Reform du Jour: Freedom to Travel?

That's the scuttlebutt these days: Cubans will no longer have to apply and pay for the privilege of leaving the country, unless they happen to be doctors, university grads and the like in which case they can't leave. The medical profession in particular is already under pressure, as "pool boy" or "rickshaw taxi" are more lucrative occupations. Now the prospect of life without parole is bound to have a further dampening effect.

The latest in an increasingly longer line of "reforms," this one would seem to hold a bit more promise for the bulk of the population, seems the operative word here. In yet another masterstroke, Raul the Munificent (I borrowed that) continues steadily undermining American policy. Please note, first he removes the restrictions that make Cubans feel like second-class citizens in their own country, while at the same time countering the one objection to the regime's treatment of the Cuban people that has gained some traction- "tourist apartheid," apartheid being the one word liberals can understand because they remember the halcyon days of boycotting South Africa. It is interesting to note that the lack of civil liberties, arbitrary imprisonment, and convictions of "precriminal dangerousness" in Cuba seem to have made nary a dent on the same liberal psyche. People who cry bounteous tears over enemy "combatants' in Guantanamo give no thought to the "enslaved population" in Guantanamo proper.

What Raul would be doing is to place the responsibility for the failed regime on the United States and to a lesser extent countries like Spain, saying, in effect, "put your money where your mouth is. You care about them so much, you take 'em." And what country can and will absorb huge swaths of the Cuban population? Think of the numbers who will suddenly be seized with an overwhelming desire to see cousin Yasnavi in Union City. What will happen when the huddled masses apply to "visit" relatives? The United States government is already wary of admitting visiting Cubans for fear they will stay. Gone will be the automatic asylum. And the ramifications for politics and policy could be mind boggling. Would this create a perfect storm in the present climate of paid "experts," wouldbe embargo lifters, and xenophobes? Would this be the wedge that finally splits the Miami voting bloc and allows easing of the restrictions and the lifting of the embargo? At the same time, it would serve as an object lesson to the Cuban people as Papa says to his children, "see, they don't want you." Speculation? Sure. It bears some thinking, though.

But there is always the law of unintended consequences. What would be the effect if Cubans did get to visit other countries? What would happen if they were to see that people in capitalist countries do not have to scrounge daily for sustenance, observe what it was like to be able to voice your opinions without fear of retribution, and see first hand what it is like to live in a home that was painted after 1963? That is also a consideration. It is a dangerous game for the regime and a sign of the dire straits in which it finds itself. I used to think that Castro the first had made a Faustian bargain with the Devil in order to stay in power all these years, but now I begin to suspect that he had the clever fiend at his side all the time.

See, They're Learning Already

“The ones who criticize me - as captain of the team – they’re not Cuban, because really, Cubans are the ones know that this was the best thing for us to do, because of what’s going on in Cuba,” explained Bermudez. “People don’t know the situation there, what’s going on in Cuba right now, what it’s really like. They don’t know the reality.”

-Yenier Bermudez, captain of the Cuban Olympic Soccer Team and who defected from the qualifying trials a few weeks ago.

Remembering the Bay of Pigs: April 17, 1961

When the history of Cuba is written, and I don’t mean what passes as history these days, the Bay of Pigs invasion will perhaps get the respect it merits. Ridiculed, minimized, and pronounced a mistake, the entire sorry tale is told through American eyes in geopolitical terms. It was a misguided boondoggle, a leftover from the Eisenhower administration.

Omitted from these accounts are the tactical misjudgment and betrayal of JFK who changed the location away from the Escambray Mountains where there was already insurrection and did not call a halt to the whole operation, but only the vital air support without which there could be not the slightest chance of success against a well-supplied army many times larger. Researching the topic in the Barnard Library in the late 1970’s, I found “authoritative source” after “authoritative source” which ascribed the failure of the planes to appear to a problem with timing, i.e. synchronizing watches. For years, it was some variation of excuse. I was well into adulthood when for the first time I heard an acknowledgement of the same. It took a PBS special on the CIA to hear it said publicly. That was a sweet moment.

Omitted also are the men who fought and bled on Playa Giron. Passionate about their homeland and their freedom, they were men who took on overwhelming odds and defied a dictator, and men who, not too wisely, depended on the word of the United States Government. It is ironic, but what we need is a movie that tells the truth, the truth about Felix Rondon and Barberito and Commander Pepe San Roman and all those Humberto Fontova has written about:

Felipe Rondon was 16 years old when he grabbed his 57 mm cannon and ran to face one of Castro's Stalin tanks point blank. At 10 yards he fired at the clanking, lumbering beast and it exploded, but the momentum kept it going and it rolled over little Felipe. Gilberto Hernandez was 17 when a round from a Czech burp gun put out his eye. Castro's troops were swarming in but he held his ground, firing furiously with his recoilless rifle for another hour, until the Reds finally surrounded him and killed him with a shower of grenades.

and

Another boy named Barberito rushed up to the first one [Stalin tank] and blasted it repeatedly with his recoilless rifle, which barely dented it, but so rattled the occupants that they opened the hatch and surrendered. In fact, they insisted on shaking hands with their pubescent captor, who an hour later was felled by a machine-gun burst to his valiant little heart.

It is interesting that the failure of this invasion is often mocked, while another lost battle is glorified. Why its very location has become synonymous with determination and courage and gallantry. The Bay of Pigs is our Alamo. When the real story is told, it will be about fourteen hundred men who left family and future in the quest to liberate their homeland, who, out manned, outgunned and betrayed, took on a force many times their number and held them off for three days amidst the barrage of fire from tanks and planes, and who surrendered only when they ran out of ammunition.

In addition to the Fontova articles here and here, you can visit the Bay of Pigs Museum online here.

Cross-posted at Babalublog

The Case of the Lowly but Deadly Castor Bean

A few years back, I was writing a somewhat bad novel when I had occasion to kill off my prime suspect. It had to be by a poison that was not fast-acting and would leave no trace. The infamous umbrella murder came to mind. In 1978 Georgi Markov, Bulgarian exile, was killed by a pellet of ricin embedded in his leg by the tip of an umbrella. The poison was identified, not by what was in his system at the time of death, but by the residue in the actual pellet itself. Here then was a poison that could be administered either through inhalation or ingestion. There is no cure, as far as I know. It is a matter of dosage.

So it was scary when police in London, site of the Markov assassination, found ricin in the apartment of a purportedly Al Queda-affiliated group. On this side of the Atlantic, we have our own ricin stories. A woman murdered her husband feeding him ground up Castor beans or some such. And more recently, ricin was found in a Las Vegas hotel room, after a guest sickened. Roger Bergendorff, that guest, was arrested today after being released from the hospital. It seems he manufactured the ricin from Castor beans in his cousin's basement, presumably in his underwear. Castor beans are legal; ricin is not. Still missing- the "why"? Stay tuned, this should be an interesting story.

AP story about the last case here.

Understatement of the Day

By most measures, Cuba's new president, Raul Castro, would seem to be no Mikhail Gorbachev.
-from an editorial in Newsday, well-known in certain circles as apologists for the revolution, an editorial that seems kind of lukewarm for them.

Potemkin Would be Proud

Although Cuban authorities tend to reserve maintenance for tourist areas, i.e. the socialist theme park, the powers that be at Guayabo Prison on the Isle of Youth in Cuba have gone all out for music star Silvio Rodriguez's visit, along with the much ballyhooed entourage of cultural emissaries. It could be he rates, or it could be that there might be photographers along, but the performance area is to be repaved, common areas painted for the first time in 30 years. And when shown the urinal to which Rodriguez would be ushered if nature called, the man in charge of preparations for the visit said, more or less,"no way." So the offending, and one imagines offensive, pissoir was demolished and prisoners forced to construct a new one.

Oh, and any complaints during the visit will result in a one year restriction to cell, as per the head of the prison, one Julio Ordóñez. Maybe they could invite that Rapporteur fellow, who did such a good job on the food situation that he is now an advisor on human rights, and kill two dodo birds with one stone.

Article in Spanish on Cubanet here.

Quote for today

"I've gone from a native to a [Cuban] national."
-a sommelier at a chi-chi restaurant upon having his cellular put in his name on the first day of sales to Cubans.

All the Cuba News I Missed

Time to clean out the closet, before the articles are pulled from online.

First is a human interest story and a congratulatory note to the Medina family, who after making a temporary stop in Orlando 38 years ago, opened a grocery store and wound up as the driving force behind this past weekend's Fiesta Medina, the oldest Latin festival in Orlando. A regular patron, none other than Mel Martinez.

I posted about this one at Babalublog.com. With the disappearance of Cuban reggaeton artist Elvis Manuel, I decided to learn about the connection to hip-hop. Discovered this article, noteworthy for its lack of understanding about the political climate.

In keeping with the hip-hop theme, The Mail and Guardian posted this article about Havana Bling. The title is misleading, and the content surprising in that it doesn't cheerlead. It ends with the major question, will the reforms be enough?

In the same vein, I have to commend NewKerala.com for this one. It's an IANS story, most notable for a waiter's quote: "The hotel thing is good news, but what many people are waiting for is the way to get out," a waiter whispered at the Hotel Nacional.

Finally, I'm not sure about this travel article re Hemingway's house. Since it is illegal to travel for tourism to Cuba, and this is Charleston paper, I'm not sure what the point is. Still it's interesting reading and some good pictures. My advice: visit Hemingway's house in Key West.

Sunday Popery

A Little Knowledge is a Dangerous Thing. Stumbled on this somewhat ponderous and politically skewed commentary which is worth reading nonetheless. Just gloss over the political agenda and weigh what he considers the historical tendencies in the United States. Interesting.

Taste not the Pierian spring. In this latest installment in the water situation in the South, the one at the intersection of drought and drying aquifer, Oakland, a small Florida town, is threatening to limit residents to 100 gallons a day. As this report notes, a resident can go through 90 gallons before he or she goes to work. At least one resident wants to know why development has not been stopped.

Fools Rush in. In the luckiest slob on the planet department, William M Bowen, after a rough night of drinking, awoke in the back of a garbage truck. The driver, just about to initiate the compactor, was alerted by the sound of Bowen hollering. For the record, Bowen has no idea how he got there. Read the article.

Where angels fear to tread. Literary agent Robert Eringer maintains that member of the Cuban Interest Section tried to recruit him as a spy at the same time he was an working undercover for the FBI. Among the targets: Ileana Ros-Lehtinen, Lincoln Diaz-Balart and Robert Menendez. Eringer seems to be a colorful character, and the report reminds me that almost as deadly an occupation as "friend of fidel" is that of retired Soviet mole in Moscow.

Read: Winter Study by Nevada Barr

I first came across Nevada Barr in the Port Richmond branch of the New York Public Library in Staten Island. If I were ever filming a movie that called for a library location, I'd choose good old Port Richmond. Dark with wood-paneled walls, even the architecture there says "shh, library." Anyway at loose ends for something to read, I was desperate enough to head to the revolving paperback stands. There I found a dog-eared copy, the bottom right corner of the cover with its lurid art reminiscent of the early sixties gone, of A Superior Death. A few hours later, I was hooked.

Nevada Barr's mysteries all take place in National Parks; it's one of their trademarks. Her heroine, Anna Pigeon, park ranger and by this installment District Ranger at Rocky Mountain National Park, is a sort of earthy everywoman. Those who have read the series have followed Anna's personal and professional evolution from grief-stricken widow and bureaucratic rebel to newly married, middle-aged rebel with a post. All of this information seems superfluous in discussing this installment because none of the characters we've come to love- her psychiatrist sister, Molly, who we will recall took up with Anna's earlier FBI beau, and her Mississippi police chief/preacher husband Paul- makes an appearance here.

The star of this novel, if such terminology may be permitted, is the Isle Royal National Park in Michigan. It is the park in the earlier A Superior Death, this time in winter. The park is closed, but the winter study of wolves is conducted annually. It is this study for which Anna has volunteered. The conditions are arctic and brutal. And Anna experiences a variety of life-threatening situations. Thrust, as usual, into a perilous and mysterious situation, Anna, as usual, saves the day at the expense of her aging body. One can only imagine how much scar tissue she would have by now. As to aging, here's an observation from Anna herself:

The Previous season, when she'd been on a twenty-one-day fire assignment in the mountains east of Boise, Idaho, she'd noticed that the difference between the old firefighters and the young ones wasn't in strength or endurance. It was in recovery time. The old guys, the firefighters over forty, were as strong as the kids. She and the others could lift and run and dig with the best of them. But they wore down. The kids were stronger after three weeks of hard physical labor. The grown-ups were just bone tired.

Winter Study is not going down among my favorites. It joins the one set in New York City at the bottom of my list. But it is still good entertainment, good for a few hours of escape at the very least. It is also good in another way. The best reading here involved the park and its creatures, which was in itself fascinating. If you haven't read Nevada Barr, do yourself a favor: start with the first one.

A Historic Event..

...or so Coco Fariñas and Elizardo Sánchez termed the gathering of some of the most well-known members of the Cuban opposition to launch a joint effort: Agenda for the Transition. Here are its basic tenets:

* The liberation of political prisoners.
* The immediate cessation of government repression against the political opposition.
* An end to the embargo imposed by the Cuban regime on the Cuban people's fundamental freedoms.
* The substitution of a democratic state for a totalitarian state.

In a dispatch about the event, independent journalist René Gómez Manzano makes much, deservedly so, about the show of unity. Attending were some of the most familiar names:

María Antonia Hidalgo Mir, Idania Yanes Contreras, Félix Antonio Bonne Carcassés, Margarito Broche Espinosa, Francisco Chaviano González, Guillermo Fariñas Hernández, Jorge Luis García Pérez (Antúnez), René Gómez Manzano, Roberto de Miranda Hernández, Vladimiro Roca Antúnez, Martha Beatriz Roque Cabello and Elizardo Sánchez Santa Cruz.

According to another account, Hector Palacios was not there because of medical treatment in Spain, and Oswaldo Payá who did not respond to his invitation, signalled that he was "open to a future incorporation with the group," promising to keep channels of communication open.

As Gomez indicates when he has access to news accounts about the event, he hopes not to see "the divided Cuban dissidents" or "the fragmented internal opposition in Cuba" for once. Amen.

The Importance of a Word

Ask any guy if there is one word that freaks women out, and you'll invariably get an answer: the C word. I was forcibly reminded of this when I read this week about a book The Real McCain which recounts a purported incident between McCain and his wife which took place in front of three Arizona reporters, none of whom would go on the record. Here is a view from the left:

Three reporters from Arizona, on the condition of anonymity, also let me in on another incident involving McCain's intemperateness. In his 1992 Senate bid, McCain was joined on the campaign trail by his wife, Cindy, as well as campaign aide Doug Cole and consultant Wes Gullett. At one point, Cindy playfully twirled McCain's hair and said, "You're getting a little thin up there." McCain's face reddened, and he responded, "At least I don't plaster on the makeup like a trollop, you c[word]." McCain's excuse was that it had been a long day. If elected president of the United States, McCain would have many long days.

Thanks to Nelson Guirado, who wites about the story we have a rebuttal of sorts from the right:

Because, you know, Arizona reporters would never report that at the time. A sitting senator up for reelection using that kind of language to his wife's face, in front of reporters, just wouldn't be newsworthy. Those reporters would hold onto that story, and keep it secret, as McCain became a prominent national figure in the 1990s, throughout the 2000 race, throughout McCain's campaign of the last year and a half, just so they could reveal it now to "Netroots author Cliff Schecter" — because his book is the right venue to reveal this shocking outburst. Obviously, it's extremely plausible that these three reporters would tell Schecter this instead of reporting on the outburst themselves, because journalists are well known for casually giving away shocking scoops to other reporters. It happens all the time. Yes, this field is one big happy scoop-sharing cooperative.

Okay, that was the reasonable, rational part of the post. I'm waiting for the response from the campaign. See, that's a blood libel in my eyes. Had he called her a bitch, or had he called another woman a c*#@, I would find it distasteful, but I could live with it. But any man who can call his wife the c word and in public, no less, is not worthy of the post of dogcatcher, let alone president. I honestly think I could not vote for him. I suspect many women would feel the same way. And websites are picking up the story and presenting it as truth. So do yourself a favor, McCain campaign, sue the guy. I'm not kidding. If not, I can actually see myself longing for Hillary as a candidate.

Huh?

Unless I'm mistaken, a decided possibility, one would be politician is on the way to being politically DOA. Joe Garcia who is running against Mario Diaz-Balart to much ballyhoo about "the generation gap" might have made a fatal misstep in his attempt to ingratiate himself with his Democrat masters. How? Simple. He is having a fund raiser in New York, his special guest none other than than every Cubiche's bogeyman, Charlie Rangel. That's right, Charlie Rangel of the innumerable attempts to lift the embargo, Charlie Rangel of the characterizing the Brothers to the Rescue pilots as "right-wing" extremists and continual badmouthing of Miami Cubans, Charlie Rangel who felt the need to apologize to the Cuban regime because its victims were dancing in the streets at the news of Castro I's illness. To illustrate a point, picture Joe Lierberman holding a fundraiser with Louis Farrakhan as a "special guest." I suggest he enjoy his moment in the sun.

There had better be a whole lot of "progressive" 18 year olds; otherwise Garcia is dead in the water.

H/T Henry at Babalublog

3 for O

This time an incisive and well-considered feature story from Earthtimes. Most pointed:

Communist Cuba is moving. The ailing Fidel Castro, 81, is having to watch powerlessly from the sidelines a renovation process set to catapult Cubans into the future. The process can no longer be stopped, and the old revolutionary hero, the man who led Cuba for almost half-a-century, is watching with worry from his sickbed.

Can it really be that the process can no longer be stopped?

Meanwhile in Russia....

It's interesting to keep an eye on the Russian News. Here they have a Reuters video from Cuba. What's doubly interesting is the collection of stories along the sidebar. Have fun.

Telling it Like it is

I have really come to appreciate Mississippi. Here's an editorial from Senatobia, where they apparently have a lot of sense.

Wow! What a country!

The Cuban government has just announced that Cubans will now be permitted to stay in state-owned "luxury" hotels. This ends a long ban that islanders have labeled "tourist apartheid." Of course they use such labels and make such comments silently - to utter a derogatory declaration out loud in Cuba could lead to a long stay in a government owned "hotel" that no one would consider "luxury" class.

This is part of The Democrat's editorial on changes in Cuba. The rest, including the money line, here.

A Snapshot in Time

Earlier in the week, the Post and Courier posted this article, highlighted by Cigar Mike here. While I liked the piece overall, despite some differences, it reminded me of the family photo collection. My parents in Cuba were poor as church mice, living in genteel poverty. They lived with my grandparents, who were middle class, because Dad had difficulty finding a decent job, despite a herculean willingness to work and get ahead. It was an opportunity this country ultimately gave him.

Yet so many of their pictures show them enjoying life at the local "club" in much the same way Americans did in Havana. There are a few in particular, my mother in sparkling ballgown (which she sewed herself), smiling over my father’s shoulder as they dance to the strains of the orchestra at the Club ________, vocals provided by Beny More. I know about Beny because my mother loved his music. There is another photograph, a bottle-strewn table full of young people, all dressed to the nines, most of whom I would know as adults in another time and place. People I would watch age and die. And they were neither elite, nor Batistianos, nor worms.

It was a different way of life, as it was in the United States where men wore suits even in their leisure time. If they were poor like my father and his friends, they bought them second hand from the tailor, and they never left the house without a fedora- wool for winter and straw for summer. In any case, with all its flaws- they were many and serious in both countries- it was a more gracious era.

On a Lighter Note: Congratulations

to the owner of Honolulu's only Cuban eatery who is up for a National Restaurant Association Award which recognizes restaurant workers who've achieved the American Dream via the dint of hard work. Sound familiar? A few more details here at the Pacific Business News.

Exhibit A

My post about the pitfalls and pleasures of being a Cuban American blogger made it to the august precincts of Babalublog and elicited the following comment:

Well said, I guess, but I'm not sure anyone cares with the "anguish" we CA bloggers might or might not feel as we do our thing. If it's so hard, just do something else. To whine in public like this is just a wasteful self-indulgence and does nothing to serve our cause.
I don't begrudge your sentiment, but don't lose perspective. Whatever anguish or discomfort or frustration you are feeling is nothing — absolutely nothing — like that felt by people, i.e. Cubans on the island, suffering each day because of the dictatorship. Making the story about us, the bloggers, does nothing to help them, the Cuban people.
We really have no right to complain.

I really had two things in mind when I wrote the original post, namely that we do our cause a disservice when we get lost in personalities and secondly that we do serve a cause larger than ourselves. I guess it came across as bellyaching, not my desire. Because many people suffer grievously and some die makes it no less frustrating to try to help them. I believe a good portion of my work is directed at highlighting this same suffering. And perhaps as instructed, I might be better off selling shoes, or working in my professional capacity. It's really not my choice. Blogging in this instance is a calling. It would have sufficed to say that the post was in error, that we should not forget the suffering of others, or whatever. As it is I took it as a personal attack administered publicly. And I am Cuban enough to respond as such. But since it came from a source I liked, respected, and trusted, I'll have to think about it. That's it. Least said, soonest what can be mended will be.

Let's Talk Turkey with a Papaya Glaze

Anita Snow's been in Cuba too long. She's got a food fixation. First she goes on the "ration book diet" and now goes into orgies of delight over a few of the surviving paladars in this article. Bet you think I'm going to carry on about how Cubans don't have enough to eat, or about how paladars were essentially put out of business when the regime latched on to the Venezuelan sugar teat, or even point out that one of the paladars which belongs to the gentleman, a Spaniard, who interviewed John McCain is in front of a big white mansion. But no, I want to talk food.

Miamians have much to answer for in terms of the Floribbean trend they've helped foist on the rest of us. Now any second rate chef thinks he's a new age Escoffier. The result is apparent in Sarasota where mango chutney has been sent into places it was never meant to go. Once, I ordered the pecan-encrusted veal with a reduction of Pear liquor which turned out to be a veal cutlet in a pecan pancake laced with syrup, undeniably the worst meal I have ever eaten, nearly vomitous. Take a gander at some of the dishes highlighted in the report: Tuna steak grilled with sugar cane, pork medallions with a mango glaze, and, one of my personal favorites, rabbit lasagna.

True she does point out that most of the paladars do not offer such sophisticated fare and are very flexible, using Swiss chard when there is no spinach for the salad and milk when there is no cream for the pumpkin soup. Spinach? Pumpkin soup? I must have grown up in a very atypical Cuban home, because spinach was what Popeye ate. Salad was just a prop you put on the table to punch up the appearance of the real food, and it inevitably consisted of crackly iceberg lettuce, tomato, and radishes. As for pumpkin soup, I guess you could say we had it in our Ajiaco.

Read it, and read all about Beverly Cox, author of Eating Cuban, who went to the island twice to do research. I wonder if she included my Cuban family's recipe for making Chicken Fried Grapefruit Rinds, cubed steak being a dim memory?

Cross-posted at Babalublog

Sunday Afternoon Edition

Evil Genes? Researchers in Israel seem to be on the way to finding a "ruthless" gene that may explain in part the behavior of some less than altruistic types. They came to their conclusions after having subjects play the "dictator game." Results were mixed, as part of the behavior of subjects related to what they felt was expected of them. Article here.

Two Standards? If there is such a gene, then one possessor must be the subject of this editorial in the Sarasota Herald Tribune. Less than fair to Cuban Americans with more than one nasty editorial to its credit, the paper once published a guest editorial by a local dimwit politician which numbered amongst its egregious errors and misrepresentations the assertion that there were free elections in Cuba, but it is all for freedom in Zimbabwe. It is interesting to note the selectivity with which "freedom-loving nations" should offer support. I guess Robert Mugabe did not learn from his friend Fidel that there should only be one party on the ballot to avoid messy situations like this one.

Empty Seats? If there is one thing that makes my heart glad it is that the plethora of anti-war movies have bombed at the box office. Here's Bill O'Reilly's take. Personally, I love the $65,000 gross on the Mark Cuban/ Brian de Palma flick.

Left Field? Here's just more proof that the mainstream news we get must be skewed. Only 6% of journalists nationally describe themselves as conservatives. Interestingly enough, the vast bulk describe themselves as, you guessed it, "moderate." Wonder what that means in NYC's Upper West Side? Certainly not what it means in Columbia, SC. Read all about it here.

Idol Minds? Here's a piece about Kenny Loggin's son in some Idol-like reality show with the children of other past performers. As Olivia Newton John laments even their children are having trouble breaking into the business. Are we to believe that nepotism is dead?

Mind Games? In my internet travels, I stumbled across this on MSNBC's site. Have not finished fully exploring, but it looks promising. Ta ta.

The Anguish of a Cuban American Blogger

From the moment a Cuban American sits down to start a blog, he knows the task ahead is overwhelming, that he is a lone figure on the shore with a mouth full of pebbles trying to be heard above the waves. There is no hope of ever overcoming the roar of the ocean, only maybe for an instant, that moment between crests when the thin tones of his voice can be heard.

Then comes the daily work of writing, which sometimes comes easily, others not. And after a while, it's really the same story in a thousand different guises: the latest lipstick-besmirched pig trotted out by the regime, the ever present chorus of willing media voices informing the world of the trotting out of the beauteous pig, and the truth that it really is a porker behind the grease paint. I am impressed by those who have carried on year after year. It can be disheartening.

It is no more disheartening than to see the world of blogs devoted to Cuba where there is often too little exchange of ideas and too much clash of personalities, where one-upmanship often takes the place of enlightenment, where some prefer to assert their own superiority rather than instruct their more information challenged confreres. It is a world rife with mine fields, where the most innocent of comments or even lack of commentary can start a verbal conflagration. Who needs it?

Things in Cuba are changing, the media tells us. Tourist apartheid is ending, we are to believe. Cuba experts are running around calling Raul "a pragmatist." It is Cuban Americans who are being vilified, incredibly as far the websites of mainstream media, as "dead-end," "hard-line, intransigent exiles." Even a Castro favorite "the Miami Mafia" is flung around by former government officials and/or Cuba experts. A scurrilous cartoon depicting the forced deportation of that uppity bunch of Cuban Americans, allegedly former Batistianos, a group which, gasp, has the audacity to vote like millions of other Americans appears on the website of one of the most distinguished papers of record in the country. Why not just disappear, melt into the great American conglomerate where we function so easily?

On the Cuban front, things are not much better. Pockets of resistance are just that, little groups of dissidents pictured in front of a bed sheet, emblazoned with whatever organizational affiliation in spray paint. Either the overwhelming majority of Cubans are with the regime (not true), or they have been cowed by fear into the political equivalent of battered-wife syndrome. Not that I even begin to criticize. I, personally, cannot know what it is to live with fear, latent terror as a way of life. Rather my admiration for those who raise their voices is immense. On this side of the Atlantic, some would have it that we are out of touch with those on the island, that we and our efforts are resented. Why bother?

But then sometimes, reading reports from the island, comes the impassioned plea from some group or other to publicize their plight. And it becomes apparent that blogging has some effect. Just when you feel like Cassandra, a post or two makes its way to other American venues, and you remember the mission. It is not about bringing the regime down, would that blogging could. It is not about being liked or even agreeing with each other. Because somewhere along the line, while we were sleeping it seems, the worm turned. Might became right, and the victims became the villains. It's as if we woke one morning to hear the epithets and arguments of a brutal dictatorship coming not from the island but from politicians, experts, academics, and even, most alarmingly, large swaths of the American public. Our parents, grandparents, newer arrivals, all faced the language barrier. We have no such obstacle. With our God-given talents, whatever they are, and all the advantages paid for by earlier generations, we can do no less than tell the truth to our fellow citizens. No one else is going to do it.

Literary Critic Lionel Trilling once wrote that at the heart of any great work of literature was the difference between appearance and reality, that the reader wants to rail at Oedipus "...can't you see? Can't you see?" It is an observation that has meaning in this context. It is the mission of the Cuban American blogger to demand of the country and the world, "Can't you see? It's just a foul-smelling, bespattered, gussied up pig." Because in the end, nothing matters, not power, or personality, or even Pope. Nothing matters but the lives and freedom of those left behind. And Cuban Americans like their pigs on the table with a little mojito, not at the helm of government.

Storms and Sisterhood

There's a tropical rainstorm outside, comforting in its way. I haven't been posting much because of all sorts of difficulties. Anyway as I was going over one of my best friends' homes earlier, it struck me. We were introduced when she became romantically involved with one of my closest friends. No one expected us to get along, let alone become close. We are very different in background, education, personality, you name it. Ah, but we know something they don't.

There's a sisterhood out there, a sorority of sorts- women who've seen trouble. When we meet, there is no secret handshake, no secret decoder ring, but we know. Sometimes it's a colleague at work, someone whose story you never really learn but you know all the same. It's a look, a spirit, a moment of empathy, the wisdom of knowing that you can survive the next curve life throws at you.

So as I sit here, the rain keeps falling on the just and unjust alike, and tomorrow the sun will come up, and life will have to be lived.

The Great Farm Loan

This fairly interesting AP version of the much vaunted lending of land to farmers concludes thus:
But if a farmland revolution is coming, it hasn't brought big profits to farmers yet. Diaz gets 2.50 pesos per quart of milk, up from one peso. A peso is worth slightly less than a nickel.

Portraits

This month Smithsonian has an article "Comrades in Arms" about the work of Hungarian-born photographer Andrew St. George (not his birth name) which chronicles the beginnings of the revolution. A staunch anti-communist, he fled his native country with the arrival of the Russians.
One of those characters Cuba seems to have attracted, he covered the Cuban Revolution as a free lance journalist because he, like the Cuban people, thought it was a nationalist, not communist revolution. And like many of the Cuban people, he left when he became disillusioned with that same revolution.

He sold his contact sheet of one of the first big rallies in Havana to Yale University where 35 years later, Lillian Guerra found the money to sort, catalogue and digitize them. It is a sad commentary, but I find myself vetting people politically as I read because in the case of Cuba and life in general, it pays to know your sources. I started wondering about Guerra after this quote in the article:

St. George's work "makes the Cuban revolution come alive," Guerra says. "What we get [in the United States] is so top-down—so much about what's wrong with Cuba. And in Cuba, the government encourages Cubans to believe they are in a constant state of war, with invasion from the United States threatened all the time."

After a little legwork, I find that the good professor, the child of Cuban parents, is one of those who believes in building bridges, is in fact one of the signatories to this fine document, not to mention "Historians against the War." All of which means nothing in terms of the images she saved for posterity, but which does tend to caution against her interpretation of events.

"It's during this rally that Fidel for the first time turns to the crowd and says, ‘If you agree with what we're doing, raise your hand,' " says Lillian Guerra, an assistant professor of Caribbean history at Yale University. Later, she says, Castro's calling for shows of hands at such rallies "became officially a substitute for electoral voting."

Fodder for thought.

Quote for Today

comes from Havana:

Con tantas prohibiciones, carencias y problemas acumulados durante casi medio siglo, autorizar la venta de estos costosos cacharros que muy pocos cubanos tienen dinero para comprar, es como un chiste de humor negro. Es mentar la soga en casa del ahorcado. O repartir caviar en Somalia.

With so many prohibitions, scarcities, and problems accumulated during almost half a century, allowing the sales of these costly contraptions which very few Cubans have the money to buy is dark humor. It's mentioning the rope in the house of the hanged. Or distributing caviar in Somalia.

-Luis Cine in an article on Cubanet here.

Bread, A Roof, and Liberty: Dispatches

Here is some of what is coming through from independent journalists in Cuba:

Oswaldo Yáñez writes that the Cuban people are not fooled. They know what they need: bread, a roof, and liberty. He writes that in their barred hotel, the political prisoners will not enjoy cell phones, rental cars, or microwaves. In other words, he points out the window dressing. He saves some very pointed comments for all those who are celebrating these meager reforms while decrying the dictaorships in Myanmar and Tibet. Perhaps their olive drab is different, he conjectures.

In the same article, he attaches a second topic: the recent meeting of all those who oppose the present system called by Dr. Darsi Ferrer. Attendance seems to have been about twenty, some representing groups. A series of principles were agreed upon:

1. Attention to and solidarity with the political prisoners.
2. A plan to meet the last Saturday of every month, hopefully with increasing attendance.
3. Each member pledges to work with his organization to raise the ethics, morality, and culture of participants.
4. To increase the work with the public thereby breaking the government block on information.
5. To work on the unity, transparency of action, to create a comfortable climate among organizations.
6. To publicize through all media available when the government fails to live up to the agreements they have signed.
7. To bring to the next meeting a problem with possible solutions to be discussed in the collective.

It is a big step for the stirrings of collective action. And as Yanez points out, the very idea that they were able to convene the publicized meeting was a step forward.

Article here.

And speaking of those human rights agreements the government of Cuba signed, they involve having observers come and visit prisons. So, what is the regime doing? According to this report by Álvaro Yero Felipe, they are moving massive numbers of prisoners out of Havana jails in fear of an observer's visit. Uh-huh.

The Sharecroppers

In school, studying the literature of the American South, sharecropping was a motif symbolizing the dismal economic conditions of the poor, usually black. Today, via Penultimos Dias, I ran into this report that the Cuban government has begun "giving" land to those who farm it. The verb used in Spanish is dar or give. Alas, when I read on, the state TV used the word prestar, or loan. In that word lies a world of difference.

And I thought to myself, isn't it rich that a practice that was considered oppressive in the United States should be touted as a reform or a good thing and in effect should be an improvement? How dismal the lot of Cuba: that having been sent back to the Victorian Era by the economics of the revolutionary cadre, the move toward the economic conditions of the American South in the 1920's is considered a sign of progress.

Hot Commodities

Sorry, I missed including this one in the weekly round-up. We all know that corn prices rose sharply with all the ethanol hoopla, causing increases in the price of milk and a myriad of groceries. Then wheat prices rose in sympathy, bringing their own increases. Now comes word that rice hit an all time high last Thursday, sparking fears of unrest. Some of the poorest places on the planet depend on the staple, including.... Article here.

The Cubanology BiWeekly Report

The latest edition is available here and well worth the read. This one is hoppin'. I am happy to note that there is an article by much missed George Moneo in this one, as well as Gusano and CubaWatcher. Not to be overlooked, as some people who have CRS due to advancing years have, is Henry Gomez's contribution to the discussion over Raul's reforms. Read it.

That Revolutionary Raul: Hotels Next

Yes, boys and girls, your ordinary citizen can now ante up to the check-in at any hotel establishment on the island of Cuba, as long as he or she has the money to pay in hard currency. Ah, there's the rub.

A cursory search reveals at least one hotel in Varadero where a weekend stay costs about 120 dollars. Do a little simple math. Convert it to CUC's and then divide it by the average monthly salary of a average Cuban. Soon you realize that a weekend in Varadero would cost the equivalent of 5 and a half months complete take home pay. Now say you make 35 thousand a year, it would be like paying about 10 thousand dollars for your weekend.

These new "reforms" then would seem to be the height of cynicism. And they are, but not in the way you would expect. Yes, there is cynicism in decreeing "changes" dressed in the finery of "reforms," "changes" the metaphorical equivalent of allowing a nation of convenience store clerks to stay at the Waldorf in NYC, as long as they can afford it, not bloody likely. But it is more cunning still.

If you look at the "reforms" that have made the latest splash in the media, they all have one thing in common. Cell phones, computers, appliances (except for the lowly toaster, they'll have to wait 'til 2010 for them), they are the appurtenances of modern life, the must haves of the global consumer society. Your average American hears, "Cubans will be allowed to buy microwaves," and immediately pictures them in addition to the Kraftmaid kitchen with the Kitchen Aid appliances, not as a replacement for the lone hot plate with the grease of twenty years and the fraying cord, the cost of which must be paid out for years. So to the uninformed, the impression made is that Cuba is joining the 21st century.

Now Cubans may be isolated, but they have a sense of how the other half lives. All they have to do is look at the tourists, the party apparatchiks, and the State stores, or look to their exiled kin. And in part, they realize how little likelihood there is that they will be able to afford these luxuries the rest of the world takes for granted. As usual with the regime, appearance is all.

That's the true genius of these "reforms," they are designed to appeal to the Cuban sense of self. Raul is dismantling the assemblage of fiats that make Cubans feel like second-class citizens in their own country. While no substantial reforms have been forthcoming that will allow Cubans to avail themselves of these "changes," those decreed are designed to make them feel they could. One wonders if the removal of the two-tier currency will be next.

Still among the banned, however, are the rights of free assembly, free speech, free elections. Call me a skeptic, but I'm looking for one tell, and that is the release of the political prisoners. The day that Dr. Oscar Biscet walks out of whatever hell hole they've transferred him to a free man; then I will believe change is truly on the way. Until then, I fear I have misjudged Raul, who may very well have been the brains behind keeping the throne all these many years.

(An abridged version is posted on Babalublog.)

Sunday Self-Indulgence

Teach your children well. Let's start with this Fox News video clip via Townhall about the plethora of scantily clad ladies on the covers of mainstream magazines. Check out the near nude Lindsay Lohan on the cover of New York magazine. A few weeks ago, they had Eliot Spitzer with an arrow toward his crotch labelled "brain." And I thought that was a bit crude. Says something about our taste and common sense, doesn't it?

I'm a believer. In "Missing a Generation," Michael Barone has a novel take on the presidential candidates. One interesting assertion in the piece is that much of our recent politics has consisted of a battle battle between the two halves of the boomer generation. mmmm.

Time is on my side. In a move reminiscent of the Roman Catholic church's decision to let bygones be bygones with Galileo, Blackpool, England has reversed a 44 year old ban placed on the Rolling Stones after a near riot broke out in 1964. Story here. And in the old rockers never die category, 63 year old Ray Davies of Kinks fame is still touring and still looking for something. Read the interview here.

On a steel horse I ride. As a "The Deadliest Catch" aficionado, or aficionada, for that matter, it was with great trepidation that I caught this headline. While it was none of our now familiar boats and crews, it was one of the factory ships. 4 people lost their lives. A sad associated story comes from one of the survivors.

You really got me. Finally, in a development out of 1984, it seems that Big Brother might literally be watching, at least in Miami Dade if law enforcement gets its way. They want to use unmanned aircraft in SWAT type operations. The FAA's response: "not so fast." Read all about it.

Literary Interlude: from Thoreau's "Civil Disobedience"

I usually like to post poetry, but.... The whole thing is available through this site.

I have paid no poll-tax for six years. I was put into a jail once on this account, for one night; and, as I stood considering the walls of solid stone, two or three feet thick, the door of wood and iron, a foot thick, and the iron grating which strained the light, I could not help being struck with the foolishness of that institution which treated me as if I were mere flesh and blood and bones, to be locked up. I wondered that it should have concluded at length that this was the best use it could put me to, and had never thought to avail itself of my services in some way. I saw that, if there was a wall of stone between me and my townsmen, there was a still more difficult one to climb or break through, before they could get to be as free as I was. I did not for a moment feel confined, and the walls seemed a great waste of stone and mortar. I felt as if I alone of all my townsmen had paid my tax. They plainly did not know how to treat me, but behaved like persons who are underbred. In every threat and in every compliment there was a blunder; for they thought that my chief desire was to stand the other side of that stone wall. I could not but smile to see how industriously they locked the door on my meditations, which followed them out again without let or hindrance, and they were really all that was dangerous. As they could not reach me, they had resolved to punish my body; just as boys, if they cannot come at some person against whom they have a spite, will abuse his dog. I saw that the State was half-witted, that it was timid as a lone woman with her silver spoons, and that it did not know its friends from its foes, and I lost all my remaining respect for it, and pitied it.

(I orginally posted the wrong excerpt.)

No Country for Old Men: Alien Terrain

I should have known. The book the movie is based upon was written by Cormac McCarthy. Years ago, a friend whose taste I respect gave me one of his books. After reading near a thirty pages, nothing much had happened. It was about a young man in the wilderness, and a young man in the wilderness, and a young man in the wilderness. I put it aside, which is very unusual for me. There are few books I don't finish. I can name them. Let's see. About halfway through Fielding's Tom Jones, I stopped reading every other chapter, the ones with his opinions on the nature of life or something. I never read, I think it was 32, in Moby Dick. And I threw aside Patricia Cornwell's Isle of Dogs. Anyway, at the time, I thought it was a man thing.

The same thing that happened with the earlier book was at play in the movie. I have no doubt the Coen brother's captured the quality of the original. There is the pregnant, uncomfortable nothingness. The story really centers on two characters I couldn't care less about in a dismal, dusty landscape. The only character I cared about, played by Tommy Lee Jones, served as a comma. The ending is beyond me. When the credits came on, my response was "what?"

Yet there was all this hoopla about it. It must be a man thing.

Spot On

From an IBD article, titled "Cell Phones Don't Replace Freedoms," which is dead on about the sham of reform and realities for the ordinary Cuban. Their parting shot:

No one should be fooled by Raul Castro's pretentions of reform in material goods. The only real reform is freedom.

Some Sort of Interlude: A Dada Moment

My earlier Dada reference got me to searching for the manifesto, that is to say the one with which I'm familiar. There were a few, as well as assorted ramblings. Try this excerpt from Tristan Tzara, translated by Robert Motherwell in his Dada Painters and Poets:

..Every product of disgust capable of becoming a negation of the family is Dada; a protest with the fists of its whole being engaged in destructive action: Dada; knowledge of all the means rejected up until now by the shamefaced sex of comfortable compromise and good manners: Dada; abolition of logic, which is the dance of those impotent to create: Dada; of every social hierarchy and equation set up for the sake of values by our valets: Dada; every object, all objects, sentiments, obscurities, apparitions and the precise clash of parallel lines are weapons for the fight: Dada; abolition of memory: Dada; abolition of archaeology: Dada; abolition of prophets: Dada; abolition of the future: Dada; absolute and unquestionable faith in every god that is the immediate product of spontaneity: Dada; elegant and unprejudiced leap from a harmony to the other sphere; trajectory of a word tossed like a screeching phonograph record; to respect all individuals in their folly of the moment: whether it be serious, fearful, timid, ardent, vigorous, determined, enthusiastic; to divest one's church of every useless cumbersome accessory; to spit out disagreeable or amorous ideas like a luminous waterfall, or coddle them -with the extreme satisfaction that it doesn't matter in the least-with the same intensity in the thicket of one's soul-pure of insects for blood well-born, and gilded with bodies of archangels. Freedom: Dada Dada Dada, a roaring of tense colors, and interlacing of opposites and of all contradictions, grotesques, inconsistencies: LIFE

Read more here.

If you're like me, basically untutored in art, I'd suggest you go to your local library and check out the old PBS series, The Shock of the New. Great stuff.

Scoreboard for Change

Let's recap the changes thus far. Well, farmers can buy supplies. That's good. Ordinary citizens will be able to buy computers, microwaves, air conditioners in 2009, toasters in 2010, and now the announcement of prepay cell phones- one hopes before that date.

Any loosening of restrictions is a good thing. Alas, most of these will have to be paid in CUC's. And under the present apartheid system, Cubans get paid in pesos. Exchange rate: approx. 25 Cuban pesos for 1 CUC. Well, you could finance your microwave, say, and pay for it for two years. Basically, unless Tia Fefa in Westchester sends you some effectivo, you ain't buyin' nothin'.

Sounds good, though. At least the MSM thinks so.

Quote for the Morning

He's lying...

Martha Beatriz Roque, the only woman imprisoned in the Black Spring purge of the 75, about Fidel's "reflection" in which he maintained among the usual falsehoods, that-

None of the mercenaries were tortured or deprived of attorney or trial...

H/T Uncommon Sense

Mosquitero, Anyone?

I'm not exactly sure why, but IBD has a story on Walter Reed today. Maybe it's an anniversary or something. It does solve the mystery of exactly what got the premier federal hospital named after him.

According to their article, Walter Reed proved that mosquitos were spreading Yellow Fever. Getting short shrift in the same is Carlos Finlay, the Cuban doctor who originally figured out that mosquitos were the culprit. Don't take my word for it. Years ago, National Geographic did a pretty exhaustive story on the Yellow Fever research in which Finlay figured a bit more prominently.

Please note that some that the researchers and subjects were exposed to the deadly disease on purpose. Can you imagine that happening today?

All is Dada

Or gaga over Cuban art, the prices of which are skyrocketing, if the Wall Street Journal and the papers which picked up the story, most briefly the Miami Herald , are to be believed. Can we say "feeding frenzy"? I'm glad it's those horrible Cuban exiles who want to go exploit the natives.

The Benefits of a Jesuit Education

What do Fidel Castro and Perez Hilton have in common? They both went to the same school, sort of, Separated by decades and countries, both attended Belen. Geez, to think I was brought up to prize a Jesuit education.

All kidding aside, Miami New Times has an interesting article on Perez Hilton, notable for its discussion of his childhood. I enjoyed it, although I'm still trying to figure out which particular fight figured in the headline. Read it.

Generation Y: Yoani's Latest Post

Since the powers that be down Havana way apparently don't like her blog, as in they are blocking access from the island, it occurs to me that I love it and would like to reproduce it here for the odd Cuban visitor. My apologies to Yoani.


Parte médicoEscrito por: Yoani Sanchez en General , Marzo,26,2008

Sé que muchos han estado preocupados por lo ocurridocon Generación Y, de manera que les debo miagradecimiento y una explicación más detallada.

El jueves pasado una amiga me alertó de que no sepodía entrar a algunos blogs y sitios hechos desde la Isla. Hasta el domingo fue imposible conectarse con páginas de clasificados, donde los cubanos cuelgan sus anuncios de compra y venta, comohttp://www.cu.clasificados.com y con toda la plataformadesdecuba.com. También estaba “filtrado” el acceso al blog Revolico http://www.revolico.net/ y por supuestoal de los muchachos de Potro Salvajehttp://www.desdecuba.com/potro .

Puede parecer increíble que con tan limitado acceso ala Internet los cubanos hayamos notado tan rápidamente el presillado de estas páginas, pero así fue. Despuésde varios avisos de lectores nerviosos, me fui a unciberlocal público y comprobé –por mí misma- lacensura.

El lunes parece que se le abrió un hueco al filtro o el encargado de mantenerlo se quedó dormido, pues durante la tarde fue posible navegar por tan“peligrosas” páginas. Al parecer, el martes volvierona estar bajo el signo de lo inaccesible, aunque algunos con conexiones más potentes decían poder entrar después de esperar más de veinte minutos. Con este jueguito, que siembra la confusión, nos han mantenido hasta hoy.

Por lo que veo, han puesto en práctica algún filtro que hace demorar la entrada al sitio, lo que evita su lectura por internautas cubanos. En algunos lugares,con más ancho de banda, es posible abrir la página principal, pero no acceder a los comentarios y muchomenos a la administración. De manera que con un sencillo ardid, han cancelado una buena parte de las participaciones desde Cuba.

Quiero decirle a los que están ahora mismo monitoreando el Blog y filtrándolo, a esos capitanes Weisler que nos miran, que les agradeceríamos si se quedan dormidos y dejan entrar a los balseros virtuales. No es que vayamos a tocar una sinfonía paraellos, pero quién sabe si llegamos a hilvanar algunos acordes.

Religion in Mind?

Bush imagines that God will reward him for accelerating the day of the Apocalypse and the Final Judgment, after which he will seat him at His right, in a place of honor. Then perhaps he will abandon the odious gestures that accompany his speeches, so that he can dwell under the same roof as those souls of the human beings he exterminated in his war on terrorism, the great majority of them girls and boys, adolescents and young people, women and the elderly, those who have no reason whatsoever to be blamed.

The Old Testament speaks of archangels who were transformed into the enemies of God by ambition and who were sent to Hell. It is difficult to put aside the idea that the genes of some of those archangels are lurking in Bush’s head.

-from Havana's blogger-in-chief and would be international reporter

Take a Letter, Maria

I really must point out a rather substantial error in the piece about the "humanitarian" visit by two Savannah congregations. Kahn makes the categorical and incorrect statement that medicines must be carried in to the country because of the US embargo against Cuba. This is a serious mischaracterization. Both pharmaceuticals and food stuffs are not under embargo. In fact, we are Cuba's number one supplier of the latter.

I would appreciate a correction of some sort, as the articles gives incorrect information about an American foreign policy and leaves your public less than informed.

My letter to the editor of the Savannah Morning News about this article. I might suggest than any good done on this trip is nullified by the spreading of Castroite propaganda.

The Money Pit aka The House Next Door

And that's only the living room, circa June.

Slice of Cuban Life

Saturday, I flew to North Carolina after work, and yesterday, Easter Sunday, I drove down from North Carolina. Of course, I did it straight because by the time you get tired, you're hitting Savannah, and you're not that far from the Florida border. Then when you hit Florida, who wants to stay in Jacksonville? Overnight joints should be alongside the road in desolate areas at a neon crossroads littered with motels and fast food stands, not in a city. As you approach Daytona, you know that the West Coast is just a hop, skip, and hundred twenty something miles away. So before you know it, you wind up not stopping, despite the septuagenarian in the passenger seat in high, holy dudgeon and the tempermental chihuaha you had foisted on you scampering in the back seat.

Alas, the plans of mice and recalcitrant daughters never did run smooth. Somewhere in the desolation between Jacksonville and Daytona, the entire 95 stopped. It took an hour of bumper to bumper traffic in the dark to get diverted off the highway. Now I'm in the pitch dark on a lonely street which fortunately boasts a truck stop. There are no directions, no police or signs telling you how to detour, so I along with seemingly every other motorist duck in. Now comes the problem. Do you just accost any stranger to find out what's going on? Let me tell you, some of those interstate travellers are pretty scary. I finally settle on the biker with the dirty bandanna on his head. He looks like a local. He tells me my best bet is to wait it out until the reopen the highway. That isn't gonna cut it. So I walk back to the car and the bushes, hoping that the offending canine will avail himself of the facilities and not water the car interior, when I hear it. Spanish: Cuban accents. An extended family is discussing our predicament and opening the trunk in which they seem to have a three course meal. So while Fefa is slicing some lechoncito, I not only get the full scoop, I get directions on how to get back to the 95. Leave it to the Cubiches.

Monday Morning Maxims

Ask What Your Country Can Do for You. Here's another entry into the social criticism category. Mark Hillman, who describes himself in part as a "recovering journalist," takes no prisoners in this one about our society's penchant for instant gratification and "gimmes" from the government. Thought-provoking.

It's Out There. The compact fluorescent bulbs. Yes, the ones we're all supposed to use in order to save the planet. Unfortunately, waste experts are worried about the mercury content. If you break one, there are five steps to cleaning up. But don't worry, you can get the instructions from the EPA with the article here.

Say it Ain't So. Latest computer game craze for the overage set, "Guitar Hero," may be in trouble. Gibson has filed suit to stop Wal Mart, Amazon, and other retail giants from selling the game. The problem: patent infringement. Read all about it here.

Better to Give. I like to say that money doesn't buy happiness; it just dulls the pain of existence. Well, this report on experiments conducted by the University of British Columbia and Harvard Business School found that people were happier when they had money and spent some of it giving to others. Score 1 for philanthropy. Results for old saws: mixed.

Greater Love Hath No Man. Than to potentially lay down his life for another. The hero of the week goes to Columbia University mechanic Veeramuthu Kalimuthu. "Kali" selflessly jumped off the subway platform and hopped over at least two sets of tracks during the NYC rush hour to help a fellow passenger who had fallen on the tracks. What was that about immigration? Story here.

Literary Interlude: To Althea, from Prison

Earlier this week I had a discussion about the freest people in Cuba being the political prisoners. It reminded me of this old classic. I post it today, because I'll be on the road again this weekend, so I don't know when I'll be able to post.

To Althea, from Prison

When love with unconfined wings (50.1)
Hovers within my gates;
And my divine ALTHEA brings
To whisper at the grates;
When I lye tangled in her haire,(50.2)
And fetterd to her eye,(50.3)
The birds,(50.4)that wanton in the aire,
Know no such liberty.

II.
When flowing cups run swiftly round
With no allaying THAMES,
Our carelesse heads with roses bound,
Our hearts with loyal flames;
When thirsty griefe in wine we steepe,
When healths and draughts go free,
Fishes, that tipple in the deepe,
Know no such libertie.

III.
When like committed linnets, I
With shriller throat shall sing
The sweetnes, mercy, majesty,
And glories of my King.
When I shall voyce aloud, how good
He is, how great should be,
Inlarged winds, that curle the flood,
Know no such liberty.

IV.
Stone walls doe not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Mindes innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage;
If I have freedome in my love,
And in my soule am free,
Angels alone that sore above
Enjoy such liberty.

Richard Lovelace

A Question of Characters

I was doing a post on an AP article about the purported inroads being made by the Democrats in South Florida for Babalu when I was struck with the notion of character.

I came across this tidbit about the Diaz-Balarts:

Both have the backing of likely GOP presidential nominee John McCain, whom they refused to desert when his poll numbers were down.

Almost unheard of in politics to continue backing a candidate who's been given up for dead . But that's what the brothers did. Also surprising is the reluctance, self-serving or not, of other local elected Democrats:

While the national Democratic party supports the challengers, Reps. Debbie Wasserman-Schultz and Kendrick Meek, D-Fla., have refused to actively campaign against the Diaz-Balarts.

Verry interesting as they say.

A New Havana?

Not sure what to make of this piece in April's Atlantic Monthly. I link to it for its quirky map of what might happen in an embargoless Havana. Don't ask me. See it here.

Read: Broken Paradise

The most salient characteristic of Havana born Ceclia's Samartin's Broken Paradise is loss This is not a book you read for the seamless, flowing narrative. The beginning, set in the lost paradise, is a bit stiff as Samartin uses the almost idyllic Varadero vacations of two young girls, cousins Nora and Alicia, to establish Cuba BC. True, she attempts to ground this Eden with the overt racism of the grandmother, but it doesn't quite work. In part it is a matter of perspective as the memories are Nora's, and to be a teenager at the beach surrounded by your loving family is always idyllic in retrospect.

It is as the book approaches life in Havana with the first whisperings of unrest that the book becomes engrossing. Nora and Alicia's coming of age takes place against the backdrop of the convulsions of the revolution. From this point on, pain reverberates throughout the work. From the characters it radiates outward to the reader. There is no happiness, only brief snatches of joy. There are the travails of Nora's side of the family as they come to terms with their losses and life in a harsh new world. While back in Cuba Alicia's family is destroyed by the revolution, and her glorious young love turns to tragedy as the book traces the inevitable awakening of those who early on believed in the false promise of those days.

The ending reminds me of those lines from Wordsworth: "Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind." And in the end, that is what the characters do, as they adjust to the realities of their lives. They survive and some thrive, all carrying with them the bitter taste of loss.

Samartin's greatest achievement in this book is to give names and faces to the victims of the cataclysm that was the revolution, to make flesh history. By the time it ends, we feel as if the characters are real people we have known, and perhaps they are.

The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round

Read the text of Obama's speech on race. Gotta admit it: the guy is good. He might have left out an inconvenient truth or two, but he hit the right notes, in part because it is a topic he has lived. The one note he didn't leave out was that his white grandmother once confessed to him that she was "scared" of black men on the street sometimes and has said things that made him "cringe." This by the way is the grandmother who he tells us has sacrificed for him. Go figure.

There's some fun stuff around the net on this one. Ann Coulter at her finest seizes upon the reference in this week's column, aptly entitled "Throw Grandma Under the Bus." On a slightly smaller scale, it took me two readings on Nelson Guirado's blog to realize that the post about Grandma was satirical. It is pretty hilarious from the mob burning granny in effigy to the calling out the National Guard to the comment from the "barista" and activist and finally to Obama's calming speech. A must read.

Childhood's End: Arthur C Clarke Dies

It was one of my early teaching years. Although it was the 80's, vestiges of the open curriculum 70's persisted, and I was scrounging around for some material to suggest to students. One of the things I loved about the scheme was that it resulted in the "resource center" where all sorts of literary treasures lay on floors, between easy chairs, next to carpet squares, just waiting for the curious student. My own experiences with open curriculum in English and Religion as a student had led to my discovery of The Last Temptation of Christ, The Stranger, The Dead Sea Scrolls, Anna Karenina.

That day, I picked up a thin, worn book, one of those old paperbacks with the yellowed, brittle pages. It was entitled Childhood's End. A slim volume of science fiction, it held promise for engaging the average teenager. It was after school, so I sat down just for a few minutes to read. That was my introduction to Arthur C. Clarke. Later, my husband and I would watch his Mysterious Universe on the recently introduced cable TV.

So it is with a certain nostalgia that I mark his passing at age 90. Author of 2001: A Space Odyssey, he was literally a man of many talents. In an interview on his birthday this year, he suggested that he would like most to be remembered as a writer. So it is as a writer that I will mark his passing.

Black Spring By the Numbers

30,000 the approximate number of signatures the Varela Project collected.
75* the number of dissidents, independent librarians, independent journalists arrested in
response 5 years ago.
20 the rough average of length of sentence in years imposed on the 75.
55* the number of the 75 remaining in prison.
16 the number released for medical reasons, at least one of whom has died.
4 the number of the 75 released and sent into forced exile, touted as a sign of change.
2 the number of International Human Rights Accords Cuba has signed.

*The numbers do not include Oscar Elias Biscet who was picked up earlier and sentenced to 25 years. He remains imprisoned.

In Which I Get Taken to the Woodshed

A few days ago, I posted on the "toilet paper" bill sponsored by Victor Crist (R-Tampa). Alas, I should know better than to believe the media. Today, I find this rather pointed comment which I offer for your perusal and which provides a different view of the proposed bill. I'll publish it here so as to catch readers of the original post:

Your comments regarding Florida State Senator Victor Crist’s legislation dealing with restaurant restrooms is misleading and inaccurate. If you would have verified your facts, you would have found the bill actually deals with restaurant restrooms and is a whole lot more than just toilet paper. In fact what it really does is expand Florida’s inspections of restaurant kitchens to include restrooms. The bill ensures that restaurant food preparation staff has the necessary means to be clean in order to prevent the spread of disease in food preparation areas. The bill simply requires restaurants to have rest rooms that function. That means running water at the sink, antibacterial soap, a means to dry your hands, toilets that function, and of course toilet paper. The basics needed to ensure the prevention of harmful bacteria that can be easily transmitted to food during preparation after using the restroom.

I do hope that the members of the MSM where I got the original story received a similar message. Anon.

The Irish Connection

No, it's not a drug thing. It's a six degrees separation kinda thing. When I was little, growing up in a Brooklyn tenement, working class, but quite decent, Cubans were a rare thing. The Irish, however, were everywhere. In my innocence of history, of "Irish need not apply" and "bog trotters" epithets, I thought the best thing in the world would be to be Irish. This way you could be accepted; you didn't have to worry all the time; and you got to celebrate St. Patrick's Day.

Well, demographics and I changed, but I still got a kick in my college history class on the history of the British Isles out of the knowledge that one branch of the Celts who populated the British Isles was Iberian in origin. Today, I'm reading Penultimos Dias when I find that no less an Irish group than the Chieftains had acknowledged the connection, specifically in the Galician music that made its way to Cuba. Oh, yeah, and Ry Cooder's involved there, too. Then in MaT's blog, which is at its best when he is exercising his considerable knowledge and writing ability on his own material and not deconstructing the work of others, there is an enlightening bit of Cuban history.


Now some things made sense, like the bagpipes when I went to Club España in NYC, and the jiglike folk dances. Aha. I personally claim no kinship, since although some of my forbears were gallegos in Cuba, the kind that jumped ship in Cuba when people actually wanted to emigrate there, they were not actual gallegos, as they hailed from the Canary Islands. Anyone from Spain in the Cuban lexicon was tagged a "gallego;" in the same way anyone who was of Jewish stock, from Europe, and even from Lebanon was tagged as a "Polaco." For the longest time, I was very confused and thought there were many Polish people in Cuba. But as far as I can remember those were the two ethnic distinctions other than Cuban. Oh, I forgot "Chino."

But anyway, I forgot the corn beef, which I don't like anyway, and the cabagge, so tonight it's going to be boliche with broccoli- it's smelly enough- on the side. Close enough, don't you think?

Oh, and before I forget, Happy St. Paddy's Day to all!.

Humor and Pathos for the Tourists

Did you know Fidel is the worst bartender in the world? He has been trying to make a Cuba Libre for 48 years and still hasn't gotten it right.

Fidel and Raul are on a flight across the country, and Fidel says, "If I could drop one peseta out the window, I would make one person very happy." Raul says, "If I dropped two pesetas out the window, I would make two people very happy." To which the pilots says, "Why don't I drop both of you out the door, and we would make 11 million people very happy."

Three presidents are making phone calls to hell. President Bush completes his call and his bill comes to $1,000. President Putin finishes his call and must pay 1000 rubles. When Castro is done, he is charged 10 cents. The other two are very upset until they are reminded that Castro's call was a local call.

Such is the state of affairs in Cuba, when they can joke like that about their leader.

These jokes appear in an article in the Redlands Daily Facts, the fourth in a series by Ilene Cox who went to Cuba on a "humanitarian mission" in November of 2007. Frankly, the article makes it seem more of a tourist trip than anything else. Hmmm.

In the process, she seems to have learned more than a few jokes, closing with the following:

What a beautiful city, what a beautiful country.
Look past the crumbling buildings and the pace of life there and you can envision a time when Cuba may once again take its place among progressive nations. Now that Castro has stepped down, maybe there are some changes in the wind.

Contrast that with this account of a tourist trip in the Guardian in which Alison Littlewood struggles with an inconsequential decision that haunts her. Obviously oblivious to the truth of Cuban history and reality, her major concern seeming to be the costs incurred in the trip, she passes by "a pony and a trap" and "oxen" without any conception that Cuba has been sent back to the nineteenth century.

Her unease is caused when she refuses to buy a little wooden tortoise from an elderly man, having decided she would not buy souvenirs. It is a decision that haunts her...

I looked again. His soul was there, in his eyes. And his soul was full of pain, the kind you can't fake. It was built in layers, one disappointment laid over the next. Fergus was talking to the guide. I opened my mouth, started to say something: "Oh, go on. Let's get one." But my voice somehow never came out.

and

Later, I wondered how long he had spent making these things. Twisting his old hands around them, forming the shells, the shine of a tortoise emerging. Putting in the mechanism, some trick he knew. And all the time, maybe he was thinking of me, or someone like me. Seeing this thing take shape, the thing he made, and all the time hoping that we would like it.

and finally

I took a little of it away, I think. I left him nothing, but I took away a little of his sadness. I hoped it lightened his load, but really I think he had more than enough to go round. I've imagined it since - pressing a note into his hand, telling him to keep the change. Seeing the wonder in his face that someone had so much to give away. Seeing him smile.

In this last, I find a metaphor for these tourist junkets. They may lighten the load of some, but there is more than enough sadness to go around.

Sunday Bible Study

And the scales fell from his eyes. Never thought I'd be linking to the Village Voice but here is an essay by famed playwright David Mamet who explains why he is no longer a "brain dead liberal." Not surprisingly even in the midst of a pretty personal and conversational essay, there's some sharp writing. I won't tell you what changed his mind, but it's more about living than politics.

The truth shall set you free. Here's an interesting one from Pat Sajak, who's experienced cable news burnout. I feel your pain, Pat. At one time in my brief, inglorious career I was addicted to Hardball, before Matthew's went off the reservation, that is. Sajak points out that with the range of printed matter, he gets a better understanding of the world.

Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. In the midst of the Spitzer Sex Scandal, Ben Shapiro asks what happened to the concept of shame? A good question, it seems to me. Alas, I fear that its a notion like that of honor which is lost in the mists of time. Read it here.

How the mighty have fallen. One of the casualties in this time of economic uncertainty is Bear Stearns. The venerable old financial house was rescued by the Fed, which had to use a law enacted during the Great Depression to do it. The Wall Street Journal article points out the role of JP Morgan Chase in the bailout, evoking the role of founder, J. Pierpont Morgan, in earlier market rescues. Wasn't he the guy with the funny nose? Read it here.

Judge not, lest ye be judged. In a reversal of fortune, a Northern Ireland appeals court judge overturned a 25,000 pound jury award for libel. Goodfellas pizzeria in West Belfast had taken a restaurant critic to court-and won- over a negative review. This judge said fuggedaboudid. You can read about it here.