Where it’s never Sunday

Meet Piper Pimienta. That’s your bell-bottom-flashing front man in this soul-squeezing play of Las Caleñas son como las flores. Before becoming the Piper and joining Fruko’s combo and getting signed to Disco Fuentes, Edulfamid Molina Díaz was just that slinky tall kid walking around the neighborhood where he grew up: a salsa hotbed in Cali city called Barrio Obrero.

Barrio Obrero. The same neighborhood where a salsera I once met told me to roll up the windows and lock the doors to our taxi as we searched all over downtown for this place, where suddenly a nostalgic little joint on the corner of somewhere opened up its doors and dragged me in and ordered me a drink, where it was a Sunday and this time, yes, it was the older folks’ night to let the rum flow a little bit, where a woman I’d have bet was at least 46 years old and sweating through a tired little blue blouse pulled me up out of my seat and made me into something I’ve never been. Her name I heard only as another note in a world of music designed to revolt against the sacred day of rest. But what else could have happened in the hit-and-run company of white-velvet-tux-Rafael and his camaraderie? The something-so-badly-mixed-up-with-hysteria-it’s-somehow-right. The place where Piper learned it all from the time he was young. Now, there’s always that little bit that nostalgia won’t let you have. Otherwise, I totally feel it.

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Originally published at www.beaconreader.com.

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