life in general here keep getting better and better. I feel grateful, too, when I walk outside my building into this magnificent verdant city, its lovely streets and palatial buildings, its Condesa coffee shops and delicious taco stands. I wonder, as I feel my skin being gently kissed by its sun and enveloped in the loveliest weather in the world, how I could ever live anywhere else. When I think about it and the love this country and this city inspire in me and all the effort and sacrifice my parents had to make so that I could be here today, I find myself incapable of controlling the tears running down my face. I feel so grateful, ecstatic, alive, whole.

Thank you, Mexico.