Totó la Momposina: The Flower that Appears and Disappears

Talaigua is where Totó and her ancestors were born: a village at the heart of the fluvial island of Mompós, in the Magalena river of northern Colombia. Once inhabited by Indians, the Spanish invasions of the sixteenth century forced the original people of Mompós into the island’s dense forests. In later years, runaway African took refuge in Talaigua and intermarried with the Indians. As Totó explains “The music I play has its roots in a mixed race; being black and Indian, the heart of the music is completely percussive. In Talaigua during November and December, the drums play. In the evening around six o’clock they begin. People hear and come to join in: young and old, black and white. Because it’s happening in the street, everyone participates.” No Silver Jubilee street party or once-a-year carnival is needed for them to have a good time with their neighbours.

Totó represents the fourth generation of her family to make music. A powerful sense of continuity binds together her extended family, friends and the community (el pueblo). The past is ever present and the possibilities of the future are always in view. In Totó’s case, her son and daughters are following in her footsteps as members of her group, while the sixth generation is already underway in her grand-daughter, two-year-old Maria del Mar, who wanders around the stage with obvious relish during their performances.

Totó feels very happy with her inheritance. “It makes me feel that I’m carrying out a mission in life, not only in Colombia, but on a universal level. When you are a real artist, in any discipline, you know that you came into life to do something specific. The gift you have grows with all that you learn about life, its potential maturing with time. I have learnt to respect all of this and channel it through my work.”

The key is that for this gift to flourish it must in turn be given away. For Totó this means, “self-respect, respect for others, for people to whom you should always show respect like your grandparents, older people, people who know about life. I have learned to respect everything surrounding my voice since that is my gift.” Totó’s speech patterns echo the call and response of the songs she sings, carrying the music in their rhythm and intonation. “If its harmful to me to smoke, I never smoke. If it’s bad for me to stay up all night, I don’t. If I have to go to voice classes, then I do. If I have to rest after a concert and prepare myself for the performance the next day, well, I do it all because it signifies respect. It’s a way of projecting this respect onto yourself and onto the people listening to you; also onto those who hear of you— your future audience.”

Totó’s group itself functions like a family unit —from Batata, in his seventies, to Maria del Mar— and each member has their place. The generations are not separated and isolated as in so many western societies. Phil Ramone, a veteran in the pop industry and producer of the group’s first album with Real World Records, picked up on the rapport that is their strength. “Totó, in herself, is so strong spiritually and mentally. She gives you tremendous vibes of affection and love. Then you see a chemistry between the musicians: there is an intimacy that goes on in their eyes. Somehow something happens, seemingly unrehearsed, where a smile, a genuine smile, comes out of one of them and then the next, and a pattern develops. I suspect there is a great depth in what they’re communicating.” This human connection is the science behind their art. “I work within a discipline that is connected to everyday life,” explains Totó, “My work is the interrelation between myself and the people watching me.”

While their repertoire could easily be categorised as ‘Colombian folklore’, Totó adamantly defines it in different terms: “While I respect the word ‘folklore’, to me it means something that’s dead— in a museum. Traditional music, or the music from the old days, is still alive: many people are working with it and it’s always evolving. The people of the pueblo don’t know about ‘folklore’. They say ‘música antigua’ or ‘la música de antes’ (from before). Even the word folclor has modified over the years to become conflor —literally ‘with flowers’. This change could be put down to a phonetic misinterpretation passed down orally in the way of the tradition. However, “If you analyse the word romantically,” suggests Totó, “it could mean ‘with flowers’, as if every song is a different flower, and I like this interpretation better. It refers to the role of nature in a person’s existence— that relationship between a human being and the earth. It may be that traditional music is not performed regularly but when people in the country give parties they bring it out. Whether or not the music evolves at that moment is unimportant: it’s happening! It’s not just on a record like Michael Jackson or Madonna. It’s there in the earth, and like the flowers it will appear out of the earth for a moment and then go away!”

It was with the cantadoras of Colombia’s Caribbean coast that Totó la Momposina continued her education as a young woman. From village to village she went, during all seasons, sleeping rough, enduring whatever conditions where necessary to learn. “You have to be a warrior or a gypsy to research this music, so that it doesn’t matter where you sleep, what you eat or how hot it is.” Sometimes during winter, when the rivers flooded, she’d reach billages by wading up to her waist in the swollen waters. Totó values these experiences for having taught her to surmount physical hardship, which could otherwise detract from her carrying out her vision.

Totó la Momposina has all the qualities that could have made her a “star” in Western terms. With her energy, charisma and beauty, she could have challenged Celia Cruz for the title of ‘Queen of Latin Music’ and it is not for lack of trying on the part of Colombian record companies. While she has rejected the commercialisation of her music, she has always worked towards excellence. Studying dance and voice technique have been useful tools to achieve this. “You enrich what you know, clean it up a bit, because when you’re in the country you express yourself in tune with the land. On stage you have to use the same strength and the same movements, but present them with a little more grace and beauty.”