Cabrera had grown up in a time when everything they represented was prohibido. Born to an upper-class white creole family in colonial Cuba, she was sent to university in Paris in the 1930s. Her life changed. Studying what were then called "primitive cultures," she realized she had been living in the midst of one.
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On returning to Cuba, she asked questions of Tula, her family's longtime Kongolese servant. Tula and her friends took the young mistress into their confidence, and began telling her not only about what life had been like in the Kongo, but what the religion had been like, too. From their stories, Cabrera constructed El Monte , published in 1954. Later works, such as Reglas de Congo: Palo Magombe, 1979, augmented what are considered not only authoritative scholarship, but handbooks of the practices and beliefs of palo mayombe.
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I found hera few years before her deathin a well-heeled, gated suburban condo village in southwest Miami. As I walked up to her door, I prepared myself to find a faltering old lady, as I had been told by an intermediary to expect. Nothing could have been more incorrect. Even as I was ushered inside by one of Cabrera's friends, I could sense a wonderful vitality in the house. Well-lighted, cool, full of plants, oil paintings, and artifacts, it felt like a nervy and even outrageous Havana salon, a Cuban moveable feast in which grace, intellect, curiosity and passion were as thick in the air as the scent of flowers.
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Cabrera received me in a sunny room just past the foyer. Petite, fine-boned, she sat straight as a pin in a French provincial chair. From a portrait on the wall, I could see she had once been blonde and had doubtless broken some hearts. Now close to ninety and blind, she evoked the same lithe, offhandedly patrician air of the young woman in the painting, who dared delve where only demons were said to live. She shook my hand firmly.
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I told her I had come because I had many questions about palo and very few reliable answers. I had heard palo was evil,
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