Mission Libertad

by Lizette M. Lantigua

  About a half-hour later, they arrived at Maricusa’s house with a police officer escorting them. By now the whole family was worried sick. It had been three hours since they left for the grocery store.

  “What happened?” José ran toward the kids and the officer.

  “Thank God, you’re safe!” Rosie said, limping toward them and hugging them.

  The officer asked to come into the house, and they all took a seat to hear him explain. Luisito could see many of the neighbors on the block whispering. He knew that as soon as the policeman left they would have many visitors and that this story would be retold many times.

  “They had my permission,” Rosie admitted. “I was going to take them myself but then I hurt my foot. I’m sorry, but I had to do my part for our Cuban people here, and I couldn’t betray Luisito or Tía Maria Elena’s trust.”

  “There is always more to your grandmother than we can ever imagine!” Miguel said, smiling at Luisito.

  The family had been invited to a special Mass in honor of the arrival of the statue of Our Lady of Charity in Miami. The statue would be unveiled for all to see. Luisito and his family walked into a massive stadium for the Mass in honor of the feast day of Our Lady of Charity. The soft breeze eased the warm temperature. The bleachers at Miami Stadium were packed. All Luisito could hear were Spanish words being spoken with Cuban accents by those around him. He observed how a television reporter covering the event estimated the crowd at 30,000 people.

  The Mass was celebrated in English by Archbishop Coleman Carroll and a group of other priests. In the entrance procession, the statue of Our Lady of Charity was carried on a pedestal by several young men who had come to the United States as part of the Pedro Pan exodus in the early 1960s. The pedestal was adorned with flowers. They carried her all the way to the altar that had been set up in the stadium. The image had been carefully cleaned, her hair combed, and her new white dress sewn with lace trimmings. The crowd cheered and people wept as they gazed on the image, and many waved white handkerchiefs. Many of the children knelt as she passed and greeted her by making the sign of the cross.

  At the end of the Mass the crowd went wild, clapping loudly nonstop as Archbishop Carroll blessed them and sent them off with the only two words he knew in Spanish, “¡Buenas noches!”

  Filled with emotion, Archbishop Carroll began to cry, and so did Luisito as he hugged his mother.

  Luisito felt great pride and satisfaction that he had helped to bring the original copy of this statue to the Cuban exiles. When he lived in Cuba, he wasn’t able to do much about anything. Here in the United States, he could make a real difference. He was sitting in a row with his parents, Rosie, and their Miami relatives. Luisito fingered the beautiful silver pocket crucifix he had received from Father René Jesus for his help in bringing the statue to safety.

  Luisito had never seen so many people crying. So many Cubans in the United States were wishing for Cuba to be free and praying for those they had been forced to leave behind. His was not the only family separated. There were thousands of people who still awaited their parents, spouses, and other relatives who had not received permission to leave. La Virgen de la Caridad del Cobre gave them hope.

  39 TREINTA Y NUEVE

  The arrest of the Cuban men who tried to steal the statue of Our Lady of Charity and the possibility that they were indeed spying for the Cuban government was much talked about at Luisito’s house, but it only made a paragraph in the international section of most U.S. newspapers.

  Luisito was concerned about Abuela and the repercussions that the situation might cause for her back home. The family had requested a call to Cuba and were waiting for the operator to connect them. They could not just pick up the phone and call Cuba because there was no direct line. This was the third time they had tried. The previous times the operator said no one was answering, which caused them even more anxiety.

  Although concerned, the family went on with Christmas plans, hoping that they would hear from Abuela soon. José and Miguel came out with some boxes of lights and ornaments to decorate Maricusa and Manuel’s front lawn. Many of the neighbors already had lights on their roofs and nativity scenes, plastic snowmen, and reindeer in their yards.

  Luisito noticed something he hadn’t realized before. Many of the houses on their block had wreaths on the door. These circular arrangements where just like the ones he’d seen at the funerals in Cuba.

  “What does this mean, José?” Luisito asked, pointing to the wreath they were about to place on the door. “Did you buy this corona at the funeral home?”

  “At the funeral home! Oh, no, coronas, or crowns, are used for funerals in Cuba, but in America they’re for decoration,” José said, laughing. “These are called Christmas wreaths. It’s an American tradition.”

  “Really?” Luisito said, laughing. “If my friends back home only knew about this!”

  Miguel asked José to help him untangle the Christmas lights to place around the house. Rosie and Elena were helping Maricusa prepare dinner inside. Although concern for Abuela still weighed heavy on their minds, they wanted to celebrate the birth of Jesus. It was Luisito’s first Christmas ever, since the celebration of Christmas was forbidden in Cuba.

  Sonia arrived in the kitchen and started preparing the Christmas eggnog. Tommy and Luisito were almost finished decorating the Christmas tree. Maricusa and Manuel called them over to see the beautiful Nacimiento. They had all worked a little bit each night on preparing an elaborate nativity set on one side of the living room.

  “Mi niño,” Maricusa said, hugging Luisito. “My dear boy, don’t you worry about your abuela. I know you are thinking about her. We all are, but I learned a long time ago that she is very resourceful, a very clever woman with a lot of faith.”

  “Thank you,” Luisito said, nodding in agreement.

  “I’m sure she is all right and wants you to enjoy her favorite holiday!” Maricusa said.

  “Why don’t you put the star on the tree, Abuelo,” Sonia asked while holding her camera.

  “Let Miguel do it,” Manuel said. “This is his first Christmas in a free land.”

  Miguel thanked him but said he thought it would be best for Luisito to do it. “It’s Luisito’s first Christmas celebration ever.”

  Luisito didn’t even have to stand on the stepping stool. As he hung the star everyone applauded and Rosie turned the tree lights on. What a sight! Luisito looked around at his family in the bright glow of the tree. He felt a lump on his throat. He wanted to cry but held it in.

  After so many years of living in Cuba with just his parents and grandmother, Luisito now felt so much a part of a large family who cared deeply for him. The Christmas music and the laughter of his family, the lit tree, and the aroma of the food coming from the oven— these were the kind of dreams he had often had in Cuba. A short but heartfelt prayer came spontaneously: Thank you, God. Thank you.

  The doors of the house reminded Luisito of a hotel’s revolving doors as his family, friends, and neighbors came to visit. They arrived balancing trays of food covered with aluminum foil and wrapped Christmas presents of different shapes.

  Two long tables were set in the dining room, with a round one by the living room for the younger crowd. Manuel suggested that Miguel say the prayer before the meal.

  “Thank you, God, for bringing us here,” said Miguel, his voice choking with emotion. “We are truly blessed. Thank you for a wonderful family that has welcomed and helped us in this new and wonderful country. Please be with Maria Elena in these difficult times. Bless us and this food which we are about to receive. Be with our family and friends in Cuba. May our next Christmas be in a free Cuba!”

  “¡Viva Cuba libre!” yelled an elderly uncle from across the table.

  “¡Viva!” yelled the other adults raising their cups.

  “They repeat the same thing every year,” whispered Sonia to Luisito.

  “What do they repeat?” Luisito asked.

  “The part about spen
ding the next Christmas in Cuba, and then they yell viva Cuba libre,” Sonia said. “They’ve done it for as long as I can remember. Do they ever get tired? I mean, of wishful thinking, year after year.”

  Luisito just grinned at her. He realized that while he was in Cuba thinking that his family in the United States had forgotten them, they had been praying and hoping to be reunited. Then he remembered Abuela all alone in their apartment. He hoped she knew that they were praying for her.

  After dinner, they opened presents. Luisito received some new clothes and a really nice watch from the Galleti family, and a beautiful framed picture of Our Lady of Charity from Maricusa and Manuel. Before he could let it all sink in, it was time for group pictures.

  Then everyone drove to Saint Timothy Church in southwest Miami for midnight Mass. The church, while elegant, felt small and cozy. The sweet voices of the school-children made Luisito feel he was surrounded by angels. The music swelled from soft and melodious to loud and joyful. Bright red poinsettias and beautiful porcelain statues of Saint Joseph and the Blessed Mother carrying the infant Jesus adorned the altar.

  The smell of pine trees set around the altar permeated the room. Everything was so blissful—bells ringing, the organ playing, and trumpets sounding. Luisito prayed that Abuela would join them soon. He prayed hard. Sometimes he wished he were back in a free Havana. He missed his birthplace—but other times, like tonight, he felt he never wanted to go back. This country was becoming his home and he loved it.

  40 CUARENTA

  On New Year’s Eve, back in Maryland, Luisito woke up to shrieks and laughter. Elena was holding a letter from Abuela postmarked early December.

  Dear Luisito, my beautiful daughter Elena, and my wonderful son-in-law Miguel,

  I hope you are preparing for this wonderful time when we await the birth of el Niño, Jesus! Prepare, prepare! Muchos cariños, all my love, to my sister Maricusa, Rosie, and the whole family. I am fine. Do not worry about me. This is the season of hope and the new year will bring with it many good things.

  Hugs and kisses, Abuela

  Exodus 32:1–35

  “There she goes again!” Luisito exclaimed. “This is the part of the clue that we haven’t figured out yet. We need to prepare for something!”

  “I wonder what she is talking about?” Elena said.

  “Well, whatever it is, she is way smarter than all of us because none of us can decipher it,” Tommy added.

  “I will call Father René de Jesús and let him know that she is still mentioning it,” Luisito said, reaching for the phone.

  Everyone paused for a moment, but then they continued taking turns wondering what Abuela meant by the message in the letter.

  “Father René de Jesús can’t figure it out, either,” Luisito said after finishing his phone call. “I spoke to his secretary, Sister Therese, and she said not knowing the code makes her feel very uneasy.”

  Preparations for New Year’s Eve continued. Luisito was separating groups of twelve grapes into tiny bowls for all the family and friends who were gathered at Rosie’s house for the celebration. It was a Hispanic tradition that when the clock struck midnight, they would all eat their grapes and make wishes for the new year.

  Sherry was invited to the gathering. She was wearing a bright lime-green dress. Luisito wore one of Tommy’s dark brown suits.

  “You should be so proud of yourself, Lewis,” Sherry said. “Your family must be very pleased that you were able to help keep the statue of our Lady safe! Really, how many times does anyone have the opportunity to do something so meaningful? My life is boring compared to yours!”

  “Everyone’s life is meaningful,” Luisito said, smiling. “We all have a purpose that only God knows.”

  Five minutes before midnight Sonia lowered the music, and everyone gathered around the TV set to see the New Year’s countdown from New York’s Times Square. Even the lights were lowered so that only the glow of the color TV brightened the dim room.

  “Three, two, one … Happy New Year! 1980!” Everyone in the room cheered. Luisito gave Sherry a hug.

  “I have your Christmas present,” he said. “I know it’s late, but I wanted you to have this.” He took out a small package and handed it to her.

  Sherry tore off the wrapping paper and opened the small box. Inside she found a gold chain with a beautiful, delicate medal of Our Lady of Charity.

  “It’s beautiful!” she whispered. “It will always remind me of the brave Cuban boy I know.”

  Luisito reached out and gave her a hug. Her hair smelled of lavender. She smiled back at him and they walked over toward Elena and Miguel on the other side of the room. Luisito saw the tears in his mother’s eyes and knew that she was sharing in his mixed feelings about this new year. He was sure that great things would happen in 1980, but there was always the uncertainty of tomorrow. Who would have known that last year would involve an escape from Cuba and a move to the United States? What would happen to Abuela in the coming year?

  “Everything is going to be all right, Mami,” Luisito said. He wasn’t sure he believed his own words, but somehow in a strange way he trusted. He hugged his parents.

  The chatter continued and the music played. Luisito went to get his bowl of grapes. He had only one wish— that Abuela would be safe.

  41 CUARENTA Y UNO

  Mati took Abuela to the Peruvian embassy, where the cook and his kitchen staff found room for her. She requested political asylum at the embassy and hid for days in an office with a sofa bed. One day as she was talking to a woman in the office, they heard a terrible sound. It shook the ground. A bus had intentionally crashed into the iron gates of the embassy. She heard people screaming and running into the Peruvian embassy seeking political asylum; others who were just walking by saw the gates wide open and seized the opportunity to run inside. Children and parents were jumping the other side of the fence to come in. It was just as Mati had predicted, based on all the comments she had heard about the people’s desperation.

  Abuela was frightened. She had never seen so many hundreds of desperate people, all running inside with small children and babies. They remained inside the embassy for several weeks. It was a very unpleasant time, because the crowd was hungry, confused, and anxiety-ridden.

  “Is there anything to eat?” they would plead.

  There was no way to obtain food for so many people. The crowd began to eat the fruit hanging from the trees on the grounds and even the leaves from the bushes.

  The Peruvian ambassador, in order to provide assistance, started emptying all the food from the pantry and kitchen. As the weeks wore on, people ate anything they could find, even raw potatoes! It was not ordinary hunger, but one that gnawed deep inside the pit of the stomach. They were weak and they would eat anything to survive.

  Mati had decided to remain at the embassy and ask for political asylum as well. She was friends with the cook, who helped her sneak food to the room where Abuela remained hiding. She and Abuela would eat the dry leftover rice, bread, and even potato skins. But Abuela could not bear to see the people suffering from hunger. She went to the kitchen and asked the cook for chicken bones and onions. She cut up pieces of hard bread and chopped the onions that were left. They put it all in a pot and simmered it to make some soup. She helped fill bowls; then they washed them and filled them again for the rest of the people. The soup wasn’t much, but it was warm and had flavor.

  Then, surprisingly, the Cuban government gave permission for people from the United States to pick up their relatives on boats. One day, they called Mati to leave in a boat. Mati grabbed Abuela and took her with her. There was so much commotion that no one realized they were leaving. Abuela prayed all along the way. What she feared so much was now her destiny: a boat and the open seas. She prayed as she faced a crowd that was yelling and throwing rocks at her and all the others who were leaving.

  Despite everything, she felt calm and peaceful. In the midst of the violence all around her, she knew that God was with her
. She clutched her rosary as she made way toward the boat. The first lines of Psalm 27 that Abuela had read so many times came spontaneously to her mind: The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear? The Lord is my life’s refuge; of whom should I be afraid?

  The man checking names on a clipboard before boarding didn’t even notice when Mati pulled Abuela into the boat with her. Abuela mingled with strangers. She didn’t see anyone familiar. As the boat embarked, Abuela felt as if she were in some kind of dream—or nightmare.

  42 CUARENTA Y DOS

  After what seemed to Luisito like a very long winter, spring finally came. Everyone in the neighborhood was playing outside, walking and jogging around the neighborhood, and planting anything green, pink, and purple. It was as if the town had come alive with color.

  “Oh my!” Luisito heard his mother yell from the living room.

  “I can’t believe it!” his father echoed.

  He heard the commotion grow louder and came running down the stairs to see what was going on. He couldn’t make out what his relatives were saying.

  “Look at that,” Tommy said, glued to the TV set.

  “It’s amazing!” said Sonia, still in her pajamas.

  “What happened?” Luisito asked. A breaking news segment showed people in Miami, some in their cars honking their horns, others running through the streets with signs that read Cuba Libre! A Free Cuba!

  People of all ages were shown waving the Cuban single-star flag out their car windows. Some people being interviewed in the streets were choked up with emotion.

  “This may be the end of communism in Cuba!” an agitated man said. “The Cuban people can’t stand it anymore!”

  The newscaster began talking about reports of a Cuban bus crashing into the Peruvian embassy. When the bus crashed, toppling the iron gate, hundreds of Cuban people took refuge inside, begging for political asylum. Now boat after boat was arriving in Cuba to pick up refugees and take them to Miami.