We can understand that the playing of the tambores invokes images of the African past. It is through this instrument that we can also see the impact of the Candombe performances on the white population. Through its success it was culturally appropriated. But we can assume that the view on Candombe for white Uruguayans and black Uruguayans remains different. While it has been a spectacle to watch and to perform for the white population, for Afro-Uruguayans these performances were rituals that remain from their ancestors. The degree to which Candombe has been altered to meet the expectations of the former has been of concern to Afro-Uruguayans. The pressure to present only that which is of commercial value during Carnival has been growing, as for example the character of the vedette. Chirimini fears that “Today a comparsa's success is in direct proportion to the popularity and attractiveness of its vedette, suggesting that commercial appeal has replaced the value of tradition (Chirimini 267). Through this shift of priorities, Afro-descendants criticize the commercialization of the Desfile de Llamadas, saying that the llamadas lack differentiation between the different comparsas (Fox 79). Andrews also addresses this issue. With the growing number of large comparsas, many of them with white participants, voices arose about the relationship between genetics and drum culture, asking if white people could even play the drums since they do not have it in their blood (Andrews 126). This racial statement has been evoked by many Afro-Uruguayans and discussed in cultural terms. It is the assumption that one must understand the cultural mindset to play the drums successfully.

“Un blanco podrá tocar el tambor con el mismo ritmo, tal vez hasta mejor, pero nunca podrá imprimirle la fuerza de un negro…¡Una cosa el el ritmo y otra la fuerza!" [A white man will be able to play the drum with the same rhythm, perhaps even better, but he will never be able to transmit to it the energy of a black man...Rhythm is one thing, energy is another.]

(Chirimini, Varese, Memorias del Tamboril, 55)

We would suggest however that the cultural space of Candombe during the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth century offered a space of cross-cultural interactions. As we have seen above, white immigrants partly learned to play Candombe from living in the conventillos and interacting with Afro-Uruguayans, and even more so their Uruguayan descendants (62). Differently from the middle- and upper-class lubolos before them, the comparsas that developed became racially integrated. Many living in the neighborhoods that used to be the traditional living areas of Afro-Uruguayans, the neighborhood llamadas became a vehicle of community-building, something that had happened in the colonial past during the Candombes of the African nations. While the number of white participants in the comparsas continues to increase, we can discover somewhat of a change that probably could have had something to do with the racial inequality in income opportunities. Although Candombe remains a community-building tool in certain areas, the Desfile de Llamadas during carnival gives white participants today the opportunity to slip into a certain role for a while, but at the end of the day return to their normal lives. For Andrews this possibility is not given for Afro-Uruguayans:

“Unlike the white lubolos, their negro identities are not so easily cast off; nor are Afro-Uruguayans free to define these identities as they might wish. Instead, what it means to be black in Uruguay is shaped and determined, to a very large degree, by candombe's constantly repeated images of black men and women helplessly in thrall to rhythm (...).” (Andrews 172)

Some groups try to reorganize, some might say retraditionalize, their performances, seeking to take action against these (racial and gender) images. One example would be the effort of the Mundo Afro comparsa, who “opted to dispense completely with the figure of the vedette, instead fielding a corps of twenty to thirty female dancers attired in colorful African-style head cloths and modest ankle-length dresses” (136). But these remain singular efforts, as can be seen in documentations from the past Desfiles de Llamadas.

As we have seen from the examples above, although there has been commercial changes, there is clear evidence of the African cultural heritage within contemporary Candombe llamadas. Aside from the tamboriles, we have seen that traditional characters and elements remain essential parts in a comparsa. The difficulty in today's Candombe is the Afro-Uruguayan community's approach to maintaining an ethnic identity while participating in the national culture. We believe that it is difficult to talk about invisibility or revisibilization of the Afro-Uruguayan community in regard to Candombe since their presence was never negated within this context, nor have people negated the African roots of Candombe music, but rather Candombe provided a way for Candombe artists to move from the margins of national life into the center of Uruguayan cultural life. Additionally, Candombe successfully creates a paradox in the 'official' conception of the past. As Chirimini notes

“El caso uruguayo se da una paradoja. No obstante que el proceso de deculturación ha sido mayor, sin embargo, musicalmente hablando, el Candombe ha conservado a través de su ritmo de los instrumentos que lo crean, la más pura esencia de la música africana.” (5)

[The Uruguayan case gives rise to a paradox. Despite the thorough-going process of deculturation, musically speaking, the Candombe has nevertheless preserved, through the rhythm of the instruments that create it, the most pure essence of African music.] (Chirimini in Fox 98)

Please note that our history section shows how Afro-Uruguayan participation has aided in the creation of Uruguay’s national identity in more ways than just Candombe. Only time will tell if the measures taken by the Uruguayan government, along with Afro-Uruguayan organizations, can lead to a greater public awareness and understanding of Afro-descendants in Uruguayan society.