JAN SVERRE KNUDSEN Dancing cueca “with your coat on”: the...

This article examines the cueca dance, an undisputed symbol of Chileannational identity, within the diasporic Chilean community in Oslo. The immig-rant experience involves dramatic social change and therefore provides aninteresting field in which to investigate the dynamic relationship betweenchanges in musical practices and social change. In this article I address thecomplex processes of adaptation, redefinition and reconstruction that cuecadancing has undergone in Norway. I begin with an overview of the processesinvolved in the construction of the cueca as the Chilean national dance. I thenlook at the changes it has undergone in Norway in relation to recruitment,interpretation, experienced meaning and social function.

Here…And way back there…The cueca is pure Chile.Although we are dancing so far away,Here, outside …Let us celebrate our Independence Day,And in the enramada1

The Chilean party is prepared …Let us dance cueca in NorwayLet us dance cueca “with our coats on”Because cueca is Chile …Here …And in all corners of the world.2

BRITISH JOURNAL OF ETHNOMUSICOLOGY VOL. 10/ii 2001 pp. 61–83

JAN SVERRE KNUDSEN

Dancing cueca “with your coat on”:the role of traditional Chilean dance inan immigrant community

1 Enramada (or ramada). An outdoor area covered with a large roof made of fresheucalyptus branches. It is the traditional venue of Independence Day celebrations in largeparts of rural Chile.2 The original Spanish version of the text reads: Aquí … / Y en la quebrá del ají … / Es puroChile. La cueca y que no lo fuerá … / Aunque se baile ré lejos, / Por aquí afuera … / Celebrelas fiestas patrias / Y en la enramada, / Que la fiesta chilena, / Esta preparada … / A bailarcueca en Noruega / A bailar ‘cueca abrigá’ / Porque la cueca es Chile … / Aquí … / Y encualquier quebrá …

Introduction

The lines that introduce this article were written by Sergio Campos, the “housepoet” at the Chilean Cultural Centre (Casa Cultural Chilena) in Oslo. Theywere printed on a poster inviting members of the Chilean community to theIndependence Day celebrations in 1999 (Figure 1). Written as a brindis, a toastin the folk style, they underline the fact that both within Chile and in the manyChilean communities around the world, the traditional dance, the cueca, holdsan undisputed position as a key symbol of Chilean national identity. Thepoet explains that the expression “dancing with our coats on” (bailar cuecaabrigada3) is an image that relates to the importance of the cueca for Chileans:“It is danced by Chileans all over the world, and in Norway the cold environ-ment makes it necessary to adapt by wrapping yourself up well.” In this articleI have drawn on this image as a metaphor for the complex processes ofadaptation, redefinition and reconstruction that musical expressions undergowhen confronted with the new and unfamiliar cultural environment of a foreigncountry. By discussing a number of salient aspects of a diasporic musicalculture and relating them to the immigrant situation, I attempt to show that theperformance of a symbolically loaded traditional dance can undergo substantialchanges in such realms as recruitment, interpretation, experienced meaning andsocial function, when resurrected within a new social framework.

The article is based on on-going Ph.D. research into the musical activitiesof the Chilean community of Oslo. Fieldwork has centred upon the ChileanCultural Centre, which organizes a wide range of activities for Chilean immig-rants currently living in Norway. At the Centre they can meet fellow Chileans,speak Spanish, eat empanadas, read Chilean books and magazines, watchChilean movies and football matches, enjoy music and poetry and engage inmany other activities. All in all, the efforts of the Centre are aimed at creatingand maintaining a complete social world for those who want to live a Chileanlife in Norway. Music and dance, including a variety of Latin-American genres,have a central position among Chilean immigrants, with the cultivation of thecueca and other expressions of Chilean folklore constituting focal points con-nected to the representation and expression of national identity. In this socialenvironment there is a strong tendency to encourage the cultivation of nationalsymbols, such as the flag, costumes, food and music. The names of suchperforming groups as Tierra Chilena, Canta Chile and Chile Andino, whichfoster Chilean musical traditions in Norway, reflect this emphasis.

The cueca dancers shown in Figure 2 belong to the group called TierraChilena, a traditional dance group that is active in the Chilean immigrantcommunity of Oslo. Most of its ten members came to Norway as refugeestowards the end of the Pinochet dictatorship, which lasted from 1973 to 1990.It is an amateur group that practises regularly at the Chilean Cultural Centre,

B R I T I S H J O U R N A L O F E T H N O M U S I C O L O G Y V O L . 1 0 / i i 2 0 0 162

3 The literal translation of abrigado(a) is “with your coat on”. It corresponds to Englishterms like, “packed in” or “bundled up” (against the cold). Used in a figurative sense theterm carries connotations of being protected or sheltered.

K N U D S E N D a n c i n g c u e c a “ w i t h y o u r c o a t o n ” 63

Figure 1 Poster showing cueca dancers

performing chiefly within the immigrant community at both public and privateevents, “peñas folcloricas”, charity concerts, weddings, anniversary celebra-tions and other contexts.

Most of the dancers in Tierra Chilena learned to dance cueca in Norway andadmit to having had little or no interest in the national folk dance 4 beforeleaving Chile. Most of them come from predominantly urban backgrounds andtheir families had limited interest in Chilean folklore. Whether or not they haddancing experience in Chile, they all report that the immigrant situation spurreda new interest in specifically Chilean cultural expressions. A few quotes fromfield interviews may give us further hints of what the cueca means in thecommunity:

When we hear cueca here in Norway it makes me vibrate (vibra!). I learnedto dance here in Norway. In Chile I never found time to learn what is reallyours.

(Woman, aged 61)

When I see the children dancing cueca, it goes straight to my heart. It is apart of our culture which we have reclaimed (rescatado) in Norway.

(Man, aged 44)


4 Cueca and other traditional dance forms connected to the rural criollo culture are generallyreferred to by Chileans as bailes folkloricos. Throughout this article they will be referred toas “folklore” or “folk dance”.

Pho

to: J

.S. K

nuds

en

Figure 2 Cueca practice at the Chilean Cultural Centre

Ayekantun is a Chilean folk dance workshop for children … which aims topreserve our dance traditions through the children. Some of them were bornin this country [Norway] and have very little contact with their parents’country of origin.

(Derived from a programme folder presenting Ayekantun, May 2000)

We come from a country (tierra), Chile, that has customs, that has a way ofthinking, that has folklore, that has dance, and that is what we are.

(Man, aged 42)

“What is ours”, “reclaiming our culture”, “preserving our dance traditions”,“what we are”: these quotes suggest that the feeling of belonging to a con-tinuing tradition is essential to many immigrants. How might we explain thisurge to rescue something perceived as lost, but which in many cases was neverowned in the first place? According to John Blacking (1995:49, 148ff), changesin musical performance reflect social change, although not necessarily in adirect, causal way. The immigrant experience involves dramatic social changeand therefore provides an especially interesting field in which to study thedynamics in the relationship between changes in musical practice and socialchange. What social changes experienced by immigrants contribute to makingthe revival of a national dance a preferred, logical or even a necessary activity?Or, to turn the question around, how do changes in the use and social functionof a particular musical form reflect the dramatic social changes of theimmigrant experience?

The power of the cueca

As the undisputed national dance of Chile, the cueca belongs to a large groupof so-called “handkerchief dances” found in several Latin American countries.A number of different forms of handkerchief dance are found in Bolivia,Argentina, Peru and Mexico. Some of them are known by other names, such aszamacueca, marinera or chilena. In Chile the dance is generally associatedwith rural culture, and particularly with the culture of the huaso, the Chileanversion of the Argentinian gaucho. Chilean folklorists have described aninfinite number of cueca forms that are related to different geographical areas,settings and social functions and that employ different poetic and musicalstructures and different instrumental formats (Loyola 1980). In general, theguitar is the most important instrument associated with the dance, and it plays ahemiola-based rhythm similar to a number of other rhythms found in LatinAmerican popular culture, such as the joropo of Venezuela, the huapango ofMexico, and the chacarrera of Argentina. A variety of additional instrumentsmay be used to accompany the dance, including the harp, the tambourine, andsuch typical folk instruments as the guitarron5 and the tormento.6


5 Guitar-like instrument with 25 metal strings.6 Percussion instrument consisting of a small table with a top made of loosely fastenedwooden rods. It is played by hitting the fingertips against the rods.

Most cueca styles follow a basic fixed structure. The lyrics are ordered inan octosyllabic four-verse cuarteto, followed by an eight-verse siguiriya and atwo-verse remate, both with five or seven syllables in each verse. Basic choreo-graphic elements, such as turns and the changing of places, are linked tospecific points in the music. Nevertheless, much in the same way as in theSpanish sevillanas, a basic, rigid structure can allow for a great deal of impro-visational freedom and personal interpretation. Much of the fascination peoplehave for dancing the cueca lies in the opportunity it affords to create one’s owndance. During performance dancers can express their immediate emotions andtheir relationship to their dance partner. Often described as a courting dance,elements of courtship and flirtation are an integral part of the dance ethos. Eyecontact is crucial in the interactions between dance partners, and dancers cancommunicate dense messages about their relationship to one another in the waythey confront or avoid each other’s glances. However, as further discussion willshow, the cueca is far more than a courtship dance, and far more than genderrelations are negotiated through cueca performance.

The cueca, as danced in informal settings in the Chilean community inOslo, could be described as follows. The music starts with a brief instrumentalintroduction, to which each couple does a promenade (paseo), back and forthon the dance floor. Then, when the singing begins, the dance partners turn toface one another and perform the first careful dance steps and start waving theirhandkerchiefs. The man circles the woman without touching her, pursuing herwith soft “whiplashes” from his handkerchief. She alternates between movingaway from her partner in elegant circular movements and meeting hisapproaches in different ways: with her eyes, with her movements or with theever-waving handkerchief. Intensity builds gradually towards the end of thedance, culminating in a short “tap dance” (zapateo) by the man, before heoffers his partner his arm and the couple finishes in a gesture of greeting, whilethe music ends in an instrumental coda.

The cueca is above all a celebratory dance. Although the cumbia and inrecent years the salsa have become the dominant party dances in Chile, cuecasare often danced in settings with a ceremonial character, like birthdays, wed-dings and above all, during such national festivities as Independence Day. Theparticipatory element is striking. A Chilean audience will always join in withrhythmic clapping (palmas, see Figure 3) and encouraging shouts. Folk groupsperforming for predominantly Chilean audiences often encourage members ofthe audience to join them. Jan Fairley (1989:14) describes how this practice atconcerts by the exiled group Karaxu! during the late 1970s could be seen asforming a symbolic link not only between performers and audience but alsobetween the resistance in Chile and the solidarity movement in Europe.


Figure 3 Cueca clapping (palmas de cueca)

A number of scholars of the past century have discussed the history anddevelopment of the cueca. Different influences and paths of development havebeen suggested, often reflecting changing national or ideological agendas.There is little reason to doubt that the roots of the cueca are European orcriollo, the term for Latin Americans with Spanish ancestry. Similaritiesbetween the cueca and such Spanish popular dance forms as the fandango andsevillanas are obvious. According to Argentinian musicologist Carlos Vega(1947:7), it is possible to recognize in the cueca the choreographic structure ofthe danza picaresca, which spread from Spain to Europe and the Americasaround the middle of the eighteenth century. Vega further claims that theorigins of the cueca can be found in the dance salons of the aristocracy ofLima, where the name zamacueca first appeared in 1824. He suggests that inthe course of a few decades, it “descended” to the rest of the people and spreadgeographically, emerging in Chile in the 1850s, where its name was abbrevi-ated to cueca.

Vega’s theories have been contested in the comprehensive Historial de lacueca, by Chilean composer and researcher Pablo Garrido (1979). The ideathat aristocratic Lima stood as the single hub of cueca development, radiatingits influence to “lower social levels”, is considered monocentric; belonging toan outdated “diffusionist” school of anthropology that fails to recognize thecreative talents of the human being. According to Garrido (1979:52), the earlydevelopment of the cueca was influenced by a number of different social andethnic groups in different locations. With respect to the dance in Chile, Garrido(1979:103–40) places a strong emphasis upon influences deriving from thesmall number of African slaves who came to Chile.

More recent writings on the cueca should also be mentioned. Samuel ClaroValdés (1994), for example, skips over centuries of history and focuses on amore distant – and perhaps more suitable – past, looking for similaritiesbetween the structural characteristics of the cueca and the Arab culture thatdominated Andalucia from the eighth century onwards. Mario Rojas (2001)challenges the myth of the rural cueca, suggesting that its origins can be foundin the marginalized social groups of the larger cities, the houses of prostitutionplaying an important role in the development of the dance. The most curiousclaim about the origin of the cueca is undoubtedly the one which contends thatit was invented by the national hero and founding father of Chile, BernardoO’Higgins (see Loyola 1997:1). What one notes in the claims of most Chileanscholars, however, is the tendency to downplay the dance’s possible foreignorigins and influences while emphasizing that the cueca today is specificallyChilean and that it developed in Chile by Chileans.

The central position of the cueca in the Chilean mentality can perhaps bestbe illustrated by a few examples, beginning with the dictatorship years. InPinochet’s Chile, the right to national cultural symbols became a subject ofpolitical struggle. The field of music was no exception. Andean instrumentslike the charango and zampoñas, which were associated with the NuevaCanción song movement, were denounced as “subversive” by the military


government and unofficially banned (Fairley 1989:5).7 Shortly after the mili-tary coup of 11 September 1973, cueca music played at full blast could beheard from loudspeakers placed in the windows of houses belonging toPinochet supporters. After the takeover of the national radio station, the firstbroadcasts included triumphant military music alternating with cuecas (Iturra1997:117).

Later on, the Pinochet regime undertook a series of measures aimed atconquering the cueca by linking this symbol of national identity to its ownpolitical agenda. On Independence Day, 18 September 1979, Augusto Pinochetannounced a presidential decree that made the cueca the official national danceof Chile. This had not been previously established officially, although, since themiddle of the nineteenth century, it had been recognized as such (Valdés et al.1994:47). Today Chilean school children are taught that there are four symbolsrepresenting the nation: the flag, the national anthem, the coat of arms and thecueca.

Through the national cueca association, FENAC (Federación Nacional de laCueca), championships were organized, in which all state schools were obligedto participate. According to leading folklore researcher and performer MargotLoyola, this has done a great deal of harm to the dance:

[The FENAC championships] created a stereotypical cueca. In Chile thereare more than one hundred different types of cueca, which I have identifiedin my work. Because of the competitions, people got the impression thatthere is only one correct Chilean cueca: the huaso cueca of the ZonaCentral.

(Interview, September 2000)

The cueca of the Zona Central, featuring a male costume that includes blackleather boots with oversized spurs, carries for most Chileans a certain flair ofupper-class culture: the culture of the landlords. Such associations werestrengthened by the cueca championships, which coloured the dance with over-tones of national chauvinism. In order that it might be used more effectively asa national symbol, the regime strove to promote a single form of the dance asthe national cueca. In the construction and maintenance of a common nationalsymbol, there was no need for cultural diversity. This cultural policy enhancedthe image of a stereotypical cueca and linked it to the totalitarian state. Suchideological use of a cultural expression based on common popular culture maybe regarded as an essential part of the project of nation-building (Smith1991:14). It is not difficult to find parallels in the cultural endeavours of anumber of other authoritarian regimes.

Resistance groups fighting the dictatorship, both within Chile and in exile,were very aware of the strong symbolic content of the cueca, and they too


7 Nueva Canción in Chile was a politically involved song movement during the late 1960sand 1970s, which played a key role in Allende’s electoral campaign. After the coup themovement went underground in Chile but was carried on in exile by a number of artists. TheNueva Canción style is closely related to both Andean and criollo folklore.

employed it politically in a variety of ways. Most Nueva Canción groups inexile included at least one cueca in their repertoire, though rarely as a danceperformance; but if it was danced, it was generally performed without the folkcostumes. In an effort to redefine the dance as the popular culture of resistance,cuecas were composed and performed in ways that were intended to liberatethe dance from its chauvinistic overtones. The lyrics of these cuecas dealt withpolitical struggles, labour unions or political parties, instead of the traditionalcueca themes of love, humour and country life.

A particularly potent form of political opposition to the Pinochet regimewas established in the cueca sola, which was performed in front of policestations and official buildings in Chile. The cueca sola involved women whosehusbands or sons were among the jailed or the “desaparecidos” (literally, dis-appeared, abducted by the military), who would dance alone, without partners,often wearing pictures of their loved ones pinned to their clothes. In this way asymbol of national identity, recognized and cultivated as such by the regimeitself, became, in a wordless, subtle way, a powerful denunciation of the atroci-ties committed during the dictatorship. The cueca sola was made known world-wide by Sting, through the song, “They dance alone” (Sting 1987).

Another incident, related by Margot Loyola, underlines the symbolic powerof the cueca in the consciousness of Chilean exiles:

We were coming back by plane from a tour in Argentina shortly after civilrule had been reinstated in Chile. I think it was in 1990. With us on theplane was a large group of exiles returning home after many … maybefifteen years, in exile. We had just crossed the Andes Mountains … wecould see the valley of Santiago … the plane began to descend … andsomebody started clapping the cueca rhythm, and suddenly the whole planewas clapping. It was very emotional … many people were crying

(Interview, September 2000)

As mentioned earlier, clapping is an indispensable feature of a cuecaperformance. Normally, the audience performs this anacrustic rhythm atspecific points in the performance, creating a contrast to the hemiola-basedrhythm of the music. In the episode related by Loyola, the claps became thevery essence of the cueca, a simple sign, recognized immediately by anyChilean on board the plane. There were no words spoken, no singing ordancing; the spontaneous clapping was all that was necessary to set off a chainreaction in the group of exiles and their fellow passengers. It is not difficult toimagine how, in seconds, this symbolic act invaded the separated mental worldsof the international air passengers and united them in a common social space.Individual, private thoughts gave way to a collective emotional experience,which in turn had the power to release a wide array of thoughts and sentiments:memories, feelings of loss, longing, hopes, group solidarity and nationalsentiments.

A spontaneous demonstration of Chilean identity was broadcast worldwideduring the opening rounds of the football tournament of the 2000 Olympics.


After scoring a decisive goal in the match against Spain, forward ReinaldoNavia rushed over to the Chilean audience, most of them from the immigrantcommunity, and danced a short celebratory cueca. This short symbolic per-formance, which linked sports and music, perhaps the two main arenas for thecreation and celebration of national identity, was enormously appreciated bythe more than 15,000 Chileans in the stadium in Melbourne, and it made thefront page of several Chilean newspapers. La Tercera, for example, featured thefollowing headlines: “Chile made Spain dance the cueca” (17 September2000).

Even today, there are political struggles concerning the cueca as a nationalsymbol. At the inauguration ceremony for the current socialist president,Lagos, the traditional performance of a cueca from the Zona Central, featuringdancers in full huaso costumes, was replaced by a cueca urbana, with dancersin modern party attire. This change to a ceremonial element proved to bea challenge to the imagined community symbolized by the cueca. Most prob-ably, it was meant as a symbolic gesture from the new government to signifya break with the policies of former regimes, but it was not well receivedin conservative circles, where it was condemned as a provocation and adesecration of a national symbol. The message was clear: “Don’t mess withthe cueca.”

The cueca in the Chilean community of Oslo

The history of Chilean migration to Norway has created two more or lessdistinct groups in the community: the political refugees and “the rest”. Afterthe military coup d’état of 1973 and the massive persecution that followed,several hundred thousand Chileans fled into exile, creating the first wave ofChilean immigrants in Europe, many of whom made their way to Norway.

These immigrants, most of whom had been involved in political organiza-tions, have a varied and often complex relationship to the cueca. Althoughmany of them are willing to participate in informal cueca dancing on nationalholidays, performances in folklorized settings, with the full festive huasocostume, are still regarded by a number of these “early” exiles as an upper-class phenomenon: the expression of a national chauvinistic culture thatbelongs to “los patrones”, the landowners. Emphasizing these connotations,one informant called it a “pretty dance with a stupid meaning”. The profoundsocial stratification of Chilean society has obviously affected the way in whichmany people view Chilean cultural expressions, even in exile.

In the Chilean community of Oslo, public performances of the cueca as adance were very rare during the greater part of the Pinochet period, althoughsung cuecas were a regular part of the repertoire of the groups active insolidarity campaigns. One notable exception took place during a cultural mani-festation at the Edvard Munch Museum in 1976. Echoing the cueca sola, fivewomen dressed in black, waving red handkerchiefs, danced a slow instrumentalcueca without partners. A single spotlight illuminated the stage; the womenappeared to be dancing in and out of the surrounding darkness.


Most of the active cueca dancers today are part of the second, much largerwave of immigrants, which arrived in Norway during the late 1980s. Althoughmost of them came as asylum seekers, there is no doubt that their flight fromChile was motivated primarily by social rather than political concerns. Most ofthem were refused asylum but offered residency on “humanitarian grounds”.The social composition of this group is somewhat different from that of theearly immigrants. Whereas the first group included a substantial number ofacademics, teachers and artists, the types of occupations of the second wave ofimmigrants were quite different. Taking Tierra Chilena as an example, it can benoted that among its members there are an electrician, an accountant, a painter,a cleaner, a bus driver and several housewives. Unlike other immigrant groups,such as the Pakistanis and the Vietnamese, who tend to concentrate in certainneighbourhoods, there is no major concentration of Chileans residing in anyone part of Oslo. The almost 2,000 inhabitants with a Chilean backgroundliving in the greater Oslo area are mainly spread throughout the suburbs,particularly to the north and east of central Oslo. This residential pattern makesthe Chilean Cultural Centre, which is situated at the commercial centre of oneof these suburbs, a natural meeting place.

The small group of active cueca performers is obviously not representativeof the Chilean community as a whole. As mentioned previously, there arevoices denouncing such activity as “too national” or “chauvinistic”. Also, the“second-generation” teenage Chileans show little interest in the dance,preferring to engage in the internationalized music of youth culture or popularLatino music. Although Chilean national identity among teenagers is notsuppressed or ignored in any way, identification with a more general Latinoculture has a much stronger appeal to them. Latino music and dance are thesymbols of identity they prefer to communicate to their Norwegian peers, forapparently they carry more status among many multi-ethnic groups of youngpeople. Nevertheless, the activities of the folk dancers do create symbols ofnational identification for which there is a demand. For all members of thecommunity, whether they know how to dance the cueca or not, whether itmakes them “vibrate” or whether they think it has a “stupid meaning”, thisexpression of “Chilean-ness” creates a common point of reference relatedto the single element that forms the basis of the community as a whole: a linkto Chile.

Linking time and place

Let us now return to the questions raised initially: How do we understand thefact that this group of Chileans, like similar groups found in many otherimmigrant communities, only became seriously involved in their “own” musicculture once in the diaspora? What underlies this renewed interest in folkdancing, an activity which rarely represents the continuation of an activitybrought from the homeland, but rather indicates a change, or even a break, withit? Many informants contributing to my research have described their parti-cipation in cultural activity as an act of necessity. It may be an individually


based necessity, connected to the healing of personal feelings of longing orloss, or it may be described as a more socially oriented necessity, connected toan urge to construct the immigrant community or provide their children with aChilean identity. Yet how do we further understand this necessity? What is itbased on and what is its social function?

If we consider the situation of Chilean immigrants from the perspective ofthe individual, a quite complex and often ambiguous picture emerges. On theone hand, and especially for the Chileans of the “second wave”, immigrationwas constituted as a search for new opportunities, a wish to get out of adifficult economic or social situation and to create a better life for themselvesand their children. Even though a number of professionals with degrees inhigher education from Chile have experienced difficulties in obtainingemployment compatible with their qualifications, for the great majority ofthose coming to Norway expectations have been fulfilled. For them, taking upresidence in a new country has meant a substantial improvement in theiraccess to basic social and material benefits, such as housing, employment,education and welfare. For many, life in Norway has also meant more sparetime and improved possibilities for becoming involved in activities beyondwork and family, including, of course, cultural activities of the kind discussedhere.

Yet, on the other hand, having achieved a better standard of living does notprevent immigrants from experiencing a sense of loss, a loss that is generallyfelt all the more severely, the more involuntary the experience of departurefrom the homeland was seen to be. In Spanish one of the terms for exile isdestierro, which translates as loss of country. It can also be said that immi-gration can imply a loss of time, a destiempo. Immigrants find themselves in asituation where continuity with the past is disrupted. Their past and theirpersonal history become irrelevant or misunderstood by the surroundingsociety. At the same time they are deprived of the possibility of participating inthe flow of time still running back in the homeland. It could be argued thatimmigrants have to deal with the difficult task of relating not only to two placesbut also to two temporal flows.

The life of an immigrant needs reconstruction, re-ordering and re-invention.The inherent splits in immigrant identity may be confronted through differentstrategies. One of the ways of organizing a reality experienced as disrupted orchaotic may be by engaging in cultural activity of the kind dealt with in thisarticle. The cultivation of powerfully loaded cultural symbols can form part ofthe development of a “mythical consciousness” with the capability of linkingpast and present, here and there (Eriksen 1996:106). As a defence mechanism,such symbolic work may have the effect of protecting the immigrant againstthe experience of the threat of disorganization and dissolution. One could saythat the mythical consciousness cultivated through the practice of the cueca andother cultural symbols promotes a sense of coherence and continuity out of thefragments of the past, in much the same way as human consciousness organ-izes the tiny dots flickering on a television screen into pictures, or buildssounds into melody.



Choice and necessity

Paul Willis describes cultural expressions as “necessary symbolic work”(Willis 1990:6). Symbolic creativity is necessary, he argues, in that it is anintegral part of the human condition, an everyday practice common to allhuman beings and not exclusively related to what we call art. Willis has chosento focus on young people since it is during the teenage and early adult yearsthat

people are formed most self-consciously through their own symbolic andother activities. It is where they form symbolic moulds through which theyunderstand themselves and their possibilities for the rest of their lives. It isalso the stage where people begin to construct themselves through nuanceand complexity, through difference as well as similarity.

(Willis 1990:7; my italics)

A parallel can be sought between the situation of young people describedby Willis and that of immigrants. It is striking to observe how symbolic creati-vity, especially in the realm of music, among both teenagers and immigrants isstrongly connected to a self-conscious process of production and reproductionof personal identity. Both situations involve a challenging transition from onestage of existence to another. Symbolic moulds in the form of culturalresources from childhood or from a past in a foreign country acquire newmeanings under new circumstances. Some become less relevant and are aban-doned, new expressions are added, while others are revived or filled with newcontent and meaning. The teenager is gradually distanced from childhoodculture, in much the same way as the immigrant is distanced from the cultureof the homeland. This naturally leads to a process of construction andreconstruction, definition and redefinition of identity, through the use of cul-tural symbols.

Both teenagers and immigrants have entered a new stage of life, whichconfronts them with a series of new choices. Making these choices is necessaryfor both groups in order for them to complete the transition successfully. It isjust as impossible for a teenager to remain in childhood as it is for animmigrant to live completely as if he or she were still in Chile. But while thechoices made by the teenager sooner or later lead to the abandonment ofchildhood and inclusion in adult society, the strategies employed by immi-grants produce a variety of results, which do not necessarily lead to inclusion inthe majority culture and society of the host country.

As Willis points out, the symbolic creativity of adolescence is a self-conscious process. Whatever choice is made, whatever strategy is chosen, thenecessary process each individual has to go through invariably leads to anincreased level of self-consciousness regarding the outcome of the choice. Thisis also the case in the immigrant setting. As one informant stated: “In ChileI was just a person. Here I became a Chilean.”

In Chile there is no great threat to the common feeling of national identity.Nobody questions others about their nationality, and there is no need for peopleto mark their “Chilean-ness” for the surrounding society. The cultivation ofnational identity is, to a great extent, taken care of by others: the school system,the media and public institutions. It is not an issue that needs to be questionedby the individual. In Norway, however, it becomes a matter of negotiation,dependent on choices and strategies of the group, the family or the individual.

Zygmunt Bauman (1998:15) suggests that the essentially polycentriccharacter of post-traditional Western societies has made personal choice afundamental necessity in the process of identification. We have become a“society of choosers”, doomed to choose whether we like it or not. In a similarvein, Mary Waters (1992:76–7), in her study on “suburban white ethnics” in theUSA, concludes that ethnic identity in the United States is becomingincreasingly a matter of voluntary and personal choice. The mixed backgroundsof many Americans allow them to virtually pick and choose which ancestrythey want to identify with, as well as to what extent they wish to incorporateethnic symbols and activities into their lives. As intermarriage increases overthe generations, the palette of ethnicities an individual can choose frombecomes ever more colourful. Over the years each generation undergoes aprocess of selection, where certain ethnic indicators are neglected and eventu-ally lost, while others are cultivated and maintained. Thus, to an even greaterextent than otherwise in an increasingly pluralistic society, the constructionof national or ethnic identity becomes a matter of choice, rather than ofbackground.

The immigrant situation seems to highlight the issue of personal choice bothas a possibility and as a necessity. This does not necessarily have to beexperienced as problematic, despite the countless new “fields of tension” thatappear between different musical practices in an urban multicultural society(Lundberg et al. 2000). Especially the younger Chileans seem to manage quitewell among the multitudes of cultural expressions with which they are con-fronted. In field interviews, the committed cueca dancers of the children’s groupAyekantun express a sincere liking for a variety of musical genres carryingessentially different cultural connotations. They may use the breaks in their folkpractice session to listen to the latest techno hits on their mini-disc players.

Invented tradition

It seems relevant to view Chilean folk dancing in Norway in terms of what EricHobsbawm has called “invented tradition”, “a set of practices, normallygoverned by overtly or tacitly accepted rules and of a ritual or symbolic nature,which seek to inculcate certain values and norms of behaviour by repetition,which automatically implies continuity with the past” (Hobsbawm and Ranger1992:1). According to Hobsbawm, the peculiarity of “invented tradition” is thatany continuity with “a suitable historic past” is largely factitious; they mustrather be understood as constructions based on the present needs of a society.

Various objections have been raised against Hobsbawm’s concept. It may,


of course, be argued, as the Norwegian anthropologist Thomas Hylland Eriksen(1996:22) has done, that “[a]ll traditions in a certain sense are ‘invented’ byhumans, and even the oldest myths and rituals are continuously renewedand changed in order to fit with the present.” Martin Stokes (1994:99) main-tains that the ideological implications of the term “invented tradition” are worthquestioning. He warns that a division between “invented” and “real” or“authentic” traditions could make it difficult to accept certain musicalexperiences for “what they are”, which in turn could lead to their disquali-fication as relevant and legitimate subjects of interest and research. Thiscomment on Hobsbawm seems particularly relevant when it comes to immig-rant musics, which generally receive less attention than their “authenticsources” in the countries of origin. However, the application of the concept ofinvention to immigrant musics should not lead to notions of fabrication orfalsity but rather help us to become aware of the processes of imagination andcreativity they entail. If we avoid the pitfall of viewing diasporic cultures assomehow inauthentic or less worthy of scholarly attention than the forms fromwhich they derive, to view cultural expressions as invented can lead us to focuson their present social function rather than on their historical or geographical“roots”. Interest, then, shifts towards the processes of invention or creation,rather than towards issues of heritage and authenticity.

Following this line of thought, links to images of the past as well as hopesand visions of the future must be seen as logical functions of the present needsof a society. For the Chilean community in Oslo, constructing and maintaininglinks to the past seems essential. Disconnection from one’s home country isalso a disconnection from one’s regular activities, one’s past and one’s history.The more or less involuntary departure from Chile leaves a void whichinvolvement in cultural activity seeks to fill. While many of the aspects of lifein Chile cannot be transplanted to another country, cultural activity, at least to acertain extent, can, although it may appear as re-invented, in new shapes andcontexts. Participation in folk revivals offers a compensation for the life onehas had to leave behind; it is symbolic activity with the capability of rep-resenting everything one misses from the home country. It evokes very specificpersonal memories as well as collective national sentiments. The image of acommon past is held alive and celebrated through the repeated rituals ofmusical performance and participation. Arguments based on this image becomea tool for holding the community together and shaping its future. The fact thatthere may be no significant common past from which to draw suitablearguments is not an obstacle. What matters is the common present and thefuture of the community.

Thus, in the light of present needs, folk activity can be regarded as anessential part of the generation and maintenance of social cohesion within thecommunity. Such activity, according to John Blacking (1995:52), “expressesthe actual solidarity of groups when people come together and produce patternsof sound that are signs of their group allegiances.” At the Cultural Centreregular dance activities repeatedly produce experiences of group allegiance,holding the community together and obliging it to stick together.


Emblem or catalyst?

The Swedish researcher on immigrant music Anders Hammarlund (1990) hasviewed such social functions as catalytic in that they stimulate processes in theinternal social chemistry of the immigrant group. Emblematic functions, on theother hand, deal with a group’s outward self-representation, especially inrelation to the host culture. In many cases, as shown in Hammarlund’s researchin an Assyrian community in Sweden, these two distinct functions can be filledby different musical styles. Sometimes, however, similar performance stylescan be regarded as emblematic or catalytic, depending on the performancecontext. Although cueca dancing, particularly in the rare performances aimedat external audiences, must obviously be considered as an emblem of theChilean community, my informants rarely seemed concerned about consideringthe dance’s emblematic status. When the issue was raised, its emblematic rolewas presented as secondary; the primary focus was directed towards the role ofdance in the internal cultural and social development of the Chilean com-munity. Emblematic issues are, however, foregrounded when it comes to theformal legitimization of the Cultural Centre and its financial foundation.Documentation of cultural activity through reports and applications is whatallows the Centre to receive much needed economic support from theNorwegian immigrant authorities and adult education institutions.

In the struggle for visibility on the multicultural stage, Chilean folkloremaintains a low profile. On the other hand, a number of Chileans can be seenas members of “Latino” bands playing salsa, cumbia and merengue togetherwith both Norwegians and other Latinos. In recent years these musical genreshave enjoyed a great increase in popularity and visibility, contributing to theestablishment of a number of music venues with a multicultural profile. Atleast eight such venues were opened during the year 2000 in “little” Oslo. DanLundberg explains the success of Latino music with Swedish audiences byobserving that it is “different enough to be regarded as exciting or exotic, butstill familiar enough not to appear as threatening or to provoke aggression.”(Lundberg et al. 2000).

While the Chilean community shows limited interest in presenting thecueca to outside audiences, the interest shown by Norwegian culturalinstitutions has not been exactly overwhelming either. Chilean folklore haslittle access to public arenas. One of the main multicultural music venues inOslo is the Ethnic Music Café, which is run by the state-financed NorwegianConcert Institute. Since its establishment in 1992 it has as yet never shown thecueca on stage. Yet, the aims of the institute – which were especiallyemphasized in its early years – explicitly state that it is committed to promotingthe music of immigrant communities, and it has built up a large network ofcontacts with immigrant musicians. The cueca does not coincide with popularLatin American music trends, and it has not become integrated into the “worldmusic” market, remaining, in essence, “Chilean culture for the Chileans”.

The outward communicative functions of Chilean folklore were morevisible during the dictatorship years, when it was a part of the music of soli-


darity and resistance campaigns outside Chile. The point of using culture toconvey a message about a struggling Chile to European audiences was crucial.The music of such Nueva Canción groups as Inti-Illimani and Quilapayún, whowere “stranded” in exile by the coup, became the voice of the Chilean resist-ance in Europe and “the lifeblood of the solidarity movement” (Fairley1984:108). In these contexts, Chilean music functioned as the symbol of acause, of an international struggle, rather than of the national identity of agroup. In Norway solidarity work was basically intercultural. Most solidarityorganizations as well as many of the performance groups of the time includedNorwegians and Chileans as well as other Latin Americans. With the gradualreturn to civil rule in Chile following Pinochet’s defeat in the plebiscite of1988, the basis for this activity disappeared. Music groups engaged insolidarity work were dissolved, leaving activities associated with Chileanfolklore entirely within the community.

Control and authenticity

The cultivation of a cultural expression exclusive to a specific group creates afield of human interaction where its members are in control of the activity inquestion. The Chilean Cultural Centre is socially quite separate from thesurrounding Norwegian society and has its own internal set of rules andbehavioural norms. This separation places the community within a social worldin which the immigrants themselves are in total control. While Norwegianculture may seem inaccessible or difficult to apprehend, cueca dancing isentirely controlled by members of the community and uncontested by anyoutsider. A controllable cultural arena is a fertile ground for symbolic creati-vity, if not a fundamental pre-condition for it, creating a life-space wheremembers are able to influence and change – however minutely – their culturalsurroundings (see Willis 1990:21–3).

In the immigrant setting there is little competition from rival groups and theactivity is rarely subject to any external evaluations. According to the leaderand instructor of Tierra Chilena, this position gives the performance group asense of freedom which is beneficial to the social atmosphere, allowing it toconstruct a space marked by a great deal of fun, spontaneity and improvisation.Her ideals centre on the enjoyment of dancing rather than on the achievementof perfection in performance; the shared, participatory dance experience isgiven greater emphasis than the final aesthetic product. Unlike the milieu offolklore performance in Chile, in Norway one “doesn’t have to be perfect todance in public.” In her opinion, this attitude is much more closely attuned tothe “authentic rural cueca” than to the stylized stage presentations of theprofessional “ballet folklorico” groups that have visited Norway.

Field observations at practice sessions and performances with Cuncuménand Paillal, two important music and dance groups that perform in Santiago,provide further indications of the differences between the immigrantperformance groups and their counterparts in Chile, when it comes to conceptsof quality as well as authenticity. In both Santiago and Oslo the group


experience during practice sessions and performances is seen as a significantmeasure of the quality of performance. However, certain discourses are as goodas absent in the immigrant setting. For groups in Chile, direct links to folk“sources” are considered an important mark of their quality. They call theirpresentations projecciones folkloricos, reserving the term folklore or sometimesfolklore autentico for music and dance in the “original” rural setting. Obtainingmaterial directly from cultores (bearers of tradition) is highly valued, the olderand more rural the cultor, the better. The story of how a group leader travelledfor hours on a donkey to learn songs from a 90-year-old cultor is presented as ahighly valuable way of obtaining source material. Cuncumén and Paillal havetaken on the task of fighting for the survival of something valuable that theyfear is being lost. The performance of a specific song or dance is often intro-duced as a generous gift. At one of Paillal’s performances, for example, theaudience was told: “This song was given to me by the cultor Miguel Ortiz fromSan Luis.” Moreover, specific details concerning costumes, such as the heightof the heels on the men’s boots, the colour of a sowing-apron used in a peasantdance, the use of sandals or shoes and so on, are the subject of livelydiscussions among group members.

In the immigrant groups, such debates concerning the authenticity of per-formance receive less attention. Obviously, they are at a much greater distancefrom the “authentic sources” than their counterparts in Chile. In this contextissues of authenticity become somewhat disconnected from direct Chileansources and, instead, become linked to the instructor, who comes to be seen asthe one who has the expertise and represents the group’s closest connections toits “roots”. Costumes are partly homemade and are more improvised. Thoughmost of the members occasionally travel “home” to Chile, it is often difficult tocreate complete costumes. As a substitute for a traditional papier-mâché devil’smask for a festival dance from Tirana, for example, the group Chile Andinoobtained a wooden devil’s mask from a shop selling Indonesian handicraft.This heavy mask, meant for decoration rather than dancing, presented thewearer with an extremely exhausting task during the whirling and leapingdance of the Tirana devil.

The 14th region

In recent years a new concept of Chile as a nation has been gaining recognitionboth within Chile and in Chilean immigrant communities. While Chile isofficially made up of 13 regions, a 14th region, called the region of el exterioror el reencuentro (reunion), has been virtually added, which comprises themore than one million Chileans who left their country during the dictatorship.Under the Lagos presidency, this notion seems to have gained formal accep-tance and spurred a new government policy aimed at embracing the commu-nities in el exterior. Such initiatives are warmly welcomed by the immigrantcommunities, especially among the early refugees, who in many cases weredeclared unwanted and had been deprived of their Chilean citizenship.Recently, representatives of the 14th region have been invited to official state


ceremonies, and initiatives have been taken to allow Chilean artists livingabroad to apply for government funding through FONDART (Fondo deDesarrollo de las Artes y la Cultura).

Holding together a borderless region with roughly one million inhabitantsliving in more than 110 different countries around the world (Wright and Oñate1998:91) presents a challenging task for the immigrant communities as well asfor Chile as a nation. It is far more dependent upon continuous symbolic workthan in circumstances in which national identity is granted as a birthright orthrough residence within fixed geographical borders. In this special kind ofnation-building project, culture plays a crucial role in the production andmaintenance of identity. In recent years the Internet has provided an efficientand versatile means of communication and dissemination of culture. Chileancommunities worldwide, as well as folklore organizations in Chile, have set upa number of well-developed websites, some of which even contain educationaldance videos.8 Many of the performers in Oslo rely on the Internet to advertisetheir performances, to obtain song lyrics and to keep in contact with othercommunities within the 14th region. Much of the contact between the Chileansin Oslo and their sister communities in other Scandinavian countries is relatedto music. Contact with the much larger communities in Sweden is of specialimportance and includes regular visits by musicians and dancers from onecommunity to the other.

According to sociologist Anthony Smith, the growth in global migration hasmade the ethnic-based concept of nationhood increasingly relevant. “Thenation is seen as a fictive super-family” (Smith 1991:12) based on “presumedfamily ties” rather than on residence in a geographic territory. Among Chileans,continuous performances of the cueca within the immigrant community, aswell as the cultural interaction between Chileans worldwide, can be seen as anexpression and celebration of the “super-family” and, in a wider sense, as partof the construction of the global, 14th region of Chile.

However, cultural activity also plays a part in marking the borders of the14th region, sending out signals about who does – and who does not – belongto this global “family”. Immigrant culture is not only an expression of socialand ethnic boundaries; it also plays a part in their maintenance, and even intheir very construction. According to Lundberg et al. (2000), the productionand communication of difference is a significant function of a musical culturein a multicultural society. The production of difference has two main aspects: itis necessary in order for a group to attain visibility in the multicultural arena,but it also enhances the exclusive character of an immigrant community. Withrespect to the Chilean community in Oslo, it could be argued that thecultivation of the cueca, a rather exclusive nationally loaded cultural expres-sion, could lead to the segregation and isolation of the immigrant group ratherthan to its integration into the host society, thus working against the generalambitions of the official Norwegian immigrant policy. (This, however, is acomplex matter exceeding the scope of this article.)


8 See: http://margotloyola.ucv.cl/cct/doctos/danzas1.html.

Although the Chilean Cultural Centre openly invites other Latin Americansto attend their events, their efforts have not been very successful. There seemsto be a discrepancy between these well-intentioned invitations and the Centre’scultivation of exclusively Chilean forms of expression. The ubiquitous Chileansymbols, both in the decoration of the premises and in the musical activitiespromoted at the Centre, probably make the occasional Peruvian or Bolivianvisitor feel as though he or she has shown up at a family reunion withoutactually being a family member. In this context such symbols seem to markdistinctions between Chileans and other Latin Americans.

The Future

“Chilean-ness”, in order to survive in exile, obviously needs to be defendedagainst the perceived threat of cultural loss or assimilation. Leaders of theChilean folk activities often refer to their work as a struggle for survival. Thereis no longer any significant immigration from Chile, and the second-generationChileans are gradually losing their command of the Spanish language. Theymay prefer to listen to Britney Spears or techno music rather than to Chileanfolklore. The decline in interest in the cultural symbols of Chilean identityundoubtedly poses a threat to the future of the Chilean community. Cultivatingand promoting the cueca has been recognized by Chilean parents as a relevantway of confronting this challenge. Through the activity of the children’s dancegroup Ayekantun and various other activities for children and adolescents, theCultural Centre seeks to raise a new generation of Chilean-Norwegians. Theseefforts at socializing the next generation into the community include the trans-mission of Spanish and the inculcation of Chilean “family values”.

For many Chileans in Norway, the thought of returning to Chile some timein the future is always present. According to a recent survey conducted amongChileans in Bergen, 81 per cent of the informants (out of a representative groupof 122) reported that they wished to return, though only a small number saidthey had concrete plans to do so (Pavez and Carrasco 1998:17). Almost 20 percent of the 8,500 Chileans who have come to Norway since 1973 havereturned, many of them through a Norwegian government-funded repatriationprogramme.

The strong orientation towards plans of a return “home” obviously has animpact upon the cultural activities of the community. For families with more orless realistic plans of returning to Chile, the cultivation of Chilean music, andespecially of Chilean folklore, can be regarded as a way of preparing for elretorno. They want themselves and their children to be mentally and culturallyready for a future life in Chile. This does not mean that they view the ability todance the cueca as particularly advantageous for their possible re-integrationinto Chilean society. Whether returning Chileans will engage in traditionaldance on their return or not is, in any case, irrelevant. It is at the symbolic levelthat the rituals of folk performance achieve their efficacy. The significance ofcueca performance resides in the fact that it provides a regular, repetitiveactivity within a group setting that contributes towards the creation of a certain


mood or state of mind that maintains and enhances national pride and identi-fication, a state of mind that, in turn, can foster attitudes perceived as beneficialto a possible return.

Summary

In the Chilean immigrant community of Oslo cueca dancing functions as anexclusive symbol of Chilean national identity. It is cultivated chiefly by a groupof people with little previous experience of Chilean folklore. The meaning andfunction of cueca dancing is re-created through processes of interpretation andadaptation within the social framework of the immigrant community. This re-invention is part of a fundamental cultural re-orientation which is connected tothe many social changes that derive from the immigration experience. Dancingcueca in the diaspora creates links in time and space, reviving personal as wellas collective memories; it is a symbolic compensation for the loss of countryand history. It plays a key role in community activities by generating socialcohesion, as well as by creating and communicating differences that definesocial boundaries and distinctions related to age, nationality and politicalbackground. Though barely noticeable on the multicultural stage, cuecadancing functions as an outward representation of the community, and it playsa part in the formal legitimization of its institutions. It is one of the elementsthrough which international contacts between Chilean communities are main-tained, and thereby adds to the construction of the global “14th region”. Bynourishing visions of a “Chilean” future, either in the immigrant community orin Chile, cueca dancing contributes to the socialization of the next generationby inculcating in them the community’s values. Finally, it can be regarded as ameans of preparing immigrants and their children for a possible return to thehome country.

References

Bauman, Zygmunt (1998) “Tradition in the post-traditional world.” In BjarneHodne (ed.) Kulturstudier 1, Kulturforståelse, kulturbrytning, kulturpolitikk,pp. 13–25. Bergen: Program for kulturstudier Norges forskningsråd.

Blacking, John (1995) Music, culture, and experience: selected papers of JohnBlacking. R. Byron (ed.) Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Eriksen, Thomas Hylland (1996) Kampen om fortiden: et essay om myter,identitet og politikk. Aschehoug argument. Oslo: Aschehoug.

Fairley, Jan (1984) “La nueva canción latinoamericana.” Bulletin of LatinAmerican Research 3.2:107–15.

—— (1989) “Analysing performance: narrative and ideology in concerts byKaraxú!” Popular Music 8.1:1–30.

Garrido, Pablo. (1979). Historial de la cueca. Valparaíso: EdicionesUniversitarias de Valparaíso.

Hammarlund, Anders (1990) “Från gudstjänarnas berg til folkets hus.” In OweRonström (ed.) Musik och kultur, pp. 65–98. Lund: Studentlitteratur.


Hobsbawm, E. J., and Ranger, Terence (1992) The Invention of Tradition.Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Iturra, Carlos (1997) “Las horas del ave Fénix”. In Oscar Hahn, Matías Rivasand Roberto Merino (eds) Qué hacía yo el 11 de septiembre de 1973?,pp. 109–26. Santiago de Chile: LOM Ediciones.

Loyola, Margot (1980) Bailes de tierra en Chile. Valparaíso: EdicionesUniversitarias de Valparaíso.

—— (1997) La zamacueca: una modalidad regional en Argentina, Chile yPerú. Fondo de Investigación y Documentación de la Música TradicionalChilena Margot Loyola Palacios. Accessed 6 February 2001.http://margotloyola.ucv.cl/articulos/art03.html.

Lundberg, Dan, Malm, Krister, and Ronström, Owe (2000) Musik mediermångkultur – Förendringar i svenska musiklandskap. Stockholm: GidlundsFörlag.

—— (2002) Music media multiculture – musical landscapes in transition(English edition of Lundberg 2000). Stockholm: Royal Swedish Academyof Music. Project outline on http://www.musakad.se/mmm/mmmengpd.html.

Pavez, Enrique, and Carrasco, R. Orlando (1998) Drømmen om å vende tilbake.Bergen: UDI Bergen and Municipality of Bergen.

Rojas, Mario (2001) “El prostíbulo es la casa natural de la cueca.” Casa Chile.Accessed 11 May 2001.http://www.casachile.cl/noticias/reportajes/cultura/ver_nota.asp?Id=49.

Smith, Anthony D. (1991) National identity. Ethnonationalism in comparativeperspective. Reno: University of Nevada Press.

Sting (1987) Nothing like the sun: Uni/A&M.Stokes, Martin (1994) “Place, exchange and meaning: Black Sea musicians in

the west of Ireland”. In M. Stokes (ed.) Ethnicity, identity and music: themusical construction of place, pp. 97–115. Oxford: Berg.

Tercera, La (2000) “Chile hizo bailar cueca a España.” La Tercera, 17November 2000.

Valdés, Samuel Claro, González Marabolí, Fernando, Peña Fuenzalida,Carmen, and Quevedo Cifuentes, María Isabel (1994) Chilena o cuecatradicional: de acuerdo con las enseñanzas de Fernando GonzálezMarabolí. Santiago, Chile: Ediciones Universidad Católica de Chile.

Vega, Carlos (1947) “La forma de la cueca, 1”. Revista Musical Chilena20–21:7–21.

Waters, Mary (1992) “The construction of a symbolic ethnicity; suburbanwhite ethnics in the 1980s”. Contributions in Sociology 97:75–90.

Willis, Paul E. (1990) Common culture: symbolic work at play in the everydaycultures of the young. Milton Keynes: Open University Press.

Wright, Thomas C., and Oñate, Rody (1998) Flight from Chile: voices of exile.Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press.


Note on the author

Jan Sverre Knudsen is a Ph.D. student and lecturer at the Department of Musicand Theatre, Oslo University. His M.A. thesis in musicology (Oslo University,1995) discusses an exchange project involving music teachers and students inNorway and Zimbabwe. He is also a trained music therapist. He has recentlyundertaken field research in Chile and in immigrant communities in Norway.Address: Department of Music and Theatre, Oslo University, Postboks 1017,Blindern, 0315 Oslo, Norway. E-mail: [email protected]; home page:http://folk.uio.no/janskn/english.htm.


JAN SVERRE KNUDSEN Dancing cueca “with your coat on”: the...

Documents

Transcript of JAN SVERRE KNUDSEN Dancing cueca “with your coat on”: the...