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'Culture Cures': Accordion Classes for Half Moon Bay Farmworkers Offer Healing Through Music

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A man in a baseball cap stands in fallow fields and plays the accordion.
Pedro Romero Pérez plays the accordion before a group practice session at Cabrillo Farms in Half Moon Bay on Nov. 1, 2023. Ayudando Latinos A Soñar, known as ALAS, started a music therapy program that teaches farmworkers to play the accordion as a way to address the trauma from a workplace mass shooting last January that left seven people in the Half Moon Bay farmworker community dead. (Beth LaBerge/KQED)

Music students trickled into the red barn at Cabrillo Farms in Half Moon Bay for their 6 p.m. class.

They assembled in a farmworker break room and kitchen and unzipped bulky, black backpacks. Inside were accordions. Immediately, musical notes began to fill the space. Some students work at Cabrillo Farms, while others work at nearby farms.

The first to arrive was Pedro Romero Pérez. He is on medical leave and hasn’t returned to work since he was shot in last January’s mass shooting at two farms in Half Moon Bay that claimed the lives of his brother, José Romero Pérez, and six other farmworkers.

Coming to class every Wednesday gives Romero Pérez an excuse to leave his home in nearby El Granada, where he spends much of his time alone, healing from his injuries, he said.

“Before this program, I didn’t have anything to do in the afternoons and I would feel bored,” said Romero Pérez, 24, who only referenced “the accident” in explaining why he isn’t working.

A group of people smile while sitting together indoors and holding bright red accordions.
(From left) Belinda Hernandez-Arriaga, Yesenia Garcia, Hilario Lopez, and Pedro Romero Pérez play accordion during a lesson at Cabrillo Farms in Half Moon Bay on Nov. 1, 2023. (Beth LaBerge/KQED)

“I see this as a great opportunity,” he said. “I had never studied music before. It’s challenging, but we’re getting somewhere.”

The classes are part of a music therapy program created by Belinda Hernandez-Arriaga, the founder and executive director of Ayudando Latinos A Soñar, a local social service provider. In Spanish, the name means “Helping Latinos to Dream,” and its acronym, ALAS, means “wings.”

ALAS has been on the frontlines of serving Half Moon Bay’s farmworker community through COVID, extreme winter storms and wildfires. After the Jan. 23 mass shooting, the organization stepped in with food and trauma support.

The music classes are an extension of the group’s mantra, “cultura cura” or “culture cures,” said Hernandez-Arriaga, a licensed clinical social worker.

“Mental health is a big part of our program, along with the cultural arts,” she said. “After the shooting happened, we thought, ‘How can we bring the cultural arts into the fields directly?’ Especially for what the farmworkers have gone through, we really wanted to bring a special program that would elevate them.”

Since September, classes have met on Wednesdays and sometimes Fridays at Cabrillo Farms, a family-owned farm across Highway 1 from the Half Moon Bay Airport and Mavericks Beach.

A farm may seem unlikely to hold music lessons, but Hernandez-Arriaga said her organization wanted a place that would feel familiar. To jumpstart the program, ALAS secured funding from the Silicon Valley Community Foundation to cover expenses, including the accordions, which cost close to $600 apiece.

A person in a baseball cap addresses a group of people while holding an accordion.
Hernan Hernandez Jr. sings during an accordion lesson. (Beth LaBerge/KQED)

“Music elevates the soul. It speaks to the soul. It brings in memories of home — cultura, joy and sadness, too. A lot of emotion,” Hernandez-Arriaga said. “But it’s also a central language of healing. One of the best ways of healing trauma is through sensory integration.”

At a recent class, the students, who range in age from their early 20s to their 60s, sat in chairs lined against a wall. They practiced scales as instructor Hernan Hernandez Jr. led them through a lesson. He demonstrated tapping a few keys to create a sequence of notes.

Hernandez, who is based in San José, learned to play music from his father, Hernan Hernandez Sr., the bass player in Los Tigres Del Norte, one of the most prolific and celebrated Mexican bands. The band was founded in the late 1960s by several brothers and cousins who hail from the state of Sinaloa but made the Bay Area their U.S. home base. In their six decades of making music, Los Tigres Del Norte has sold more than 36 million records.

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Hernandez Jr. and two of his brothers started their band, Suenatron, which plays what he calls “popteño” — a mix of norteño, pop and cumbia sounds. The accordion, he said, is a key component of many genres of Mexican and Latin American music. The instrument may have originated elsewhere, “but we made it our own,” he said.

Besides music, Hernandez said he learned from his father and uncles about the importance of supporting immigrant and Mexican communities in the United States. Many of Los Tigres Del Norte’s songs chronicle the experiences of Mexican immigrants in the U.S. Its 1984 hit, “La Jaula de Oro,” is about an undocumented Mexican immigrant whose children have assimilated into American culture. Other classics, including “Somos Mas Americanos” and “America,” have become anthems for celebrating Latino identity and the contributions of Latinos to the U.S.

“What’s important is that we give back to our people,” Hernandez, 44, said. “[Los Tigres] are always about the people, not about themselves. It’s really about the music and the people, and giving back and being able to see the smiles on their faces.”

Hernandez learned about ALAS after his father’s band helped raise money for the group in the wake of the mass shooting. When Hernandez-Arriaga asked if he would help with music lessons, he jumped at the opportunity even though he had no teaching experience.

“One of our students, his brother, passed away,” Hernandez said, referring to Romero Pérez. “To see the happiness on his face, to see him come here and kind of forget about that, even if it’s just for an hour or hour and a half, and to put all his effort into this instrument, to me that speaks volumes of what (ALAS) is doing for the community.”

A person with short hair plays a bright red accordion while sitting next to other people also playing the accordion.
Hilario Lopez plays accordion during a lesson with Hernan Hernandez. (Beth LaBerge/KQED)

Another student, Yesenia García Hernández, lives in a sky-blue trailer at Cabrillo Farms, where she works planting, harvesting, and packing produce.

She said she has wanted to learn to play an instrument for years and now looks forward to playing music with her family during gatherings and celebrations.

The best part of the program, García Hernández said, is the bond she’s formed with her classmates. During the class, her loud bursts of laughter could be heard over the musical notes she and her classmates were practicing.

“Learning music is like emotional therapy,” García Hernández, 30, said. “You can say that music brings you joy and happiness.”

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After Hernandez wrapped up the class, the students and staffers from ALAS surprised him with a cake to celebrate his birthday. One of the students, Hilario Lopez, 22, played “Las Mañanitas,” the traditional Mexican birthday song, as others sang along.

“Being here has changed my perspective, my mentality of what music is,” Hernandez said to the students. “To be here with you guys it showed me that there’s more to music. It’s not just about the limelight and the awards and the money that comes along with it. This is what truly makes me proud and makes me happy because, honestly, it’s music that connects us. This is the beautiful part of it.”

The goal is for students to perform at least part of a song as a group at an upcoming ALAS holiday event in December. Hernandez-Arriaga said their musical progress is obvious, but the intangible changes are evident in the students’ smiles and enthusiasm for the program.

A group of people are seen playing accordions together throough an open doorway.
Hernan Hernandez Jr. leads an accordion lesson at Cabrillo Farms. (Beth LaBerge/KQED)

“I am seeing that this is having a direct impact,” she said. “They have all told me, like, ‘We love it.’”

Earlier this month, Romero Pérez set up an altar to honor his 38-year-old brother as part of a Día de los Muertos event that ALAS hosted in Half Moon Bay.

After the class ended, he sat on a couch and observed the room.

“Now when I see musicians playing music, I hope that one day I’ll be able to do that, too, and learn to play songs by Los Tigres Del Norte and some corridos,” he said, referring to traditional Mexican ballads. “I enjoy learning and being able to move forward. Right now, we are going step by step.”

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