June 29, 2005
Shave and a Haircut
Two bits
I cut my hair at a Cuban-owned barber shop. With the exception of a time frame of about 5 years during my twenties, when I was more concerned with the "look" and what was "in", I pretty much have always cut my hair at small Cuban barber shops. There's a certain familiarity to these small barber shops, a certain feeling of home, a certain nostalgia to them. Each and every time I go to one, I remember my grandfather, who took me to my first barbershop here in Miami and accompanied me on every subsequent haircut thereafter when I was a kid.
You go to any barbershop here in Miami and it's always like stepping into some kind of time warp. The mirrors running down the opposing walls. The radio on with a local Cuban station blaring the news or Tres Patines. Los barberos snipping away at someone's hair. The big tube of blue liquid holding all the combs and brushes.
There are usually only two things the old men talk about while waiting their turn or waiting for a customer: la pelota, baseball, or Cuba.
Today, as I sat awaiting my turn, a couple of the barbers were in between cuts and talking to a customer who had just had his haircut. The conversation was about, of course, Cuba and how fidel castro has ruined a once great nation. I sat there quietly, eavesdropping but not really eavesdropping as every word they said was meant for my ears too. These old Cubanos feel they must pass down their knowledge and their love for Cuba to my generation as well as others.
The gentleman who'd just had his hair cut mentioned how the castro regime has been cracking down on individual businesses in Cuba. Mind you, Cubans cant own stores or shops or whatnot in Cuba. Individual businesses are such things as casa particulares - kind of like inns - or street vendors or a guy shining shoes. Small, individual enterprises.
"I suspect," I chimed in. "That there's one business in particular that must be thriving."
The three men looked at me rather surprised. They were having this conversation for my benefit, but they certainly weren't expecting me to participate.
"El turismo?" one of the barbers asked.
"El jineterismo," I responded. Prostitution.
Have you ever stated something during a conversation that makes everyone involved in that conversation just completely sit there in an almost stunned silence? As if theyre mulling around in their minds exactly what you just said, trying to come to terms with it?
We all stayed quiet for a minute or so. The three old men's countenance had changed though, from one of anger to one of sorrow. Regret mixed in there as well.
"Well," one of the barbers siad. "That's changing a bit too. Ask Maite. She just got back from Guanabo."
Maite is the girl that cuts my hair. Ordinarily, I would have one of the old pros cut it, but she was the only one available one time I was in desperate need of a trim and she did a damn good job that day. She's been my barber ever since.
Maite just got back from Cuba last week, never having returned after exiling 10 years ago. She went to Cuba with her husband and her two kids, ages 2 and 8. Both kids were born here and had never met their grandparents. Maite hated every minute of her trip and hadnt wanted to go in the first place, but her husband's parents are very old and she didnt want to deny her children from meeting los abuelos.
As she snipped and shaved away at my hair, she gave me the horror stories of the trip. From her discomfort and disgust at all the milicianos in their green uniforms patrolling the airport, to her encounter with the uniformed customs guard and his disrespect for her and her family. As she combed and sprayed she told of the blackouts, the rains, the heat. The lack of everyday necessities. Her children crying because they hated Cuba: no power, no Nintendo, no cartoons. Sleeping in a bed with her husband and two kids in the tropical heat and humidity without air conditioning or even so much as a fan to cool them.
For her, as it would be for any American who refused to stay at a state run hotel, the trip was a nightmare.
The one thing that she did emphasize over and over was her surprise at the lack of tourists in the area. Guanabo is a beach town that is known as a favorite tourist attraction in Cuba. Apparently, either fidel has restricted the area to tourists, or the tourism numbers the Cuban government alledges arent up to snuff.
Maite had expected to be disgusted by all the foreigners in what was once her and her family's hometown.
"With the lack of tourists," I asked her. "Im sure there wasnt much jineterismo around."
"There were a few," she said. "I talked to one at the beach one day. Una mulatica."
"She was excited that she leaving to La Habana the next day," she continued. "And work La Catedral."
I sat there totally stunned. "La Catedral?" It's gotten that bad that they are now working the cathedral for johns?
Maite laughed and said "No. They arent looking for johns. They have a different approach."
La jinetera mulatica and her friend dress like quaint guajiras, poor country girls, take an old Polaroid with them and work La Catedral by standing next to tourists, asking them to pose with them, perhaps kissing either a man or a woman on the cheek and snapping a picture. There's no charge for the photograph, but every single tourist always offers a small gratuity. A dollar here, two dollars there. A small tip gets a tourist a quaint picture with an attractive quaint island girl in front of a quaint dilapidated building in quaint Havana.
"Take 50 or a hundred pictures in one day" Maite continued. "And that's $50 or $100. That, in Cuba, is a lot of money. And they dont have to degrade themselves by sleeping with any tourists. Resuelven."
Even though I find this particular story heartening, and I applaud la mulatica and those like for their ingenuity and attempts to live with dignity, I know there are assholes like this(WARNING, GRAPHIC IMAGES) in abundance. A world full of johns waiting to go to the big island whorehouse led by the senile pimp.
Hasta cuando?
Posted by Val Prieto at June 29, 2005 11:52 AM
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Comments
That guys balls should be cut off!
Posted by: YUCA at June 29, 2005 02:51 PM
Hasta cuando? Maybe hasta que ese f***ing come mierda communista hijo e puta acabe de estirar la pata! It's heartbreaking how this tyrant has transformed our beautiful Island into a place for filthy disgusting tourist to get their cheap thrills.
Reading the posts by those tourist pig MFs make my stomach turn!! There are tons of others, posting their great jinatera filled nights in different pueblos in Havana. I hope these Johns catch some nasty venerial disease and rot in thier own beds while thier daughters go walk the streets para "resolver"!
Posted by: Candy at June 29, 2005 02:51 PM
I wish I would have taken the warning seriously. Needless to say I did not pursue it due to the graphic nature. But this has been my arguement for years that these "tourists" are only there to abuse. I once was on a so called "Cubamaniac" website(this does not necessarily reflect most on that site, only the perverts)and someone bragged about getting a 12 year old Cuban girl for a pair of shoes. To those too stubborn to accept the fact that that is reality in Cuba. That was a nina who forever lost her innocence in the name of tourism!
Posted by: pototo at June 29, 2005 05:18 PM
Please do rent "Who the hell is Jullietta"
The last scene is to most heart wrenching image any Cuban can ever see.
Posted by: KillCastro at June 30, 2005 12:27 AM
Last Saturday evening the streets of Palo Alto, Ca were overflowing with "Anarchists" whose demands were for an economy like that in Cuba. No wonder so many people are risking their lives to get into Cuba. No, wait - it is to get out.
Posted by: Walter E. Wallis at June 30, 2005 02:03 PM
This should be required reading for Jimmy Carter, the NCC and Pastors for Peace. Sickening.
Posted by: Kathleen at July 5, 2005 09:04 PM
