Toronto’s Mama Vieja passed away last year. But die? No, she won’t hear of that. - La Mama Vieja de Toronto falleció el año pasado. Pero murio? No, ella no escuchará eso.
--
Irma Barboza took an unusual road to becoming a Mama Vieja. She came from a black family, but her uncle, who raised her, wouldn’t let her go out when she was a little girl to see the candombe drum groups that kept African traditions alive in South America’s southern-most capital, Montevideo. Little did she know, as she heard the drums and dancers outside her window, that she would become an icon of that very music…9,000 kilometres away.
Irma Barboza took an unusual road to becoming a Mama Vieja. She came from a black family, but her uncle, who raised her, wouldn’t let her go out when she was a little girl to see the candombe drum groups that kept African traditions alive in South America’s southern-most capital, Montevideo. Little did she know, as she heard the drums and dancers outside her window, that she would become an icon of that very music…9,000 kilometres away.
 |
| photo by iela Snow |
--
Mama Viejas were leaders of Uruguay’s black communities during colonial times, the ones who remembered the traditions of Africa, the medicine, the magic. Nowadays, they don’t just keep the culture, they are the culture. They don’t teach, they dance candombe music through cobbled streets and booming drums, so you can remember.
--
Irma spoke of candombe as being “in the blood”, a term black Uruguayans often use when describing their connection to that music. It’s something you feel in your marrow. Non-black Uruguayans also adopted it, and whether they feel it as deep as their marrow or just as goosebumps the size of a drum, the feeling definitely goes beyond skin deep.
--
It's the 1970s, the 80s, 90s, 2000s, 2010s or 2020s. Irma gets frazzled. Or she smiles. She definitely gives instructions. She teaches a young girl how to move her shoulders and a mom to put on her outfit properly. She creates dresses, buys cloth, finds new ideas for shows. And, with her, an immigrant community grows, remembers and adopts dancers from all over Toronto. Under the smiling, nervous, always hopeful figure of the Mama Vieja.
--
Irma’s passing didn’t make it to most newspapers or TV shows. But it was felt, deeply, by the hundreds of women who learned to dance with her. Who learned of hips that move like Africa in cold Toronto nights, to remember far corners of South America. Regardless of whether they were born in Uruguay, Praia, Cuenca or just good old Malton.
--
And that’s why Irma hasn’t really left. “Her girls” won’t let her. Yes, Toronto’s Mama Vieja passed away last year. But so long as the drums play and the hips remember, dying? No, she just won’t hear of that.
 |
| Photo by iela Snow |
Irma spoke of candombe as being “in the blood”, a term black Uruguayans often use when describing their connection to that music. It’s something you feel in your marrow. Non-black Uruguayans also adopted it, and whether they feel it as deep as their marrow or just as goosebumps the size of a drum, the feeling definitely goes beyond skin deep.
 |
| Photo by iela Snow |
It's the 1970s, the 80s, 90s, 2000s, 2010s or 2020s. Irma gets frazzled. Or she smiles. She definitely gives instructions. She teaches a young girl how to move her shoulders and a mom to put on her outfit properly. She creates dresses, buys cloth, finds new ideas for shows. And, with her, an immigrant community grows, remembers and adopts dancers from all over Toronto. Under the smiling, nervous, always hopeful figure of the Mama Vieja.
 |
| photo by iela Snow |
Irma’s passing didn’t make it to most newspapers or TV shows. But it was felt, deeply, by the hundreds of women who learned to dance with her. Who learned of hips that move like Africa in cold Toronto nights, to remember far corners of South America. Regardless of whether they were born in Uruguay, Praia, Cuenca or just good old Malton.
 |
| photo by iela Snow |
And that’s why Irma hasn’t really left. “Her girls” won’t let her. Yes, Toronto’s Mama Vieja passed away last year. But so long as the drums play and the hips remember, dying? No, she just won’t hear of that.
Este evento fue patrocinado por:
Toronto Candombe Cultural Committee
Toronto Candombe Cultural Committee
Photos by @ielaSnow
