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New York Times: A Beat Calls Puerto Ricans to Their African Roots by By David Gonzalez

Jose Ortiz stood on the steps of the Andrew Freedman Home on the Grand Concourse, a gorgeous Bronx palazzo bathed in sunshine, his barrel drum by his side. Before him, on the lawn, a circle of people gathered, passing a calabash or sage leaves as they blessed one another. As the faint scent of gardenia and lavender wafted through the air, Mr. Ortiz straddled his drum and played.

This was not a performance. It was life. In his case, this instrument of wood, metal and hide had transformed him into Dr. Drum, a man on a mission to reconnect Puerto Ricans with their roots, not just on their island, but in Africa. He is a leader of BombaYo, a troupe that plays bomba, one of Puerto Rico’s traditional musical forms.

This week, the city will once again come alive with tropical colors and Caribbean rhythms in the run-up to Sunday’s National Puerto Rican Day Parade, which this year will honor Afro-Puerto Rican heritage. Yet for too many revelers, especially younger ones, celebrating Puerto Rican culture is often limited to flag waving and shouting “Wepa!” at the floats rolling along Fifth Avenue as salsa music blares over the loudspeakers.

For Mr. Ortiz, every day is Puerto Rican Day.

“Our music has been contaminated and our perception of it is not what it really should be,” said Mr. Ortiz, 56. “That is not who we are, and I want to change that. There is medicine in our drumming. But what do you do every day to value our culture?”

In some neighborhoods, the sound of talking drums was a harbinger of summer. From Crotona Park to Orchard Beach, or even among the brick canyons of housing projects, the slap and pop echoed through the air, entrancing all. Mr. Ortiz was one who had been under the spell of the drum ever since he came upon an informal jam session in Claremont Park when he was 4 and heard a guaguancó rhythm.

“Man, it was the tones,” he said, his voice still tinged with wonder. “Boom, bap, bap, bap! Boom bap, bap, bap! Something about that sound drew me. I loved that sound. I could listen to drums all day long and not get bored.”

Listen was about all he did for years, until he moved to Texas in the 1980s and had a roommate who owned a couple of congas. The two of them went to the park and started banging out some beats. A crowd formed. A musician was born. For a young man whose upbringing was one of bouncing from home to home and seeing relatives fall victim to the streets, it was a validation he treasured.

But it would not be until the late 1990s, long after he had returned to New York and taken a job as a supervising school aide at a Bronx middle school that he would seriously embrace the drum. Assigned to lunch duty, he brought in his congas and would play — only if the youngsters behaved.

In some neighborhoods, the sound of talking drums was a harbinger of summer. From Crotona Park to Orchard Beach, or even among the brick canyons of housing projects, the slap and pop echoed through the air, entrancing all. Mr. Ortiz was one who had been under the spell of the drum ever since he came upon an informal jam session in Claremont Park when he was 4 and heard a guaguancó rhythm.

“Man, it was the tones,” he said, his voice still tinged with wonder. “Boom, bap, bap, bap! Boom bap, bap, bap! Something about that sound drew me. I loved that sound. I could listen to drums all day long and not get bored.”

Listen was about all he did for years, until he moved to Texas in the 1980s and had a roommate who owned a couple of congas. The two of them went to the park and started banging out some beats. A crowd formed. A musician was born. For a young man whose upbringing was one of bouncing from home to home and seeing relatives fall victim to the streets, it was a validation he treasured.

But it would not be until the late 1990s, long after he had returned to New York and taken a job as a supervising school aide at a Bronx middle school that he would seriously embrace the drum. Assigned to lunch duty, he brought in his congas and would play — only if the youngsters behaved.