Central American Soul

Spoken word at Espresso Mi Cultura exposes  staunch emotions, strong sense of
community
By Chrissie Castro

Over the banging clatter of an espresso machine  and the muffled street sounds of
Hollywood Boulevard, Dinah Elena Consuegra,  a young Salvadore�a, faced a
waiting crowd, ready to lay down a few lines. 

As the first poet featured at
"�Y Vos?  A Central American Literary Night" at
Espresso Mi Cultura Bookstore and Coffee Shop,  she stood up, shoulders squared
and voice steady. With her first poem, "Throwing  up a Dream," she scathingly
rejected capitalism, social and economic inequality,  poor working conditions,
inadequate education and labels.

""I'm throwing up a dream that you have fed  me
I'm throwing up your Taco-Bell-Hell fast-food  paradise
I'm throwing up the hate
The gringo slogans you have given me and my  sisters and brothers
Throwing them all up and down your throat
And how does it taste?""


The audience - seated between turquoise and  fuschia walls - broke into an
applause. Meanwhile, people pulled their chairs  closer, the line for cappuccino and
espresso got shorter and the humdrum of chatting  voices fizzled out.

Next: Raquel Gutierrez. As if the room was  composed a few of her closest friends,
she told us that although she was about to  slam Valentine's Day, she wanted to
make it clear that she had a girlfriend who  just couldn't make it that night. After the
laughter died down, she began:

"I bought  'I love you' for 99 cents."
The patron saint of capitalism sends cupid  on a mission to bombard man and
woman with chocolate cherry dreams of monogamous  bliss and eternal
happiness.


There were other writers, such as the romantic  Salvadore�o, Robert Lopez. He
recited poetry in Spanish, and though I had  a hard time understanding all of his
poetry, his movements and speech � more than  anything else that night � gave me
a sense of what it meant to be Salvadore�o.  He said some words slower, he used
his hands and his Spanish � in an accent unfamiliar  to me - paused off-tempo.

When the last reading was over, everyone stood  up � some mingled, others waited
around to talk to the poets. There was a strong  sense of an emerging community at
Espresso that night, something I � previously  unaware of the Central and South
American experience in Los Angeles � strongly  felt.
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