Episode 2: The Craziest Thing I Ever Did, Featuring Jesus Diaz.

Meklit: where did the love of percussion begin for you?

Jesus Diaz: It just, she just started like on the streets of Cuba, you know

I used to go down to a friend of mine, his name, is Manolo and so right on the corner there was a bus stop and next to it there was a little park. And there were always some older gentlemen, sitting in there always telling stories, but with music, you know? It was sort of like a battle of boleros, of ballads, right. But they will always do it Rumba style. If you think of, uh, of whatever ballad from Cuba, you know, Cuando domate la familia de condes, right? All that kind of stuff. But then they will be doing it, like,

and then they'll be battling it out, you know, and then somebody will be standing there saying, no lo ire, no lo ire! Which means don't turn it. Don't take it into the mambo or to the chorus, you know? Keep it going. So I always used to stand there and listen to them for a little bit, and then I would continue on my way.

You know, as I walked down the street, people will be singing either bembe or playing bata drums. So I had this kind of journey where I heard all these different things prior to getting to Manolo's house, which is where we had a drum set up, made out of cans,

So, we would go like for hours and hours, just banging on these things. Literally every day.

NARRATION: 

Music is about energy, about transforming rhythm or melody into feeeeeelings that communicate, drawing a listener in. But there are some musicians, who do the exact same thing with stories. And you can spot em right away. Jesus Diaz has got this way of telling a story that brings you to an exact moment in life, where you can feel the place he’s talking about, sense the humidity in the air, see the street in your mind. Now, when I encounter an artist like this, I think, you know, this is the kind of person that you want with you on a tour bus, when you’re spending hours driving from gig to gig. The art of the story is in his bones. Just like the pulse is. 

Jesus is a multi-instrumentalist, vocalist, composer, arranger, educator, audio engineer, and a storyteller. He plays music for dancing, music for ancestral connection. He’s rocked stages with folks like Stevie Wonder, built his own bands QBA and Talking Drums. For him, the Bay Area is home; that’s where he raised his children, and found himself as an artist, but Cuba is his deepest root.  

My name is Meklit and this is Movement…

Meklit: So like, rewind it for a second because like when I'm, when I'm in that moment, I'm thinking, wait a minute. In this moment you already know how to play. Was there something that happened before that, like how did you learn? What was your learning moment? Was it, or was it not learning? It was just immersion and a kind of, you know, an expression of that immersion.

Jesus Diaz: you know, my stepdad rest in peace, he had a band and so what they did, they started to rehearse at my house every week. And the kind of music that they played was Danzon and Cha cha cha.

You know, Danzon is like the perfect marriage of European music and African music, you know what I mean? Because it is, you know, you have cellos and violins and flute, and you have the timbales, which comes from the Timpony, and you have the only indigenous instrument left in Cuba. There is originally from there, which is the Guiro

Meklit: Mm-hmm.

Jesus Diaz: Right? The gourd that you scrape with the stick, right? And so up to that point I had only been exposed to like, ah, you know, the Rumbas at the corner, the Bembe down the street and me banging on drums with my friends. But it wasn't until I was exposed to my stepfather's band rehearsal in the house that I started visualizing music a little bit differently, Right?

And then I would be like, Hey, I wanna play, I wanna play, I wanna be, I wanna be in the band. And they were like, the Conga player would say to me, all right, we're gonna let you play one song, you know? And so you have to play straight time and this is your pattern.

Just that the entire time. Of course I had zero discipline. So I would play for a little bit and then I will wanna play some crazy stuff and they'll be like, no, that's it, you're done. And they will never let me play again that day. And I was like, darn it. So that went on for, you know, quite some time, probably like at least over a month. And then I remember vividly my mom saying, you know, to me at that point she said, look, if you want to play music and if you want to be a part of the rhythm session and play percussion, your main job is to play time.

Forget about all this, you know, fancy, crazy chops and all that stuff because if you have no discipline, nobody would call you. So I learned that from my mom. And then I started to play actually with the band.

Meklit: Mm.

Jesus Diaz: And so that was kind of like a home thing, you see what I'm saying? It wasn't like, oh, I went to the music school and I learned how to, I learned how to read. You know, I didn't learn any of that up until I came to the States.

Meklit: right, right.

I was wondering if you could tell us the story of how you left Cuba?

Jesus Diaz: Okay. So, um, in 1980 there was a, something called the Mariel Boat Lift.

Jimmy Carter was the president of the United States at the time. And Jimmy Carter and other countries in Latin America said, okay, people who are not happy with the Cuban government can leave and we'll take some people.

So the deal was I learned this after I was in America, right? The deal was that people that had families in Cuba were then allowed to go to Cuba with their boats and pick up their family members. However, the Cuban government said, you want to pick up your family, you have to take as many people as we can put on your boat. If you don't wanna do that, don't come to get your family. Right? 

So you had all these little tiny boats, right? The people that came over to pick up their family, you know, maybe a 25 passenger boat was leaving Cuba with, you know, 75 people, a hundred people overloaded, right?

So at that time, unfortunately, I was incarcerated. I was in prison in Cuba for, you know, protesting against things that, you know, I wasn't in agreement with. I was in my cell and they just called my name

So basically it’s, just think of a very long and skinny warehouse, right? So that was like my cell. And so what happened in Cuba when you were in prison, the way they run their system, every so often they move you to a different prison because they don't want you to get too comfortable in a place so you can figure out how to escape or get away or anything like that.

 So at the beginning, when they start calling people by name, everybody starts grabbing whatever they own, which is not much of course, but you have some things, right? You start grabbing your stuff thinking, and you’re thinking I'm about to get moved to go somewhere else.

 So they started calling people by name and everybody start grabbing their things and they'll be like, no, leave your stuff in there. And they will leave and never come back. So some of us are being left in the cell. We have no clue what exactly is happening, but we know that these people are not coming back.

So of course we are speculating, okay, what, what are they doing? They killing people?  What's happening? We don't know. So became more and more empty, less and less people. So when I came out I was nervous because I had no idea what was waiting for me outside. So they took me into, you know, the office of the people in charge and say have a seat and, you know, I asked, what's going on? Why am I here? 

And they were like, you know, we want you to sign this piece of paper because we are going to send you out of the country. And I said, live and to go where? And then they said, you're going to America to the US.  Don't you, don't you wanna go to the US? And I was like, no, I don't want to go to America. I don't have family there. You know, I don't speak the language. What would I do there? And they were like, well, we don't know, but you're going.

 And, you know, before they put us in the boat, there was, they gave us the spiel of,  you know, you'll never be allowed to step back in this country again. You know, when you go to America, you know, you are going to have a difficult time. It's not gonna be what you think, you know, white people hate black people and blah, blah, blah. It's the land of hate. And you gonna get, what's coming. That's pretty much what the message was.

Meklit: Oh my God

Jesus Diaz: And they put us on this boat. And then I remember literally one of the few things that my mind was never, able to block was the view that I was sitting on this boat looking as Cuba got smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller. And then I was in the middle of the water and I couldn't see any land, right?

So I'm sitting on the roof of the boat, right? Cause there were too many people on the boat. I mean, the people, boats were overloaded with people. And then a storm came. And so I remember sitting on the top of this boat and saying, well, shit, I guess this is it. You know, I'm gonna die. That was literally what I thought. I was like, I'm done.

 I was sitting on this boat thinking about all this stuff, and then we got rescued by the United States Coast Guard. So that's how I came here. You know, I turned 18 in the US. But when I came to the US it was like two weeks before my 18th

Meklit: Wow.

Jesus Diaz: And I, when I first got here, I went through the state of Florida, like most people. And then I ended up in the Bay Area and I've been here since 

Meklit: And San Francisco was the place where you really, or the Bay Area, was the place where you really became a professional musician in the States, right?

Jesus Diaz: Yes.

Meklit: And how did that leap happen

Jesus Diaz:Well, it took a very long time.

Meklit: hmm.

Jesus Diaz: It didn't happen overnight when I first got to the Bay Area, my main concern was how do I get a job and have a roof over my head? Because I was really having a hard time. I didn't have a place to live. I didn't have any money. I didn't have anything. So I wasn't really thinking at the time about playing music.

 I was thinking about surviving, you know? I was washing dishes in a restaurant and I was pumping gas at a gas station. And so now that allowed me to have a little bit of money so that I can, you know, rent a room in a crappy hotel in the Mission district, you know? But it was better than being on the streets, you know?

I learned how to be a mechanic, and I ended up working for the city of San Francisco. I worked for Muni, I worked at City Hall, I worked at the San Francisco Public Library. I did a lot of, I had a lot of city jobs with benefits. I'm making good money, so I went from like, you know, being homeless, having nothing to working with for the city of San Francisco and having health insurance and retirement plan.

Meklit: Wow.

Jesus Diaz: The hell, right? So, but all this, I wanted to play music. So at that time when I, when I was already like, set and, okay. I got my place to live, I got money, you know, I got a job, now I wanna play drums. So I went to the store, in San Francisco called the Haight Ashbury Music Store. And I went there and the owner of the store is Masu. Was a really, really nice gentleman.

And, you know, we started talking and, oh, where you from? I'm from Cuba. And then we started talking and started asking all these questions. We developed a little bit of a friendship, him and I. And he was like, oh, you know, I'll give you a discount. And I bought two drums from him. My very first drums the half top of the drum was red and the bottom was white. At that time there was a the Great Blade Francisco Aguabella.

Meklit: Yes,

Jesus Diaz: Very, very famous Cuban percussionist. You know, I went to see him play and then, you know, I was like, Francisco, can you gimme some lessons? You know, I wanna, how do I play music in a band here, you know?And he was like, no, no, no, no, I don't have time. Yeah, I’m too busy. You can't just, you can't just pick up and say you wanna be a musician. I said, no, you know, I've been doing music my whole life, but, you know, I just wanted some guidance. Like, I don't have time. He didn't wanna teach me.

 And then there was another local Cuban percussionist his name happens to be Manolo as well, ironically. And so he was a very good Conga player. And I went to him and he was like, oh, you know, the same thing. Nobody had time.

Meklit: Wow.

Jesus Diaz: I was like, man, this is crazy. Nobody wants to teach me. I was like, all right, fine, no problem. I'm gonna start practicing on my own. Boast records and started listening to music. And I started practicing and learning every day, play along. And then I met a gentleman by the name of Luis Esperez who was part of a family that had, a Afro Cuban band in the Bay Area called Cojuntos Esperez

Meklit: Yes.

Jesus Diaz: And their nephew was the Conga player in the band. Unfortunately, something happened, he got really sick and he passed away. And Luis Esperez came to me and he says, Hey man, why don't you come and play in the band? And I was like, you know, Cojuntos Esperez was already like an established group, you know, and they had, you know, a lot of gigs. And so I was like, I don't know if I'm ready, you know?

 I said, I don't know if I'm ready to be in the band, you know, and he goes, yeah, you can do it. He said, here's the music, learn this.And I played one gig with them. And he was like, yep, you are the guy.

So, you know, we were doing all these tours and things, and we were gonna go to Europe and I went to my job and I said, I need a leave of absence, you know, for three months. And my boss looked at me and he goes, are you crazy? He goes, I can't give you that much time. You know, who's gonna do your job? And I was like, I don't know, but I need the, I don't even need to get paid. I just want to be able to go and come back. 

And he said, no, we can't do it. The most time I can give you is 30 days. I was like, I need three months, man. I can't, 30 days is not gonna do it. No. Well, 30 days is all I can give you. And I was like, well, I'm gonna have to write a letter of resignation. And he goes, yeah, sure.

You're not gonna do that. Do you know how many people want your job? He says, you got benefits. You got retirement. You're making good money. You got the freedom to do whatever you want. Nobody wants to leave this job. And I said, I will leave this job if you don't give me the time that I need. So he refused to give it to me.

And so I went home and I wrote a letter of resignation, and the next day I came back to my job and I gave it to him. And he looked at me and he goes, I can't believe you're doing this. Are you crazy? Are you sure you want to do this? And can go, yep. I say, yeah, I want to do it. And he goes, you know, I'm gonna let you, I'm gonna let you sleep on this. I'm not even gonna turn this letter in. And I said, do it because I'm gonna quit the job.

 As a child, I always wanted to play music. And I said, I'm gonna give myself an opportunity to play music, you know. And so I quit my job until this day, it was the craziest thing that I ever did, and the best thing that I ever did at the same time.

 I mean, who would've thought, right? I'm, small little kid from a small town in Cuba, Arroyo Naranjo, you know? Come to America, you know? I play with, you know, the Dave Matthews band, Stevie Wonder. Recorded music for movies, commercials, have endorsements with companies that make instruments with my name on them. I'm not rich, but I can pay my rent, my mortgage, I should say. So I'm doing all right for myself because, you know, I'm happy with what I do.

Meklit: to this day, have you ever been back to Cuba?

Jesus Diaz: You know, when I came from Cuba in 1980, I was not able to go to Cuba for 20 years. They didn't let me in. The Cuban government didn't let me in. And so 20 years later, I went to Cuba the very, very, very first time. And it was one of the most difficult experiences then in my lifetime because it was kind of like reliving.

You know, sometimes the human body will take things that are hurtful to you and hide them in a very special place, right? So they don't hurt you anymore, but it's still there. So in many ways you almost like you get amnesia and you forgot about all these different things. Cause your body doesn't wanna remember these things cause it's a painful experience. You know what I mean?

And so for many years, in order for me to survive, I had to hide a lot of things. You know what I mean? I even get sentimental about it, talking about it right now. So when I went to Cuba 20 years later, it was shocking. It's like, you know, going back, it was like going back in time and reliving all my experiences and all the pain and all the loneliness and all this and that. It was, man, it was really hard, really, really, really hard

I go there to get in touch with a certain energy that is on the ground. You see what I'm saying? I go there to connect with my ancestors. I go there to connect with my family and my roots. Because no matter what happens or what any government may or may not do, they can never take that away because that's always gonna be there. You know what I'm saying? That connection and the link to the people that will be, that walked this earth before you will always be there. 

And that’s why I go to Cuba. When I go there, I charge myself with that ancestry energy to continue to face the world and continue to move forward.

You can learn more about Jesus at jesusdiazqba.com. Or listen to him wherever you listen to music.

Movement is produced by Ian Coss and myself, Meklit Hadero. Our co-creator and podcast godmother is Julie Caine. Our broadcast partner is The World. We are supported by the Mellon Foundation, the National Geographic Society and distributed by PRX.