One afternoon, he went with Chola to a practice session. The Calls were approaching and that meant daily practice.
“Only 5 pesos?” Chola asked, fully knowing the answer. On these afternoons, Chola would cook a few batches of pastelitos and tortafritas to sell to her neighbors who were also hanging around the comparsa. She didn’t really need Washington’s help, but she liked having him around and it was also her way of making sure he didn’t get into trouble, despite knowing that she was probably only going to get about 70% of the money. It wasn’t theft, not at all, Washington had a knack for sales and a whole strategy.
“Don’t worry, Chol. Look, I can see that there are some other people who came here to watch, and they don’t know what a wonderful cook you are, so I had to give them a taste, and then they’ll come back and buy more. Maybe it won’t be today, but for sure in the coming days they’ll show up and are likely to bring their families too. It’s about investment. Also, after all this talking, I became hungry myself, so I had to eat something.” He smiled naughtily, showing some of the permanent teeth slowly setting into place.
“Alright, alright… let’s hope they come back then,” she said gravely, but secretly proud of the boy and her culinary skills.
“What’s that over there?” Tabaré asked Chola. “It’s like they’re building something.”
Tabaré was the person you went to if you wanted the latest gossip. He didn’t have a stable job, so he spent his days looking after the parked cars around Barrio Sur. Since it was not so far from the Old City, with all the banks and public offices, many vehicles would come and go during the day, and he would help the owners park them, take care of them while they were at work, and make sure the ladies got to their cars safely. He was a nice man with whom life hadn’t been precisely fair. As he was out and about all day, seeing things, listening to people, he was also the neighborhood’s source of information for the latest updates. “I just like being informed,” he would exclaim whenever someone accused him of being a gossip.
“It looks like a tablado, don’t you think?” Chola remarked, after looking over her shoulder.
“A tablado? After all these years?” Tabaré replied unconvinced, while walking towards the workers. “In case of doubt, go straight to the source,” he thought.
Washington, who was always aware of the conversations adults were having around him, was also looking in that direction trying to figure out what tablado meant. “Tablado, tables… a barbecue? Yeah, right, who would do that for poor people.” It was too good to be true. What else could it be, then?
“What are you mumbling about?” Chola asked. Then she added, “You’re distracting me.”
“Is that really a tablado?” he replied.
“Do you even know what a tablado is?” Chola laughed at him loudly.
“Well… not really. What is it?” Washington asked, looking at Chola expectantly.
“Basically, it’s an improvised stage. But it’s so much more than that… It’s a place where the neighbors gather, where they laugh, cry and reminisce. Every year, the murguistas go from tablado to tablado, from one working-class neighborhood to another, drinking grapamiel to warm up their throats and lift their spirits. They gift us a show of colors, dreams, vocals and memory. They make people laugh with satirical performances of politicians, and the ironies of life; they prompt us to reflect, and they motivate us to want to be better in this new year. For a few hours each night, they cause us to forget, and the entire neighborhood is at peace and harmony,” Chola explained.
Washington, visibly confused and slightly exasperated, exclaimed, “OK… but WHAT is it?”
Chola chuckled. For a moment there, she had exposed her own vulnerability to what murga and tablado meant to her, but failed to notice that there was a child wanting a factual response to something he did not understand. Calmly, she rephrased it: “A tablado is where the murgas come to stage their show each February, preparing for the big competition to determine the winner for that year. Their shows are comprised of four parts: the presentation, which is an opening song to introduce their identity, and which sets the tone for the rest of the show; the salpicón, which addresses current topics in catchy songs; the cuplé, which is a small sketch, usually mocking society or political issues of the previous year; and the closing is the retirada, which is their goodbye song, and usually includes a final message about love, life, community… it depends.”
Washington replied, “Oh, OK. Is it a tablado, then or not?” He was trying to hide his excitement, but he had been completely fascinated by what Chola had said. A group of people travelling night after night, bringing joy to the people, openly mocking the part of society he would never be a part of, having fun and sighing about a better future… just for hope, just to possibly be good enough to compete for first prize. These shows were made by the people for the people, so even Washington, in his young and difficult life, could understand that the prize was much more than money. It was recognition.
Over the next few days, he went with Chola to assess the progress of the tablado. First, it was the stage, then the scaffolding for the lighting and speakers, then the few rows of white, plastic chairs.
Finally, it was opening night. A lot of people had gathered to welcome the new tablado after so many years of feeling slighted by society. After so many years, they finally felt seen again.
The few rows of chairs were occupied very quickly by the neighborhood politicians as well as the promotion unit responsible for the show, and the main participants in the daily life of the conventillos. As soon as the sun set, the neighbors started approaching their own beach or plastic chairs and some tables. Others brought tortafritas and pastelitos with quince to sell, as well as chorizo and hot dogs. This was viewed not only as an opportunity to enrich the soul, but also their pockets.
(…to be continued…)
Transadaptation Volume 7 – Via Ellipsis – Continuation of Uncertainty, Instability and Extremes Transadapted
January: An Unexpected Trip Down Memory Lane – Sarah-Leah Pimentel (South Africa)
February: Blow-up – Veronika Groke (Austria)
March: Futuros Murguistas – Alejandra Baccino Uberti (Uruguay)
April: The Nomenclature Man – Paulius Limantas (Lithuania)
May: Amanecerá y veremos – Adriana Uribe (Columbia)
June: Finding Light in Yerevan – Armine Asryan (Armenia)
July: The Last Judgement – Nadia Silva Castro (Brazil)
August: Who’s Afraid of the Big, Bad Worm? – Narantsogt (Natso) Baatarkhuu (Mongolia)
September: Second Steps – Jonay Quintero Hernandez (Spain)
October: New Normality – Svetlana Molchanova (Russia)
November: Pandemic Love – Li Xiakun (China)
December: Beyond Comprehension – Rahaf Konbaz (Syria)
Background – Context
Transadaptation Volume 6: Meaning? – Uncertainty, Instability and Extremes Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2025)
Transadaptation Volume 5: Of Flowing Vicissitudes – Life Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2024)
Transadaptation Volume 4: Material Dissent – Adulthood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2023)
Transadaptation Volume 3: Evanescent – Young Adulthood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2022)
Transadaptation Volume 2: Conceived – Childhood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2021)
Transadaptation Volume 1: In the Middle – Prelude to a Contemporary Transadaptation, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2020)
Peripatetic Alterity: A Philosophical Treatise on the Spectrum of Being – Romantics and Pragmatists by Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2019)
La Syncrétion of Polarization and Extremes Transposée, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2019)
The Codex of Uncertainty Transposed, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2018)
L’anthologie of Global Instability Transpuesta, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2017)
From Wahnsinnig to the Loony Bin: German and Russian Stories Transposed to Modern-day America, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2013)
Emblems and stories on the international community
Perception by country – Transposing emblems, articles, short stories and reports from around the world
Credits
Top left to top right: 1. Montevideo, Uruguay – Street art – Nikolai Kolosov (Unsplash); 2. Montevideo, Uruguay – Ramirez Beach – DFLC Multimedia Designer (Shutterstock); 3. Montevideo, Uruguay – The street view – Nikolai Kolosov (Unsplash)
Middle left to middle right: 1. Montevideo, Uruguay – Housing – Nikolai Kolosov (Unsplash); 2. Montevideo, Uruguay – La Josefina – Nikolai Kolosov (Unsplash); 3. Montevideo, Uruguay – Apartment buildings in Barrio Sur – DFLC Multimedia Designer (Shutterstock)
Bottom left to bottom right: 1. Montevideo, Uruguay – Barrio Sur – DFLC – Multimedia Designer (Shutterstock); 2. Montevideo, Uruguay – Lunch – DFLC Multimedia Designer (Shutterstock); 3. Montevideo, Uruguay – Streetscape – Nikolai Kolosov (Unsplash)