Panamanian, by way of DR, Demphra got her first crash course in Reggae music after moving to PTY as a child. Shortly thereafter, she began penning her own verses, and was “discovered” at a local radio station as a teen. In 2001, Demphra joined La Factoría, meaning Music Factory, along with three other up-and-coming artists. Their debut album “DJ Pablito Presents La Factoria” became an international hit and sold over 200,000 albums throughout Latin America. Shortly after the success of their debut album, the male artists left La Factoría to launch solo careers—leaving the group “totalmente feminista.” Undeterred by their departure, Joycee and Demphra went on to record three more successful albums. They have recently been making a name for themselves in the United States with their popular hit “Perdóname” which they recorded with Eddie Lover, a fellow Panamanian reggaetonero. Check out excerpts from my convo with Panamanians’ favorite rude gyal:

Note: Interview conducted in Spanish. This translation is the author’s.

LARNIES: So, why Reggae music?

WILLA DEMPHRA: When I arrived from the Dominican Republic, I shut myself in my bedroom, and I put the radio to its maximum volume. I was listening to a radio station, I don’t recall the name of it, and they played Reggae for the first time. I was like “What is this?!” I started to dance alone and I saw that I had goose bumps. “This is what I like,” I said to myself. I spent days dancing by myself. For me, listening to reggae for the first time, for me it was almost like sex, it was an incredible experience. Truly incredible. The first reggae artist I heard was El General.

LARNIES: Oh, yeah?

WILLA DEMPHRA: And he amazed me. And because of this, listening to this clip, listening to reggae music [on the radio], I ended up working in this… working in Reggae.

LARNIES: Has society’s perception of Reggae changed since you first listened to it as a child?

WILLA DEMPHRA: Yes, it has changed a lot. Before in Panama, they considered Reggae something low-class. It was a music form that wasn’t good enough for certain societies. For example, those of the upper class didn’t listen to Reggae, because it was from the ghetto. But thank God, today, even the President dances to Reggae. Everyone dances to reggae. Now it’s like Merengue, it’s like Rap. Thank God… I feel very, very happy that Reggaeton—that’s what it’s called—is reaching new heights.* I thought it was a passing fad. I thought that Reggaeton was going to die. But thanks to the changes, to the fusions that we make nowadays, people are accepting it. I think it came; no it already arrived to stay because today even the salseros want to sing Reggaeton. Everyone wants to sing Reggaeton. And the great thing about Reggaeton is that you can fusion it with whatever you want. You can fusion it with Trance, with Rap, with Merengue, with Soca.

LARNIES: What’s it like being a woman in this male-dominated industry?

DEMPHRA: Well, at the beginning it was really difficult because there were a lot of sexual advances and false promises, you know what I mean? There were a lot of little problems. But when I focus on a goal, problems are like little stumbling blocks. I might fall, but I get back up and I keep on walking. I feel privileged being a woman singing Reggaeton. Because honestly, there are few, very few and today La Factoría is one of the most popular.

LARNIES: How has La Factoría’s image evolved? Why did you two make these changes?

WILLA DEMPHRA: Our image has changed greatly. Before, we were pretty, obviously women with meat, with curves, with big breasts, fine; but today I believe that the prototype of what sells is being really thin. So we made the decision to lose weight. Also, in terms of wardrobe, we tried to change, seeing as though fashion continues advancing and one as to keep up with the trends. Before, I wore hats and baggy pants or shorts like the men. Now I’m more elegant, I’m a little more refined now that Reggaeton is an established music form. It’s a brand. Now people see Reggaeton like any other genre in the world.

LARNIES: Do you consider yourself a feminist?

WILLA DEMPHRA: Completely feminist since the beginning, since I write what I live. Everything that I live, everything that you heard on the first CD “La Willla Demphra” is what I lived with every guy, with the boyfriend, with the neighbor…I lived it. I always write about what happens to me and love hasn’t been too good to me. So I consider myself a very strong woman in that sense. I have my little heart. I am weak at times, but the only thing that weakens me is seeing others’ sadness, poverty, abuse. Domestic violence against women concerns me a lot and therefore I consider myself a completely feminist woman.

Ok, so I’m going to let you all in on a little secret…For the past few months I’ve been working on producing a documentary, currently entitled CONTRA CORRIENTE, based on my research! Surprised, right? Well, I’ve been wrestling with the idea of producing a documentary long before I left for Panama. Last summer, I interned with a Colombian Television/Documentary producer (and Spanish Reggae enthusiast) who taught me the fundamentals of production (and gave me some valuable contacts for my research). He was confident that a documentary about Spanish Reggae would be very marketable. (Remember the success of Boy Wonder’s documentary about Reggaeton, Chosen Few, released in 2004?) The only problem is the funds allotted for my research don’t exactly cover producing a feature-length film…So, initially I was very hesitant to devote myself to this very difficult endeavor. However, I believe that a documentary film would be the best way to actually do something with my research. Not only is film a very powerful medium, but it’s widely accessible for many people. For me, it’s not enough that I have all of this knowledge about this fascinating musical form. I need to share my knowledge with others! So I’ve decided to give it a shot.

As part of my strategy to attract sponsors for my project, the US Embassy procured an interview with ELLAS, a weekly women’s magazine that is distributed with Panama’s leading newspaper La Prensa. Although I told only two people that I was going to be featured in the magazine, most of my Panamanian friends/acquaintances saw the article and congratulated me. I was even recognized by a salesperson who works at GUESS! I admit I rather enjoyed my 15 seconds of fame!

Below is my translation of the article. The interview was conducted entirely in Spanish. I was a little nervous about speaking in Spanish so early in the morning (8:00AM!), but I think the interview went well. You can find the original article online HERE.

In the cradle of Spanish Reggae

Fulbright and mtvU created a scholarship to study the power of music, and the only woman out of the four who were selected is in Panama. Larnies Bowen is conducting an academic study and documentary about “el reggaeton.”

by Vannie Arrocha

How did you win this scholarship?

Over 100 students applied for this new grant offered by the Fulbright Program and mtvU. I created a proposal to use Reggae music to study identity in the community of West Indian descendants who came to Panama for the construction of the Canal.

What did you study in college?

I received my B.A. in Caribbean Studies* from New York University. My research about Spanish Reggae is part of my post-graduate studies.

*(The official title of my concentration is Deconstructing National Identity in the Hispanophone Caribbean. But for the purposes of this interview, I said Caribbean Studies because it’s simpler.)

How did you become interested in researching Reggae music in Panama?

I’m originally from Washington DC, but I studied in New York where they listen to a lot of Reggaeton. A friend told me that Reggaeton originated in Panama. I wasn’t aware of this. I thought this music was Puerto Rican. So I decided to investigate and I realized that Reggaeton does have some roots in Panama.

What is Contra Corriente?

Contra Corriente will be a feature length documentary about the beginning of Spanish Reggae in Panama. With my documentary, I am trying to promote a positive image of the genre, so that people will understand that it’s not all about violence, sex, and drugs. It’s also a music about protest and self expression.

Which artists have you interviewed?

Chich Man, Renato, Rene Renegado, Ness, Kafu Banton, Suppose, Aldo Ranks, La Factoria, DJ Black, Principal, Killa Ranks, Bakan, and Almirante. I still have others I plan to interview.

Your favorite interview?

Until now, Chicho Man (Jeffrey Donaldson). He’s dedicated his life to God now and he says that he wants to inspire the youth so that they don’t become involved in gangs. He is very intelligent. During our interview, he spoke about his West Indian heritage, history, and identity and how reggae serves as a means of expression for people from the “barrio.” I simply asked him one question and he expounded on all of these themes. It was incredible.

Who is your favorite “reguesero?”

El Roockie is one of my favorite artists. He has a more romantic style. He speaks about God in many of his songs. My favorite song is “Nos ama tanto” (He loves us so much) which he sings with [Jamaican Reggae artist] Anthony B. El Roockie is a more conscious artist, and although he doesn’t speak about “guns,” he still sells.

Will we see Contra Corriente on the screens of MTV?

I hope so. It depends on the [financial] support of the Panamanians….

“¿Vieron el desfile?” (”Did you see the parade?) asked Olga as she combed the white alisado cream through the roots of Vanessa’s deep ruby-red hair. “Sí, era puro reggae” (”Yeah, it was pure reggae.”) chimed la asistente in a way that let me know that this was not a good thing. To be honest, I hadn’t been paying much attention to the beauty salon chatter (I was busy re-reading The Devil Behind the Miror by Stephen Gregory) until the topic of conversation switched to reggae and the weekend’s desfile, a parade honoring the nation.

Vanessa, a friend of my aunt’s, was kind enough to let me spend a few days at her home in Paraiso (a small town outside of the city primarily inhabited by the descendents of West Indian Canal Zone workers) while I was looking for an apartment. The Friday night before the parades, Vanessa and I went to the Figali Convention center to hear bands play dianas, a traditional Panamanian music form that was very popular during the month of independence. To my surprise, one of the most popular songs played there at the convention center and throughout the entire month was “Pasalo otra vez,” a song by leading Spanish Reggae artist Jr. Ranks. In between sets, a DJ played all of the hottest Dancehall music from JA and PTY.

During the parade, however, I only heard one reggae song (”Perdoname” by Eddie Lover and La Factoría) during the two days I was in attendance. Therefore, the assistant’s claim that the parade was “puro reggae” was a bit of an exaggeration. Still, Vanessa’s 70-something-year old mother said she knew people who echoed the assistant’s sentiments as well.

Spanish Reggae/ton is everywhere—on the buses, in the stores, on TV, on the radio, in practically all of the discotecas, on people’s cell phones as ringtones, and there’s even “Reggaeton” gum! So why all the fuss about a couple of Reggae songs during the independence parade?

Well I suspect it has to do with the fact that even for all of its popularity, Reggae continues to pay the price of its humble origins in the ghettos of Colón and Panama City. Meaning, even today, many people don’t consider Reggae to be a “legitimate” or “sophisticated” means of cultural expression. I cannot count the number of times, upon learning the focus of my research, Panamanians have responded with something along the lines of “Pero, eso se estudia?” (People study that??).

Reggae’s prominence during the mes de la patria indicates that Reggae is now a part of Panamanian national culture. As the singer Latin Fresh so eloquently stated in an op-Ed piece for La Prensa (a leading Panamanian newspaper): “Whether we like it or not, Spanish Reggae and everything surrounding this topic, is already a part of the Panamanian idiosyncrasy, it directly or indirectly pertains to all Panamanians of all ages […] The movement is part of our lives; therefore, we are obligated to recognize, without taboo, the importance of this movement for Panamanians and for our culture.”

Obviously there is a lot more to be said on this topic. But hopefully, this gives you a glimpse into an important aspect of ethnographic research. Even something as simple and seemingly unrelated as beauty-salon chit-chat can raise some important issues/questions relevant to my research. Furthermore, such casual conversations can be quite revealing of people’s attitudes toward my research topic.

Note: These past few weeks I’ve been poring through my notes while writing a short piece about my research results thus far for possible publication in an academic journal. I came across this post which I started way back when. (November is the mes de la patria). Seeing as though I’ve been really pre-occupied with the academic article, I finished up this entry to give you something to read in the meantime.

Click here to email Larnies with your questions or comments

The views and information presented are the Fulbright grantee’s own and do not represent the Fulbright Program or the U.S. Department of State.

“Well the way how them have Colón, it’s the Cinderella of the whole country. That’s how they have Colón…The Cinderella of the whole country. The reason why that happened is because there was too much black in that area. Yes, that’s how they have Colón. The Cinderella of the whole country. So they never cared to do nothing for Colón. The government, they don’t care.”

–DJ Carlos Winthrop

While poring over some photos from my most recent day-trip to Colón, I was reminded of the above quotation from an interview I did last summer, bar-side at a popular hangout spot for older Panamanians in Brooklyn. The interviewee, DJ Carlos Winthrop, a Colón native and long-time Spanish Reggae DJ, recounted the origins of Spanish Reggae and his take on what I have dubbed ‘The Colón Question” or “Why is Panama’s second largest city, located in the country’s wealthiest region, surprisingly reminiscent of Havana?” Let me explain. Minus the squalor, Colón’s crumbling colonial buildings and the static, trapped-in-time feel, remind me of Cuba more than Panama. It seems almost unreal that Colón is the second largest city in a nation that is among the wealthiest and most developed in Central America.

As I have only made a few trips to and know little about the city’s history, I cannot confirm or reject Mr. Winthrop’s assertions. I include this quotation because the idea that “Colón is the Cinderella of the whole country” makes for an intriguing and powerful metaphor that echoes my own first impressions that this was a sorely neglected city.

I’ve spent the past week or so struggling to make some sense of the striking images of the “multis’” (housing projects) where the artists I interviewed grew up and continue to live. I’m still wading through my first impressions and the questions the trip raised for me. In the meantime, I thought I’d offer you some photos.

All photos by 2006-2007 Fulbright Scholar Rose Cromwell. www.RoseCromwell.com

Click here to email Larnies with your questions or comments

The views and information presented are the Fulbright grantee’s own and do not represent the Fulbright Program or the U.S. Department of State.

Wondering what I’m listening to down here in PTY? Well today’s post is a collection of some of the most popular dancehall/Reggae-Soca songs that you’ll hear on the radio and in the discotecas. This entry’s entitled “Plena Playlist” because Panamanians often refer to Spanish Reggae as “plena.” The term literally means “hit song,” but perhaps due to Spanish Reggae’s overwhelming popularity, the genre has come to be popularly referred to Plena as well. Plena has a number of sub-genres such as Romantic Reggae, Roots & Culture (think Bob Marley), Dancehall (think Beenie Man), and Reggae-Soca.

Please keep in mind that these songs are not representative of the entire genre of Spanish Reggae, rather this is its more commercial side. You can expect many more Plena Playlists in the future, but in the meantime, you can check out the websites on my blogroll, to hear more Plena.

1. “Gracias a Dios” — Mach & Daddy

This song tops the list because it is (still) hands down one of my favorite joints out right now. You may already be familiar with Mach & Daddy thanks to “La Botella” (a song about drowning the pains of an unrequited love with copious amounts of liquor) which blew up about two years ago in Latin America and the US. Like Botella, “Gracias a Dios” talks about getting over an unfaithful lover. My favorite line is “Ahora te toca a ti sufrir como sufrí yo (Now it’s your turn to suffer like I suffered).” Ouch. I guess they have a knack for turning painful experiences into hits…

Listen to clip: Gracias a Dios

2. “C***** de su Madre” — DJ Black

I’m not sure DJ Black himself knew the impact this song would have. Everyone from my 85 year-old friend Lilia from SAMAAP (a West Indian Panamanian org) to people at the US embassy knows (and secretly loves) this song. Delivered over a catchy party riddim, the lyrics to “C***** de su Madre” offer a scathing critique of the economic growth that has served only to reinforce and in fact increase the gap between the upper and lower classes. (Please note that Panama has a pretty negligible middle class). Through his repetition of an expletive (C*****) that is a staple of Panamanian colloquial speech, DJ Black effectively captures the streets’ sentiments: namely frustration and anger. Long gone are the days when $200 can get you a decent one bedroom apartment in the city, yet the minimum wage remains at a mere $300/month. “C***** de su madre” covers it all: corrupt politicians, the disturbingly low salaries, the numerous luxury condos in construction, the high cost of gasoline, taxi drivers’ refusal to serve black customers late at night, police offers harassing you to show your cedula (ID), etc.

Listen to clip: C***** de su Madre

3. “Para mis Soldados” — Danger Man

On February 21, 2008 Panama lost one of its most beloved rapeadores, Danger Man. The posthumously appointed Rey del Ghetto (the King of the Ghetto), was shot four times during a visit to see family in the Don Bosco neighborhood of Panama City. Few reggueseros have been violently murdered. (I only know of one other Plena artist to reach a similar fate—Papa Chan). In light of this tragedy, “Para mis Soldados” has become sort of the anthem of his grieving supporters. Unfortunately, I did not get a chance to interview him personally, although I have been speaking with others, about the impact of his death and his long career.

Listen to clip: Para Mis Soldados

4. “Martes de Galería” — El Roockie f. De La Ghetto

El Buay El Roockie is one of Panama’s favorite and most successful Reggueseros. And he is definitely one of my favorite artists, period. He was recently signed to Machete Records, and his latest album Semblante Urbano was produced by the famous Reggaeton duo Luny Tunes. While I prefer more of the old school Roockie (especially his Formula Cruda album), I really like this duo with Puerto Rican De la Ghetto, probably because it’s the closest thing to R&B out here…

Listen to clip: Martes de Galería

5. “Sientan el Boom” — Danger Man

With gunshots as accents and a hot Dancehall riddim as the base, el Rey del Ghetto once again proffers controversial lyrics in which he calls his enemies homosexuals, threatens their lives, and boasts about his sexual prowess all in sixteen bars. Such inflammatory content is precisely what propelled Danger Man to fame and contributed to his overwhelming popularity. To be honest, I was very hesitant to put this song on the playlist, because I don’t want to contribute to the negative image Spanish Reggae already has in too many people’s minds. However, this is one side of Plena that just happens to be immensely popular. One of the questions I seek to answer through my research is why this particular type of Reggae has become so popular, especially among the younger folk.

6. “Oiga Morena” — Comando Tiburón f. Nenito Vargas.

“Oiga Morena” is a reggaeton cover of a típico song by Luis Perez. The chorus roughly translates to “Listen black girl, I want to know why you don’t like me.” Crazy right? Well in Panama (and many other places in Latin America from what I understand) it’s common and acceptable to openly refer to someone’s race. I’ve been called “morenita” and “chombita” (young black woman/girl) countless times by black, brown, and white Panamanians alike.

Listen to clip: Oiga Morena

7. “Cocobola de la V*****” — Japanese

This song by one of Danger Man’s best friends, pokes fun at “cocobola” (bald) women who wear wigs and other hair extensions.

8. “Un Accidente” — Murda Cat

This song is about a woman who is so beautiful she can cause an accident. And you’ll notice that it features the same riddim as “Cocobola de la Ver***” as is typical with Jamaican and Panamanian Dancehall.

Listen to clip: Un Accidente

9. “Quemona Vete” — Comando Tiburon, Phantom, Principal. Another song about an unfaithful lover set to a hot Reggae-Soca riddim. This song is fairly old but it’s still one of my faves and definitely still gets spins in the clubs.

Listen to clip: Quemona Vete

Click here to email Larnies with your questions or comments

The views and information presented are the Fulbright grantee’s own and do not represent the Fulbright Program or the U.S. Department of State.

Talk about being thrust into the “real world.” Only a few months after graduating, I pushed aside my fears, swallowed my anxieties and successfully relocated to a foreign country where I’ve secured my first very-own apartment, made new friends, expanded my network of contacts, and delved head-first into a new field of study. In the process, I have learned a great deal about my strengths and weaknesses. One particularly important epiphany was that somewhere along the line I started equating asking for help with relying on people. Since previous experiences have shown me that people aren’t reliable, this asking for help thing is something I’ve been struggling with. However, my circumstances and the nature of my research have forced me to accept the reality that I simply cannot do everything by myself. So while stepping way out of my comfort zone and overcoming many of fears has been extremely empowering, I also feel as if I have been humbled as well.

On the project front, here’s what I’ve been up to:

The same day I moved into my apartment, I had three high-profile interviews: top Spanish Reggae/ton artists La Factoría and Aldo Ranks thanks to a wonderful connect at Panama Music Corp. The following day, I interviewed Reggae Roots band Raíces y Cultura in their studio which actually happens to be a few doors down from my apartment. Earlier this month I interviewed Renato (www.myspace.com/elinmortalrenato), the father of Spanish Reggae, and DJ Black, the king of Panama’s 2008 Carnaval thanks to his hit “C**** su Madre” (translation: “Mutha*****”). (You can expect interview clips, photos, videos, songs, and short bios from these artists shortly!) However, my main focus hasn’t been formal interviewing, but rather expanding my network of contacts in the industry. Luckily for me, Panama is small and all of the artists, producers, DJs, and other industry people know and hang out with each other on a regular basis. Of course, being affiliated with MTV also helps.

A fellow Fulbrighter, Rose Cromwell, introduced me to Dr. Ifeoma Nwankwo and Nyasha Warren of Voices From Our America, a project dedicated to collecting and preserving the oral histories of Panamanians of West Indian heritage. I am excited to collaborate with them as both of our projects have similar goals: recording and increasing awareness of the experiences of Panamanians of West Indian descent. Through my connections at VFOA, I have become involved with the Society of Friends of the West Indian Museum of Panama. I volunteered at SAMAAP’s Toys for Tots, an annual holiday party for lower-income residents of Río Abajo (a traditionally West Indian neighborhood) and attended their annual Feria Afro Antillana (West Indian Fair) earlier this month. I also plan on attending their meetings regularly as a way to meet other Panamanians of West Indian descent whom I hope to later interview.

Despite a rocky start (almost everything that could’ve gone wrong did), I am thankful for this opportunity and being able to start the New Year off right—settled, organized, and with a renewed dedication to my project.

The title of this entry is a line from Bob Marley’s song “Dem Bully Full.” It means that although rain falls, the earth is still tough, resilient.