Cuba My Brother, America Our Mother
Cuba My Brother, America Our Mother
The Last Day…
May 18th 2024
“Time has both flown and stood still. It's crazy to think that I am already nearing the end. I have loved the people of Cuba even if I haven't always been a fan of the air conditioning conditions. It hurts me to see so many suffer at the hands of indifferent politicians and policies from a Cold War that died a long time ago. It makes me question, did the Castro revolution address social change as promised? Or were the floorboards simply replaced over a tell-tale heart beating with greed and corruption still heard throughout the island? And how loudly does that heart beat in our own nation?”
I thought by the end of my trip to Cuba, my questions regarding the island would be answered. However, by the last day, I found myself with even more questions than I began with. Throughout my trip, I slowly began to comprehend that the lens through which I viewed Cuba was an outdated one. If I really wanted to understand Cuba and especially Cubans, I would have to set my Cold War looking glasses aside and expand my scope.
Black and White?
My questions about Cuba were mostly related to the Cold War. Many Americans, myself included, often think of Cuba solely in relation to the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Bay of Pigs invasion. Although the Cold War and Fidel Castro’s revolution are a huge part of Cuban-American history, they are not all-encompassing.
There is a very binary narrative given about Cuba. The American version of Cuba’s history focuses on the communist country ruled with an iron fist by the dictator Fidel Castro who, through the Cuban Missile Crisis, almost sparked nuclear war. The other side of that story is the narrative of an oppressive imperialist regime, the United States, coupled with a long line of US puppet regimes placed in Cuba to take advantage of the island’s resources and people. This oppression finally came to an end when Fidel Castro led a victorious revolution to overthrow both the American imperialists and their influence over Cuban politics.
In short, the history between Cuba and America from this latter paradigm is hostile; and, to understand modern Cuban-American relations, it is important to know. However, for the Cuban and American people to understand each other, it might be something better left in the past. An idea mentioned multiple times in the book Cuba an American History by Ada Ferrer, is the admonition from Howard Zinn not to let history become the memory of states; suggesting that history involves more than simply what government X did to government Y. History is also made up of culture art, and most importantly people and their stories! Just as the past can be easily reduced to the “memory of states” the present is prone to do so as well. We often view contemporary events as a narrative of governments and gloss over the people which comprise them. Visiting Cuba helped me realize this and lift the veil of aggression and conflict from my eyes to see that Cuba and Cubans are not the same thing. It equally helped me see that America and Americans are different as well. Cuba and the United States share so much more than just a war. The veil blocking me from seeing this was heavy and thick. Thankfully, I had the help of two old men along the way to help lift it from my eyes and let in the light.
The Old Man and The Sea
Hemingway’s room and typewriter where he wrote The Old Man and The Sea
The first of these old men who helped me look past Cuban-American identity in conflict is a cherished character in both Cuban and American literature. As it happens, he was brought to life by an American who lived a large part of his life in Cuba: Ernest Hemingway. This character's name is Santiago, the protagonist of Hemingway’s final novel. Santiago is an old fisherman who looks elderly in every way except his eyes which are full of youth. The Old Man And The Sea is the story of how Santiago confronts age, dire odds, and desperation with courage as he wrestles with catching a gigantic marlin on the high seas. Reading such a moving tale about a Cuban, not just Cuba, was like getting splashed in the face with a bucket of cold water. In all of my preparations for this study abroad, I thought I understood all that I needed to about Cubans. I was looking at Cubans as subjects or supporters of the Cuban government and not people with lives outside the realm of politics. Connecting with Santiago and learning about Hemingway's own deep relationship with the Cuban people helped me see that this old narrative of hostilities was only part of the picture. And so, I asked myself, if Cubans and Americans can share a Nobel prize-winning piece of literature, what else can we share?
The Old Man and the Coffee Farm
Rene, Pepita and I in front of their coffee farm in Viñales
The second old man who helped me was named Rene. Like Santiago, he is also an old man. He has kind eyes that have been darkened by the sun, and calloused hands from years of hard work picking coffee beans carefully from his trees. I met Rene in Viñales del Rio, a rural area in Western Cuba. We had just spent four days in Havana hearing lectures from professors about American imperialism and contemporary Cuban-American relations. With all this in mind, I was feeling somewhat ashamed of being in Cuba, staying at a nice hotel, and going out to eat in fancy restaurants each night while I passed people sleeping on the street and begging for money. Was I just repeating the old story of wealthy Americans taking advantage of a struggling island?
It was in this state of mind that I first met Rene and Pepita. They live on a humble farm in a part of Cuba that experiences up to eight hours of power outage every day. Despite this, and despite all the United States government's mistreatment of Cuba in the past and present, Rene and Pepita treated me like their own grandson. Never have I felt so welcome, even in my own home. Near the end of our visit, Rene even took out his guitar and got me to sing a song with him (although afterwards, he suggested I take some Vitamin R, the Cuban nickname for rum, next time to “open my mind”). This warm interaction again helped my inner paradigm shift. I was still stuck seeing those around me in relation to a hostile past. Receiving so much care from people who had every right to dislike me for being from the United States, yet chose not to, was a firm reminder that we are not our governments. There is a phrase from a book called Cry The Beloved Country by Alan Paton that says “Kindness and love can pay for pain and suffering.” I have always loved that phrase, but I don't think I ever saw it so beautifully in action until my short time with Rene and Pepita. When I eventually had to leave, we shared a warm embrace, and they invited me to come visit them next year, this time with some rum and a better singing voice.
Lets hope I can deliver.
What's Next?
It is impossible to articulate all I felt and saw while in Cuba, but in attempting to do so, I remembered an old adage that Hemingway used to describe his own outlook on life, “Grace under pressure.” Examining Cubans, I would change Hemingway's words slightly, to sum up the Cuban way of life to beauty under pressure. The Cuban people are full of hope and goodwill, but they are also forced to carry a tragically heavy burden that the United States is partially responsible for imposing. Now it is our turn as Americans, not in the sense of being citizens of the United States, but as Americans in the broader term envisioned by Jose Marti, Cuba’s founding father, to see our brothers and sisters suffering on an island only ninety miles away and realize that we are much more alike than we may think, and let present kindness and love pay for past pain and suffering. America is our mother. Whether you were born in Cuba or the United States, we share a common greater American identity. And, despite national governments that oftentimes appear indifferent to individual suffering, we in the United States, can reach out to help relieve some of the pressure weighing on this beautiful people by enlightening our fellow citizens about Cuba's plight, transferring some of the pressure placed on their shoulders to those of the politicians in our own country. The Cold War doesn’t have to define our relationship. We can see each other with fresh eyes and find a new path forward in the present, together.
Rene playing his guitar for me
Works Cited
Ferrer, Ada. Cuba: An American History. Scribner, 2021.
Hemingway, Ernest. The Old Man and the Sea. Scribner, 1952.
Paton, Alan. Cry, The Beloved Country. Scribner, 1948.
Photo Credit
Photo No. 1: Street in Cuba by Henry Hallock
Photo No. 2: Hemingway’s House by Henry Hallock
Photo No. 3: Rene Pepita and myself in front of their farm by Henry Hallock
Photo No. 3: Rene and Me by Dr. Shannon Peterson