I awaken, like I always do, around 6:20 a.m. It takes me a minute to realize where I am. It's Monday and the memories of yesterday's journey to Havana are fresh on my mind. Visions of what I saw are blinking through my mind like a slide show. The bright Caribbean colors of the buildings, the walkways full of European tourists and the restaurant peddlers with menu in hand asking you to come inside and eat.
As the fog clears from my head, I begin to run through a checklist of things that must be done today to prepare for tomorrow's trip to Bermejas, where I will see the rest of the Aunts, Uncles and Cousins that I've never met. I've got to pay for the rental car, exchange some money and pack for the remainder of the week. Hopefully, I will need to pick my father up at the airport.
As the sun begins to warm the morning air, I realize I am the only one awake. I make my way to the back patio and listen to the birds and the rest of Havana come to life. With the exception of the colors from Loli's little oasis of flowering plants and trees, the view here is a dull contrast to that of the tourist areas. The expected sounds of buses, horns honking, mopeds buzzing around are absent. Instead I hear very little. The workers next door are talking about the day's work ahead. I hear various songbirds from surrounding patios and Enrique's pigeons are stirring about. The blind one is walking around his cage in circles pausing occasionally to tilt his head back. The pigeon reminds me of Eddie Murphy when he was imitates Stevie Wonder. I smile at the thought.
I wonder how different it is for a man born in this place. What are his thoughts as he wakes? I imagine it's more on the basic needs of food, will the water be on today or finding work to make money. The things we worry about on a daily basis, what do I wear today, is there going to be traffic, am I going to have to work late today, are made smaller at the realization that most of the people here would love to have those problems if only given the opportunity.
I begin to smell coffee brewing and I know that Loli is awake. I make my way back inside and wake Eric up so we can get an early start. Eric's morning routine has been drastically altered. With no internet there is no reason to glance at his phone to see tweets, texts, Facebook or Instagram posts that had been updated during the night, no reason to stay in bed.
As Eric was getting ready and Loli was preparing the black beans for tonight's dinner, I started thinking about some billboards and signs I had seen the day before as we were making our way around Havana. All of them appeared to be directed towards the US. Most said "Free the Cuban Five" or "Stop the injustice, release the five now!" I asked Loli about it and she explained:
The Cuban Five, also known as the Miami Five (Gerardo Hernández, Antonio Guerrero, Ramón Labañino, Fernando González, and René González) are five Cuban officers convicted in Miami of conspiracy to commit espionage, conspiracy to commit murder, acting as an agent of foreign government and other illegal activities in the United States. The Five were in the United States to observe and infiltrate the U.S. Southern Command and the Cuban-American groups Alpha 66, the F4 Commandos, the Cuban American National Foundation, and Brothers to the Rescue. They were part of "La Red Avispa", or the Wasp Network. At their trial, evidence was presented that the Five infiltrated the Miami-based Cuban exile group, Brothers to the Rescue, obtained employment at the Key West Naval Air Station in order to send the Cuban government reports about the base, and had attempted to penetrate the Miami facility of U.S. Southern Command. On February 24, 1996, two Brothers to the Rescue aircraft were shot down by Cuban military jets in international airspace while flying away from Cuban airspace, killing the four U.S. citizens aboard.
For their part, Cuba acknowledged, after denying the fact for nearly three years, that the five men were intelligence agents, but says they were spying on Miami's Cuban exile community, not the U.S. government. Cuba contends that the men were sent to South Florida in the wake of several terrorist bombings in Havana masterminded by anti-communist militant Luis Posada Carriles, a former Central Intelligence Agency operative. The Five appealed their convictions and the alleged lack of fairness in their trial has received substantial international criticism. A three-judge panel of the 11th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in Atlanta overturned their convictions in 2005, citing the "prejudices" of Miami’s anti-Castro Cubans, but the full court later reversed the five's bid for a new trial and reinstated the original convictions. In June 2009, the U.S. Supreme Court declined to review the case. In Cuba, the Five are viewed by the government as national heroes and portrayed as having sacrificed their liberty in the defense of their country. (Thanks, Wikipedia!)
It's obvious that the propaganda machine in Cuba is alive and kicking. Over breakfast, we talked about our trip and what it was like where we were headed, about how my family has lived in Bermejas since their arrival from the Canary Islands. I was looking forward to this part of my journey - to walk the soil my Father had as a child and a young soldier during the Bay of Pigs.
As we talked about family and how different our lives are on a day-to-day basis, I began to miss my wife even more. It was strange not getting a text or a call from her. Every morning, when I arrive at the Fire station, I get a text telling me that she loves me and to be safe. In Cuba, there was no internet or any other means of communication available to me, nor is it available to most of the country. I asked if it was possible for me to call home. Enrique and Loli told me that I could buy a calling card for twenty dollars that would allow me to talk for about four minutes. There was a lady down the street that sold them out of her home. If it wasn't for the black market in Cuba, I don't know what I would have done.
In Cuba, they have two currencies: the CUP, or cuban peso, which is for residents and has no value outside of Cuba, and for tourists, they have CUC or Cuban convertible peso. I needed to exchange some money, so I gave Enrique some to exchange for me. On the black market, they were paying 9 CUC more per 100 US dollars then they were at the exchange centers. It seems the black market is where a majority of business is done.
As Enrique left to buy the calling card and exchange some money, he let his one good pigeon go free. I looked questionably, but before I could ask, he said "Don't worry, he always comes back."
I was admiring their little backyard. Most people didn't have a back yard and few had the flowers and plants that Loli had. It was a little haven from the old crumbling city that I had seen in the non-tourist parts the day before. There weren't any plans for today other than to get the rental car (also rented on the black market) and spend time relaxing at Loli's house.
I'm not sure if it's just me or if it's a conditioning from my lifestyle, but unless I'm hunting or fishing, I need some sort of noise, usually music, going on in the background. I wanted to play some of the music on my phone for Loli, especially a song my son recorded, and I began to see if I could. I was curious as to how far the marketing cloud that is music these days has spread. They kept calling my son Justin Beiber, so I knew that some of it penetrates their lives. I found an old set of speakers that had a plug that looked like it would fit my phone and when I plugged it in, they worked! Well, one of the speakers worked as long as you didn't turn it up too loud. Various songs played in the background as Loli and I talked about life in Cuba and the family members I was about to meet. She only recognized a few artists -- Adele was her favorite. She knew of Mariah, Beyonce and other international stars and I was quite surprised as to how far the promotion of artists went.
Enrique returned and I quickly asked about calling my wife. He showed me how to use the card and I made the call. When my wife answered, I could tell she was very surprised, likely fighting back a few tears of joy and relief. I didn't know if we would be able to talk or not, but I was very relieved to hear her voice. It filled my heart with joy to speak to her. My emotional tank was on low with all of the stress from the past few days. So many unknowns for my son and I, so many discoveries, unfamiliar areas and people and worries. Just talking to her gave me a renewed energy - my tank and heart were full.
Unfortunately, my Father wasn't going to be able to make it, she told me. He couldn't get his visa in time to make the trip. It crushed me when I heard the news. I wanted to hear him tell me stories of my grandparents, of his brothers, sisters and other family members as we all sat around together, with them all laughing and smiling as they were recalling the memories as if it was only a short time ago. I wanted to create new memories with them all. My Father, Son and I becoming a part of some new story that would be spoken long after we left, bringing smiles to everyone's faces as if we were still there, still a part of their everyday life. But it wasn't meant to be. I worried for my Father as I know how bad he wanted to be here, to share in this with me and his grandson. The dissapointment he must be feeling was a burden I wanted to carry, but only God knows why these things happen. I hoped and prayed that I would get an answer to that question before my trip was over.
I told my wife not to worry that we were in good hands, that Loli and Enrique were taking great care of us. As we were saying our goodbyes, the words "I Love You" just didn't seem like enough. I wanted to reach through the phone to hug her tightly, to let her know that I was going to be okay. I sadly hung up the phone and shared the news about my father with everyone.
I went through a mixture of emotions. I stayed mad, upset for a few hours afterwards. As I picked up the rental car, the owner of the car must have thought I didn't trust him. He was cautious with his words and was very concerned with my happiness during the transaction. He didn't even bother counting the money as I handed it to him. Fifty dollars a day plus a two hundred dollar refundable deposit. "Not bad for a 2002 Hyundai," I thought.
As the day winded down, we had a fantastic meal of black beans, rice and an assortment of vegetables and some fresh cuban bread. After dinner, we had some guava and Cuban coffee. There is nothing like a good meal to cheer you up!
There was a small tube television and we turned it on to watch the news. As it turns out, there is only one news program in Cuba on the channel Cubavision. The news is goverment-run and is just another cog in the communist propaganda machine that is visible here. One noticeable difference in Cuba is the lack of commercials. The only break in the news program and the comedy show that followed were commercials promoting government-run programs, upcoming events or the channel itself. The impression that Cubans have of the United States isn't very good. But, if the only impression you had of our country was what you saw on our news, what would your impression be?
With the day nearing an end, and everything ready for tomorrow, I went to bed with a heavy heart - a mixture of emotions stirring in my mind. I was happy to have spoken to my wife, sad for the news of my father. My Son and I were traveling to a very remote part of the Island with many more unknowns. As I lay there, I began to realize that I shouldn't let the circumstances affect the rest of the trip. I was still going to meet my family like I had dreamed of, I was still going to see where my Father grew up. The last thing I should do is let this unfortunate event dictate my mood. With those thoughts and my wife's voice in my head, I fell asleep.
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