A CUBAN LADY BRINGS DANIEL SANTOS TOFILBO

Arte por Excelencias - - Colombia -

In prin­ci­ple, Co­lom­bia was always a dre­am with co­lors and rhythms. That is why, from the way events hap­pe­ned, it would lo­ok like a ma­gic for­ce of at­trac­ti­on. Be­cau­se to ha­ve cho­sen the cha­rac­ter of Daniel Santos and Ha­va­na,as main cha­rac­ters for this first fo­ray in­to fic­ti­on, would se­e­mingly ha­ve to do not­hing with Co­lom­bi­an soil.

But, yes, love af­fairs are com­mon­pla­ce. The guest tur­ned out to be Daniel Santos´s god­daugh­ter. Litt­le did I know about her un­til he told me about his fat­her: a child whom«el Je­fe», as he was nick­na­med in Me­de­llín, found on the stre­et af­ter run­ning away from his ho­me. He prac­ti­cally adop­ted him and ma­de an ar­tist out of him. Four ye­ars la­ter, Daniel Santos put him be­fo­re his mot­her, who was gi­ven up for de­ad, to con­ti­nue to be­at the rhythm of his li­fe through mu­sic.

His brot­her is still in Bar­rio Obre­ro, and has tur­ned his ho­me in a tem­ple of the La­ti­na­me­ri­ca­nand Ca­rib­be­an­me­mory; with par­ti­cu­lar stress in Cu­ba, Pu­er­to Ri­co, and his na­ti­ve Co­lom­bia, by way of Mu­seo de la Sal­sa in Ca­li.

The bo­ok may ha­ve had a go­od re­cep­ti­on in Ca­li but it was all the mo­re in Bo­gotá. It should ha­ve at­trac­ted an au­di­en­ce of al­most 300 re­a­ders in a fair whe­re 30,000 pe­o­ple co­me for very at­trac­ti­ve and si­mul­ta­ne­ous events in the in­fi­ni­te world of com­mer­ci­al li­te­ra­tu­re. And the pre­mi­ses we­re packed.

What I ha­ve nar­ra­ted so far about my bo­ok is the re­sult of an ar­du­ous re­se­arch about the prin­ting me­ans of Cu­ba, the ti­mes Ha­va­na was fun: from 1946 to 1961. Tho­se we­re ti­mes of an in­ten­se lu­dic, dis­so­lu­te, partying li­fe, ti­mes of cor­rup­ti­on, fight, and chan­ge. And Daniel Santos was pre­sent in everyt­hing.

Al­most 2,000 re­cor­ded songs and about 400 of his own aut­hors­hip re­turn that Daniel Santos of our grand­mot­hers to us in the juke­bo­xes of the slot mac­hi­nes works­hop of my litt­le town, the sound­track of my child­ho­od, along with Benny Mo­ré, about whom Daniel Santos always said that he was«the hell of a sin­ger and a fri­end».

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