RIP Fidel

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.