“Cuba sent hundreds of doctors to fight Ebola, and even more to Nepal and Haiti. But you won’t read about that in the New York Times”
Maybe not, but after two weeks in Cuba I’d heard about it alright, and seen it on the state TV news at least three times.
Havana is unlike anywhere I’ve ever been. We spent our first few days with Marta and Denis, an ex aviation engineer in the Fuerzas Armadas de la Revolucion, and a fully signed up loyal supporter of Fidel. Denis’s mother was a domestic servant and his father a park cleaner, and he and his wife would’ve gone on to do the same sort of thing if it wasn’t for the Revolution. Free state education has also meant his daughter is now a doctor and his son a radiologist – there’s no way he could’ve afforded to put them through university the way things were before. They both only earn 40 dollars a month, but have a ration book for basic food and supplies, no university debt and free healthcare. The state subsidises a lot of other stuff so they can get by well enough. Dennis helps them out with the money he gets from renting out a room in his house to foreigners, legalised in the late 90s as part of the drive to boost tourism, now Cuba’s second biggest industry. “Anyone who rents out a room is doing pretty well for themselves, they earn a lot more than a doctor, so those who complain about high government taxes on room rentals need to take a look at themselves. These people are not friends of the revolution.”
Not everyone agrees with Dennis of course – it turns out that a lot of people are not friends of the revolution. Some complain about food shortages or poor living conditions. Others complain that they’ve lived through miserable hardship and just want a shot at earning a bit more money and the luxuries available in the capitalist world. But everyone agrees that the future is bright, and there is excitement about the thaw in relations with the US. Things have changed a lot since the 90s when the fall of the USSR left the country isolated and shortages led to huge civil unrest. And things are going to keep changing for the better, the line goes. Raul was the more militant and belligerent of the Castro brothers so nobody knew what to expect when Fidel stepped back, but he’s been his own man, and more open to change than his brother. The increase in tourism and loosening of restrictions on private enterprise will undoubtedly have it’s casualties, though – we paid some dickhead rudeboy 35 dollars each for a 5 hour drive the other day. There were 7 of us in the car, so for a day’s driving he earned more than 6 times what a doctor earns in a whole month. I can’t see how that’s sustainable, never mind egalitarian.
Walking around Havana is just brilliant. The place is buzzing. 2 million people live here, the vast majority of them in old colonial tenement buildings in complete disrepair – faded grandeur doesn’t even come close. The buildings are 3 stories high and they all look like they’re about to collapse. The concrete is worn, there are rickety wooden doors hanging off the hinges, the stairs inside are on their last legs, there are bricks missing, makeshift clothes lines everywhere, chicken coops on crumbling rooftops, people lowering things down over balconies on ropes, piles of rubble where there used to be buildings, and smelly rubbish bins on every third corner. People spend a lot of time on the streets – it’s the summer holidays so there are kids out playing everywhere (if kids are spotted out of school during term time the parents get a knock on the door from the police and a spell in prison). They’re playing marbles, football, handball, hide and seek, I didn’t see any baseball. Or iPads. There are fruit stalls everywhere as well as bicycle taxis, crowds of lads posing and wolf whistling at passing girls, people peering over their balcony for a nosey at the streets below, and the occasional chancer trying to top up his basic state wage by ripping off tourists. And the classic cars – they’re everywhere, and the novelty of looking at them doesn’t wear off. Cadillacs, Buicks, Fords, and a fair few 1980s soviet ladas. Osvaldo gave us a lift in his 62 year old chevrolet taxi the other day. He reckons he does around 200km a day, and it hardly ever breaks down. The embargo means Chevrolet parts are not an option, so it’s held together with whatever car parts he can get his hands on.
Getting out of Havana is like going further back in time. In Viñales, a farming town right in the middle of tobacco growing country, you feel like you’re in 1950s Deep South America. Pensioners sit on their porches all day as the heat slows everything down; there is hardly any farm machinery so the bulls do all the work; people get around in classic cars, bicycles, motorbikes with side carriages and 50s style helmets, and horse and cart. Or ox and cart. Grass is cut with a scythe and campesinos carry big knives, wear sombreros and smoke cigars.
Getting around is easy, the roads are decent and it costs 0.87 dollars for a litre of Venezuela’s finest, diesel only. There are always people hitching at the side, in true cooperative style, while holding out a few pesos nacionales, in true capitalist style. There’s no advertising here but there are plenty of billboards at the side of the roads comparing the embargo to genocide, or with images of Che and Fidel reminding everyone how great the revolution is, and that the people will not be defeated. As we approached the bay of pigs they got even more frequent – “this is where the mercenaries arrived”, and “this is where the people arrived to defend socialism”. As the internet is ridiculously expensive to get here all the information comes from state owned media, and from Cuban American cousins who come back on holiday and go around splashing the cash like they’re Tony Montana. “All a lie”, says Denis. “The Miami lot forget to mention that they’re working three jobs and have no quality of life”.
As the country opens up to tourism you can sense a big effort to impress foreigners. There are strict regulations on the home stays – if something goes missing from the house you’re in the state will reimburse you. Until recently there was a law that said locals couldn’t even talk to tourists in the street, out of fear of them getting ripped off and taking away a bad impression. There are still long prison sentences if you’re caught conning a foreigner. You probably won’t be caught by a policeman, though, at least not a uniformed one, as there aren’t a lot about. It’s more likely you’ll be spotted by someone undercover in a bar, or a member of the CDR – Committee for the Defence of the Revolution. They’re the supposedly democratically elected local community groups who send local concerns upwards to the powers that be. Or as other people see it, they’re the eyes and ears of the Communist party at street level, watching over everyone 1984 style. Either way, they are well represented in all communities, going by the door stickers and signs all over the walls.
The tourist area in Havana is well established as well – the buildings here have been maintained and restored, and you can’t go into a bar or restaurant without being tortured by the same Buena Vista Social Club songs and the same foreigners dancing around with the singer. The Cubans don’t seem to go in for it, the younger ones preferring the same terrible Latin RnB that’s popular across South America – whoever invented that brutal voice effect has a lot to answer for. The guide books all say that Cubans are party animals, but as the street lights gradually go off in Havana and the place is left in semi darkness, it doesn’t really feel like it.
We witnessed a bit of history while we were here – we’d just finished breakfast and the fella we were staying with was waxing lyrical about how Cuba is a corrupt lie and everyone wants out, when all of a sudden he heard something on the TV and dropped everything to listen. Along with his partner and the three workies who were fixing his window grill, the whole country sat glued to the TV in silence for the next half an hour as the news presenter read out a statement from Raul and then cut to Obama’s speech. The date for the embassies reopening has been set, and everyone is excited. “They’re delighted because as soon as they can they’re getting out of here” he told me, pointing at the work men.
There was then an argument about exactly what it all meant in the short and medium term. “They’re gonna close Guantanamo! Don’t be ridiculous the place is surrounded in mines and they don’t know what to do with the inmates – that’ll take years. They’re gonna stop the embargo next week! No they’re not this is just the reopening of diplomatic relations – you need to wake up!” One of the boys asked me if I thought he’d be eating Big Macs within a month. He didn’t care when I warned him they’re rank, it’s the freedom to eat one he wants more than anything. His brother lives in Russia – “still more or less a communist state” – and he gets unlimited internet for only 25 euros a month! Funny how back home we’re getting massively ripped off by the telecommunications companies and all this fella wants is to be ripped off as little as us.
One early development will be an increase in tourism. At the minute if an American is caught with a Cuban stamp in their passport they get a massive fine, so they stamp a separate piece of paper instead. That’ll all change in the next couple of years, with plans already in place for US cruises to the white sand beach resorts on the northern coast. And they will be welcomed with open arms – there are already USA flags on cars alongside the Cuban ones, and you see plenty of T shirts with the Stars and Stripes. There’s very little hostility to Uncle Sam, and nobody is worried that the country will revert back to the days of inequality and poverty before Fidel came in, when it was a playground for rich Americans and the mafia. The money the tourists will bring is important, but not as important as the eventual lifting of the embargo, when Marta will finally be able to buy her niece a decent doll. As well as opening the world up to Cuba’s highly educated population and advanced medical research industry, Denis wants trade with the US to bring investment, grow their economy and improve everyone’s quality of life. “Cubans are good, honest hardworking people, and they deserve a bit more”.
After Cuba we came to Ecuador, where we’ve been constantly approached by young kids running around Quito with shoe shine boxes or selling cigarettes, trying to make enough money to please their overlord, or to earn a piece of cardboard to sleep under that night. Which, for all the complaints, you just don’t see in Fidel’s Cuba of compulsory education, 100% literacy and the highest life expectancy in Latin America.
I wrote this over a year ago but didn’t end up posting it. Sticking it here now in case I want to look back on it at some stage, more than any other reason.
wiseuphi 