Salsa para Salseros

I still remember the echoing stomps of those men whose elegance in their tumbado could not go unnoticed, or the sweet spins of the young women who frequented the greatest Salsa carnival in the world: Juanchito, Cali. This is where the story of the moving Salsa Capital begins.

From the mouths of the elders come glorious tales of this musical corner, forgotten by the government but never by its people. Every year, a carnival was celebrated with such prestige that it sparked debates on whether it could rival the Cali Fair. For every true salsero, it was the dream stage to make a name for themselves and leave a mark in history.

Joy, excitement, a wholesome party atmosphere, and pure, rompe-piso dance steps filled the air. But like all good things, it was destined to come to an end.

The main promoter of this carnival was incriminated for drug trafficking, and as the event's popularity grew, so did the presence of brothels and drug dealing. But it was on a Holy Week night that Juanchito experienced something it would never forget.

The night had barely fallen, and the clubs were at their peak. Nothing could stop the party in Juanchito… or so they thought.

Everything happened at the famous Changó nightclub. Rumor has it that a gentleman, whose elegance in his tumbado left every girl boquiabierta, entered with an unusual determination, taking the most beautiful woman in the place into his arms.

Both danced sin ton ni son, but something unsettled his dance partner. Despite his flawless movements, the man seemed too nervous. Finally, he leaned in and whispered in a trembling voice:

—Oíte, ve'… por favor, don't look at my feet, ve'.

But temptation was stronger than the warning. In a fleeting moment of curiosity, her gaze drifted downward, and what she saw left her frozen in terror.

The gentleman's feet… were not human. They were cloven hooves, covered in thick, dirty brown fur. A foul stench of sulfur and decay began to fill the air.

The scream that came from the young woman was so raw, so inhuman, that it made everyone in the club turn around. Within seconds, panic spread like wildfire.

As in a corraleja, people rushed toward the exits in terror. They tried to start their cars, but none would turn on. Those who managed to escape ran for their lives. Those who didn't were witnesses to something unimaginable.

The devil himself had walked out of the nightclub, naked, engulfed in flames. He strolled—unhurried and undisturbed—toward the river that ran alongside the club. Step by step, he sank into the water… until he disappeared.

And the girl who danced with him? Some say she died days later. Others say she was locked away in the madhouse.

From that day on, Juanchito was never the same… and never will be again.