Global Hit

Etelvina Maldonado

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In the past 24 hours, we’ve heard of the passing of historian Howard Zinn, and novelist J.D. Salinger. Both men well-known here in the US — but both also had great influence on how people outside this country view America. For our Global Hit today, we want to tell you about a woman who died this week, unknown to many here in the U.S. Etelvina Maldonado was 75. Even in her home of Colombia, Etelvina Maldonado was not a household name.

http://www.myspace.com/etelvinamaldonado

As you may be able to tell from her voice, Etelvina Maldonado was not a commercial pop star. The music she’s performing here, like a lot of her repertoire, is a style unique to the Caribbean coast of Colombia. It’s called bullerengue.

An obscure style and performer. And yet, Etelvina Maldonado is being hailed today as a national treasure on the web page of Colombia’s Ministry of Culture. Maldonado didn’t follow the same path as some Colombian artists who perform traditional music, and then enjoy success as folkloric artists on the world stage.

She was relatively unknown until she took part in a 1996 recording that fused jazz and traditional Colombian music. Prior to that, she lived quietly in Cartagena, singing the way she always had…away from any spotlight, for small local parties, family and friends.

And even after 1996, she never gained the renown of someone like Colombia’s best known folkloric singer Toto la Momposina. I only came across Etelvina Maldonado by chance last year. In Bogota, I hit it off with the country director for the Nature Conservancy Jose Yunis Mebarek, who I had interviewed for a story about water conservation.

We bonded over the topic of music, and he invited me to his apartment to offer me — as he called it — a primer on Colombian music. We listened for two hours to fantastic vallanato, cumbias, and salsa. And then Jose’s eyes lit up, suddenly remembering something he forget to play me.

He got his laptop, went to YouTube, and pulled up the only example of Etelvina Maldonado he could think of. When I saw her on the screen, she looked like an unassuming grandmother. Then I heard her voice.

If I had had another week in Colombia, I would have gone to Cartagena to interview her. Instead, in the sweet night air of Bogota, I walked from Jose’s apartment back to my hotel, whistling Etelvina Maldonado’s song.

Her voice was so indelible, I felt like I had been listening to her all my life.