Prairie Post
5-20-10
(this time from Havana)
It’s been hot here, in this illustrious city, the humidity is high, very high just like on any typical August day in the prairie. Nobody cares much about the temperature here, it is a fact of daily life, nobody walks slower here, and nobody hides under trees or seeks shelter in the few air-conditioned restaurants and bars. But at night they congregate on the Malecon to catch the evening breeze right at the Straight of Florida. Young people, mostly, sitting in pairs or standing in groups enjoying a sense of oblivion in a safe environment. They are protected by the state visible through clusters of police who know there is no attention required this evening or any other.
The arrival here for strangers who come from the Northern prairie begins with cheers. Cheers not for the outsiders who made the short flight from the other side of the water, cheers by the scores of Cuban Americans returning to their homeland for the first time in many years. Excitement on their faces, excitement in the rejoinder – it is hard to stay seated and to wait one’s turn. Finally, the plane lands and applause roars through the large metallic bird. They are eager to move through passport control, they are eager to collect their luggage, in blue protective cover wrapped huge packages from the North, and they are eager to walk through customs and look for familiar faces in the impatiently awaiting crowd.
Welcome to Cuba – the land of cigars and mojitos, black beans and rice with choice of chicken, beef, or fish. And music – everywhere music! Guitars, flutes, and rhythmic instruments, pleasant-sounding music entertaining visitors at dinner tables. The guests from near and afar are sheltered in the showcase hotel, the hotel with history: the Mafia hotel of yesteryear, where gambling and prostitution was commonplace – but no more.
The revolution changed everything on this island, corruption was replaced with dictatorship. “The common good is more important here than individual rights,” explains Larry who knows because he is Cuban born and American raised. The new policies accomplished one of the highest literacy rates in the world, high life expectancy and very low infant mortality. The basics are covered: food, shelter, clothing. Don’t expect upkeep in housing, don’t expect pluming or convenience. But do notice the immediate help given to other needy countries. When Haiti found itself in disaster, Cubans were the first on site – and the food ration for Cubans went from five to four packages of rice.
“The people are proud of their outstanding health care, particularly preventive care,” explains Larry who knows because he is Cuban born and American raised. There are three layers of health care here: A physician-nurse team has responsibility for 600 families. They check on their people and don’t wait for them to come. They immunize, they watch out for health problems, they treat when necessary. The second layer includes neighborhood clinics – with focus on infant and pediatric care. The third layer includes specialty care and research center s – often lacking up-to-date equipment. “But they will come to your home and check whether any mosquitoes breed in standing water, and if so, they will test for disease,” explains Larry.
“Education is not freedom,” says Andreas, the conference assistant. His father was the political opposition leader of the Batistas; he was a critic of the revolution who had to live in exile for most of his life. Andreas cannot leave – even though he wants to study in the United States, leaving via a third country , the United States will not allow him to come – immigration restrictions. Andreas will not have a job, although he has to work, because Cuba does not tolerate unemployment – so he volunteers his talents and consults for research projects, without pay, and he relies on his friends’ support – the alternative is imprisonment. Everybody is in waiting position – how long until political leadership will change? Tough lives, tough conversations! Andreas smiles in reaction to a compliment referring to the beauty of this place. “It is my island,” Andreas remarks with a friendly beam.
Time for a mojito! Then off to the University de Havana. A beautiful campus, palm trees, court yards, classic buildings, lectures, discussion groups, library studies. A student leading the way through campus showing departments and offices in his best Spanish. His tour finishes at the Psychology department, he invites for coffee. The student explains that there is no money for paper and pencils, could we help? His tour became a mission
A joke about Fidel and Raul: Fidel and Raul visit a group of children at breakfast time. Fidel checks out their breakfast: rolls, fruit, fried eggs, juices, potatoes. “I am so glad,” remarks Fidel, “I am so glad that the children of Cuba eat such a good breakfast.” Answered Raul, “Did you not recognize that these children are your nieces and nephews?”
They survived the “special years,” when Russia would stop subsidizing Cuba, when the old Soviet Union ceased to exist and nobody wanted sugarcane any more. The special years had many people starving; it was also the birth of tourism to Cuba. Now they come from all corners (almost all corners, that is) of the world. They hope for a ride in a 1954 Chevy, they hope to drink a daiquiri at the Floridita; they hope to find a quiet place on the beach. Slowly, Cuba overcame the special years, grew its own food and thrived on foreign currency.
Time for a mojito! Then departing for a tour of the city: crumbling houses next to restored old mansions, open windows, music, loud tunes coming from above, people, people, people walking on the street, sitting, gathering, talking, graffiti art, the shoreline, the citadel, palm trees. Signs of the Revolution, Castro’s face, Che Guevara’s face on walls painted, sculptured, and Martin Luther King, his words about dreams. And cars, everywhere old American cars.
Time for a mojito! Then in search of Hemingway again, his house out in the prairie. A reclusive place, books in every corner, his sailboat and the pet cemetery. With smiles on their faces, the tour guides invite their visitors to take pictures – and as the visitors leave guides will share their stories about daughters and sons in need of a few Cuban pesos.
People smile easily in Cuba; they live their lives, walk their older parents down the street, sit with grandchildren in the doorway, lean out of windows, or watch television in the living room which is close to the street level. People smile easily in Cuba, where the diesel smoke from old cars continuously permeates the air, where the humidity is always high, and where people live outside their homes most of the day and most of the night.