http://www.pa-digital.com.pa/periodico/edicion-anterior/ey-interna.php?story_id=774947&edition_id=20090423

Después de dos años de no pisar suelo patrio, Rico, del dúo Los Rakas, se encuentra en el país promocionado su más reciente trabajo musical, titulado “La tanda del bus”, del que se desprende el sencillo “Fuego en su cuerpo” que ya está sonando con fuerza en las diferentes emisoras.

El disco, que está compuesto por 13 movidas canciones, se creó con el objetivo de “exportar la cultura panameña”. El mismo se caracteriza por contar con una fusión de ritmos. “Lo empezamos con cinco canciones retros de reggae y después, en el medio del disco, seguimos con un poco de ‘dancehall’ y al final le metimos hip hop”, dijo Rico.

Además de su álbum, Rico grabó recientemente el tema “Bésame otra vez”, nada más y nada menos que con Nigga. La aceptación en internet, en el que está sonando, ha sido muy buena. Otra fusión que hizo el artista fue con el Kid; “somos la nueva generación en este ritmo, por eso tomamos la decisión”.

Panama is a musical crossroads, a silk road of beats, tempos and rhythms reflecting the country's unique geography that has brought political calamity as well as a rich diversity.

But it's a country few in the United States know much about. One place to start might be the Oakland-Panamanian hip-hop duo of Ricardo Guillam Bethancourt and Abdull Dominguez — aka Los Rakas.

Their first CD "Panabay Twist" is a lesson in the events that have shaped the Latin American country that celebrated its 105th year of independence today. One of the most significant was the 1989 U.S. invasion of Panama City to oust military dictator Manuel Noriega — an event recalled in Los Rakas' song "Invasion of Panama 1989."

The song was inspired by the invasion of Iraq, to help "open people's eyes instead of them believing propaganda and everything they see on TV," said Bethancourt, better known as Rico.

Now in their early 20s, the duo was toddlers during the 1989 invasion. But the ensuing violence became as much a part of their lives and music as growing up in East Oakland.

"Even though Panama is a third-world country, you have the same issues here," Bethancourt said. Police harassment, education disparities and racial discrimination, for starters, he said, as though he were checking off items on a long list.

"You just want it to get better. So you write about it."

Both countries share a legacy of slavery and racism, which runs just below the surface in Panama. "Bettering the race" means whitening it in Panama, Bethancourt said. "More people should know about our race. Educate yourself."

"About what went down," Dominguez added to the thought, instinctively duplicating the same back-and-forth the duo creates on stage.

While performing, the two dance past each other across the stage, bantering and moving to the cross-pollinated music that blends Caribbean beats with hip-hop. The music also is a blend of their temperaments. Dominguez, who goes by the nickname Dun Dun, said his exposure at 14, when he moved to Oakland, to the history of the Black Panthers, African culture and slavery was a radical eye-opener to Panama's history.

"When you learn about the roots, what happened with the slave trade you get angry," Dominguez said, his words marked by the Caribbean-influenced Spanish he speaks more comfortably than English.

That anger inspired his early music as a student at Oakland High School. But it wasn't until November 2005 that the two friends started rapping together. Dominguez was still in what he called his "angry stage," while Bethancourt was into Hyphy, a Bay Area hip-hop cultural movement. The first song they performed together was called "Bounce." "Mi Barrio" followed and then three years ago they produced "Panabay Twist," a CD named for the blending of Bay Area influence with Panamanian heritage.

Indeed, their style is like a musical "melting pot" infused with young Panamanian rappers such as Nando Boom, El Rookie and El General with generous helpings of salsa and dancehall all swimming in a broth of hip-hop, reminiscent of the likes of E-40, Tupac Shakur, Movado and Oakland's Zion I and Kaz Kyzah.

While Los Rakas has stacked up numerous performances at big-name venues, the group is something of an oddity in the East Bay, which doesn't have the sizeable Caribbean community of New York, Washington, D.C., or Florida. "We get attention fast there, though," Dominguez said.

Latinos here look at their dark skin and wonder why they speak Spanish, whereas African-Americans wonder why they aren't rapping in English, he said. So they start with something familiar for Bay Area audiences before mixing in the Caribbean as they progress.

They've branched out musically, experimenting with different genres and adding catchier hooks along the lines of the style Bethancourt picked up during a visit to Puerto Rico. "We keep it street but can flip to commercial," he said. "It's whatever we're feeling."

They now also have a regular DJ — DJ Leydis — who is from Cuba and helps elevate the music to "a whole other level," Bethancourt said. "She puts the cherry on top of the Oreo milkshake."

They are working on their second mix tape that traces dancehall music from the 1980s to current styles. Called "La Tanda del Bus," the CD is named for the public vehicles that run through Panama City, decorated with themes according to the route, each with its own custom-made mix tapes — hence the title "theme of the bus."

They also are trying their hand at running their own production company, Raka LP. It fits in with their identity as rakas, city slang for people from the ghetto who carry a stigma they are trying to remove.

"It's working. We turned it into a positive thing," Dominguez said. "Before it was an insult. Now people say 'I'm a raka.'"