Stories of the Cuban Diaspora- Part 2

There are so many stories that it is painful. But one thing I think we do as bloggers is bear witness to the truth. So I hope one of my readers doesn't mind if I share part of her comment.

I too am Cuban and it was just recently that my mother told me the story of while waiting in the airport in Cuba her and Papi were stripped searched. My stuffed toy rabbit was taken from me and returned ripped to shreads searching for "contraband". Mami says she can still hear my screams when the meliciano with a smirk handed over to me.

If there is one thing that is the most offensive to me about the Castros' "revolution," it is that it feeds on and encourages the basest of human nature. Bad enough the parents were strip searched, the miliciano smirks as he returns the favored bunny in shreds to a little girl. When my cousin's house is "entervenido" people storm in and carry off her mattresses on their heads as they strip the place. Your neighbor catches a whiff of coffee coming from your house and runs and turns you in. There is a committee, made up of your neighbors, on your block whose sole purpose is to spy on you.

Anyway, she asked about the end of Tio's story. After about five years, Tio was able to come and rejoin his family. Although I'm told he was never the same after his experiences, I can honestly say he was the happiest man I ever knew. Partly because of his experiences and greatly because of his faith, he was happy with what he had and enjoyed life. It's a good thing, too, because he died at the age of fifty eight. He was stopped at a red light, mere yards away from his house, when a car driven by a young man who had had too much to drink at the fiesta de Calle Ocho plowed into him and killed him instantaneously.

I'd like to thank her for her story. We have many stories to share, so feel free to add some more.