July 27, 2004
Loved Letters
I was stopped at a traffic light yeterday when a metro-bus pulled up next to me. On it's side was one of those huge advertising things they put on buses nowadays. I don't usually pay any mind to these loud attempts for my attention, but this one hit home for me. There on the side of this bus in the city of Miami, in Little Havana, the hub of the Cuban diaspora, was a sign that read:
The sign had pictures of familiar places in Cuba displayed around the Parcels to Cuba! Dollars to Cuba! and Travel to Cuba!. But there was one slogan in particular that completely blew me away. It read: Cuba. Un sentimiento familiar! Roughly translated it means: Cuba. A family feeling.
How inexplicably sad. It's enough that Fidel Castro and his regime divide the Cuban family, but to have it now exploited for profit, undoubtedly by Cubans living in exile, is just heartbreaking. Marazul Charters serves as a travel agency, a bank and a postal service all in one, cloaking it's exploitation of the Cuban hardship by touting it's "family feeling" thing. It even sells prepaid phone cards for Cuba.
Things are so different now.
When I was a kid I remember times when the phone would ring in a house full of people and I'd answer it. From the handset would come a faint, crackling "Llamada de Cuba. LLamada de Cuba" (Call from Cuba. Call from Cuba). I would immediately look to the nearest adult and say "Llamada de Cuba." The phone would be wrested from my hands in almost a panic and the rest of the room would go completely silent. It was a call from Cuba! They may have been waiting weeks for it, sometimes months. There could have been any number of problems or things going on in my house at that precise moment but nothing, nothing, would be more important than that phone call from Cuba.
My father or mother or whatever adult it was that got the phone would acept the phone call from Cuba and wait for the connection. Whoever else was in the house just sat there in total silence, waiting, staring at the person on the phone. The telephone conversation would usually go something like this (translated):
HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME?... YES. YES. I HEAR YOU... WHO IS IT?...WHO?... FLOR?..SI. AY FLOR. IT'S SO GOOD TO HEAR YOUR VOICE... FINE...FINE. WE ARE ALL FINE. HOW IS PAQUITO?.. AND THE KIDS?...Y MARTA? HOW IS MARTA?...
Whoever was on the phone would turn to everyone around and fill us in on the details. Flor and her husband were fine. The kids are growing so fast...Marta got on the list to leave...
YES. YES. I'M STILL HERE... BAD NEWS? WHAT BAD NEWS?... WHO?... MAMACITA? I CANT BELIEVE IT. HOW DID IT HAPPEN? WHEN?... HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME?... ARE YOU STILL THERE?... FLOR?...HELLO?...FLOR?...
Mamacita or Papasito or any one of the countless family members was dead. Everyone that had been listening intently were already in sobs. My father of mother or whoever it was that was on the phone would hang it up, gingerly, and stare at it as if expecting it to ring once again. But it never rang twice. Telephone calls from Cuba usually only meant someone in the family had died and the government had allowed them a call to family in Miami.
All the telephone calls were monitored and the minute the news for which that phone call was granted was relayed, the connection was cut. And that was it. the question of how the person died and when, whether it was an accident or the person had been disappeared, or had suffered, or went in their sleep - all of that had to wait.
All of the detail of a dead relative would come to us via another form. We would learn about how Mamacita had died by way of a crumpled letter arriving months later, having been smuggled to Miami by someone from Cuba - usually someone we had never met - that had been granted leave. Cubans that left the island not only left their families behind but carried with them word from who knows how many other families who had no more contact which each other. It must have been quite a task for those Cuban letter carriers to have to, upon first arriving in the land of the free, be bearers of bad news to complete strangers.
My grandmother had a letter she received in that fashion. It was from a family friend and told of the death of a relative. I don't recall exactly who it was that had died, but I remember my grandmother cherished that letter. She must have read it a million times, each time in sobs. There were days that she would bring out the letter specifically. The person's birthday, or wedding anniversary or the anniversary of their death. Other days, she would just bring the letter out and hold it unopened. Staring at it but with her thoughts clearly on something deeper.
I never really thought about my grandmother and her letter until just yesterday, when I sat next to a bus advertising the sending of remittances to Cuba. I realize now the true strength of my family and the clarity of their convictions. And I understand the enormous sacrifices they made.
Posted by Val Prieto at July 27, 2004 08:52 AM
Trackback Pings
TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://www.babalublog.com/cgi-bin/mt/hut.cgi/862
Listed below are links to weblogs that reference Loved Letters:
» Submitted for Your Approval from Watcher of Weasels
First off... any spambots reading this should immediately go here, here, here, and here. Die spambots, die! And now... here are all the links submitted by members of the Watcher's Council for this week's vote. Council links:Cont... [Read More]
Tracked on July 27, 2004 11:33 PM
» The Council Has Spoken! from Watcher of Weasels
First off... any spambots reading this should immediately go here, here, here, and here. Die spambots, die! And now... the winning entries in the Watcher's Council vote for this week are Control Room by Patterico's Pontification... [Read More]
Tracked on July 29, 2004 10:31 PM
Comments
Oh gosh, Val. I remember my family being the recipients of similar phone calls bearing bad news and crumpled letters delivered by strangers, usually asking for medicine, soap, eye glasses, baby bottles...in short, necessities. On a few occasions, when possible, my parents would try all they could to get some sort of help to their families (we have a cousin, a young boy, who is very ill, and was left blind after an operation that went awry), but very rarely, did our packages of soap, medicine, baby bottles, and pacifiers, get there intact. Someone, somewhere, also probably in need, would help themselves to these items. It's been a long time since my Mom has tried sending something, feeling torn about the whole thing.
Posted by: Patty at July 27, 2004 10:29 AM
Oye, Val. You know, every time I come to your site, it's usually for a trackback, or something trivial. (I apologize) Like today, I came here to make sure that I had your web address correct, so I could vote for you over on washingtonpost.com. But I get sucked into this amazing liturgy that you have, and heartfelt emotion of print. It's an awesome gift! The things that you say, and your style of writing help me feel the way that it was in your house those few years ago.
God bless you in your cause, and your extraordinary talent.
-Super
P.S. - My whole day is pretty much shot to heck, now, because I've been reading your blogs all afternoon.
Posted by: Superhero at July 27, 2004 04:18 PM
You see Val we are not so different, that story on your blog, you could just
replace a few names and it is the story of my life as well.
I remember those calls like they were yesterday, I was so little I did not
even know what a Cuba was, but the look of concern on everyone's face told
me all I needed to know, that it was something really bad.
The only thing I don't understand is when you say " but to have it now
exploited for profit, " What rock do you live under? those places have been
around for a long time and for as long as that I have Hated them, to the
extent that I have refused to do any work for one of those places. Every
time someone I know go's to send something I give them the third degree.
Most people that know me know better than to admit in my persons that they
have sent anything to Cuba using one of those so called services, Unless of
course they are looking for a fight.
One of the main reasons that I support the lifting of the embargo is because
that action will bankrupt everyone of those fuck'n places.
The last time the phone call was "LLamada de Cuba" at my house was the night
my grandparents were on a "flight to liberty" we went to welcome them behind
the airport. At a little shack that I think was called la casa de liberta.
I will never forget it. If I where ever to become a terrorist, my first
target list would include all those places.
Madtom
Posted by: tom at July 27, 2004 05:59 PM
I wanted to clarify that my family has been happy with the new restrictions, but in the same vein, has felt the pangs associated with it. Val used the word "sacrifice," and that says it all. I think the letters we've gotten from Cuba, begging...pleading for necessities, are what has my Mom especially, hurting so much. She agrees however, that the restrictions are necessary, especially in light of the fact that so many Cubans (mostly those who have recently arrived) going back to Cuba to spend their American dollars so readily.
Posted by: Patty at July 27, 2004 07:12 PM
Val used the word "sacrifice," and that says it all. I think the letters we've gotten from Cuba, begging...pleading for necessities,
Patty
Hi,
And this is somehow part of the equation. The plan is to drive them to the breaking point so that they will rise up against the regime.
This , I have been told is how the embargo is supposed to work.
But I have yet to see it work, even Gorge Washington Had allies willing to run any embargo.
Who is allied to the Cuban people?
Madtom
Posted by: tom at July 27, 2004 07:40 PM
Val:
Another heartbreakingly true post, hermano. I commend you.
And I am sorry that you have to put up with people like Madtom, but I also know you've got them covered.
I am allied to the Cuban people, and to their eventual freedom, and, ironically, I am indebted to those who would exploit and further their present plight (Arizona State University Art Museum) for awakening this new alliance.
They will rise. It is as inevitable as the weight of history. Look at Berlin 1989. The walls don't fall on their own; the people pull them down.
JdB
Posted by: Jerome du Bois at July 28, 2004 03:35 AM
JdB,
Well I thank you sir for your expressed support of the plight Cubans.
We need all the help that we can get.
We need help to bring the community together. there are many issues that divide us and this fact only helps to strengthen our enemies. A true friend of the Cuban peoples would sit us all down and help bridge the divide.
Help to find common cause and define our objectives so that we can all work in unison to achieve our goals.
Together there is no enemy that could withstand our assault, and the walls would surly crumble at our feet.
Madtom
Posted by: tom at July 28, 2004 09:14 AM
