Cuba Diaries

by Isadora Tattlin

  Miguel’s wife answers my questions in quiet monosyllables, hardly raising her voice above a murmur.

  “She is embarrassed that she cannot get up from the bed, that she cannot offer you anything,” Estrella whispered to me before we left our house to come here.

  “It is good you have a light, pleasant room to stay in,” I say to Miguel’s wife, taking a cafecito off a tray brought by Estrella from her apartment.

  “We are very lucky,” she murmurs.

  “You are lucky,” I say.

  IV. 83

  The official dining area of the Palacio de la Revolución is beautiful in a 1960s-seat-of-power-in-the-tropics kind of way, with large islands of space on the ground floor that are not floored with marble, but filled with minijungles of native plants. Nick and I and the president of Energy Consulting International sit at a large table among the minijungles with Fidel Castro and twenty other people—some foreigners, but mostly high-ranking members of the nomenklatura.

  The president of Energy Consulting International says to Fidel that he doesn’t agree with his belief that globalization is a bad thing.

  There is a shifting as the high-ranking members of the nomenklatura who have sunk in their seats prepare to push themselves back up. They wait to see if Fidel will keep talking, but Fidel stays silent. The members who have sunk push themselves up halfway.

  The president of Energy Consulting International says that globalization will undoubtedly cause trauma and dislocation to many populations in the beginning, but that in the end it is a good thing because it will reduce tensions between nations and it will create jobs.

  “How will it create jobs?” Fidel asks.

  “It will create jobs in the service sector.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, for example . . . even now, because of the computer, many North American banks no longer keep their records in the United States. They keep them in Bangladesh. They can keep them in Bangladesh and use Bangladeshi workers, because in Bangladesh, they speak English.”

  There is a murmur. The members of the nomenklatura who had sunk down in their seats are now all the way up. I have never heard that American banks are doing this. I do not know this because I don’t read current magazines and newspapers. Judging from the rapid adjustments to the expressions on the faces of the members of the nomenklatura around the table, it looks like they don’t know this, either, but are trying to look like they do.

  Fidel pushes out his lower lip, then leans forward and silently checks the faces of the members of the nomenklatura on one side of him and on the other, his eyebrows raised.

  There is silence. “We should all learn English!” Fidel declares merrily, slapping the edge of the table. “Here we were, learning Russian all those years, and while we were learning Russian, the Russians were learning English!”

  IV. 84

  We don’t know what to say to Roberto. It has never happened to us before, to not be able to find a job for someone. We did try. There were the little suspicions about him, but they were never substantiated, and we are sure that if the salary were good enough—say, $150 a month—the little skims here and there (which may or may not have happened) would really not happen anymore.

  “Good luck,” we say.

  There are tears in his eyes.

  IV. 85

  We watch them through the back window of the car in which José is driving us to the airport until we cannot see them anymore—Manuel, Miguel, Concha, Danila, Estrella, Lorena, and Bloqueo, who is squirming in Lorena’s arms, for Lorena is holding one of Bloqueo’s paws and waving it at us.

  Will Manuel and his mujer’s house be requisitioned for the nomenklatura? Will Miguel’s wife’s leg get better? Will Concha’s son motor to Cuba in his yate? Will Danila’s learning-disabled son be discharged from the army? Will Estrella and her husband live long lives in their apartment? Will Lorena’s son get out of jail? Will Bloqueo be petted and loved by those who come after us and die a fat cat at sixteen?

  I want people coming out of Cuba to keep telling me about them always, for I am going to miss them until the end of my days.

  IV. 86

  Juana, the children, and I are in the Cancún airport. Nick is on his way to X—— to get our apartment ready for us there. We go to the newsstand. I buy comic books in English and in Spanish for the children, and the Herald-Tribune, Time, the Economist, and Vogue for me. Juana buys El País and El Nuevo Herald.

  We go to the gift shop. It’s just a plain old Mexican gift shop, but everything looks wonderful, like it always does when you’ve just left Cuba. Juana and I talk about how we want to buy everything in the store. I tell her the impulse subsides after a few days. The important thing is to get over the first wave of wanting to buy. I tell her we have to buy a little something, though, to appease the wave. I buy hand cream for myself, some sandals for the children, and a key chain in the form of a Mexican sombrero for Juana. Juana buys a key chain in the form of a beach ball and gives it to me.

  We go to the coffee shop. We order tacos even though we are not hungry and eat them all. We drink iced tea.

  We walk to the gate for the airplane to Miami. The children sit in chairs, absorbed in their comic books. Juana is reading El País. I wait for the “I’m not in Cuba!” feeling to come—a kind of singing and running in my mind over a mountaintop, like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music, only it should be more this time, with alpine winds and fluffy clouds and hoards of liberated children on either side of me, because we’re not going back and because Juana is with us—but it does not come. It has always come before, in Nassau, Miami, Cancún, and even European airports, as soon as I got off the plane from Cuba. I wait for it and wait for it; it has always come so easily before. This time it’s like being on a swing with my legs pumping, but the swing won’t go.

  It will come, the “I’m not in Cuba!” feeling, but maybe not until we get to the States, or to X——, in the fall. It will come, but not like Julie Andrews.

  We board the plane to Miami.

  Epilogue

  THINGS HAVE CHANGED AND not changed since we were in Cuba.

  Though they have been proposed many times, there are still no provisions for the creation of small and medium private enterprises or independent trade unions. The salaries of professionals such as doctors and architects and of Cubans in other peso-paying jobs continue to be a small fraction of what is made by Cubans in contact with tourists and dollars. Against rising crime, policemen’s salaries have been increased four times. This has led to an enlargement of the police force and a still more visible police presence on the streets.

  Until September 11, 2001, the economy was growing in all sectors but sugar. The number of tourists was expected to rise in 2001 to 1,750,000, to the point that the Union of Artists and Writers worried that the ratio of tourists to natives in some cities would turn integral elements of cubanidad, such as Santeria rites, into nothing more than sanitized shows geared to tourists. The events of September 11 have drastically reduced tourism to Cuba and Cuba’s economic prospects; a subsequent devastating hurricane has delivered a further blow. It is not know at this time when Cuba’s economy will recover.

  Terrorists and natural disasters, however, do not affect the increasing worldwide popularity of Cuban art and music, which continue to be Cuba’s most effective and posititve means for gaining international recognition.

  Independent tourism in the hinterlands continues to be a daunting experience, though Havana sprouts new, well-run hotels. Punishing taxes have caused many paladares to close, but those that remain are ever fancier.

  The U.S. embargo, though softened, continues. The United States has approved Cuban purchases of medicine and food from the United States, but Cuba is still denied access to the loans necessary to buy them. A recent shipment of corn from the United States to Cuba—the first since the beginning of the U.S. embargo—was paid for by Cuba in cash. Though there has been a clampdown by the United States on its citizens’ making unauthor
ized trips to Cuba, there has been, at the same time, a broader definition of authorized trips and greater facilitation of travel to Cuba. The hurdles set before Cubans wishing to travel outside of their country remain very high.

  Cuban history, like the history of most states, is a time line riddled with brackets: brackets within brackets, and brackets that overlap. Simply stated, the brackets mark times in which unexpected things happen. What makes Cuban history different even from the history of other Latin American countries is the extent to which magical realism is allowed to become part of its timeline, both within and outside its brackets of unexpectedness.

  Without a doubt, the most distinct bracket of time since we left Cuba has been the Elián González period, when Cubans on both sides of the Straits of Florida fought over the fate of one little boy. The case might have been concluded quickly had it not been for the seemingly miraculous circumstances of the boy’s survival. Elián came to be equated with La Virgen de la Caridad del Cobre herself, with Moses, with Elegguá, the opener of roads (who is often portrayed as a child), and with the child-savior of Ifa (one of the five branches of Santeria) oracles, who, it was predicted, would arrive by sea. As if that were not enough, Elián was also found on Thanksgiving Day. And so the figure of Elián manages to be syncretic not only in an Afro-Cuban sense but also in an Afro-Cuban-yanqui sense, hitherto unheard of.

  Since Cuba has repossessed Elián, the leadership of the Cuban-American National Foundation has been replaced by a more moderate, younger generation. And on September 12, 2001, Raúl Castro presided over a rally of “solidarity with the American people over the tragedy they are living through.” Manipulations aside, the fact is that Elián is growing up with his one remaining parent in his native land. His future there becomes harder to imagine every day. Still, one cannot have lived in Cuba without being affected by magical realism oneself, without believing it a distinct possibility that Elián, growing up, will experience more miracles. And maybe they won’t even have to be miracles.

  February 2002

  Glossary

  agua mala: “bad water,” microorganisms in the sea that cause raised welts on the skin of sea bathers

  agro, agropecuario: fruit, vegetable, lamb, and pork market

  apagón: blackout

  babalao: Santeria priest

  balsa: raft

  balsero: rafter

  barrio: neighborhood

  blumes: underpants

  bodega: neighborhood food store where Cubans shop, using ration cards

  bohio: hut

  boniato: sweet potato

  El Caballo: the Horse, another name for Fidel Castro

  caoba: Cuban mahogany

  cáscara de toronja: grapefruit rind that has been boiled, then pressed under a weight, in syrup

  CDR: Committee for the Defense of the Revolution

  chica, chico: girl, boy

  chicharrones: pork cracklings

  La China: the Chinese Woman, another name for Raúl Castro

  chino: “Chink,” “Chinaman”

  Cohiba: the best brand of cigars

  compañero: comrade

  conseguir: to achieve, obtain, get

  coprocultivo: bacterial culture grown from a stool sample

  Cubalse: state-run monopoly for construction, the distribution of construction and household materials, and the providing of employees to foreign entities, among other activities

  cucurucho: sweet made of coconut, sugar, and almonds

  cuentapropista: self-employed worker

  Diplo, Diplomercado: Diplomarket, the largest and most well supplied dollars-only supermarket in Havana

  dulce de coco: coconut sweet

  duro: hard-line

  un duro: a hard-liner

  El: Him, another name for Fidel Castro

  Elegguá: a Santeria saint who is “an opener of roads”

  ensalada de espan: SPAM salad

  escabeche: fillets of serrucho, a type of fish, breaded and fried with onions, then pressed under a weight, in vinegar, for a week

  fula: dollar

  gallego: Galician, from the province of Galicia in Spain

  guajira, guajiro: farmer or country person

  hijos de puta: sons of a whore

  jamon biki: a salami-shaped ham made of many parts of the pig

  jine: short for

  jinetera; also, of or pertaining to a

  jinetera, as in

  jinewear jinetera, jinetero: semiprofessional female or male prostitute

  judias: literally “Jews;” white beans

  loca, loco: crazy

  majá: small boa constrictor native to Cuba

  malanga: an edible tuber

  maricón: “faggot”

  mariquitas: green bananas sliced thin, then fried like potato chips; also, “little faggots”

  mojito: cocktail consisting of light rum, dark rum, lime juice, sugar, and crushed mint

  mojo: garlic sauce

  mulata, mulato: mulatta, mulatto

  muestra: stool sample

  un negro: a black person, a negro, a “nigger”

  un negrito: a little black person, a little negro, a little “nigger”

  El Niño: the Child or the Kid, another name for Fidel Castro

  nomenklatura: the Communist leadership

  oriental, orientales: oriental, orientals, meaning Cubans originating from anywhere east of Camagüey; also known as palestinos

  panatela de Boston crema: Boston cream pie

  panqué: pancake

  paredón: a wall against which people were executed

  periodo especial: special period, short for “special period in time of peace,” the time in Cuban history following the withdrawal of aid from the Soviet Union, in which Cubans were asked to endure shortages and inconveniences for the sake of the survival of the socialist revolution while the government adjusted to new realities

  perros calientes: hot dogs

  permutar: to exchange houses or apartments

  picua: a fish that is often toxic

  la pincha; pinchar: work; to work

  plátano: banana

  plátanos verdes: green (nonsweet) bananas

  P.P.G.: pronounced pe pe hay, an anti-impotence drug

  puros: cigars

  quedarse: to stay, meaning in Cuba “to go to another country and stay there;” se quedó en el exterior means “he stayed abroad”

  resolver: to resolve (a problem), also meaning in Cuba to find goods and take possession of them, to settle an issue with the bureaucracy

  ron: rum

  ron añejo: rum aged more than seven years

  rumbera: female rumba dancer; also, a folklorically dressed Cuban woman, in long, flounced skirt, white cotton or lace puffy-sleeved off-the-shoulder blouse, and head kerchief, sometimes seen smoking a cigar

  El Señor: the Mister, the Sir, or the Lord, another name for Fidel Castro

  serrucho: a fish

  tostones: green bananas that are fried, then flattened

  el triunfo: short for “the triumph of the revolution”

  vieja, viejo: old

  yucas rellenas: mashed yuccas stuffed with meat, rolled in bread crumbs, and deep-fried

  La Yuma: the United States

  yuca: an edible tuber

  Principal Characters

  The Tattlin Family

  Isadora, the narrator

  Nick, her husband

  Thea, their daughter

  Jimmie, their son

  Sam, Isadora’s brother

  The Help

  Concha, the downstairs maid

  Danila, the upstairs maid

  Estrella, the laundress

  José, the driver

  Lorena, the cook

  Manuel, the butler

  Miguel, the gardener

  Roberto, the driver for guests and errand boy

  The Nannies

  Juana, the Cuban nanny, who joined the family later and left with them

  Muna
, the Bangladeshi nanny, who came with the family but left for home early

  Instructors

  Carlita, the swimming instructor

  Gonzalo, who replaced Carlita as the swimming instructor

  Lety, the gymnastics instructor

  Mrs. Fleites, a teacher at the children’s school

  Olga, the Spanish instructor

  Doctors

  Millares Cao, the specialist in skin diseases

  Maria del Carmen, the psychologist

  Yamila Lawton, the allergist

  Silvia, the pediatrician

  Cuban Officials (some no longer in office at the time of this writing)

  Fidel Castro, president

  Raúl Castro, his brother, vice president, and head of the armed forces

  Alfredo Guevara (no relation to Che), head of the Instituto Cubano del Arte y de la Industria Cinematográfica (ICAIC), or Cuban Film Institute

  Eusebio Leal, historian of the city of Havana and founder and president of Habaguanex, a corporation dedicated to the restoration of Old Havana

  Maida, a Bienes Culturales employee

  Nestor, a Customs agent

  Orestes, a plainclothesman in Havana

  Piñeiro, aka Barbaroja (Redbeard), former head of Cuban intelligence

  Rigoberto, head of the Consejo Popular in Pinar del Río

  Cuban Artists, Writers, Musicians, and Intelligentsia (see also Survivors)

  Natalia Bolivar Arostegui, a former teenage revolutionary, now an anthropologist, writer, and expert on Santeria

  Saidel Brito, an artist Alexis Esquivel, an artist

  Reynaldo González, a writer and director of Cineteca, or the Cuban Film Archives

  Kcho, an artist

  Dulce María Loynaz, Cuba’s greatest living lyric poet

  Meira, Ángel Toirac’s wife, a writer and poetess