Native American mix up...

Robert Mirabal had arrived in Otavalo.  This Native American, flown in from New Mexico, has, in the past, won a Grammy Award for his music.  We waited over two hours in a cold, open air community hall which slowly filled with a couple of thousand keen spectators.  Suddenly the performance began, it seemed whilst the stage was still being prepared.  One minute nothing then, without warning, Mirabal was chanting into the microphone.  It was impressive stuff and nothing like we´d expected.  He was joined on stage by his little entourage of two women and two butch men dressed in neon Native American outfits.  As he began his second song they danced behind him holding patterned dishes.  So far so good.

It started to become a little odd during the third offering as one of the big men walked through the audience dressed as an eagle.  Flapping his winged arms up to the stage he proceeded to crouch whilst tilting his head this way and that with an expression like a demented owl.  On next was the other bouncer-cum-dancer who brought with him a collection of bright neon hula-hoops.  It looked like it was going to be another ridiculous display but, to be fair, it was pretty impressive.  I´m not sure how a man of that age and stature could create a spinning work of art from a few plastic hoops but he did just that.

Jesus made an appearance next with a song asking for Christ to save us all.  Hands were raised to the sky by all on stage as Mirabal almost wept, deeply distressed by the sin of the world.  Through a connection known only to himself, he then jumped to a quote from Sitting Bull talking about the impacts of the invasion of Europeans in North America:

"If a man loses anything and goes back and looks carefully for it, he will find it, and that is what the Indians are doing now when they ask you to give them the things that were promised them in the past; and I do not consider that they should be treated like beasts, and that is the reason I have grown up with the feelings I have... I feel that my country has gotten a bad name, and I want it to have a good name; it used to have a good name; and I sit sometimes and wonder who it is that has given it a bad name."

Naturally, this statement, which I happen to sympathise with wholeheartedly, made the two Gringoes feel a little uncomfortable in the hall filled with mainly indigenous Ecuadoreans.  Then, just as my respect was growing, he decided to issue forth another statement about the reason he was in Otavalo.  He´d been asked, he said, by the people of Ecuador to perform again but, he proudly added, really didn´t want to visit the country.  I´m not sure why the crowd didn´t lynch him there and then for his lack of manners but they sat tight and listened on.  He went on to talk about corn... for a long time.  He told us corn was as important to him as it was to the gathered masses.  So important, in fact, that corn was the reason he was there.  It was the maís that had spoken to him, asking him to perform that night.  Although a strange motivation to my mind, the crowd lapped it up with cheers and applause.  He carried on by proposing that all answers to any questions could be found in the corn before boldly stating he was ´...from the future...´ and to ´...respect Mother Earth´.

I´m not sure how, during his next number, it was respectful to Mother Earth to throw out handful after handful of glowsticks to the eager crowd clamouring before him.  This generosity continued as he threw more objects at his fans, including braids he´d been wearing in his long, dark hair.  After he´d extracted them from his shiny mane he held them before him shouting, `Magic! Magic! Magic! Magic!´  I have to admit, his hair did look healthy but I put that down to good genes and a decent barber rather than magic braids.

During his next piece he invited an 11 year old local boy to join him on stage.  All credit to the kid, he did really well rapping in front of the proud crowd below him.  Whilst clearly generous in making the young lad´s day, Mirabal didn´t miss the opportunity to cash in on the act by posing for photo after photo with the little star.  By the end of his lengthy manipulation of the kid and his dad I had become a little cynical about Mr Mirabal.  The self-proclaimed champion of the Native American population seemed a little more interested in how to work a crowd by mixing in any elements needed to play with their emotions.  Still, bloody good chanting though.