This is my first entry into what will become the American perspective on my past and future illicit journey's into the mysterious, tropical paradise called Cuba.
I will take you into the heart of the world's longest reigning dictatorship, illuminating the facets of everyday life, hopes, dreams and sufferings of my beloved Cuban people. I have traveled extensively throughout the country, documenting my journey, so that we, the people of the free world may get a glimpse at the reality behind Castro's Cuba. There are no human rights. There is no free speech. There are no doctors, for he sold them for Venezuela's oil. The
economy relies upon tourists, and many come for the inexpensive,
beautiful mulattas that line the now decrepit Malecon seawall built in 1901 to line
the oceanfront of Havana. There is where the European sex tourists come to
find some of the most desireable, intelligent women in the world.There is no escape, but there is hope. As long as the sun rises, there is hope.
As the sun falls this day, the shadow lingers long over the frail and sickened leader. His day has come to an end. His revolution has ended. There is no sustaining this farce of an economy, of socialism any longer. His egomaniacal obsession to promote his socialism at every cost has faded to a whimper.
There is no opportunity to earn money, the average salary is 7 dollars a month, while a pair of shoes costs 50 dollars. I have fished with men illegally, pulling nets filled with reef fish, lobster and crab with our bare hands, under the surveillance of police. We sat in the bay, surrounded by children swimming, jumping off the collapsing wooden pier that stretched out a hundred feet from shore. I was instructed to wait to pull up the nets until the police had left there guard, some 3 hours later. We drank rum together, watching the police, they watching us, knowing what we were doing, but unable to stop us in the crowded scenario. The catch we pulled in, contained 100 pounds of fresh fish, the children gleefully helped us pull the nets in, and in an interesting dichotomy, the usually machismo men were forced to accept the willing help of women and girls as we all pulled together the enormous, hole ridden net to the sandy shore.
I will traveling to this city I love so dearly for the Holiday season. I go there to be close to my lover, and to the second family I have adopted. In past Christmas visits, I have noticed that the tradition of Christmas had all but been forgotten. No lights adorning the houses, no Christmas trees, no gift giving. Sadly, my lover told me, "Christmas, is like any other day, we give it no importance". Since the Revolution began, there has been strained relations between the Catholic Church and Castro. Operation Peter Pan, implemented by the CIA in 1960 and 1962 was created to give shelter to children of concerned parents avoiding the indoctrination that Castro would impose upon the youth with Communism. The Catholic Church was seen as an agent of subversion, and branded as an 'enemy of the Revolution' the faith, its' followers, and its institutions were and are, scrutinized, humiliated and punished.
This indoctrination of hate towards the Catholic Church, and organized religon, begins at the youngest age, as I have witnessed. I have seen, state sponsored events, promoting the safe and innocuous message of using a public phone to call for help to relay a more sinister overt message. The message was given to children in a free, Sunday afternoon performance by Cuban Nueva Trova star, Liuba Maria Hevia. Her performance centered around a tale of a young girl, maybe 11, girl finding her true love. The girl was a Cockroach, Isabella, and the Rat, a streetwise Salsa dancing character called Ratoncito. The audience consisted of youths aged 4-14 years old, along with their parents. The event took place in a deliapidated, un airconditioned theatre, called the Riviera. In its' heyday, it was a magnificent structure, built with white rounded, Art Deco stylings that looked like they came from Kubrick's 2001 Space Odyssey. Many of the seats had torn, or missing cushions, the wall paper hung in strands at each side of the stage, which had no formal barrier between the audience and the actors. The idea was that any child, when in danger, should use Tecsa, the state sponsored public pay phone, to call for help.
An innocent message, it seemed. The play began with colorful, improvised costumes of the Cockroach, busy at her budoir, donning makeup, and lamenting that she had no lover. The acting in Cuba is always impressive, for the imagination is used beyond what Americans are accustomed to experiencing. There are seldom props, and costumes are hard to come by, all materials are improvised. The imagination, is the tool that takes the actor and audience on the journey of discovery.
There follows many unsuitable suitors that make the phone call, on the Tecsa phone; the Rumbero, a gallavanting, sweet talking type that is quick to fall in love, and is accustomed to having all the women fall for him. The Cockroach quickly finds out she is but one of his interests. The bear, a borish homebody that is quickly dismissed. The sneaky American Wolf, that had come to prey on her innocence, he is instantly recognized, and booed off stage by all in attendance. Then the Ratoncito, that professes his love, but through a miscommunication loses her faith.
Throughout the play, there is much Rumba, Salsa, and even Guanguanco. These are dances celebrated by all Cuban people. To see 5 year olds dancing with such grace and charisma is a wonder to behold.
When the Ratoncito and the Cockroach are finally united there is a mock marriage ceremony where, a dorkish looking priest comes to consecrate the act.
It is noteworthy to see that the priest is seen in a stereotypical black robe, a mortar cap, oversized, ridiculous chinese eye glasses, and holding a bell.
As soon as the priest begins the ceremony, the bell is rung, Latin is pronounced unintelligibly, and the ridicule begins. It was a sad moment to see the accepted ridicule begun by children in the circle towards the priest. As they laugh, I understand the message. Religon is ridiculous, it is false, we mock it.
This was the defining moment for me, when I saw the agenda of socialist indoctrination thrust upon the innocent youths gathered that day. This is why Peter Pan happened. This my friends, is the tip of the iceberg.