Finally back in Cuba

This time, as I headed back to Cuba I dreaded some of the difficulties of life here.  In fact I had been doubting how much I really loved Cuba, especially Havana with her dirty streets.  But when the plane landed and I finally stepped out of customs intact, Lina (my Cuban sister) kissed my cheek and I was at home.  I went straight to Mirella’s (my Cuban mother) apartment by the harbor and unpacked.  And so here I am in the most incredible rooms I have ever lived in.  Painted a cheery aqua it has 12+ foot Ceilings, a private bathroom, a 10ft long closet, a queen size bed, incredible art work, and the best part is an enormous east facing window with morning light and a view of 6 monuments, two famous walkways and the harbor.... the room is filled with light all day. But just so you don’t think life is a cinch here, I will let you in on the not so glamorous side…the queen size bed is so old I can feel every spring, the street below is full of noise at all hours of the day and night, the toilet in the bathroom doesn’t flush correctly, the shower is a narrow cold stream of water and I bathe out of a bucket, and the pollution and dust from the street blow in and cover everything regularly.  But really, I couldn’t care less, because, I am living with the people who have taken me in as family, and I am continually and unconditionally loved, not to mention that I am filled with purpose here in Cuba to study sustainable agricultural. 

            Below are some more stories for you…enjoy. Besos.

A Visit From Shakira

As I was coming out of my room just about dinner time, 8:45 or so, when I noticed Nena (Mirella) coming out of the kitchen white as a sheet with a broom stick in one hand and a pot in the other.  She begun muttering “it’s so big, like this”  her hands about 10 inches apart.  It took me about 30 seconds of the muttering to figure out she had a rat in her kitchen.  He had run into the kitchen from the washroom and hidden under the sink.  So, I calmly took the stick and began cautious poking around and moving things out from under her sink until I spotted him…huge indeed!  His big black eyes looking quite wild and desperate as he made a break for the other side of the space and hid in a plastic container.  At this point I asked for a bucket and made a trap…turns out, rats are pretty damn smart, definitely smarter than my trap.  He dodged he by sliding between the wall and the curved edge a few times before I stuffed plastic in the hole and he had no choice but to get in my bucket.  But as I began to slide the top over him, the bugger saw the heist and made a break for the laundry room coming straight toward me.  I screeched and all but climbed the wall as those big wild eyes leapt toward me.  He made a quick stop under the china cabinet and then hid the laundry room behind a shovel.

I carefully followed him in.  In the background I could hear Nena calling for the neighbor and inside I laughed a little, because although I was sure the neighbor was a big strong man, I had sized up the rat and knew I could eventually capture him and put him out without any help.

I had positioned myself above the rat on the edge on the wash basin and had just begun poking the hole when the rat ran from hiding into the kitchen.  At the same moment, I heard the rapid noise of something with nails running on traversite, and the tinkle of an animal collar, and around the corner came a daushound sliding a little as he turned in the hallway to dash into the kitchen….what followed was like a scene from The Lady and the Tramp, with the horrible squeaking and shrieking of El Ratòn and the nasal snarls of the daushound.  All the while a man in nothing much more than boxers shouted from the doorway “Da le Shakira! Da le!”  (Come on Shakira! Come on!)… I couldn’t watch. I remained cringing in my perch listening to the horrible ruckus, Nena yelping, and the man cheering it all on.  When the shrieking stopped, I peeked out to see the loser laying on its side as Shakira trotted away looking quite satisfied. At this point several other people had joined the hallway audience, including a boy wearing not much more than boxers.  The man instructed Shakira to take the rat out.  In she walked, picked it up and took it very proudly to the end of the hall, where it was scooped up and taken to the street.

            Now mind you, all the while the 4 felines that live with us were huddle together in the back bedroom…scaredy cats.  Still, I have never seen anything like this in all my life, four cats that won’t touch a rat and an attack daushound…I don’t think I will be calling them wiener dogs anymore.  Thus ends the tale of Shakira.
 (Although I don’t ever like to see an animal die, for anyone who cares El Ratòn’s death was very quick and natural in the way that wild creatures behave).

The story I could not title

Mirella spent three hours at the special Miami-bound airport terminal with me mostly waiting till the last moment before I needed to enter security.  I had a beer and she had a coke and we talked about what I would do when I got home and when I would return, etc.  When it finally came time to get in line for the security, the line was a huge crowd and slightly hectic.  I was little caught up with travel nerves, but as the crowd got closer to entering customs there was a palpable heaviness. And then, it began.  I noticed a little boy in front of me crying softly, and then his father, uncle, bothers, grandmother, and mother.  They began to kiss and embrace each other as though we all stood on a sinking ship, holding so tightly they could not breathe and crying without shame.  The inconsolable kissing and hugging continued until the focus seemed to rest on a couple.  The woman’s face was red and streaked with make-up from the tears still coming, her long black hair pulled away from her face, and the strong but slender man sobbing on her shoulder had taken his glasses off to wipe away the tears.  They held on with everyone around them watching and crying, and I began to think that they couldn’t let go.  Then the customs agent called her and as she pulled away, the man collapsed down to head in hands, sitting on his heels.  His brother bent down to lift him up and hold him and they sobbed together.  Then the small boy followed his mother through the one-way door, and the family watched and wept for every last glimpse of them.  When the door closed they watched for a moment longer… before turning solemnly to return home.  I became so caught up in their grief that my throat tightened around a lump and I blinked hard to keep back the tears.  I noticed other couples and families crying softly and saying goodbye.  And as Mirella and I stood amongst the crowd I could feel her doubt I would return, I could see her tears forming at the corners of her eyes, and her lips pull tight to hold back her emotion.  And at that moment I felt it, the truth of the embargo, of the US travel restrictions, of the economic state of Cuba, it was like a huge monster crushing us and throwing us helplessly about.  I tried to reassure Mirella I was coming back and I would see her in a month, but I knew she could tell that I had my own doubts… would I really come back?

After I myself went through the door, I could not find much reason to do anything, but sit soberly until we touched down in Miami and the half-empty plane erupted in applause.  And then I remembered the same thing happened when I first landed from Miami in Habana, we had all made it across 90 miles of political conflict and 50 years of estrangement, and going back would be just as hard

Brindemos!

A reflection upon returning

Try as one might to extract or diminish the preconceptions built of movies and postcards, some ghost of them stubbornly persists to lift your expectations of an unexplored country.  Although I hate to admit it, the first time I arrived in Cuba, a part of me somehow expected everyone to be bronzed, beautiful, lithe, and industrious in some common focus to uplift the country and care for everyone… but really Cubans are very much like Americans, they’re human – encompassing all those both wonderful and disastrous traits that humans do.  Of course there are key differences, but mostly if you look for it, you will find it, beauty, obesity, health, indifference, diligence, nobility… if you want a glimpse into the Cuban life in Havana check out Suite Habana, utterly captivating.