Visiting the Revolution Cuba, 1960

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1 Visiting the Revolution Cuba, 1960 By Raúl R. Cárdenas, Jr. Editorial note: Retired university professor Raúl Cárdenas offers this account of a two-week-long stay in and around Havana in October This story became part of his recollections of early experiences included in a history he fashioned of his extended Mexican-American family. At the time of his visit to Cuba he was living in New York, about to enter graduate studies in environmental engineering science. His report appears here in extracts, edited to highlight Cuban s reactions to their newly victorious revolution and his own impressions of island life on the verge of change. (Full disclosure: The writer of this note was present at the New York party noted below.) In 1960 events taking place 90 miles off the Florida coast, in Cuba, were big news in New York City as well as most of the U.S. A few years earlier a young bearded Fidel Castro had begun a revolution that ousted the corrupt dictatorship of Fulgencio Batista. The revolutionary government rid the island of gambling and prostitution, and then nationalized some of the industries and oil companies owned by Americans. The U.S. reacted by imposing a trade embargo, and Castro sought help from the Soviet Union. In the midst of the Cold War, this got everyone s attention. That fall, I was living on the upper west side of Manhattan, working in a laboratory preparing to resume my studies. A neighborhood party set me on the way to Cuba. The gathering was in full swing when the crowd split into two camps: people for and against Castro. Was the change really helping the Cuban people? Was another dictatorship on the way? Was Cuba really sliding toward Communism? Then someone with a loud voice took the floor and said: No one knows what s happening... What we need is someone to go to Cuba and have a first-hand look, and come back and tell us what s happening. At that point I heard myself saying, OK, I ll go! I speak Spanish and will go to Cuba and have a look! I left a couple of weeks later, in October While hitchhiking south, I was lucky enough to get a ride from a Cuban named Fuentes on the way to Havana with his family, and I helped him drive to Key West. There we bought our tickets for the ferryboat City of Havana, set to sail for Cuba that afternoon. We became friends. Fuentes recommended a hotel in the old

2 part of the city, near the docks. On arrival in Havana, he gave me the address of where he would be staying and a telephone, adding: It s not far from your hotel, call me. The next day I walked around downtown Havana, a busy city with wide avenues and narrow side streets lined with two and three story apartments, many with balconies and iron railings, just like in old cities in Mexico. I began asking how things were going under the new government and seemed to be getting cautious, polite responses. But I could clearly see reminders of the recent revolution everywhere: flags, banners, newly painted signs, and public notices, all announcing the beginning of a new era. I couldn t go far without coming across soldiers in green fatigues or a jeep full of armed barbudos (bearded ones) driving by. Later I telephoned Fuentes and he invited me to his house to meet his family. I walked up to a second-story apartment where his in-laws lived, including the grandfather. Everyone was talking at once, and the television blared. They inquired about my Spanish and Texas, and what brought me to Cuba. And we began to talk. They told me that it was now a less fearful time and there was less corruption. They welcomed the change, and were glad to be free of Batista and the police. But I also sensed guarded brevity as they described the changes. They seemed to be waiting for things to settle down. They told me they didn t feel threatened, but didn t quite know what to expect from the new government, except that changes were still taking place. Things would be better, they thought. But at the moment there were shortages, some shelves were empty and there were lines beginning to form, and talk of rationing. They all listened to the television and radio broadcasts from Florida and were concerned about the reaction of the Americans to what was happening and what their government was doing. They were also worried about the embargo, the disappearance of consumer goods, medicines, and shortages. They welcomed gifts they received from the Fuentes family in the United States. One of them, Fuentes brother-in-law, worked at the Capitolio and saw the dayto-day workings of the new government. He reported they were still making changes, sometimes overnight, and were trying to make things better for the people. But problems with the United States were bringing new problems. He described the old days under Batista, and how bad things had been for the Cuban people, especially the poor. The first thing Castro did, he proudly announced, was get rid of the American controlled gambling casinos, the night

3 clubs and the prostitutes. Then he kicked out all the crooked priests who supported Batista, adding that Castro was not anti-catholic. Fuentes brother-in-law then added, If you are interested in what is happening you must visit the Capitolio. We have a relative, by marriage, who has recently been named a Supreme Court judge. Maybe you could meet him. I sensed an opportunity: I would love to! I replied. The next day we took a bus to the capital building and made our way past the guards where we met the brother-in-law who led us around pointing out the various offices and sections. It was a busy place, a government in the making, with lots of bearded men in fatigues moving around, some with folders and papers, on their way to meetings perhaps. But there were also lots of ordinary people waiting, standing around or sitting on the benches, many obviously country folk, farmers or workers who wanted something. There were also a few suits and ties. Fuentes brother-in-law exchanged a few words with a receptionist who knew him, she made a phone call, and we were admitted to the judge s office. Fuentes introduced me and I heard him use the term: bacteriólogo. The judge invited us into his big, comfortable office, seated us on a couch, and served coffee. Behind him was a picture of he and Fidel shaking hands. The judge assured me that Cubans regarded the American people as friends, but the coming of the embargo that affected availability of foods, medicines, raw materials and oil was causing shortages and hardships. These were goods not made in Cuba. And, he observed, Cuban sugar had always been a big source of income, and the loss of the American market was hurting the Cuban economy. He then told me that things were changing in Cuba and they needed technical assistance. He asked if there was any way, from my experience, that I could help out. I replied that I had been educated as a bacteriologist and ran a lab for the army after the war, adding that until recently I had been a teaching assistant at the University. I had spent a summer gathering data as part of a graduate seminar dealing with the bacteriology of milk. The judge was interested. He explained that Cuba had been mostly a one-crop nation, that the government was now expanding Cuba s agricultural capabilities, that he himself was involved with this. He was interested in the training of workers, especially farmers, and in milk production. He then asked me if I could

4 give a technical talk to a group of dairy workers. He was part of an agricultural planning committee and had stumbled on someone who could be useful. The day of my talk arrived, and, as arranged, a pair of bearded soldiers met me in the hotel lobby. We drove to the outskirts of Havana and pulled up to a large, low barn. Inside I found Fuentes, his brother-in-law and the judge. An area had been cleared near the door beyond which I found 30 or 40 compañeros assembled among empty cow stalls. Most of the men were dressed in work clothes, but there were a few in dress clothes and greens sitting in chairs. After reminding myself that these men were farm workers, not university students, I eased into the topic by starting with the composition of milk and the fact that milk was a good nutrient for the growth of microbios (germs); milk contained sugars plus bacteria introduced from the cow or humans. They multiplied and sometimes caused serious diseases. I reviewed the need for pasteurization. Afterwards, my audience offered a few questions and polite applause. Back in his office in the Capitolio, the judge thanked me and handed me a package of paperback books, tied with a ribbon. This is in appreciation for the service you ve performed for our revolution, he offered. Here are all the volumes of Don Quixote, he said, adding, When we took over the government newspaper from Batista, this was the first thing we printed, and I present you with a set of Cervantes great work. Let s see if I can introduce you to some of the compañeros, he said next, heading down the hall. Returning, the judge pointed to a small group of men in fatigues and side arms walking away from us. What a pity. We just missed them, some of the other members of the agricultural committee. That was Raúl Castro. I wanted you to meet him. He s the one who wanted you to have the books. Fuentes leaned over and whispered, That s Fidel s brother. Later, as we were leaving, Fuentes invited me to a family reunion and a pig roast at his cousin s farm. A few days later we met at the Fuentes apartment, climbed aboard an automobile and drove into the lush Cuban countryside. We turned off the main highway and drove down a road to a modest house where a few members of the Fuentes family greeted us. Next we walked into an open area where we found the rest of the family, sitting around the end of a long wooden table in the shade of the trees and an arbor, smoking, talking and drinking coffee

5 and beer. Fuentes introduced me as an Americano from Texas who spoke Spanish and who was interested in the revolution. I took a beer and joined them. Most were guarded in their comments. Glad to see Batista go and Havana cleaned up, they also realized some of the rich people and professionals were leaving Cuba. There was less money and work around, and more shortages and lines. But they seemed to be optimistic and willing to give Castro a chance. One day I took a bus out to what once had been a well-known private beach resort and was now open to the public. Granma, the daily government newspaper, had published pictures of an elegant restaurant there and a beautiful beach. I ordered lunch and sat down to look out on the beach. Sitting alone at one of the tables was a green-clad soldier with a rifle. Later, walking toward the surf, I waved to him, and he invited me to join him. I asked him how long he had been a soldier and if he had been in the revolution. He said he had only joined the army a few months earlier. Before that he was a campesino, working on a sugar plantation. That ended with the revolution. Now the revolution was teaching him to read. Those in charge treated him well and with respect, and they even gave him a uniform and a rifle and made him a guard on this beach that used to belong to the rich. His job was to give the alarm in case counter-revolutionaries landed. But, as he explained, nothing ever happens. and not a lot of people come to the beach, even on weekends. Life under the Batista government, he told me, was bad for the Cuban people, especially the poor like himself. He said that the revolution had appropriated some of the big land holdings, and in Havana, Fidel got rid of the women and the beggars on the streets, and many men like himself had joined the revolution. He d been taught to shoot, march, and read and write; I am better off than I was before the revolution, when I was an analfabeto (illiterate) and never knew about places like this beach. Some people say that Castro has brought another dictatorship to Cuba but he got rid of Batista, and under him, lots of people had disappeared. Castro has not forced himself on the people. He only got rid of a bad man and his gang who were robbing the Cuban people. The American radio and television from La Florida tell us that Castro is making us all into Communists. I don t know what a Communist is, but if it makes things better for the poor and the farmers, and it got

6 rid of the casinos and the latifundistas (big land holders) then it can t be so bad. If communism was such a bad government, it would make things worse and if things were worse, then people would hate Fidel and he would have enemies who would want to get rid of him. And, Why would he take people like me into the army and then give us arms and teach us to shoot and read? If things were getting worse, and we wanted to get rid of him, we could. He told how, Fidel goes everywhere in Cuba in his Jeep all without fear for his life. He moves easily among everybody and talks to everyone. The people love him for what he has done. One evening I went into a bar near the hotel before looking for an evening meal. I began to talk to a man who seemed to be at ease and more communicative than the rest. He wore a western hat, spoke a good version of Spanish, carried a pen in his shirt pocket, and wore a decorated belt buckle. Everything suggested that he had some means and was educated. Alejandro Cano del Castillo, he announced. At your service! But call me Alex. After he gently inquired about me and why I was in Havana, I learned he was a rancher and in Havana for the day on business. He explained that he had not been part of the revolution, but reported, like the others, that in getting rid of the corrupt Batista bandidos, Castro did something that was long overdue. He personally would not miss the casinos, the fancy nightclubs, and female entertainers nor the corrupt police officials. He hoped that as a result of the revolution the lives of the average Cuban, especially the poor, would improve. He had been a student at the University of Havana along with Castro, and his family knew Castro s family. Fidel, he thought, was not a real communist, or seriously anti-church, but he was concerned about some of Fidel s associates. He didn t favor the taking of private property. It was a new government, he said, and it was Cuban, and he realized things would be in limbo for a while. Cuba was his home, he added. His antecedentes (forefathers) had lived here a long time under the colonials and they had helped get rid of the Spaniards, well before the Americanos arrived. Then he told me: If I have a real problem, I think that I can talk to Fidel, and I believe he will be fair. I am not frightened by what I have seen, even though some people I know have left for the United States. I only hope Fidel can withstand and overcome the problems he is having with the Americanos and that he does not get

7 too close to the Russians. I have hope in the new government. After all, everything I have is here. Shortly before my return home, I took a bus to the Havana suburbs and began looking for an address. As I strolled I could look into each of the houses. Television sets were on, and Fidel was making a speech. As I made my way along the sidewalk it seemed everyone was listening to Fidel and I remember hearing Fidel, at first in a low voice that increased in volume with each step, and then I saw his black-and-white image through the window or door. He was speaking clearly and deliberately, at times shaking his head or pointing with his index finger. As I passed each house, Fidel s voice rose in volume. Then as I walked on, the voice began to fade until all was quiet. I knew it was the voice of a deliberate and effective speaker. Later, I realized I had been listening to a highly educated, bright jefe (boss) explaining things and telling people how things would be done. Then it was time to return to New York. I met Fuentes onboard the City of Havana ferryboat where he was waiting with his family in the lounge. We were scheduled to leave at 10 a.m. Soon, however, the ferryboat Captain walked into the lounge and announced there would be a short delay. A few passengers didn t look like they were returning to the U.S. from a vacation or a visit. Sitting across from me on the benches was a comfortable-looking middle class Cuban family. They were quiet and struck me as unusually controlled, despite the presence of two young children, who remained silent during the ruckus. They were carrying shopping bags, packages and small bundles, some distributed among the children, others scattered at their feet. Then the Captain reappeared with an announcement: The shipping company has asked me to announce that this will be the last time the Ferry City of Havana will sail from the from Key West to Havana. Henceforth, ferryboat services are suspended between the United States and Cuba. Later at sea I talked with the well-dressed family. It turned out the man was a dentist who was giving up his practice in Havana and leaving Cuba for good. He further explained that the Cuban government was allowing him to leave with all the possessions he could carry and no more. This explained the shopping bags, packages and bundles. He said they had lived through the Batista years which

8 were bad for some Cubans, but that under Batista, he at least knew where he stood and what to expect. He worried that under the new Castro government things had changed very quickly, including medicine and dentistry, and there was less money and a shortage of everything as a result of the U.S. embargo. He had seen enough of the new revolutionary government to know that medical and dental care would be socialized next. The dentist and his family were heading for Miami where they had relatives. Becoming very serious, he told me he had had to leave everything behind: his home, his furniture, his clothes, his office, his car, and his extended family everything! He was leaving with only fifteen dollars in his pocket. Several years later, back in New York, I was married, had small children and was living on Riverside Drive. My wife and I had met a Cuban couple in the neighborhood, who invited us one cold, grey Sunday for afternoon drinks. I was ushered into the dining area where a group of mature, middle-aged men were sitting around the table having drinks and smoking. I was introduced as a professor" who had made a trip to Havana right after the revolution. My host introduced me to the gathering, addressing each man by his title from their days in Cuba, before they left. The comandante, the colonel, and the captain offered polite smiles and looked me over. Then their politics dawned on me. The comandante addressed me, smiling all the while. You know, Professor, he said slowly, it is not always wise to dig too much into the politics of other places without knowing about the local circumstances and what is happening. It s best to stick to what one knows best and leave politics alone. I felt a chill and didn t like the feeling. I still have the four volumes of Cervantes masterpiece, Don Quixote de la Mancha, the judge gave me for my talk. The pages are brittle and brown. But even now I can read about the adventures of the errant knight Don Quixote, whose real name was Don Alonso Quijano, and of Sancho Panza, his escudero (squire).

Phrases for 2 nd -3 rd Grade Sight Words (9) for for him for my mom it is for it was for. (10) on on it on my way On the day I was on

(1) the on the bus In the school by the dog It was the cat. Phrases for 2 nd -3 rd Grade Sight Words (9) for for him for my mom it is for it was for (17) we If we go we can sit we go out Can we go? (2)