There are words that aren’t just spoken; they are felt. In the Canary Islands, few words carry the emotional tremor like “magua”. It echoes with a lump in the throat, a gaze at the horizon, that blend of nostalgia, sorrow, and resignation that doesn’t need explaining once experienced. On the islands, they say, “You’ll get magua” when something almost reaches what you long for.
Content creator Elena Marrero (@elena_marrero), a promoter of Canarian history and language, has taken to her social media to delve deeper into the origins of this word, immortalised in the lyrics by artists like Cruz Cafuné. Language, as always, takes us on a journey through centuries, tongues, and geographies.
From Latin to the Canary Islands
“We all know what magua means, but why do we use it in the Canaries?” Elena Marrero begins to ask in her video. To find out, we must look back at the influence of the Portuguese during the conquest of the islands. Just like other words such as “gaveta”, magua is a Portuguese influence.
It all starts with Latin, with the word mácula, initially meaning “stain” and referring to a spiritual blemish. Hence, when a virgin is described as “immaculate”, it literally means free of mácula, untainted.
Over time, its meaning evolved, and in Portuguese, the old “mácula” became mágoa, no longer a physical mark but a wound of the soul. It was this mágoa, transformed into magua in the archipelago’s phonetics, that became entwined with emotional pain, the sadness leaving no tears but leaving a mark.
A Toponymy That Also Mourns
In the Basic Dictionary of Canarismos, magua is defined as “sorrow, pity, grief over the absence, loss, or longing for something or for not having done something that would have been to one’s benefit.”
In some islands, it’s used in the plural: “le quedaron maguas de no haber ido”. And like anything woven into popular wisdom, it has its saying: “better magua than pain”.
But it doesn’t stop there. “Magua” also features in the geography of the islands. In Tenerife, in the area of Arico, there’s a mountain and a ravine named Magua.
Bethencourt Alfonso notes this, along with a local saying: “If you find no water in the sea, go to the springs of Magua.”
The toponymy in this case isn’t directly linked to the Portuguese influence but likely has a Guanche origin, with parallels in other place names on El Hierro and La Gomera. This shows that the word, beyond crossing borders, has taken root.
And What’s Its Connection to Cruz Cafuné?
The word “magua” has become an emotional emblem of island lexicon. Artists like Cruz Cafuné, a prominent figure in Canarian urban music, weave it into their songs, allowing it to travel beyond the archipelago.
His track “Moonlight” is a prime example of this emotional poetics. Here, magua becomes the note setting the rhythm of despair. “Clear as day, if you leave, all the magua hits me,” sings Cafuné.
Indeed, few words encapsulate that feeling of loss, of love slipping away, of poignant memories. A raw, sincere emotion deeply rooted in Canarian culture.
In “Cuenta Conmigo”, it resonates again: “This magua, darling, is for you, love”. With his voice, the artist creates an intimate space of vulnerability: “The forsaken room and the sleepless nights are all for you, yeah.” Magua isn’t just a term: it’s an open wound, a sigh, an echo of the soul.
