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Before the 6 de enero parade starts in Plaza San Francisco, an abakua ritual takes place under the view of amateur and professional photographers. Abakua is a secret, male-only Afro Cuban society; the figure here is an ireme or diablito (little devil), whose symbolic role is associated with the ancestors and forebears of abakua practitioners. The white and yellow symbols on his costume are coded to global events.

The parade continues. Performers represent not only orisha worship but also other Afro Cuban traditions. Stilt-walkers, dancers of all ages, musicians, and men in cartoonish women costumes form the body of the parade, but followers are drawn into the parade by the crush of people in narrow streets.

An abakua performs a ritual surrounded by cameras in front of the oldest church in Havana. The parade paused here, disintegrating as performers crowded around to watch alongside spectators.

The ladies at el Refugio de Alina welcomed us on the first night with an impromptu dance party (including dance lessons for those who needed them).

On our first night at the popular, cramped Salon Jelengue, a son band overflowed the stage. Audience members stood to dance (some hardly sat down at all); others moved through the packed chairs to fetch drinks and food, or converse with friends. The sound in the compact room was enormous.

The parade moves from Plaza San Francisco to Plaza de la Catedral, picking up more performers, spectators, and followers as it goes.

Children and teens dance orishas; most prominent are the blue of Yemaya (younger women, the sea), the gold of Oshun (rivers, mature women, sensuality), and the red and white of the male Chango (lightning, double-headed axe, owner of the Bata drums).

The vantage point of a garden wall allowed me to capture most of the parade passing from beginning to end.

Performers and spectactors intermingle as the parade continues. The process of filming this clip was a great reminder of how cameras change interactions: some performers seemed to see us as validation of the audience's interest and attention and therefore of the significance of their own performance. Others ignored us completely as irrelevant to their work of performance. Recording changes an event for the recorder too. What did I miss while I was concentrating on trying to make a steady video without also tripping as I walked backwards?

A young trumpeter's version of "Somewhere over the Rainbow" was enjoyable to listen to, but also a reminder of the strong cultural and media (movies, music, TV) relationship between the US and Cuba. Even in this distinctly un-touristy venue, the new TV displayed information in both Spanish and occasionally mistranslated English.

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