Mission Libertad

by Lizette M. Lantigua

  “She is probably at church,” Luisito said, “thinking of us.”

  “You are probably right,” Miguel said, smiling.

  The hours passed but not as quickly as Luisito expected. When there is not much to do, an hour feels like an eternity, he thought. The weather was good and his mood was lighter. He could almost see himself arriving in the United States, the promised land. Despite his good spirits, something nagged at him: it couldn’t be this easy.

  3 TRES

  Around noon, Miguel spotted dark clouds in the sky heading straight for the raft. Luisito felt scared and helpless. There was no place to hide. He couldn’t go under a bridge or down below a ship’s deck. They were out in the open, just waiting for the storm to hit them.

  First, the ocean became agitated. In just a few minutes, the sky grew so dark it looked like night. The wind gusted, rocking the raft like a baby’s cradle. The waves came in stronger and higher every minute.

  “Be careful!” Miguel repeated over and over as he held on to Luisito with one hand and the raft with the other.

  “Amparanos Señor,” Elena prayed, imploring God to protect them, while she clutched the raft with both hands. Luisito felt so small and weak in the face of an angry Mother Nature. He did the only thing he could think of doing. He tried to repeat the prayers he used to hear Abuela say at night, but he couldn’t remember them clearly.

  “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Hail Mary, full of grace. Please help us, Virgen de la Caridad!” Luisito shouted over and over the bits of prayers he could remember.

  “¡Cuidado! Be careful. Hold on!” Miguel shouted every time a wave hit them. The hours seemed endless. Luisito hung on to the raft and tightened the muscles in his stomach to keep from throwing up as the motion made him sick.

  The waves were so high that they hit Luisito and his parents in the face. It was like being slapped. Luisito tried to continue to pray. He knew there was a God somewhere. Would Abuela’s God help them? Would they survive this voyage, or would they make the newspaper headlines like so many other empty rafts found on the shores without their owners?

  Suddenly, as quickly as the storm had come, it began to leave. The wind ceased and the waves calmed down. The sun peeked out again from the clouds. Miguel looked around the raft, taking a quick inventory. They were alive. The raft had not been damaged, and they hadn’t lost their water bottles. They did lose their loaves of bread out into the sea, but they could breathe in peace now.

  “Luisito, don’t worry,” his mother said, reaching out to hug him. “Everything is going to be fine. The worst is over.”

  If only he could believe her.

  Luisito lay back in the raft and closed his eyes. He thought about the storm they had just been through. What if another storm came again at night and they weren’t so lucky? Poor Abuela. She was an agile seventy-two-year-old woman, but she wouldn’t have survived a trip like this. Otherwise, Luisito knew, she would have escaped with them. His chest tightened and a lump formed in his throat as he pictured Abuela, who used to stand long hours in line under the hot sun waiting to get food at the grocery store. He called to mind each detail of his grandmother’s tanned skin and wrinkled face.

  “Do you think Abuela will be okay?” Luisito asked, breaking the silence.

  “Oh, your grandmother is a woman of strong character. She will be fine,” Miguel said. “As soon as we get to the United States we can worry about getting Abuela out of Cuba.”

  His words frightened Luisito. What would happen to Abuela if they didn’t make it to the United States? He pushed those thoughts out of his head and tried to think of his dear grandmother smiling and telling him stories about the good old days. She told him stories of how middle-class Cuban families would gather socially in country clubs. There they would enjoy the beach, rent cabanas, and eat lunch by the ocean. Those were happy days for Elena and her parents.

  Then things gradually got worse. Lusito’s grandfather, Luis Jemot, was a well-known attorney in Havana. One day, two police officers came to his office to question him. They took him to a nearby prison for more questioning. Abuela was able to visit him in jail for the next few days. Then one day when she arrived, she was informed he had died suddenly of a heart attack. But other prisoners told Abuela that he had been beaten to death.

  “Mami, do you think Abuela will get angry crowds in front of the house because we left?” Luisito asked. “Remember the actos de repudio, the group of people recruited by the government to harass those leaving Cuba? They called the bodeguero’s son, Ivan, gusano!” Gusano, or worm, was the nickname some used to insult Cubans who wanted to leave the island.

  “No, they did that to Nico, the manager of the bodega, to set an example since everyone knows him in the barrio,” Miguel said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. They all nodded in agreement, falling silent. The sun hid behind the backdrop of the clouds and night fell. The stars twinkled in the most beautiful display they had ever seen. Luisito wished upon the largest one.

  “What did Abuela say to you before we left?” Elena asked, interrupting Luisito’s thoughts.

  “A long good-bye,” Luisito said, hoping his mother would not probe any further. Abuela had entrusted him with a secret. Something he must do as soon as he arrived in Florida.

  4 CUATRO

  The raft rode steadily in the morning sun. Luisito couldn’t tell where the ocean ended and the sky began. He still couldn’t believe this was actually happening to him. He kept thinking that maybe he would wake up soon in his sofa bed. Abuela would joke with him as she prepared his breakfast of water with sugar and some leftover bread. But no … even today, his desk at school would be empty. He would be marked absent, and his friends would think he was at home sick. They would never imagine he was floating on a raft in the middle of the ocean!

  Luisito wondered if he would ever see his friends again. They had been such an important part of his life until only a few days ago.

  Lunch and dinner came and went with nothing but water to drink. Luisito didn’t feel weak, but he was very hungry.

  Night fell again, and his father used a small kitchen knife to carve another line on the side of the raft to remind him of how many days they had been at sea. With the night came a steady breeze. They used the sheets to keep out the chill.

  “What is that?” Luisito said as he felt a nudge on the side of the raft.

  “Is it a shark?” Elena gasped, looking at Miguel.

  Suddenly the creature leaped out of the water. It wasn’t a shark. It was a dolphin, and as they looked even more dolphins appeared! They were all swimming in circles around the raft.

  “I think they’re protecting us!” Luisito smiled.

  “That means there are sharks not so far away,” Elena said wearily.

  “Look at them, Papi!” Luisito said in amazement.

  “They are really something!” Miguel replied.

  After a few hours, the dolphins disappeared and Luisito fell asleep, slumped on the raft next to his mother. He hoped the dolphins were smart enough to know the sharks were gone. What if the next nudge he felt was that of a shark?

  When the sun rose the next morning it looked so close Luisito felt he could reach out and touch it from the raft. Everything seemed less frightening in the daylight. He was glad it was another day and he was still alive. They had more sips of water. He was so hungry! Suddenly, a loud screeching sound came from the motor—and then there was silence.

  “What was that?” Luisito gasped.

  “The motor … it’s stopped!” his father said in a worried voice. “¡Que barbaridad!”

  “Can we fix it, Papi?”

  Miguel leaned over the side of the raft to inspect the motor. After several tense minutes he turned back to Luisito and Elena.

  “The motor is very hot and I’m afraid to say it, but the motor oil has leaked out from the corroded drain plug. I see the oil floating in the water. ¡Caramba!” he exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair. “It�
��s ruined. I can’t get it to work again!”

  “¿Ay no qué hacemos?” said Elena. “What are we going to do?”

  “Don’t worry, Mami,” Luisito said, holding her by the shoulders.

  Miguel placed his hands on his face for a few minutes, as if thinking. Then he took a deep breath.

  “Okay, no need to panic,” he said. “Let’s keep rowing. I had hoped the old motor wouldn’t break down, but I’m prepared. I brought the oars, and as soon as there is some wind I will put up the fabric and we can sail.”

  Without another word, father and son began to take turns rowing. They wanted to get as far as possible during the day. Luisito rowed fast. He hadn’t known he could row that fast!

  “Let’s not panic,” Miguel said. “Slow down so you won’t burn out. Keep it steady and then rest. Then you can row some more.”

  The sun was hotter than ever, or maybe it just felt like that because Luisito was rowing. It was burning his fair skin. His feet, too, were getting red and a bit swollen. He felt dizzy and nauseated. They fell into a rhythm of rowing and stopping at intervals to rest. Miguel took off his shirt and wet it. He handed it to Luisito.

  “Here, put it on your head so you won’t dehydrate,” he said.

  Luisito felt the cool relief of the wet shirt on his hot head. He glanced at his mother. She looked weak.

  “Have some water, Mami,” Luisito said, giving her the last of his water.

  “No, that is for you, son,” Elena said.

  “No, Mami. I’m all right, please!” Luisito pleaded.

  Miguel nodded at her. Elena took the water and seemed a little better.

  Night fell upon them again and the chilly breeze hit Luisito. He felt sharp pains in his arms from rowing, but the mere thought of sharks and other dangers pushed him to continue.

  “Don’t row so fast,” Miguel repeated.

  Elena opened and closed her eyes as she rested, huddled on the raft. Father and son took a longer rest from rowing and drifted, letting the waves sway the raft along its way. Finally, Luisito’s eyes closed and he fell asleep.

  After what seemed like just a few hours, Luisito awoke to see the sun peeking out from under the clouds. There was a gentle breeze, and Miguel put up the bed sheet to use as a sail. The breeze took them swiftly along.

  Then suddenly Miguel spotted something on the horizon.

  “¡Mira! A ship!” Miguel exclaimed. They all waved their arms. Elena sat up from her crouched position and waved. The raft almost tipped over. But the ship did not appear to see them.

  “¡Aquí! ¡Aquí!” Luisito screamed.

  “¡Miren! ¡Miren acá!” Miguel shouted. “Please look this way!

  “Over here!” Elena waved frantically.

  “Can’t they see us?” Miguel said.

  “No! Wait!” Elena cried as the ship moved farther and farther away.

  Could the crew not see them or were they ignoring them? A mix of emotions was bubbling inside the Ramirez family. Nobody said what they were all thinking: How much longer can we survive on the open sea with no food and no water? Are we really going to make it?

  The tension that had built up inside Miguel finally came out. He buried his hands in his face and cried. Luisito could only see his father’s shoulders moving up and down as he sobbed. Elena and Luisito hugged him and wept as well.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t have attempted this trip,” Miguel said as he wiped tears from his eyes. “What have I put my family through?”

  “Miguel, this was our decision,” Elena said, very determined. “You know we couldn’t continue living in Cuba in constant fear, at least for Luisito’s sake.”

  Her face had more color than a few hours ago. Luisito noticed how much his mom reminded him of Abuela— beautiful and fragile but strong when she needed to be. They all sat in the raft silently, drifting without direction.

  5 CINCO

  Hours passed, or maybe they were minutes. Luisito had lost all sense of time. It was so hot. He felt dizzy and light-headed. He reached for the water container, forgetting it was empty. His heart was beating rapidly, his muscles ached from rowing, and all he could think about was cold water running down his dry throat. Suddenly, he couldn’t take it any longer. He cupped his hands and reached out to drink the salty ocean water.

  “No, Luisito!” Elena said.

  “It will make you sick, son,” Miguel said as he reached out to stop him.

  “Leave me alone. I need water!” Luisito said wildly. His parents exchanged worried looks. Luisito was beginning to demonstrate the symptoms of heatstroke.

  Miguel held his son back to prevent him from drinking more ocean water. He knew that his son was suffering from dehydration. He had to keep him cool without letting him drink the salty ocean water. He turned around to get his t-shirt wet and put it on Luisito’s head when he heard a splash and Elena’s loud gasp.

  “Ay, Luisito!” Elena yelled, covering her face with her hands. Luisito had fallen overboard.

  “Elena, help me!” Miguel shouted as he reached for his son’s hands, flailing in the water.

  Luisito’s body was so hot from the burning sun that the warm water actually felt freezing. His feet felt too heavy to move.

  “Oh, no!” he heard his mother scream repeatedly.

  “Papi!” Luisito cried out as waves splashed into his mouth.

  “Luisito, grab my hand!” Miguel said.

  Luisito could see his father’s hand like a blurry image between the waves, but each time he tried to grab it, the raft bumped into him and pushed him back.

  Miguel reached for one of the oars and thrust it into the water. Luisito grabbed it and Miguel pulled him close to the raft. Then he extended his hand. Luisito felt the current push him toward the raft. He grabbed his father’s fingertips.

  Miguel took hold of his son by the waist and Elena helped him haul the boy into the raft. His weight almost caused it to tip over.

  Both parents embraced Luisito and cried. Luisito wanted to cry, too, but for some reason tears didn’t come. He kept coughing as his mother massaged his back.

  “Mami … ,” Luisito whispered.

  “Don’t worry, hijo, everything will be fine,” Elena said, not believing her own words anymore.

  Luisito laid his head down on the wooden surface and pressed his mother’s hand. They drifted for a few more hours. They all felt emotionally drained.

  “Are you feeling better?” Miguel asked Luisito later.

  “I don’t feel very well,” Luisito replied with a helpless expression.

  Then, out of nowhere, they heard a noise. It came closer and closer through the waves.

  “It’s a boat heading right to us!” he shouted.

  “No, I can’t believe it!” Elena said, weeping—this time out of joy.

  Miguel frantically waved his hands, rocking the raft. Luisito weakly waved one hand, smiling at last.

  “It’s the U.S. Coast Guard!” said Miguel joyfully.

  Luisito was too weak to get up, but his parents hugged and cried over him. The Coast Guard cutter approached them and its crew helped each one get on board. They gave the family water and warm blankets.

  “Sip slowly. It might make you throw up,” Elena said to Luisito when he tried to gulp down the water.

  “Where are you from?” asked an officer in a white uniform who was wearing rubber gloves. “The captain of a passing cruise ship spotted your raft and called us.”

  “Cuba. Coming for liberty,” Miguel said in broken English. Now he realized why the ship hadn’t picked them up. Several other men asked them questions.

  “He is not feeling very well,” Elena said in Spanish, interrupting the conversation and pointing to Luisito.

  “No se preocupe,” replied one of the officers, who proceeded to take Luisito’s vital signs.

  “He is dehydrated. We need to get him on an IV,” he said to the others.

  “¿Que dijo del niño?” Elena said, inquiring about her son.

  “He wil
l be fine, Ma’am, don’t worry,” the officer told Elena in Spanish.

  He then approached Miguel and asked him many questions about Cuba and about their health prior to the trip. He told the family they were about thirty miles south of Key West, Florida.

  Once they reached land, an ambulance transported them to the Coast Guard station in Key West. With Luisito on a stretcher, they entered a white building, going down a long hallway and into a waiting room. Luisito observed many men and women in uniform walking up and down the hallway and into small offices. It made him nervous. He wanted to get off the stretcher.

  “I am feeling better already,” he said, but the officer insisted that he not walk. They found a wheelchair for Luisito and his bottle of IV fluid. He was then rolled into a small room.

  Immediately, a doctor holding some files walked in. The doctor was tall and in his mid-forties. Luisito was afraid. He didn’t want to be examined by a strange foreign doctor. His father had always taken care of him in Cuba. What if they gave him shots and he couldn’t even ask questions because his English was not very good?

  “¿Cuantos años tienes, Luisito?” Dr. Gonzalez asked.

  “I am fourteen years old,” he answered. “And you speak Spanish?”

  Luisito felt suddenly at ease.

  “Si, and I am Cuban as well,” the doctor said. “Now with this IV all the fluids you lost will be replenished.”

  “You are Cuban?” Luisito asked.

  Dr. Gonzalez told Luisito how he had left Cuba right before the revolution. His family had arrived in San Antonio, Texas, to visit an uncle who played baseball in this country. They had heard of the unrest, and his father had decided to stay a little longer. They never returned to Cuba.

  “Oh, my,” Luisito marveled at the thought that this doctor was Cuban and he spoke English. Luisito had heard stories from the teachers at his school that Cubans outside the island were not much better off in the United States, but Luisito saw that Dr. Gonzalez was working in this great big facility and that he had really nice shoes.