Mayela Sánchez, GPI
There are some songs, such as “El butaquito,” in which only the women perform a choreographed dance.
MEXICO CITY, MEXICO – It’s noon on a Sunday at Parque Revolución, located in the northern part of Mexico City, the capital. Guitarists practice harmonizing while dancers add percussion by stomping their wooden heels on square wooden platforms.
But it’s not just any music and dance. Rather it’s the music and dance of the “jarochos,” the people of Veracuz, a state in eastern Mexico.
The musicians and dancers are participants in a free workshop that has become a staple in the park. Miroslava Cruz Terán and her husband, Luis Miguel Cruz Lara, launched this cultural initiative eight years ago to spread the traditions of the jarochos to Mexico City. Although Cruz Terán and Cruz Lara aren’t jarochos, both their parents are, so they are familiar with their traditions.
“It’s fortunate that my parents, although belatedly, succeeded in introducing me to the jarocho music and that it touched my heart and got into my veins,” says Cruz Terán, who learned how to dance during her 20s.
Now, the couple is intent on sharing these traditions with others. Cruz Terán teaches the dance classes, and Cruz Lara organizes and promotes the workshops.
At first, they collaborated with other groups. But six years ago, they started their own project called “Que siga el fandango,” an allusion to the name of jarocho festivities.
During the process, the workshops have themselves become a tradition, Cruz Terán says. She attributes this to their constant presence every Sunday in Parque Revolución for years. For personal reasons, they recently scaled back the classes to every two weeks.
The park’s open space has attracted followers little by little. Although the number of attendees has varied each week from 15 to 40 participants, many have become familiar faces.
Arturo Gutiérrez Funes, 56, has been attending the “jarana” classes for four years. It became such a part of his week that he laments the change several months ago to semimonthly workshops.
“You’re establishing a routine, coming here every Sunday,” he says.
The jarana that he plays is one of the two musical instruments taught during the music workshop. The other is the “requinto.” Both are small guitars that together create the jarocho “son,” a genre of music that blends indigenous, Spanish and African rhythms.
Cruz Terán teaches the different steps that accompany the music. The “zapateado” is the stomping part of the dance. For the “mudanza,” dancers using gliding steps during the lyrical portions of the songs.
Two teachers alternate teaching the jarana and requinto classes. One teacher is Ignacio González, 37, who first started coming to the dance classes as a participant for six or seven years in Cruz Terán and her husband’s workshops.
“I was making friends with them, and the opportunity arose in which they invited me to participate,” González says.
The classes are free, though the teachers always put out a basket or a sombrero for donations.
But neither Cruz Terán nor González leads the classes for the money. González says he even met his wife through participating in the workshops.
Cruz Terán agrees that it’s the people that matter.
“The people who come here are what strengthens us,” she says. “We see that the people of the city are very interested in their traditions, only we don’t become familiar with them because they aren’t so widespread. I’m really pleased and proud that this happens in a park outdoors and that the pleasure of sharing isn’t missed.”
Miroslava Cruz Terán, who leads the dance classes, learned how to dance in the jarocho style during her 20s.
But there are also songs in which people dance in pairs.
The dancers' wooden heels add percussion to the jarocho music during the "zapateado" dance.
Carmen Coutiño is from Veracruz and knows how to dance and play the jarana. She comes to the class with her husband, Horacio Ocampo, who is learning how to play the jarana.
Spectators gather to watch the dancing and listen to the music from chairs set up in the park.
People of all ages participate in the workshops, including Abril Ramírez, 5, who joined the classes thanks to her aunt, who is a dancer and plays the jarana. Clemente Ábrego, 86, joined as a requinto player six years ago. Lía Morgana, 31, has been participating for four years. She dances, plays the jarana and also sings.
