Articles by Eric Covey - Cuba
January 2006
The American government makes it very difficult for Americans to travel to Cuba. But in the Winter of 2006 I have the unique opportunity of studying abroad with fifteen other UC Davis students in Havana at the world-famous Casa de las Americas, a Latin American cultural institute where we are taking classes in Cuban language, music, and literature. It doesn’t matter that most Americans haven’t heard of the Casa de las Americas. In fact given that the American media rarely talks about Cuba except in the context of Camp X-Ray, it would be shocking if they had.
At one point during our fourteen-hour trip to Havana, I asked several of my classmates if they would rather have a shower or a nap. They both answered that they would rather have a nap, and when I said I would rather shower they told me that I must really need a nap because I sounded crazy. Eight hours later we were all in Havana, showered, and no one had slept yet. There are too many reasons to stay awake here, and they don’t involve illegal detention at Guantanamo Bay.
In Havana we live much better than the ordinary Cuban. Our American dollars buy a lot of Cuban pesos and have provided us with luxury accommodations in this city of two million people. Living in the penthouse suite of a thirteen story building on Havana’s historic waterfront, the Malecon, we are treated to delicious meals, Internet access and the best house mom you could ever dream of, Maria. The average Cuban has none of these things.
The first few days in Havana were warm and sunny, but then Mother Nature showed us her more aggressive side—powerful winds rushed through our casa, and twenty-foot waves broke over the sea wall that protects the city. Even this early in the trip it is obvious that no one knows what to expect in Cuba. The local who befriends you on the street is as likely to be a hustler or prostitute as they are a poet or musician. As Americans abroad we are warned to question everyone’s motives for talking to us.
It is wise to be careful, of course, but being too careful creates a wall between us and the people who we have come here to get to know. As students rather than ordinary tourists we have the advantage of spending our weekdays interacting with Cuban intellectuals who are as interested in education as we are, but we can only learn so much from them. To learn more we must take to the streets of Havana at night and on the weekends and take some risks as we interact with the Cuban people.
It isn’t that we are risking our lives when we do this—it’s more dangerous commuting to Davis everyday. Cuba is one of the safest countries in the world, especially for outsiders. What we do risk is losing a few dollars to a jinetero or engaging in fetish, which is so often what travel boils down to. We also risk losing sight of what we are here for—that is to study and interact with Cuban culture—by thinking of Havana as a Latin American Disneyland with cheap rum, good cigars, and romantic characters who lavish attention upon us. Cuba is much more than that, and over the course of the next seventy days, if we are careful, we might discover some truths about this place we call home for the time being.
February 2006
A lot can be said for writing foreign dispatches from a 15th story penthouse balcony overlooking the sea. Even more can be said about Cuba, but not all of it true. As we have found in our six weeks here, Cuba is full of tall-tales and half-truths.
Back in America my girlfriend hates when I call her African-American. Everytime I use the phrase she reminds me that she is black. Cubans make a similar argument, insisting that since the revolution Cuban society is color-blind—Cubans are Cubans whether they are blanca, negra, or mulatta. But tourism and the Cuban exile community are helping to create a new form of economic racism in which black Cubans have less access to hard currency that white Cubans.
Because few Cuban exiles are of African decent, most of the cash remittances sent by Cubans living in the United States end up in the hands of white Cubans. And despite broad support for racial integration, unpurged racist imagery and lingering stereotypes mean that hotels and other tourist facilities are hesitant to hire darker-skinned Cubans. Driven by tourism and money sent by emigrants, the Cuban economy contradicts many of the ideals of the Cuban revolution.
Shortly after we arrived in Cuba we toured the Museum of the Revolution, which, like any American museum might, offers the story of the revolution as told by the victorious. As we entered the museum an American reporter from a prominent newspaper asked to follow us as part of a story he was writing. His subsequent article featured a made-up ending that implied Cubans were unwilling to confront criticisms of their society. This might seem true, but in reality it is not. In fact, Cubans seem more willing than Americans to address the contradictions and problems in their society. And there are many.
In spite of all this, I don’t intend to condemn Cuban socialism or even rogue journalists for that matter. Castro draws much of his support from Afro-Cubans, whose living conditions have improved greatly since the revolution. And as in most countries outside of the United States, everyone here has free access to health care. Education is also free, and most other services are highly subsidized. In fact so long as you don’t want a steak, a new pair of adidas, or to become a Capitalist, life here on the Island isn’t so bad. And any American journalist who goes too long without the comforts of home is bound to file a bad article once in a while.
I will condemn the biggest lie of all about Cuba, the one told to us by our Uncle Sam—that Cuba is dangerous, off-limits, and should continue to be punished by a forty-year-old embargo that only hurts her people and makes a few malicious Floridians happy. If you believe this lie I encourage you to come here and see for yourself what a dangerous enemy Cuba is. In fact I challenge you to do so. If you come away convinced that Cuba represents a threat to the American way of life, more power to you. More than likely you won’t be able to secure a license to visit Cuba legally. How’s that for freedom.
Like so much of the discourse surrounding Cuba, maybe this whole article is a fabrication. I am actually sitting next to Fidel eating a delicious cheeseburger and we are talking about the newest Coldplay album. In any case, the bad news is that most people have no idea what is really happening in Cuba.
March 2006
The only question I forgot to ask our guide at the Cuban military base overlooking Guantanamo Bay Naval Station is what the American military does with their waste. The base is self-contained, and I could see power generators and a water desalinization plant, but no garbage or sewer processing facilities. I have to guess that, like so many other things, the United States dumps their unsightly waste into the ocean—out of sight, out of mind. Sadly, this question only occurred to me as I was sitting in a bathroom in Santiago de Cuba later that night. Whatever had gotten into me during our four days on the eastern side of the Island wanted out, badly. Maybe it was the ice cubes in the mojiitos they served us at the lookout. Unfortunately, Cuban restaurants are not able to meet the same high standards of hygiene that you find in the McDonalds on the United States military base, the only McDonalds on the Island.
Besides having the only authentic cheeseburgers in Cuba, Guantanamo Bay Naval Station is home to hundreds of United States Marines who guard the many “illegal combatants” that George Bush, or Mr. Danger as Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez calls him, has accumulated during his adventures around the globe. In Havana we had the displeasure of meeting some of these Marines, whose only contribution to international dialogue seems to be their insistence that Cuban women are whores. But why dwell on this—talking to Marines is generally a waste of time. Yes, I know, they protect our country. Cry me a river, Captain America.
The irony is that while these Marines have the pleasure of representing America in Cuba with little difficulty, college students and other interested parties have to jump through hoops to come here to see Cuba firsthand. It is a testament to the will of individuals like Marc Blanchard, Pablo Ortiz, and the staff at the Education Abroad Center that a program like this one in Cuba continues to exist. It is these people who should be representing the interests of the United States, not the State Department. Their desire for mutual understanding, respect, and learning is in stark contrast to Condoleezza Rice and overgrown children with automatic rifles.
Returning to Guantanamo Bay, I am able to report that your tax dollars are being well-spent by Halliburton. The new multi-level prison they were paid $30 million to build is on schedule and should be open this summer. So far as the current prison in concerned, this is not the first time it has been used it to keep the darker-skinned people of the world tucked away—both Cuban and Haitian refugees have been kept there in the past, though this was eventually ruled unconstitutional. Americans are especially good at prison building, though it turns out nation building might not be our forté.
When all is said and done, I am pleased to have had the opportunity to come to Cuba and to take a trip to Guantanamo Bay. My only real concern at this point is that maybe George Bush and all his evil friends will finally have their way and programs like Quarter Abroad in Cuba will finally get flushed, like so much shit. But I guess I can see their point. Why risk allowing Americans to come to a place where they will have to confront their privilege and face their racist, imperial past and present? And besides, who really wants to come to a country where there are no McDonalds.
