Refugee songs
Natalia Serna “La Muna” in front of one of her favorite mural in Hermosillo, Sonora. Photo by Noelle Haro-Gomez
MUSIC IS A BRIDGE TO EMPATHY FOR "LA MUNA." IT'S LED THE MUSICIAN TO PROVIDE RESPITE FOR MIGRANTS, WHOSE JOURNEYS INSPIRE HER SONGS
Editor’s note: Listen to an interview with “La Muna” in NPR’s Alt.Latino and for a version of this story in Spanish click here.
Without thinking, Natalia Serna ran behind the monstrous locomotive known as La Bestia (The Beast). There wasn’t time for her to reflect on the danger of boarding this train, joining thousands of people who hoped to make it to the border separating Mexico and the United States. Serna was barely 20 when she acted on the urge to experience for herself what Central American migrants go through during the journey.
Known as “La Muna,” the Colombian-American singer uses that drive to explore the lives of migrants who inspire her songwriting. It is how, over three nights in 2009, on top of a railcar barreling through Mexico from the cities of Veracruz to San Luis Potosí, she was inspired to write “Fuego” (Fire), one of her signature tracks.
“The north is my destiny, between wagons and the moon, like those who seek salvation.” Lyrics in that song distill the life stories Serna uncovered in her interactions with migrants on the train. They also reveal her compassion and hope for humankind, which in turn moves her to write more.
“It’s not a sensation you can summon in the mind, but comes only from the experience of feeling part of humanity. It’s a sensation of familiarity with the world,” Serna said in an interview with palabra.
That’s what kept her far from being intimidated by the dangers of the journey. Instead, she said, she felt welcomed by a group of migrants from Guatemala.
“I felt protected, and this is what I admire about them — the ability to create bonds of friendship in times of crisis. With total respect, they made me part of their group,” the musician recalled with a soothing voice that accents her slender build, wavy hair and bright green eyes..
Since then, La Muna has stayed close to migrants and their issues. Her most recent album, “Estoy pidiendo refugio” (In search of refuge) is based on the crisis that began with the Migrant Protection Protocol (MPP), a U.S. policy implemented during the Trump administration, commonly known as Remain in Mexico. The policy forced thousands of Central Americans to wait in Mexico for months for an asylum hearing in the United States. (Traditionally, asylum seekers would wait in the U.S., in detention centers or out on bond.)
“The album is born out of the experience of refugees expressing the anguish and fear they feel about returning to their home countries, it tells of the uncertainty of not knowing what their future holds, as well as the feelings of parents and children who are separated at the border,” the songwriter said. She released the album on June 20, World Refugee Day.
La Muna prepares food with 11-year-old Naydelin Carias for festivities in honor of World Refugee Day. Photo by Noelle Haro-Gomez
Nearly two years ago, Serna moved into a house in the center of Hermosillo, Sonora. She named it “María Almendro,” and turned it, as she did her songs, into a refuge for asylum seekers. The house has become an extension of her personality, warm and simple.
It’s also where she met an 11-year-old Guatemalan girl whose story deeply moved her.
The girl’s name, Naydelin Carias, became the title of a song in La Muna’s new collection. Its lyrics are based on the child's description of her experiences in Mexico.
“We were together from February until September, and spent the pandemic in the Hermosillo house. Her mother and sister had crossed over to the United States and her father worked full-time in a bakery, so we kept each other company,” Serna told palabra.
“An outburst of youth”
Serna, who is now 35, was born in Virginia, and is the daughter of Colombian immigrants. She was then raised in a Latino neighborhood in South Chicago, and remembers her Mexican friends, passers-by eating mangos, and the sound of son jarocho music wafting from the streets.
Her proximity to different cultures and her Latino roots merged dramatically when abuses against undocumented immigrants increased in 2008, along with raids and deportations.
This “wave of hatred towards immigrants,” as Serna describes it, inspired her interest in migration. After participating in various immigration-themed projects, she decided to ride La Bestia. Today she attributes the impulsive decision to “an outburst of youth.”
Five years later, she began a new experience with Kino Border Initiative, working with the Catholic organization’s soup kitchens for immigrants in Nogales, Sonora, on the border with Arizona. That allowed her to hear the painful stories that later became the musical project, “Corazón Norte” (Hearts headed north).
“My job isn’t to write songs, but to accompany people through life and offer what I have to others.”
Marla Conrad, who spent 10 years in these soup kitchens as a social worker, remembers that La Muna’s deep empathy allowed her to listen to the life experiences of countless undocumented people. “She is an extremely sensitive person and has turned true stories into songs.”
The songs' themes have a hint of nostalgia, Conrad said, and La Muna’s music lifts the atmosphere for up to 700 people who each day visit the soup kitchen. Conrad remembers the wave of emotions that rippled through the soup kitchen when La Muna picked up her cuatro, a four-string guitar, and began to strum the chords. “At that moment all the feelings just broke out — so many injustices suffered, so much pain, people who risked everything for a better life,” Conrad said.
“Corazón Norte” was released in 2014 and is made up of a series of interviews and songs, among them “El Deportado” (The Deportee). The song is based on the life of Marcos Hernández, an elderly man from León, Guanajuato, who reminded Serna of her father. She often thought about what it would feel like if her own father was deported.
“His story is one that moves me the most,” the composer said. It is because of him that she understood the sorrow that many families try to hide from their children. When she first performed the song for Hernández, she saw the emotion in his face, and realized that she captured his feelings. A deep friendship flourished between the two, which is why she hopes to meet him again one day, “before leaving this world.”
La Muna doesn’t believe her music is commercial. After all, her goal is that migrants themselves become her main audience. “You have to be true to yourself,” she said of her approach.
“My job isn’t to write songs, but to accompany people through life and offer what I have to others,” she said. Although she recognizes how painful reality can be, the mission of making art for those who need it most heals her emotionally.
“I become a pressure cooker because I take in so many emotions from other people,” she said. “If I don’t turn them into songs, I could explode inside. So it has become a way for me to cleanse my soul.”
It was in the Kino Border Inititiative’s soup kitchen that she met Félix and Balvino, Guatemalan brothers who had been deported and whose musical talent struck her. They became part of the “Corazón Norte” project, performing in concerts throughout Mexico, adding melody to the feelings of thousands of people seeking the so-called American Dream.
Adán Pérez Gonzáles, left, dances with Natalia Serna “La Muna” at a party held for World Refugee Day in Serna’s house in Hermosillo, Sonora, Mexico on Saturday June 19 2021. Photo by Noelle Haro-Gomez
The bond that La Muna forms with immigrants is the basis for her musical creativity. “I listen to their stories and make up songs to give them in return. That way, they come to see themselves and each other from the point of view of art,” she said.
In the house she calls María Almendro, Serna casually welcomes traveling migrants into her everyday life, as if they were part of the household. Dressed in denim trousers and a quirky hat, you are just as likely to see her growing vegetables in the back courtyard as dancing around without a care in the world, a wide smile on her face.
Serna believes the lesson she learned from her quest to understand the phenomenon of migration is to offer love and comfort, not only with her art and her songs, but also from her own home.
When Serna is asked about the meaning of the name she chose for her home in Hermosillo, Mexico, she answers without hesitation: “María, because of the tenderness and security that the name represents.”
And, she adds: “Almendro (Almond), because it is the tree of hope … it flowers in the springtime, again and again,” like the persistent hope of thousands of immigrants trying to cross the border.
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Beatriz Limón is an independent journalist who was previously a correspondent in Arizona and New Mexico for the international news agency EFE. She has a degree in Communication Sciences and is a professional photographer and columnist for the newspaper El Imparcial.
Noelle Haro Gomez is a bilingual freelance photojournalist based in Tucson, Arizona. In the last six years she worked across the U.S. as a staff photographer for Public Opinion in Pennsylvania and the Tri-City Herald in Washington.