Habana 3/23 -- I'm rushing to get this posted. An unmarked car has just squealed to a stop outside my window. Two men in print shirts and jeans have jumped out and are clamboring up the stairs. They are being far too noisy in this ominous quiet that envelops the city.
They are knocking at my door. I must sign off.
What can this mean?
havana hombre
Saturday, March 24, 2007
standoff at sea
Habana 3/23 -- I've just gotten today's copy of Trabajadores, the organ of the Cuban labor movement. It contains several items of interest.
In the lead article, Trabajadores reports that a Cuban naval squadron has intercepted and turned a "foreign invasion fleet." The article says that no shots have been fired, but that several vessels collided in connection with the confrontation, and that rescue efforts are underway.
In another article, Trabajadores denounces the "vicious United States propaganda campaign that accuses the Cuban government of leadership purges." The writer goes on to say that, "all the loyal members of the government of Fidel Castro have enthusiastically agreed to serve in various capacities under the leadership of Raul Castro."
Finally, on page 6, a small item: "Cuban security forces in Santiago de Cuba have recaptured the corrupt former party official Juan Carlos Robinson Agramonte, who escaped from prison early Thursday. Robinson Agramonte and a small entourage were intercepted in the foothills of the Sierra Maestra."
havana hombre
In the lead article, Trabajadores reports that a Cuban naval squadron has intercepted and turned a "foreign invasion fleet." The article says that no shots have been fired, but that several vessels collided in connection with the confrontation, and that rescue efforts are underway.
In another article, Trabajadores denounces the "vicious United States propaganda campaign that accuses the Cuban government of leadership purges." The writer goes on to say that, "all the loyal members of the government of Fidel Castro have enthusiastically agreed to serve in various capacities under the leadership of Raul Castro."
Finally, on page 6, a small item: "Cuban security forces in Santiago de Cuba have recaptured the corrupt former party official Juan Carlos Robinson Agramonte, who escaped from prison early Thursday. Robinson Agramonte and a small entourage were intercepted in the foothills of the Sierra Maestra."
havana hombre
freedom?
Habana 3/23 -- Nothing like a night behind bars to temper one's ideological enthusiasm.
I was forcibly detained by Cuban police around 1:15 a.m. this morning. No sooner had I left the office and turned the corner of Avenida Esperanza than I was enveloped by a crowd of retreating demonstrators. I struggled to hold my ground against the rush, but before I could fully assess what was going on, two uniformed officers grabbed me by the arms and pulled me aside.
I was loaded into a paddy wagon along with a half dozen others. All of us were shoved and manhandled and prodded, and have some minor bruises to show for it, but no one was seriously mistreated.
At the station, my protestations of Spanish citizenship proved useless. Phrases such as "disorderly conduct," "disturbing the peace," and "violating curfew." dominated the brief exchange and I was brusquely escorted to a large holding cell.
My cellmates for the night were a diverse group, and included a couple of pro-democracy firebrands who continued to shout slogans until fellow cellmates prevailed on them for some quiet, a couple of students whose concerns quickly turned from activism to what would happen after they were kicked out of the university, one gentleman who insisted in perfect Catalan that he was a Canadian citizen and an innocent bystander like me, a disheveled wino who passed out moments after I arrived, and a Cuban-American who said he was in the city on business having flown in from Mexico City only the day before.
Conversation in the holding room was muted, as we all contemplated the gravity of our situation. Finally, toward morning, I caught a couple of hours of sleep. I was awakened by the clanging of the cell door, and the Canadian and I were uncermoniously whisked out.
"Here are your things. You are free to go," the presiding officer at the desk intoned. I checked the contents of the plastic bag he thrust at me. My wallet and keys were there. It came as no surprise that my passport was not.
I shuffled bleary-eyed through the morning light. The city was quiet, the streets still littered with placards, burnt-out torches and other debris. I saw a few spent shell casings and at one corner the remains of a bonfire still smoldered. But there were few people to be seen, only a bicyclist or two.
When I reached the Malecon, I looked out over the Caribbean and the morning sun, which hung above the horizon in a heavy haze. The light silhouetted a number of naval vessels about a mile or so offshore. They looked to be destroyers or light cruisers. It was hard to tell in the haze.
Just outside the mouth of the harbor, two Cuban patrol boats cruised at idle speed in lazy circles.
I am back in the office again. The radio is still playing Cuban folk songs. There are no local newspapers yet. It is impossible to tell what has happened during the night.
havana hombre
I was forcibly detained by Cuban police around 1:15 a.m. this morning. No sooner had I left the office and turned the corner of Avenida Esperanza than I was enveloped by a crowd of retreating demonstrators. I struggled to hold my ground against the rush, but before I could fully assess what was going on, two uniformed officers grabbed me by the arms and pulled me aside.
I was loaded into a paddy wagon along with a half dozen others. All of us were shoved and manhandled and prodded, and have some minor bruises to show for it, but no one was seriously mistreated.
At the station, my protestations of Spanish citizenship proved useless. Phrases such as "disorderly conduct," "disturbing the peace," and "violating curfew." dominated the brief exchange and I was brusquely escorted to a large holding cell.
My cellmates for the night were a diverse group, and included a couple of pro-democracy firebrands who continued to shout slogans until fellow cellmates prevailed on them for some quiet, a couple of students whose concerns quickly turned from activism to what would happen after they were kicked out of the university, one gentleman who insisted in perfect Catalan that he was a Canadian citizen and an innocent bystander like me, a disheveled wino who passed out moments after I arrived, and a Cuban-American who said he was in the city on business having flown in from Mexico City only the day before.
Conversation in the holding room was muted, as we all contemplated the gravity of our situation. Finally, toward morning, I caught a couple of hours of sleep. I was awakened by the clanging of the cell door, and the Canadian and I were uncermoniously whisked out.
"Here are your things. You are free to go," the presiding officer at the desk intoned. I checked the contents of the plastic bag he thrust at me. My wallet and keys were there. It came as no surprise that my passport was not.
I shuffled bleary-eyed through the morning light. The city was quiet, the streets still littered with placards, burnt-out torches and other debris. I saw a few spent shell casings and at one corner the remains of a bonfire still smoldered. But there were few people to be seen, only a bicyclist or two.
When I reached the Malecon, I looked out over the Caribbean and the morning sun, which hung above the horizon in a heavy haze. The light silhouetted a number of naval vessels about a mile or so offshore. They looked to be destroyers or light cruisers. It was hard to tell in the haze.
Just outside the mouth of the harbor, two Cuban patrol boats cruised at idle speed in lazy circles.
I am back in the office again. The radio is still playing Cuban folk songs. There are no local newspapers yet. It is impossible to tell what has happened during the night.
havana hombre
Friday, March 23, 2007
night of decision
Habana 3/23 -- It is past midnight and the political battles continue in Cuba's capital city. I have returned to the office after an hour on the streets watching the ebb and flow of rival groups along the Malecon and other major thoroughfares. News of president Raúl Castro's heavy-handed cleansing of government leadership has spread quickly. The reported purges seem to have bolstered the ranks of reform-minded opponents, who number in the hundreds, if not thousands. But the police are also out in force, blocking parades of torch-carrying demonstrators as they move toward the zocolo and the center of the city.
Just moments ago, a skirmish broke out as demonstrators, many of them carrying pro-democracy banners and placards tried to outflank a riot squad blocking access to the Prado. The police, carrying rubber truncheons and shields waded into a group of 20 or so demonstrators, swinging their clubs randomly. Several demonstrators were hauled away screaming, while others were left bleeding on the cobblestones. One lay alarmingly still. The demonstrators retreated, but continued to shout anti-Castro slogans. "Castro, no, democracy si!"
Opponents of the government are not alone in demonstrating their views. Die-hard loyalists have also taken to the streets and reportedly have cordoned off several blocks in the old city. Crackling sounds can be heard in the area of the Almendares River, possibly gunfire, or perhaps lingering reports of celebratory fireworks.
At one point near my office building, the milling groups had reached a kind of standoff and I was able to speak directly to one of the armed policemen. "We are simply trying to maintain order," he said. "We don't want rival groups confronting each other."
I've returned to the office to catch my breath and to give myself a moment for reflection. But I know I have to go back out, however risky it may seem. History is being written in Havana and history is often an irresistible siren. This is a rare opportunity to witness dramatic and significant events. I find myself drawn to it, perhaps even drawn into it.
P.S. -- I had another phone call from Jorge. His unit was departing for Santiago. He has been issued live ammunition. His last words before he hung up were: "We are in a battle for Cuba's soul."
havana hombre
Just moments ago, a skirmish broke out as demonstrators, many of them carrying pro-democracy banners and placards tried to outflank a riot squad blocking access to the Prado. The police, carrying rubber truncheons and shields waded into a group of 20 or so demonstrators, swinging their clubs randomly. Several demonstrators were hauled away screaming, while others were left bleeding on the cobblestones. One lay alarmingly still. The demonstrators retreated, but continued to shout anti-Castro slogans. "Castro, no, democracy si!"
Opponents of the government are not alone in demonstrating their views. Die-hard loyalists have also taken to the streets and reportedly have cordoned off several blocks in the old city. Crackling sounds can be heard in the area of the Almendares River, possibly gunfire, or perhaps lingering reports of celebratory fireworks.
At one point near my office building, the milling groups had reached a kind of standoff and I was able to speak directly to one of the armed policemen. "We are simply trying to maintain order," he said. "We don't want rival groups confronting each other."
I've returned to the office to catch my breath and to give myself a moment for reflection. But I know I have to go back out, however risky it may seem. History is being written in Havana and history is often an irresistible siren. This is a rare opportunity to witness dramatic and significant events. I find myself drawn to it, perhaps even drawn into it.
P.S. -- I had another phone call from Jorge. His unit was departing for Santiago. He has been issued live ammunition. His last words before he hung up were: "We are in a battle for Cuba's soul."
havana hombre
ministries close
Habana 3/23 -- At some point all politics becomes personal.
Jorge is on his way back to the capital. He is a captain in the reserves and is returning to join his regiment. He called before he left, concerned and agitated, but determined to do his duty to defend his country.
He could provide some news, having talked to his commanding officer. Allegedly, several cabinet ministers have been sacked. The ministry of culture and the ministry of health have been occupied by troops from the president's personal guard.
Jorge also was told that additional troops have been dispatched to Santiago de Cuba, where trouble is expected.
Raúl Castro himself was defiant in his television address. His demeanor was consistent with his "bad cop" reputation.
There is more noise and bustle in the streets as darkness begins to fall. Candles are lit in many windows. Occasional horns and firecrackers can be heard.
It would seem as if lines are being drawn in the grimy sand that lines the molo.
havana hombre
Jorge is on his way back to the capital. He is a captain in the reserves and is returning to join his regiment. He called before he left, concerned and agitated, but determined to do his duty to defend his country.
He could provide some news, having talked to his commanding officer. Allegedly, several cabinet ministers have been sacked. The ministry of culture and the ministry of health have been occupied by troops from the president's personal guard.
Jorge also was told that additional troops have been dispatched to Santiago de Cuba, where trouble is expected.
Raúl Castro himself was defiant in his television address. His demeanor was consistent with his "bad cop" reputation.
There is more noise and bustle in the streets as darkness begins to fall. Candles are lit in many windows. Occasional horns and firecrackers can be heard.
It would seem as if lines are being drawn in the grimy sand that lines the molo.
havana hombre
call to arms
Habana 3/23 -- A new flier has found its way through my mail slot, another hand-crafted missive from the Federation for Cuban Democracy. It features the Cuban flag and is headlined "A New Cuba Is Born Tonight." The flier carries paroles that only a few years ago would have been treasonous, and perhaps still are. "Give us elections now!" "Midnight Rally." "TORCHLIGHT Parade for FREEDOM!" "Let the new revolution begin!"
If I hold the flier up closely to the bulb in my desk lamp, and I can clearly read the watermark: "Hammermill Deluxe Velum." I chuckle quietly to myself. Paper products have been on the embargo list for years. It seems funny and at the same time it is not funny.
My friend Miguel has just left after stopping by for a drink. He had to leave his car at the office. There are police barricades along the Prado and the Avenida de las Misiones. He is concerned, not only for his business, but for the country.
He tells me that police have dispersed a rowdy crowd in Santiago. He doesn't know if anyone was hurt. The city is full of rumors, he says. One of his foremen has reported that Robinson Agramonte is back in his home town after being released by sympathetic prison guards.
According to the reports, Robinson is planning a non-violent campaign to reclaim the spirit of the revolution from the corrupt and feckless Castro regime. He will set off for the Sierra Maestra mountains together with supporters in the morning. He invites all people who support a true socialist revolution in Cuba to join him. He has allegedly made his campaign a spiritual one as well as a political one. According to the foreman, the rallying cry is: "From the mountain with cleansed spirit; to the capital with clean politics."
Miguel and I reflect somberly on what is happening. Though we are Spanish, we have lived for many years in Cuba and share a deep love for its people, culture and history. We wonder if the revolutionary spirit is still alive in Cuba. We wonder how many will dare to demonstrate against the ascendancy of Raúl Castro. We wonder what we would do if we were Cuban citizens.
How comfortable we've become with our Western lifestyles and our European values. How far from real political passion. Wasn't it Thomas Jefferson himself who declared that every generation should foster a revolution? How many Western generations have ignored that privilege?
In the distance I hear sirens.
havana hombre
If I hold the flier up closely to the bulb in my desk lamp, and I can clearly read the watermark: "Hammermill Deluxe Velum." I chuckle quietly to myself. Paper products have been on the embargo list for years. It seems funny and at the same time it is not funny.
My friend Miguel has just left after stopping by for a drink. He had to leave his car at the office. There are police barricades along the Prado and the Avenida de las Misiones. He is concerned, not only for his business, but for the country.
He tells me that police have dispersed a rowdy crowd in Santiago. He doesn't know if anyone was hurt. The city is full of rumors, he says. One of his foremen has reported that Robinson Agramonte is back in his home town after being released by sympathetic prison guards.
According to the reports, Robinson is planning a non-violent campaign to reclaim the spirit of the revolution from the corrupt and feckless Castro regime. He will set off for the Sierra Maestra mountains together with supporters in the morning. He invites all people who support a true socialist revolution in Cuba to join him. He has allegedly made his campaign a spiritual one as well as a political one. According to the foreman, the rallying cry is: "From the mountain with cleansed spirit; to the capital with clean politics."
Miguel and I reflect somberly on what is happening. Though we are Spanish, we have lived for many years in Cuba and share a deep love for its people, culture and history. We wonder if the revolutionary spirit is still alive in Cuba. We wonder how many will dare to demonstrate against the ascendancy of Raúl Castro. We wonder what we would do if we were Cuban citizens.
How comfortable we've become with our Western lifestyles and our European values. How far from real political passion. Wasn't it Thomas Jefferson himself who declared that every generation should foster a revolution? How many Western generations have ignored that privilege?
In the distance I hear sirens.
havana hombre
Pico Turquino
Habana 3/23 -- Francis Milian, Jorge's father, has called. It turns out he is not quite so immune to the changing face of Cuba as he professed earlier this morning. He wants to know if anything is going on in the capital city. He wants to know if there is any danger of the revolution being derailed. He wants to know if he has spent his entire life in the service of a dying cause.
He reminisces about the days when the early revolutionaries sought refuge in the Sierra Maestre mountains in eastern Cuba. It was the most important time of his life, he says. "We were young and full of spit and vinegar. We had seen the dawning of a new world, a new civilization. We had all read Shakespeare's The Tempest, and we realized that modern societies must be built on equality and justice and science and reason, not on greed and superstition and privileges for the elite."
He falls silent. "Have you ever seen the sun rise over Pico Turquino," he asks rhetorically.
By the way, Jorge is home safely, still nursing a bit of a hangover.
havana hombre
official silence broken
Habana 3/23 -- There is new word from the Cuban government about the confused situation following the death of iconic leader Fidel Castro. Allejandro Fernandez, a lower level official at the ministry of the interior has directly phoned a number of local journalists with the following statement: "Alarmed by the threatening statements made by representatives of the United States and its allies, the government of Cuba has taken immediate steps to ensure a smooth transition. All reservists are being asked to report for duty, and the nation's defense forces have been placed on high alert, The revolutionary guard will repel any attempt by outsiders to impose their will upon the free people of Cuba."
But the situation remains puzzling. The voice of the Cuban government, so unified and foreceful in the waning hours of Fidel Castro's illness, now appears to be stammering. Why hasn't the latest statement been broadcast on national radio and television? Why is there no single spokesperson responsible for direct contact with the public? And why has no one yet explained the delay in president-designate Raúl Castro's address to the Cuban people?
Fernandez is known to be a stalwart supporter of the Castro regime. Has he replaced the government's previous official spokesman? Or is a struggle taking place within the leadership, a struggle that is reaching down to mid-levels of bureaucrats and functionaries? And most importantly, is the army still unified behind its long-time chief of staff?
The radio continues to offer patriotic music and Cuban folk songs, but there is less and less activity in the streets. No public transportation is running, and shops are closing early, either for lack of customers or in anticipation of an official curfew.
A few minutes ago, I made my way on foot to the nearby offices of the ministry of labor. The entrance was heavily guarded and no one seemed to be coming or going from the building. But at the nearest corner, where day laborers often gather in hopes of picking up an odd job, a group of 40-50 men had assembled. "We are here to support the president," one of the men told me. "Normally, we carry shovels and picks, but if we must, we will shoulder rifles."
I also made my way to the coffee shop on Avenida Esperanza, which had reopened following the morning's confrontation with security forces. A few students sat in the half-light sipping espresso. They were reluctant to talk with me at first, but seemed to relax when I showed my Spanish passport.
"There are many people who do not want to see Muso (another nickname for Raúl Castro) as president," one of them said. "There are many people meeting today in houses and offices around the island to plot a new course for Cuba, a course that will bring us into the 21st century. It is time; we have waited long enough."
When I asked if there were demonstrations planned, they shrugged noncommittally. Then one of them added with a strange grin, "Students always stay up late at night."
havana hombre
But the situation remains puzzling. The voice of the Cuban government, so unified and foreceful in the waning hours of Fidel Castro's illness, now appears to be stammering. Why hasn't the latest statement been broadcast on national radio and television? Why is there no single spokesperson responsible for direct contact with the public? And why has no one yet explained the delay in president-designate Raúl Castro's address to the Cuban people?
Fernandez is known to be a stalwart supporter of the Castro regime. Has he replaced the government's previous official spokesman? Or is a struggle taking place within the leadership, a struggle that is reaching down to mid-levels of bureaucrats and functionaries? And most importantly, is the army still unified behind its long-time chief of staff?
The radio continues to offer patriotic music and Cuban folk songs, but there is less and less activity in the streets. No public transportation is running, and shops are closing early, either for lack of customers or in anticipation of an official curfew.
A few minutes ago, I made my way on foot to the nearby offices of the ministry of labor. The entrance was heavily guarded and no one seemed to be coming or going from the building. But at the nearest corner, where day laborers often gather in hopes of picking up an odd job, a group of 40-50 men had assembled. "We are here to support the president," one of the men told me. "Normally, we carry shovels and picks, but if we must, we will shoulder rifles."
I also made my way to the coffee shop on Avenida Esperanza, which had reopened following the morning's confrontation with security forces. A few students sat in the half-light sipping espresso. They were reluctant to talk with me at first, but seemed to relax when I showed my Spanish passport.
"There are many people who do not want to see Muso (another nickname for Raúl Castro) as president," one of them said. "There are many people meeting today in houses and offices around the island to plot a new course for Cuba, a course that will bring us into the 21st century. It is time; we have waited long enough."
When I asked if there were demonstrations planned, they shrugged noncommittally. Then one of them added with a strange grin, "Students always stay up late at night."
havana hombre
rumors abound
Habana 3/23 -- As a former professor of mine at Barcelona Technical College once remarked, "Secrecy begets ignorance." It is difficult, if not impossible, to tell what is happening in Havana at this critical point in Cuba's history. The announced speech by incoming President Raúl Castro has been, in the words of the official spokesperson, "delayed." What this means is anyone's guess. And guesswork undermines understanding.
Calls to official agencies lead nowhere. My contacts in the media are equally mystified. In the absence of reliable information, the rumormongers and conspiracy theorists have been given free rein.
The compadre on the corner who shines shoes and takes on other errands and chores for a greenback has become the most reliable, as well as colorful, observer of the increasingly tense situation in Cuba's capital. "We are only hours from an invasion," he says calmly. "The American navy has already landed Marines at Guantanamo, and soon the frigates will sail into Bahia de la Habana. Already los Americanos have named a puppet president, who at this moment is ready to board a plane in Miami. We'll soon be Yanqui slaves again."
His name is Ernesto. He delivers his vision of the future without rancor or malice. He has always been poor. He expects to remain poor. All he asks of life is an occasional tip, a daily shot of rum and a glass of cerveza.
A more chilling account comes from my Spanish compatriot, Miguel Onate, an engineer who represents a major international construction consortium working on new port facilities in Santiago. In a phone call, Miguel relates that many roads in the eastern part of the island have been blocked by the Cuban military. His company is unable to get shipments to the work site and military convoys have been seen moving in the area.
Miguel has his own rumors to report. Juan Carlos Robinson Agramonte, the party official sentenced to 12 years in prison last year for influence peddling, has allegedly been released. Robinson, a shining political star before his unexpected dismissal from the politburo, still has many admirers among Cuba's intelligentsia and academic circles.
But who knows? It is all rumor. And rumor, as we all know, is worth exactly what we've paid for it. The only thing I can say for sure is that no bus has run on the street below my window for the past two hours.
havana hombre
Calls to official agencies lead nowhere. My contacts in the media are equally mystified. In the absence of reliable information, the rumormongers and conspiracy theorists have been given free rein.
The compadre on the corner who shines shoes and takes on other errands and chores for a greenback has become the most reliable, as well as colorful, observer of the increasingly tense situation in Cuba's capital. "We are only hours from an invasion," he says calmly. "The American navy has already landed Marines at Guantanamo, and soon the frigates will sail into Bahia de la Habana. Already los Americanos have named a puppet president, who at this moment is ready to board a plane in Miami. We'll soon be Yanqui slaves again."
His name is Ernesto. He delivers his vision of the future without rancor or malice. He has always been poor. He expects to remain poor. All he asks of life is an occasional tip, a daily shot of rum and a glass of cerveza.
A more chilling account comes from my Spanish compatriot, Miguel Onate, an engineer who represents a major international construction consortium working on new port facilities in Santiago. In a phone call, Miguel relates that many roads in the eastern part of the island have been blocked by the Cuban military. His company is unable to get shipments to the work site and military convoys have been seen moving in the area.
Miguel has his own rumors to report. Juan Carlos Robinson Agramonte, the party official sentenced to 12 years in prison last year for influence peddling, has allegedly been released. Robinson, a shining political star before his unexpected dismissal from the politburo, still has many admirers among Cuba's intelligentsia and academic circles.
But who knows? It is all rumor. And rumor, as we all know, is worth exactly what we've paid for it. The only thing I can say for sure is that no bus has run on the street below my window for the past two hours.
havana hombre
breathless
Habana 3/23 -- I've stumbled back into my office...breathless, having run a gauntlet of check points and jostling through the mounting crowds in the street. The police have set up several roadblocks in the area around the presidential palace and jeeps carrying armed soldiers have begun patrolling the downtown area.
Just after lunch, I found a flier stuck in my mail slot at work. The Federation for a Democratic Cuba was announcing a public meeting. "A window has been opened," the flier read. "Let the light shine on freedom in Cuba." I rushed to the designated reading room/coffee house on Avenida Esperanza, normally used for late night poetry readings and student gatherings. But when I arrived, the entrance to the establishment was blocked by uniformed guards. "The meeting has been cancelled," an anonymous spokesperson in street clothes informed me and a few others who had shown up. "Go back to your offices and homes," he growled. I rushed back here, breathless. Suddenly, a sense of unease has blown over the city.
I've called contacts in the media and the labor unions. No one is answering.
I've turned on the radio to await President Raúl Castro's first address to his constituents.
havana hombre
Just after lunch, I found a flier stuck in my mail slot at work. The Federation for a Democratic Cuba was announcing a public meeting. "A window has been opened," the flier read. "Let the light shine on freedom in Cuba." I rushed to the designated reading room/coffee house on Avenida Esperanza, normally used for late night poetry readings and student gatherings. But when I arrived, the entrance to the establishment was blocked by uniformed guards. "The meeting has been cancelled," an anonymous spokesperson in street clothes informed me and a few others who had shown up. "Go back to your offices and homes," he growled. I rushed back here, breathless. Suddenly, a sense of unease has blown over the city.
I've called contacts in the media and the labor unions. No one is answering.
I've turned on the radio to await President Raúl Castro's first address to his constituents.
havana hombre
Raúl: Who is the new President?
Habana 3/23 -- "Who is this new president?" a friend and fellow Spaniard asked over a quick lunch at Tia Sofias. "I've been hearing about him for decades, but I don't feel like I know who he is. There are so many rumors about him. Is he a fool or a demon or a hero or a genius? I guess we'll find out."
It is true that the people of Cuba know less about their incoming leader than they did about their founder and lionized leader since 1959. But Raúl Castro is no stranger to them. As a local journalist once quipped, "Fidel is the one who reads us bedtime stories; Raúl is the one who makes us sleep lightly."
Born the fourth of seven children and the youngest of three brothers, Raúl grew up meeker and less focused than Fidel. His classmates tagged him "la pulguita," the little flea. His radically different appearance from his siblings has fed rumors for decades that he and Fidel had different fathers. But in the incipiency of the revolution, Raúl found his fervor and his calling. It was he who nurtured a friendship with the legendary Che Guevara; it was he who most fervently championed the cause of communist revolution in Latin America.
When Fidel Castro rose to power, he placed his younger brother, Raúl, in charge of the military, a post he has held faithfully for almost half a century. Raúl Castro has proven to be an able administrator, a loyal champion of the regime, and a strict guardian of the tenets of the revolution. The brothers seem to have achieved a kind of "good cop, bad cop" routine, and Raúl has been known to kiddingly refer to himself as "Raúl the Terrible." He is alleged to have personally executed a top general, Arnaldo Ochoa, for treason in 1989.
Whether Raúl Castro's reputation for brutality has been softened with age (he is now 78) should soon become apparent. In the corridors of power in Havana today, this is a topic of much whispered conversation. Cuba knows this man, but does it know him well enough?
havana hombre
first reactions
Habana 3/23 -- A mix of excitement and anxiety seems to be gripping the people of Havana as first reactions to the death of President Fidel Castro segue into speculation about the future. Few people that I've spoken with doubt that the transition of power to the "first brother," Raúl will proceed quickly and efficiently. However, there are obvious concerns about outside agitation or even intervention, as well as keen interest in what the power shift will mean for future policy directives.
A quick telefonazo to the ministry of the interior unveils the government's official stance. "This is both a time of great grief and an historic crossroads for the republic," the assistant who took my call said. "We have no further statements at this time. President-designate Raúl Castro will address the republic at 2:00 pm."
A second call to a friend and colleague who heads the Cuban longshoreman's union was more informative. The central revolutionary committee has been called into emergency session and the military has cancelled all leave, he said. He himself had been summoned to a meeting with key labor leaders. "Something tells me we're in for some intense maneuvering," he noted. "You know, not everyone likes the dauphin-designate." For obvious reasons, I will keep his name confidential.
Finally, a call to Jorge's rural home in Vuelta Abajo. His septuagenarian father took the call, a man who served proudly, if briefly, with Castro's revolutionary guard. No, Jorge hadn't arrived yet. He was presumably still on the road after staying over in the capital with friends. (And presumably taking it easy because of last night's sangria -- which I didn't bother to share with the elder Milian.)
"It is now over for my generation," Jorge's father said somberly. "All our passion and sweat and toil has been poured into this glorious era for Cuba. What comes now is not for us, but for the saints," he lamented.
havana hombre
A quick telefonazo to the ministry of the interior unveils the government's official stance. "This is both a time of great grief and an historic crossroads for the republic," the assistant who took my call said. "We have no further statements at this time. President-designate Raúl Castro will address the republic at 2:00 pm."
A second call to a friend and colleague who heads the Cuban longshoreman's union was more informative. The central revolutionary committee has been called into emergency session and the military has cancelled all leave, he said. He himself had been summoned to a meeting with key labor leaders. "Something tells me we're in for some intense maneuvering," he noted. "You know, not everyone likes the dauphin-designate." For obvious reasons, I will keep his name confidential.
Finally, a call to Jorge's rural home in Vuelta Abajo. His septuagenarian father took the call, a man who served proudly, if briefly, with Castro's revolutionary guard. No, Jorge hadn't arrived yet. He was presumably still on the road after staying over in the capital with friends. (And presumably taking it easy because of last night's sangria -- which I didn't bother to share with the elder Milian.)
"It is now over for my generation," Jorge's father said somberly. "All our passion and sweat and toil has been poured into this glorious era for Cuba. What comes now is not for us, but for the saints," he lamented.
havana hombre
el zumbido
Habana 3/23 -- The city has awakened from a deep sleep, following the announcement of Fidel Castro's death early this morning, which was echoed by the sonorous peeling of church bells throughout the city. The level of activity has heightened; small groups congregate on street corners to share their grief and ponder what is to come.
After downing a half gallon of coffee to neutralize last night's gallon of sangria, I hurried to my office. From the window here, I see an unusual amount of traffic, including a great many black Volvo and Mercedes limousines that presumably are ferrying government officials to urgent conferences. I've pulled out my black book of contact names. Urgency seems to be replacing lethargy.
The buzz of history is palpable.
havana hombre
After downing a half gallon of coffee to neutralize last night's gallon of sangria, I hurried to my office. From the window here, I see an unusual amount of traffic, including a great many black Volvo and Mercedes limousines that presumably are ferrying government officials to urgent conferences. I've pulled out my black book of contact names. Urgency seems to be replacing lethargy.
The buzz of history is palpable.
havana hombre
Thursday, March 22, 2007
turning a leaf
Habana 3/22 -- It has been an evening for contemplation here in Havana, as the island confronts what seems to be growing concern over the health of President Fidel Castro, as well as Cuba’s political future. The streets are unusually quiet, although laughter and music still emanate quietly from clubs and restaurants in the old city, reflecting the new-found popularity of these balmy shores among winter-weary northern Europeans.
For now the music plays on. But for how long?
I was reminded how pervasive the influence of Fidel Castro’s reign has been over dinner. (Lamb stew with a sofrito base and maduros, if you’re really interested.) My dinner companion was Jorge Milian, whose family has been growing quality tobacco for generations in Vuelta Abajo. Jorge is an intelligent young man, not enthusiastically political, but a loyal socialist.
We are not special, Jorge told me. We are a simple people, but Castro has made it possible for us to be part of a special country. I have inherited the land from my father and I do what we have always done here -- grow tobacco. All I want to do is grow good tobacco the traditional way, creating the best quality possible, just like my father did, and his father and his father before him, Jorge said.
The Milian story is part of the remarkable resurgence of the Cuban economy after the end of Soviet financial assistance nearly 15 years ago. Cuba weathered a tough economic storm and emerged resilient. Today, the gross domestic product is growing by 6-7 percent. Exports of sugar, nickel and cigars are robust. Cuba is rapidly reclaiming its role as the premier manufacturer of quality cigars, with about 170 million quality smokes exported last year.
The island’s primary export market, surprisingly, is neither in Latin America nor its former communist partners. The number one trade partner is the Netherlands, where the Dutch savor Punch panatelas at 30 Euros a smoke, with no embargo to prevent them from lighting up.
Jorge met recently with an American trade delegation, led by former Kentucky congressman Scotty Baesler, who has stated that increased trade could do wonders for farm communities in the Southeast as well as Cuba itself.
As Jorge sees it, the Castro regime has made tremendous strides the past ten years in modernizing the Cuban economy. Without direct cooperation with tobacco industry consultants in the U.S. and Europe, embargoes and travel restrictions notwithstanding, the Cuban industry would never have survived. That cooperation resulted, among other things, in the development of a mold resistant strain of broadleaf tobacco that retains the legendary sweet, mellow flavor of a classic Cuban. Those seeds, Cuba2000, have kept Jorge and his family in business.
I asked Jorge if he thought Cuba was ready for a change in leadership. “We have relied on Fidel Castro for so much,” he said. “Is there anyone who can take his place? I don’t know. Already my mother is crying,” he added.
havana hombre
For now the music plays on. But for how long?
I was reminded how pervasive the influence of Fidel Castro’s reign has been over dinner. (Lamb stew with a sofrito base and maduros, if you’re really interested.) My dinner companion was Jorge Milian, whose family has been growing quality tobacco for generations in Vuelta Abajo. Jorge is an intelligent young man, not enthusiastically political, but a loyal socialist.
We are not special, Jorge told me. We are a simple people, but Castro has made it possible for us to be part of a special country. I have inherited the land from my father and I do what we have always done here -- grow tobacco. All I want to do is grow good tobacco the traditional way, creating the best quality possible, just like my father did, and his father and his father before him, Jorge said.
The Milian story is part of the remarkable resurgence of the Cuban economy after the end of Soviet financial assistance nearly 15 years ago. Cuba weathered a tough economic storm and emerged resilient. Today, the gross domestic product is growing by 6-7 percent. Exports of sugar, nickel and cigars are robust. Cuba is rapidly reclaiming its role as the premier manufacturer of quality cigars, with about 170 million quality smokes exported last year.
The island’s primary export market, surprisingly, is neither in Latin America nor its former communist partners. The number one trade partner is the Netherlands, where the Dutch savor Punch panatelas at 30 Euros a smoke, with no embargo to prevent them from lighting up.
Jorge met recently with an American trade delegation, led by former Kentucky congressman Scotty Baesler, who has stated that increased trade could do wonders for farm communities in the Southeast as well as Cuba itself.
As Jorge sees it, the Castro regime has made tremendous strides the past ten years in modernizing the Cuban economy. Without direct cooperation with tobacco industry consultants in the U.S. and Europe, embargoes and travel restrictions notwithstanding, the Cuban industry would never have survived. That cooperation resulted, among other things, in the development of a mold resistant strain of broadleaf tobacco that retains the legendary sweet, mellow flavor of a classic Cuban. Those seeds, Cuba2000, have kept Jorge and his family in business.
I asked Jorge if he thought Cuba was ready for a change in leadership. “We have relied on Fidel Castro for so much,” he said. “Is there anyone who can take his place? I don’t know. Already my mother is crying,” he added.
havana hombre
el destino
Habana 3/22 -- The ominous mood in Havana the past few days seems to have been justified, with the announcement today that yet another serious health problem has beset Cuba's longtime leader and political mastermind, Fidel Castro. The surprise, if any, is not that the aging president's health is failing, but that his official spokesman has made his illness known to the outside world. The public announcement seems not to have rattled the people in the streets of the capital for the time being. It is almost as if they've been expecting this moment, and its arrival has occasioned both relief and a vague feeling of inevitability.
A member of the ruling party elite, with whom I spoke late this afternoon, admitted that the president's health was failing. But he also insisted that Castro, despite his years is "a bear of a man, able in a single shrug to shed both illness and the boasts of the American imperialists." "He will be back cutting ribbons next week," the advisor, who asked not to be identified in my blog, concluded.
My source was more interested in reviewing developments at the UN Human Rights Council in Geneva today, where a number of delegates this morning raised accusations that the United States was training mercenaries who would ultimately be inserted in a Cuban takeover attempt. Cuban delegate, Rodolfo Reyes Rodriguez, said in Geneva that "mercenaries are recruited on US territory to carry out...missions against the Cuban people." Reyes proposed that the UN commission send an inquiry team to Florida to verify the accusations, a move that my source applauded.
The mood among others I talked to this afternoon varied. For many, the moment glimmered of il destino. "It has been coming for a long time," one shopkeeper noted. "Rogar para el," the maid at my apartment block whispered, giving the sign of the cross and reminding me how deeply Catholicism resides on this island despite decades of ostensibly atheist rule.
But for the most part, the public went about its business, quietly performing the mid-week tasks that help sustain the island's surprisingly bouyant economy.
I asked the government advisor whether he anticipated any problems when a presidential transition ultimately comes. Not at all, he said. The government is ready, the military is ready, the bureaucracy is ready, he added. And, ironically, the people seem to be ready as well. Perhaps that is why the government is comfortable in announcing today's bad news.
habana hombre
Habana hombre is Senor DIego Ortiz, senior member of the international service union delegation in Cuba.
A member of the ruling party elite, with whom I spoke late this afternoon, admitted that the president's health was failing. But he also insisted that Castro, despite his years is "a bear of a man, able in a single shrug to shed both illness and the boasts of the American imperialists." "He will be back cutting ribbons next week," the advisor, who asked not to be identified in my blog, concluded.
My source was more interested in reviewing developments at the UN Human Rights Council in Geneva today, where a number of delegates this morning raised accusations that the United States was training mercenaries who would ultimately be inserted in a Cuban takeover attempt. Cuban delegate, Rodolfo Reyes Rodriguez, said in Geneva that "mercenaries are recruited on US territory to carry out...missions against the Cuban people." Reyes proposed that the UN commission send an inquiry team to Florida to verify the accusations, a move that my source applauded.
The mood among others I talked to this afternoon varied. For many, the moment glimmered of il destino. "It has been coming for a long time," one shopkeeper noted. "Rogar para el," the maid at my apartment block whispered, giving the sign of the cross and reminding me how deeply Catholicism resides on this island despite decades of ostensibly atheist rule.
But for the most part, the public went about its business, quietly performing the mid-week tasks that help sustain the island's surprisingly bouyant economy.
I asked the government advisor whether he anticipated any problems when a presidential transition ultimately comes. Not at all, he said. The government is ready, the military is ready, the bureaucracy is ready, he added. And, ironically, the people seem to be ready as well. Perhaps that is why the government is comfortable in announcing today's bad news.
habana hombre
Habana hombre is Senor DIego Ortiz, senior member of the international service union delegation in Cuba.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
quiet
It's eerily quiet in Havana today. The sun is shining, but not with any real gusto. The waves lapping the Malecon seem embarrassed to be creating sound. An occasional puffy cloud floats by without much fuss. Los hermanas y senoras shuffle along the streets in self-absorption. The island seems to be taking a deep breath. There is much to think about in this crossroad of seas and ideologies, and the weather seems reluctant to interfere. Havana is quiet, waiting.
-- havana hombre
-- havana hombre
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