Full Circle Power

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For the past month, a rainbow of polyester and obsession glowed outside my door. The World Cup is a time when Queens -- America’s most diverse county -- literally shows its colors. I have lived in Queens through two World Cups now, and thanks to the habit of soccer fans supporting their country’s team by wearing jerseys in their colors on game day, I always knew when our neighbors’ nations were playing: Brazil, Greece, Mexico, Argentina, Chile, Italy, Serbia.

Such a display opens a fascinating channel for me, that of learning about a culture through its passions, and one I enjoy pursuing when I travel. A few months ago, when I was in Uruguay -- whose own soccer prowess would deliver them into the 2010 World Cup semi-finals -- I investigated a daily occurrence that would draw the wrath of police had it been happening in the States: Montevideo’s street drumming.

Candombe drums -- barrel-shaped instruments resembling conga drums -- were first fashioned and played by Afro-Uruguayans who were brought to South America as slaves. The first drummers marched through the streets of the capital in the 1940s, and, like a benign infection, the rhythms injected themselves into the spirit of Uruguayans regardless of race.

Rather than viewing the echoing sounds as quality of life violations, the residents treat the drums as free live music that makes house calls, and emerge from their apartments to watch and take pictures. I asked a young, sweaty drummer about the frequency of candombe marches, who answered with “It is not a question of when, but where.”

When Uruguay flew to South Africa for this year’s Cup, their fans fortified the stadiums with arsenals of candombe drums to energize their side and unnerve the competition. (That is, when the drums were not competing with the traffic-horn drone of South African vuvuzelas).

Uruguay’s appearance at the Cup is not a surprising feat in itself. Uruguay is no stranger to soccer success, having won the World Cup twice -- not bad for a small, Missouri-sized country of 3.5 million people wedged between soccer behemoths Argentina and Brazil, who were both eliminated this year before Uruguay. When the Uruguayans brought candombe to South Africa, one passion bolstered another.

But there was another dynamic working in Uruguay’s favor this year. Since the candombe drum owes its origins to the traditions of Africans who were brought to Uruguay as slaves, the Uruguayan fans went full circle by bringing the instrument back to its continent of origin.

I have to wonder if the effect of this rhythmic reunion may have contributed to Uruguay’s best World Cup showing since 1970. My candombe teacher, who gave me several lessons when I was in Montevideo in March, was one of the fans who flew to South Africa and treated the stadiums to the same drumming heard every day in Montevideo. Since I returned home from Uruguay, I’ve found myself tapping those rhythms on elevator walls and subway poles, sending me back to the streets of Montevideo, into a throng of lock-stepped partiers following 30-person candombe groups, surrounded by the collective energy of a city in rhythm. It is easy for me to see why the music of candombe followed the Uruguayan team across the Atlantic.

Or maybe it was the candombe that took the team with it to its old stomping grounds.

To read more about candombe, check out "A Dialog of Echoes" in this month's Perceptive Travel.