by Mona Shaw
I heard Castro speak in August,
1995. It was the most powerfully,
stirring speech I have ever heard in my life.
Hands down. No contest. I cheered at its end until I was hoarse. He spoke of everything in which I believe
with my whole heart, things I have always wanted for the world.
Still, Fidel, after all, was only a
man. I was in Havana that summer as part
of a volunteer humanitarian project.
Yes, I was disillusioned. People
were poorer than I expected them to be.
Then again, that was mostly because of the U.S. Blockade. There was a capitalism paranoia that made a
black market necessary for people to get by.
All right, it was nowhere near the communist paranoia we have here, but
it did exist.
I didn’t like that I couldn’t get ice in
a drink. Beverages were often luke-warm,
unless you got them at a refrigerated stand.
An air-conditioned room was rare.
I was always wet with my own perspiration. This, however, made the fact that our showers
didn’t have hot running water only slightly bothersome. I think toilet paper being rationed bothered
Americans the most. (Ironically, toilet
paper is a chronic need for the poor in the U.S., because you can’t get it with
Food Stamps.)
While clothes lines strung between
pillars at palatial mansions (now multi-family housing) disturbed some in my
group, I was utterly charmed at the sight.
The best rum was only $2.00 a fifth, and
the cigarettes were out-of-this-world good.
I proved this when I’d give one I’d smuggled home to a friend who doubted
me. They would take one drag and say, “Oh.
My. God!” (And only 50-cents a pack.) Everyone smokes in Cuba, everywhere. By the time my group left, we all did
too. The former smokers fell first.
Yes, I was disillusioned. My travel wasn’t restricted, and I ambled
around freely meeting people. By far,
the overwhelming number worshiped Castro.
Some did not. Some yearned to
come to America where they would have a better life of things wrapped up in one
word, “freedom.” They believed their
government lied to them about America. They knew better. They watched us on t.v. They said
things to me like this.
“I have never seen a homeless person in
my life! So, I know it’s a lie that you have homeless people in America. I have never believed that was true!”
“I work as a maid. I can only have a 2-bedroom apartment for me
and my two sons. I know if I lived in
America I could have a 3-bedroom house with a garage and a new car!”
“I don’t believe candidates for
president need more than a million dollars to get elected. That’s just preposterous!”
“Your country is rich. I know you don’t have to pay for
healthcare. I don’t believe they send
people bills for that. That’s insane.”
I hung out with Jorge who took me to a
meeting where the neighborhood was to decide who would live in a new apartment
building they had just built.
“Sofia works hard and cooked for the
workers during construction. She has
three children!” one woman shouted.
“Enrique worked every day for twelve
hours a day. He has earned a place for
him and his new wife!” shouted another.
I also heard a stump speech by a
candidate for province governor in elections we’re told they don’t have. It was contentious and spirited. The speaker was good. But not as good as
Fidel.
I marched with about two million others
in an international parade to protest the U.S. blockade. I marched under an enormous Rainbow Flag held up by myself and dozens of Lesbian and Gay Cubans. El Presidente saluted us when we walked by
the reviewing stand. It was a moment
long-time coming after the period of re-education camps for gay people that had
recently been closed. Sodomy laws
imprisoning gay people were still legal in the U.S. and would remain legal for
another nine years.
There were no statues of Castro, but
statues of poet Jose Marti were so ubiquitous that, as a joke, we would say, “Let’s
meet by the statue of Jose Marti.”
It’s simply wrong to deny that Castro committed
many human atrocities to those who resisted his government. He did.
Nothing that every American president in my lifetime hasn’t done, but
they were still atrocious.
Still higher education and healthcare
and housing and food were not denied to a single Cuban citizen. Something my own country has not managed to
do in 240 years.
So, rest in peace, Fidel. You were far from perfect, but you did do
good. I know the Miami Cubans still hold
a grudge because they couldn’t remain the wealthy elite, but you enriched my
life for sure. Hasta la Victoria,
siempre.