| She usually
made out much better with this arrangement since foreigners appreciate
“giving” attitudes (romance, parties, drink) and the lack of pressure
(no price list/bill presented “a priori”)! So things went on like
this for a few years, underground capitalism midst a communist paradigm...
Well, Harry
and me had arrived this year, not to experience a “first” Christmas,
for there was no evidence of the holiday at all (and we agreed that it
was perhaps the most pleasant aspect; that no corny music was being blared
through the streets, nor advertisements or any hoopla at all), but to see
a major crackdown on the people who, by now, had had a “taste” of free
enterprise.
“Ridicule
is not permitted under socialism” Quote from a Russian
general: -H. Mitgang
For the year
prior to this visit, the foreign feminist and politically-correct press
had been having a field day, particularly focussing on the prurient (how
rare!) so that the Jinetera became the center stage of the newly discovered
“Island sex paradise”. Of course, the salting of the stories with
contiguous terminology helps, so tidbits like “drugs” and “crime”
were added. Fidel didn’t like this.
Castro feels
at one with what he thinks of as the “perfect revolutionary society
of Cuba”, and so when the press of the world began the feeding frenzy
and the finger-pointing, he took it personally, and acted. Of course, he
has the complete control necessary and the dictator’s equipment to unilaterally
deal with such events.
Harry and I
had heard of the massive arrests but we were startled by the frequency
of the sight. Remember that the year before it had been days before I’d
even noticed policemen on the streets of Havana. Now they were approximately
two per each block, and were shortly to be joined by Dobermans and Shepherds,
the people making wide swerving detours in flowing foot-traffic so to not
get too close; they didn’t appear too amused by the phenomenon.
We’d also heard
that roughly 5000 young women were being held in Havana prisons alone.
I must’ve witnessed a dozen or so good-looking, well-dressed girls, every
day being hauled away in squad cars; the accompanying cops didn’t appear
displeased with this new line of work. We also witnessed a similar number
of men being stopped at random, searched, questioned, and usually, taken
away, somewhere...
We ourselves
were stopped, probably the 2nd or 3rd day, resulting in our taxi driver
being arrested for not having paid the (huge) license fee necessary for
carrying foreigners. I was stopped three more times in Havana while the
bicycle rickshaw drivers wheeling me about were given the same treatment
(imprisoned). Just before one of these events, the driver was explaining
that this special fee was about $200/month (10 times what the salary of
an average doctor would be!) and therefore would equal about 200 average
trips, meaning a necessity of working, steadily, 15 hours a day, 30 days
a month...
The crack-down
on “free” enterprise is in full swing; 10 year prison sentences
are handed down for the simple possession of beef, fish, or lobster, which
naturally is reserved for the tourist hotels. One day near the beach, as
Harry, from his neighboring balcony, proudly held up a monster 10lb. lobster
to show what we’d be having for dinner that night, I noticed all the neighbors
on the block disappearing into their houses and shadows. Fortunately no
snitches or agents were around to question him about who the seller was.
Raul, the hardy fisherman next door who nearly never went fishing any more
since he wasn’t allowed to keep his own catch (he has to turn it in to
the government, who of course passed it to their tourist hotels) ducked
the fastest. This ratiocination of events in Cuba leads me to a bizarre
vision of the future: Havana stands very little chance of not becoming
another Juarez or Tijuana, with their controlled and horrific professional
prostitution, gambling and gangsterism (a lot like present day Russia,
too). Historically, this has been the payback for cultures which deny and
try to suppress the natural instincts of their peoples.
“One deceit
needs many others, and so the whole house is built in the air and must
soon come to the ground...” -The Art of Worldly
Wisdom, Baltasar Gracian y Morales (1647)
I’m sitting
on my balcony overlooking the “Fe del Valle” park on Galiano. The
trees are swaying and the blackbirds are tootling some of their myriad's
of sounds. The tropical “grackle” slightly resembles our Midwestern
variety but stuns the ear regularly with bizarre and lovely trills and
clicks and even oboe riffs seem to appear at times. The billygoat-cart
is slowly making its way around the fringe, with the usual ½ dozen
1 and 2 year-olds giggling and chirping their own happy-delighted music,
the two anxious moms and and one grand-dad following at a respectful distance
- so as not to embarrass their little ones with too much concern. The sun
is getting lower and the Cubans, always walking rapidly, and sometimes
covering great distances in getting to their homes because of the lack
of public transport, are thinning out a bit, and a couple of drunks make
their appearance, adding slightly louder voices to the regular din. Suddenly
there are shouts and 2 or 3 angry words from across the park. I can’t see
well enough through the dusk to tell what may be happening, but I’m thinking
it probably involves the guys drinking.
Exactly 2 minutes
and 30 seconds from the moment of the shouting, up screeches 3 squad cars...and
the noise dissipates. So does the crowd. The park empties as people leave
in all directions. My thoughts are “Boy, THAT was damned efficient -
probably police informants out there, somewhere...” The usually
sad moment, when it’s time to leave and say the “goodbyes to amigos”
arrives, but with a melancholy I’ve been unfamiliar with before. I feel
an anxiety to get out of the country as soon as physically possible, before
things escalate.
Too late, though.
Castro is about to give his 6 hour major anti-crime speech. He did it.
Old fuzzy face has decided on death penalties for treason and six other
crimes. He’s decided that the Cowgirls are in fact prostitutes and deserve
30 years each. I couldn’t watch any more.
A day later,
when I picked up my date, Yudeysys, at her office at the computer center
of the Capitolio, she asks me to walk 10 steps ahead of her...so she won’t
be considered a hooker. Fidel said in the speech that ANY woman seen with
a foreigner was a probable Jinatera, and should be stopped...!
So, the sun
begins its setting amidst the new soap opera called Cuba - somewhere between
phony pretend-images like Gaviota and the unnerving fear tactic called
“over-the-hill-Fidel”, and I’m wondering as I walk on the tarmac
toward the French jet about these high-spirited and brave Cuban people:
just how long they will put up with this crap...
Definitions
from Cuba
Mojito:
Rum and mint leaf. Me and Ernest Hemingway’s favorite drink.
Gaviota:
First foreign (Colombian) TV series to be allowed into Cuba. A super-soap,
packed with emotional drivel, guaranteed to
make women
feel stranger than fiction, and each of them, from one end of the island
to the other, know every detail and delight in telling a missed segment
to the unfortunate one who may have been bathing or working at the moment.
Of course, all Cubans also know every word of the cutesy stheme song and
burst out huskily with it on the streets.
Jinatera:
Cowgirl. |
