No Es Chiche

Though it was in my interest to further study the lyrics of Carlos Mejía Godoy's Misa Campesina, it was a family friend who helped trigger putting this into action after reading my earlier entry.  She initiated the idea of having a study-jam session and I followed her up on it.  With guitars, flute, and the help of the internet for chords and translation, we spent an afternoon exploring the intricacies of these songs.  It was more challenging than any of us expected but well worth it to even just appreciate this collection a little more deeply.

Firstly, the musical composition itself was not that easy to follow.  The style is not the same as the typical latin jazz rhythms or Cuban or Mexican beats.  Nicaraguan music has its own unique sound.  There may be some similarities, but its variances lends to its identity.  Use of the marimba is especially characteristic to its distinct flavor.  I had done some online searching for marimbas before our session and I realized it was going to be hard to come by. (Listen here)

The lyrics themselves also presented some challenges using unique words from Nicaragua and the indigenous tribes.  Basic Spanish-English translators were not up to the task.  I fortunately found a blog that had footnotes to the lyrics helping non-Nicaraguans Spanish speakers understand the words better. I had to translate from Spanish to Spanish and then to English.  I had replace the richness with simplicity for Google to handle.  Unfortunately, I have still be unable to find a way to translate the Meskite song.  I can't find its meaning in any form.  Even though the English version is a mere shadow of its former self, the power within Godoy's words are enough to transcend language barriers.

Canto de Entrada
Godoy opens his Peasants Mass very strongly in calling God the God of the poor and of the workers.  He see God in all people, in the store clerk, at the gasoline station, checking tires and paving roads.  The central american use of "vos" is prevalent throughout the song.  I particularly like the image of a wrinkled, sunburnt God sweating in the streets in overalls not ashamed of his work and waiting in line among the rest of us to receive his wages.  We must see the presence of God is all His people.  "Vos vas de la mano con mi gente, luchas en el campo y la ciudad."  Wherever we are, God holds our hand and is in our struggle.

In the Kyrie, I was struck by word, "solidarízate."  In Spanish, there is actually a verb form of solidarity.  I heard the English noun toss around a lot in college and still see it pop up online today but often people don't really understand it.  And even if they get it that doesn't mean they live it.  There is often time more talk than action.  Solidarity is a beautiful theory that remains a noun.  In Spanish, it finds action in the verb y el verbo se hizo carne.  It is action, it is a command, it is work, it is real.  A lot the songs in the Misa Campesina joyfully cheer on this unity of God's people, the community of the church.  The Gloria mentions all the different Nicaraguan cities that join in giving God praise and the various instruments used.  All participate.  Within its inclusive opportunity to give glory to God, the song remembers also those suffer injustice and fight the oppressor.

Gloria al que sigue la luz del evangelio, al que denuncia sin miedo la injusticia, gloria al que sufre la cárcel y el destierro y da su vida combatiendo al opresor. 

The other major theme that pops up in all the songs is the constant fight for social justice.  Godoy ties in both community and struggle into his lyrics.  The Credo sees God as everyone, the architect, engineer, craftsman and carpenter who built thought, music and love.  The passion is brutally realized and Pilate is described as a heartless imperialist washing away his guilt.  However, Christ triumphs over death as we will find victory in the sacrifice for liberation.

Vos estás resucitando en cada brazo que se alza para defender al pueblo del dominio explotador. Porque estás vivo en el rancho, en la fábrica, en la escuela, creo en tu lucha sin tregua, creo en tu resurrección.

In the Ofertorio, not only is the bread and wine brought to the altar, but the people offer up their entire selves.  All the energy, sweat, fruits of their hands and fruit of the earth takes part in the heavenly sacrifice.  Unique Nicaraguan foods get attention in this song, while the indigenous birds get a moment in the Canto de Meditación.  With a really slow, passionate intro the lyrics paint a picture of praising God in the same manner of the melodious birds of the trees.  It later transitions into a jubilant explosion.  I particularly love the last phrase before the switch, in which God is depicted as a rebel fighting night and day against the injustice of humanity.  Fruits and birds may be described in unfamiliar terms to non-Nicaraguans, but in the Santo Godoy even refers to God with striking use of tayacán, which means teacher.  He showcases an array of colorful vocabulary to fully illustrate the vibrancy of Nicaragua.

Comunión
I personally love the imagery rendered the Communion song.  We are all called to go together to the Lord's cornfields.  Jesus himself is inviting us to the harvest.  It's very inclusive, active and energetic.  Even the fishes seem to want to join in the celebration.  There is a great sense of community and joy.  For how happy the song appears, it still has its moment to offer us some depth in its lyrics.

La comunión no es un rito intrascendente y banal.
Es compromiso y vivencia, tomar conciencia de la cristiandad.
Es comulgar con la lucha de la colectividad.
Es decir yo soy cristiano y conmigo hermano vos podés contar. 

It takes the time to remind us of the significance of the Eucharist.  It is not an inconsequential ritual; it is a profound, conscious commitment of our faith, uniting us together.

Canto de Despedida
After sharing in such a transformative liturgy as this, the final song has to leave the people on a high note, with hope and promise.  The closing song takes a moment to soak in the beauty of a town gathered together in prayer and action.  It reminds us that we are all singing together in one voice.  The fraternity among families holds firmly.  Separation is painful and the chorus points out how hard it is to say good-bye when our joy is so strong.  Imagine how it would be like if people were really too sad to leave after mass?  How often do the pews empty up before the final blessing as people race to the parking lot?  If we could fully appreciate the true glory of the Eucharistic liturgy we should never want to leave.  We'd stay behind and absorb the presence of Christ and his community as long as possible.  Unfortunately though, we do have to leave but now we take with us renewed hearts.  The song sends us forth with an intense, vibrant excitement to face the world with greater devotion.  Fear is tossed aside and strength renewed.  Although we go separate ways, we remain united.  A cheerful reminder in the refrain points out that we will only have to nostalgically recall the mass temporarily until we come together again.  The pain of leaving will be transformed into a smile as we return to the Misa Campesina.


It truly was a joy to explore this music deeply in our study-jam session.  Saying good-bye was as sad as the song suggests.  A part of me would like to help bring this music to the United States.  I do think it will help make mass more meaningful.  It would be a huge undertaking to try to generate a decent English or even Spanglish cover that maintains the integrity and beauty of the original Nicaraguan composition.  I will post a simple, direct translation in a later post after I've worked out all the internet dictionary kinks.  For now, I joyfully await the time until I once again revisit La Misa Campesina.