Duende and The Spanish Horse

By Sue Maccia

So it’s several months before Covid-19 spreads over the world like the Reaper’s cloak. A stateside friend calls and proposes we meet up and take a trip. He has it all planned. We meet in Madrid, rent a car and drive west to Valladolid, a city on the edge of Spain’s central plateau. Its name, Val-la-do-lid, “sang” to him, he said. Originally from Columbia, he longed to experience the city’s cumbia tradition, a musical fusion of Spanish, African slave, and Columbian indigenous rhythms alive in the city’s many festivals. The music, imported to Spain by returning Spanish soldier...

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