| “Ciro” grew up on the streets of Comuna 13 deeply immersed in hip-hop culture at a time when Medellín was known as the most dangerous city in the world. In the late 1990’s, Ciro — an artist who goes by only one name — was a young street rapper in a group called “Censura Extrema,” making music in a neighborhood that became the epicenter of “Operation Orion,” a controversial government initiative involving paramilitary groups in brutal fighting that killed dozens in the first four days, and resulted in hundreds of residents “disappeared,” in ongoing daily battles against drug lords. Two decades later, both Medellín and Comuna 13 have changed considerably. Ciro attributes that change to a bottom-up cultural shift featuring hip-hop music, graffiti and street dancing. “I discovered hip-hop in the midst of gunfights,” Ciro told OZY. “It was a different time. The [civil] war was raging here, the drug wars were raging.” Today, Ciro is an instructor at “Casa Kolacho,” a project that offers free lessons to graffiti artists, DJs, rappers and breakdancers in an effort to continue that cultural revolution for the next generation. Visual artists have transformed the neighborhood with graffiti artwork that has become renowned throughout the country. Comuna 13 is now known for graffiti tours and street culture more than its dark history. | I discovered hip-hop in the midst of gunfights. - Ciro | This cultural revolution has also brought tourism into the neighborhood and more money in the cash registers of local businesses, which has reduced both poverty and violence. “People use this word ‘gentrification,’” said Ciro. “For us, this change couldn’t be more positive. Cities change. Life changes. And if it means the neighbors are no longer struggling in extreme poverty, thinking of resorting to crime just to survive, to me this is a good thing.” |
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| | | Ciro said he learned to rap from a neighbor who used to blast hip-hop from his house at all hours of the day and night, even amid gunfights between rival street gangs, or raids by police on suspected guerrillas. The neighbor’s taste in music earned him the reputation of being a “satanist,” but Ciro was intrigued. “You had some kids that dreamed of being gangsters for the power, for the money. You had other kids that wanted to join the war, fight the government and the system they saw as oppressing them. But this kid just wanted to rap,” Ciro recalled. Ciro befriended his neighbor in school. One night, while walking home, an argument in the neighborhood escalated into gunfire and, to escape, Ciro ran into the neighbor’s house. Listening to hip-hop records until the fighting subsided, Ciro discovered his passion. “That was it,” he said. “We started learning rap. For us, it was a way to turn the environment we lived in into art.” Ciro said rap gave him a voice to talk about the murders, the gunfights, the gangs and the positive aspects of life as well, like dancing, art and street parties. “In the school cafeteria, in churches, wherever we could find the space, we started to build a community around hip-hop,” he explained. | We started learning rap. For us, it was a way to turn the environment we lived in into art. - Ciro | Casa Kolacho evolved from these local spaces, and was founded by the same artists who created the Comuna 13 cultural scene. It provides free lessons to interested youth and pays the rent via private events and a small indoor cafe. |
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| | | | Nerón, another of the teachers at Casa Kolacho, leads classes in freestyle rapping, and is also a performer in the local scene and audiovisual producer. “For years, people told me that freestyle rap can’t be taught,” Nerón told OZY. “But that simply isn’t true, as we’ve proven,” He smiled before launching into an impromptu freestyle about journalism, music and the importance of rap to Casa Kolacho. Nerón says learning rap is like studying jazz. “There are a series of tools and techinical exercises that can be taught: rhythm, memorization of rhyming structures, vocabulary. Improvisation isn’t only an art, it’s also a science.” The rap coach decided to become a teacher at Casa Kolacho after witnessing the transformation that hip-hop was achieving in his neighborhood. Like Ciro, he discovered hip-hop in his early adolescence. Even while working as a bank clerk by day to pay his bills, he would go out at night, still in suit and tie, and engage in rap battles with his peers. | Improvisation isn’t only an art, it’s also a science. - Nerón | “Imagine getting beaten in a freestyle battle by a guy who looks like a banker,” he said with a laugh. Nerón says music was always his primary passion, even when work was pulling him in other directions. Eventually, Nerón quit the bank and returned to the neighborhood to dedicate himself fully to working with "the little homies" at Casa Kolacho. He has since taught several generations of up-and-coming hip-hop stars from Comuna 13. “I'm doing what I love now,” he said. “Sharing the history of the neighborhood and sharing knowledge with the next generation. The last class graduated two months ago and now they are absolute machines in 'las plazas,'” he said, referencing the informal locations of freestyle battles. It’s hard to overstate the importance that Casa Kolacho has had on Comuna 13, where hundreds of young people have transformed their lives thanks to culture, music and art. Although some stay to pass on their knowledge to the next generation, others have taken their skills beyond Comuna 13 to become popular rappers in the city's robust music scene. “And it isn’t just hip-hop that is driving this cultural revolution,” Ciro pointed out, noting that every corner of Comuna 13 is now a place for street dancing, and every wall a space for art. He said there are now more than 300 social organizations in the neighborhood, including ones dedicated to dance, reggaeton, Afro-Colombian music, “salsa choque” and more. “We are living through, and leading, a cultural renaissance in Medellín,” he said. |
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| | | How could the success of Casa Kolacho be replicated in a neighborhood or city you know? | |
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