鈥楳y second home.鈥� Teaching music helps asylum-seeker hit a rhythm.
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Sarah Matusek Staff writer
| Denver
Listen to the full story, read by the author
A few dozen children in Denver settle into seats, violins and violas in hand. With short cropped hair and a focused gaze, Nixon Garcia observes from off to one side.聽
鈥淎wesome,鈥� the teacher murmurs at the sound of tuning strings.聽
Why We Wrote This
A Venezuelan conductor finds purpose through teaching at a music school in Denver. The school has ties to a program that was instrumental to his musical education growing up.
This is a fall show-and-tell for parents at El Sistema Colorado, a free music school that prioritizes kids from low-income families. The Denver program was inspired by the original El Sistema in Venezuela, which since its founding in 1975 has sparked similar projects around the world.
鈥淚 feel really proud of them,鈥� Mr. Garcia says of his orchestra.聽
With flutters of his hands and flicks of his wrists, the 22-year-old conjures up simple songs that he learned as a boy in the Venezuelan program. He鈥檚 brought that same sheet music to students in the United States, along with hopes for asylum. Working as a teaching artist at the Colorado program, he鈥檚 come full circle.
鈥淓l Sistema has been my second home throughout my whole life,鈥� says Mr. Garcia,聽who teaches in Spanish and English.聽
The original program鈥檚 catchphrase, 鈥�tocar y luchar鈥� 鈥撀爋r 鈥減lay and fight鈥� in English 鈥撀爃as evolved into a personal mantra of perseverance for the young conductor who can鈥檛 imagine returning home.聽
By the time he left Venezuela, in 2022, says Mr. Garcia, he鈥檇 been kidnapped three times.聽
Love of country聽
Backdropped by mountains in northwest Venezuela, the town of La Fr铆a sits near the Colombian border. Mr. Garcia鈥檚 family, who ran a poultry farm there, enrolled their son in the popular music program at a young age.聽
In La Fr铆a, says Mr. Garcia, 鈥渋f you don鈥檛 play soccer, you probably play music.鈥�
At age 5, he began learning the Venezuelan cuatro, which has four strings. Later on came the clarinet. As a teenager, Mr. Garcia began teaching other El Sistema students 鈥� a key mentorship feature of the program 鈥� and developed a love of conducting. But basic needs were stark; some students he taught sat on the floor, because there weren鈥檛 enough chairs. And beyond the solace of class, violence lurked.
When he was a young teenager, in 2015, a criminal group, called a colectivo, kidnapped him and his family at a gas station. The group held them for several hours, his family says, and demanded thousands of dollars for their release.聽
Venezuela, meanwhile, devolved into further economic, political, and human rights crises under President Nicol谩s Maduro, causing millions to flee. Mr. Garcia began attending pro-democracy protests in his El Sistema jacket,聽emblazoned with the stripes of the country鈥檚 flag. Inspired by a young violinist 鈥撀燼n 聽who went viral for playing at protests 鈥� Mr. Garcia took to the streets with his own cuatro, singing the national anthem.
鈥淵ou can see how everything is terrible. But in the end, you still love your country,鈥� he says. 鈥淵ou don鈥檛 want to leave.鈥�
He continued to teach and conduct, and helped prepare Venezuela to win the title of the Guinness World Record鈥檚 . Still, threats against his family had continued. Mr. Garcia was captured again by an insurgent group on his family farm in La Fr铆a. Yet neither was he safe at college in another city, M茅rida, where he studied engineering. A few days after appearing at a protest, Mr. Garcia says he was ordered, with a gun to his head, by men in motorcycle helmets to get into a car. He recalls the men stealing his phone, which he had used to take photos of the protest.聽
Although his family had arranged private security for him in La Fr铆a, they decided that he had to leave.
鈥淲hen you get private security, you know that you could die any day,鈥� he says.
A tourist visa that his family had secured some years prior still hadn鈥檛 expired. That became his ticket to the U.S. last year. Yet even as he moved into his cousin鈥檚 home in Monument, Colorado, an hour south of Denver, the adjustment was isolating. Unable to speak English at first, Mr. Garcia recalls wondering at two hospitals 鈥� where he went for what felt like panic attacks 鈥� if he would die, as staff failed to understand him.聽
A family member suggested he retreat to nature, take a moment to breathe. A prayerful hike in the nearby mountains, Mr. Garcia says, helped right his course.聽
Inspiration struck, tuning-fork clear: Why not return to聽music?聽
A Google search for nearby orchestras yielded a name he knew.
The young conductor, in awe, reached out to El Sistema Colorado.
From volunteer to teaching artist聽
On a recent Friday evening, at orchestra rehearsal, Mr. Garcia introduces students to his new arrangement of 鈥淭winkle, Twinkle, Little Star.鈥�
Let鈥檚 try playing it softer, he says, 鈥渓ike drops of water.鈥�
The children do play it soft. Shy, even. They repeat the pizzicato 鈥撀爌lucking their strings 鈥撀燼nd the sound swells like soft rain.聽
Mr. Garcia started out as a volunteer at El Sistema Colorado before the federal government issued the asylum-seeker his work authorization. That allows him to work legally while his asylum case moves forward. Now paid, he teaches groups of strings-learning students in an orchestra group called Allegro.
The teaching artist is a 鈥減ositive light,鈥� at the music school, says Ingrid Larragoity-Martin, executive director of El Sistema Colorado. 鈥淗e鈥檚 passionate about kids, and he knows how to work with them.鈥� She says other students at the music school, from Venezuela and beyond, had participated in El Sistema programs prior to coming here.聽
Staying behind after class, Mr. Garcia switches to Spanish to coach a cellist to whom he assigned a solo. He says he鈥檇 meant to add a flourish, a glissando, before printing out the page. As she practices, he taps along the measures with a pencil, coaxing out the melody he鈥檇 heard in his head.聽
Mr. Garcia鈥檚 parents, meanwhile, encourage him from a neighboring state. Also asylum-seekers, they鈥檝e settled in Utah and speak with their son every day.聽
We hope that he 鈥渃ontinues to develop in his musical world, and becomes the orchestra director that he's always dreamed of being,鈥� says his father, Gilbert Garcia, in Spanish.聽
Active rest聽
The conductor hikes the next day, a trail near Monument, where his epiphany emerged months before. The woods here have a rhythm of their own.
Crosshatches of dry pine needles crunch underfoot. A bird calls out above. He skips a rock across a lake that laps a grassy bank.聽
In Venezuela, Mr. Garcia explains on the trail, music students had a quirky way to count sixteenth notes aloud 鈥� a way to practice steady, rapid beats.聽
鈥�Ca-ra-o-ta, ca-ra-o-ta, ca-ra-o-ta,鈥� he says to demonstrate. (In Spanish, caraota means 鈥渂ean.鈥�)
With students in Denver, he continues the tradition 鈥� with a local twist.
鈥�Co-lo-ra-do, Co-lo-ra-do, Co-lo-ra-do,鈥� is what they say now.聽
To the teacher, the state鈥檚 begun to feel like home. He dreams of coordinating a performance between El Sistema students in Venezuela and his own pupils here.
Meanwhile, he awaits the outcome of his asylum application, which may take years. Mr. Garcia says he wants to 鈥渨ork, make a life, and try to share as many things as we can from our country.鈥澛�
Though he feels less anxiety these days, he says, sometimes it tries to sneak back in. When that happens, he takes a beat to remember all the good he has.
鈥淵ou have the orchestra,鈥� he聽tells himself.
