Friends and Memories

urn:iso:std:iso:639:ed-3:eng

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text excerpt

 There is a curious noise that is often heard towards night-time in a Chilian village. It is seldom indeed that some member of the family does not play the guitar, and often, in the cool of the evening, you will see dusky, half Indian-looking people seated just outside the door of their ranchos with their instruments on their knees. They do not always pluck the strings; sometimes they take the notes of a chord with the left hand while they hit the strings with their closed fingers to the rhythm of the samacueca; the faint chords struggle to make themselves heard, but are almost drowned by the persistent noise made on the lower part of the instrument by another member of the family who beats time with his knuckles. When a great many people are playing and “tambureando ” singing at the same time and interrupting their song with cries of “Viva, Viva” and “ Ay-ay, Ha-yai,” while a man and woman dance opposite each other […]

There is a curious noise that is often heard towards night-time in a Chilian village. It is seldom indeed that some member of the family does not play the guitar, and often, in the cool of the evening, you will see dusky, half Indian-looking people seated just outside the door of their ranchos with their instruments on their knees. They do not always pluck the strings; sometimes they take the notes of a chord with the left hand while they hit the strings with their closed fingers to the rhythm of the samacueca; the faint chords struggle to make themselves heard, but are almost drowned by the persistent noise made on the lower part of the instrument by another member of the family who beats time with his knuckles. When a great many people are playing and “tambureando ” singing at the same time and interrupting their song with cries of “Viva, Viva” and “ Ay-ay, Ha-yai,” while a man and woman dance opposite each other […]

excerpt from 'Friends and Memories' pp. 218 (171 words)

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