Pablo has the reasons for his return summed up in his gaze. He has explained at different intervals of history why he cannot escape that bond that unites him to his audience, but words are not the best space to explain the human experience now. Language yields to symbolism, to the weight of history. Everything is certainly summed up in the look.
Pablo arrived last week to perform in Cuba and has only focused on the meaning of the reunion with his audience. In observing events with the calm that the years deliver and ensuring that no detail escapes before the presentation.
The concert will be in trio format. He has already rehearsed with the pianist Miguel Núñez and the cellist Caridad R. Varona the more than 20 songs that make up tomorrow night’s repertoire. Perhaps there will be 24, perhaps 25. Perhaps some more that claim the illusion of that public that did not give up until they had the tickets in hand.
The man who got off the plane to bring the tour Diaz de Luz to its origins is certainly not the same one that will go up on stage at the Ciudad Deportiva. In other words, the expressions on his face have been filled with that intense shine that is very distinguishable by his closest family and friends. A brightness that also recovers from nostalgia, from pain.
His body is responsible for confirming that he has returned to Cuba. “In two days you have gained a couple of pounds,” one of his relatives jokingly told him at his house. Pablo has completely fulfilled the ritual that he frequently celebrates when he returns to the country after his international commitments. He has reviewed albums like Parallel lines, which she recorded with Andy Montañez and won a Latin Grammy in 2006, Haydée’s new album where the artist honors the tradition of Cuban music; and she has shared with some friends ideas, projects and the already habitual experiences that she has returned to live in the country.
The scenario set for their reunion after the resolution of the first conflicts is not unknown to the troubadour. At the Coliseum he performed in 1988 to close his tour i love this island by different provinces of Cuba. Her daughter Lynn was 15 years old and was one of the spectators of the concert that had Silvio Rodríguez as a guest. The memory does not fade in her mind. “It was a very nice experience for the girl that she was,” says Lynn as she follows the rhythm with her hands of the songs that her sister Haydée performs at a concert in Havana at night.
Haydée breaks when she sings talk to meby Carlos Varela. Lynn, in a low voice asks her for strength, and Haydée stands on her feet to continue the concert. The public applauds her. She returns from the very personal place to which the Carlos Varela theme moved her. She interprets dressed in the sea, another of his father’s most recent songs. He talks about Havana, about what he lost, about what was left, about what could be. He speaks, in short, of a gallery of emotions. Lynn looks at her with that concern of an older sister. She fears that the weight of poetry will break Haydée again. The singer, however, dominates the night despite her symbolic load. Both hug at the end of the concert and talk about the presentation of her father, about the songs that she will sing and about all the paths of affection that have been born after the news of the concert.
Ernán, Lynn’s husband, reviews a WhatsApp group. His name is for the love of Paul. “They are mostly very young guys that we met when Lynn and I were standing in line to buy tickets to the National Theater.” The group is made up of almost 30 people. The messages rain. Some ask how all the troubadour’s work can be obtained; others speak of illusion. Suddenly the screen was filled with smileys of joy because one of the members was able to get the tickets for the two sisters, 80 and 76 years old, Yoyi and Hilda, who had practically woken up days ago at the National Theater to get the tickets the first time. and they didn’t get the tickets. Both said that they had practically never missed a Pablo concert in Cuba. “We have distributed love, the concert has not started yet” comments another of the girls from For the love of Paul seeing the news about the joy of the two sisters.
Lynn and Haydée keep singing Pablo’s songs. Now on the boardwalk wall. It’s almost 3:00 am on Sunday. You can also listen to Fito Páez, Santiago Feliú, Silvio and also that sound from the school in which they both grew up. “Elis Regina was very important to us,” says Lynn. Haydée confirms this and claps her hands and body a few times. The dancer Sandra Ramy looks at a point of light in the sea and eagerly repeats the songs. Others join with The love after Love. Ernán remembers his time in Madrid with Joaquín Sabina. “He used to say that Pablo was the only musician to whom he took his hat off,” he says.
Haydée and Lynn talk about Suylén on the way back. They silently dedicate their own tributes to her from affection, religion and from those unfathomable memories impregnated in her memory. They know that her sister will also be in the songs of the Colosseum.
So far Pablo will not have guests at the concert. It will be a night shared between the troubadour and a good part of his audience. Between the troubadour and his memory. Between the troubadour and Cuba. In the stands Yoyi and Hilda, and the Whasapp boys will review the songs and join the energy of hundreds of other voices with the irrepressible spontaneity of their youth, their street madness and the joy of those who knew, despite everything, the triumph .
It will also be a reunion for the troubadour’s family. For Lynn and Haydée. And for all those who will listen to Cuba again in those songs that, although they have always been among us, will relive in Havana new days of glory.
