Cuba Without Fidel

2024 Author: Steven Freeman | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-17 08:15

When I was born in Cuba, Fidel Castro was in power. When I went into exile in 1991, Fidel Castro was still in power. When I returned on Monday, November 28, Fidel Castro was nothing more than a handful of ashes.

I did not travel to cover the longest funeral in the history of that Caribbean island, I was really invited to the first direct flight on the JetBlue line from New York to Havana.

The instructions from the island's government and the United States Embassy in Cuba, 24 hours after the surprise death of the ex-ruler was announced, were very clear: the use of bright or striking colors is considered offensive; in some cases, the consumption of alcoholic beverages is seen as disrespectful; listening to music, dancing or singing is unacceptable.

Nothing new for me, that I grew up under Castroism: even pain and mourning are imposed.

For those who have traveled to Cuba before and suffered the high prices of agencies and charters, the long lines at the airport, the various checkpoints before reaching the airline counter, traveling now will be as easy as making a domestic trip. There are no additional charges, they do not weigh hand luggage, the flight will depart on time and the round trip ticket does not exceed the number of people moving. I saw two Jetblue employees waving, on the JFK track, Cuban and American flags. Upon landing at Terminal 3 of the José Martí International Airport in Havana, an American flag also flew on the runway next to the Cuban one.

The first thing we did, after leaving our luggage at the hotel, was to look for a palate. We found one across the street and sat on the terrace. The entire group ordered mojitos and daiquiris. We all raise our glasses and toast.

Yes, the country was in mourning. There were signature books in the schools, with elderly escorts. I didn't see anyone sign. Every time I asked someone if he would go to the Plaza de la Revolución, to the memorial, he would raise an eyebrow like a María Félix and say something like: “What, to see a photo and a pair of medals? They have to put an open coffin on me to be sure that he died.”

I asked the taxi driver who took me back to the airport if I had gone to the plaza the night before, where thousands had made an appointment. She turned to look at me and very seriously said to me: “If I don't drive this taxi, my children don't have to eat. There they were the ones who got out of their jobs and schools in trucks and buses.” Then she began to change radio stations in search of something unrelated to the funeral. From station to station, the same woman was always heard, saying in an oppressive litany: “I see Fidel in buildings, in schools, in hospitals, on the streets, on the sidewalks, in the clouds, in the stars”. From there he went on to list the parts of his face: "I see it in my hair, in my ears, in my eyebrows, in my eyes, in my nose, in my mouth …". When it seemed that he was going to continue descending to the places where he saw the "Commander" in the most intimate areas of his body, the woman turned off the radio and said quietly: "Even dead, he continues to screw us."