Contrasts are stark in Cuba

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From: "PL" <P...@pandora.be>
Subject: Contrasts are stark in Cuba
Date: Tuesday, June 11, 2002 4:33 PM

Contrasts are stark in Cuba
Jun 10, 2002 (The Dallas Morning News - Knight Ridder/Tribune News Service
via COMTEX) -- (EDITOR'S NOTE: James Ragland spent a week in Cuba as part of
a delegation of journalists.)
HAVANA - There is something odd, something the mind can't readily reconcile,
in seeing a royal palm tree standing in the midst of squalor. It seems so
out of place.

That thought occurs to me as my tour bus winds its way through Cuba, an
island of remarkable beauty and rich culture. And a place where there is
precious little money to maintain buildings that were once stately and
noble.

The people, even the skilled professionals, get by on a few dollars a month,
if that. Theoretically, that's more than they need to survive. Under Cuba's
socialist government, which provides basic needs such as housing, health
care and education to its citizens, a fat paycheck is not vital.

Reality is this: Here, like anyplace else I've been, money can open doors to
fancy nightclubs and restaurants and to five-star hotels with elegant
amenities. It can put meat on the table, shoes on your feet. A few dollars
can make a world of difference.

But money is hard to come by in Cuba. So are TVs and computers and toilet
paper.

The U.S. government's four-decades-old ban on trade with Fidel Castro's
communist regime has taken its toll, even if it hasn't achieved its
political purpose. I'll let the politicians debate that point.

I'm here for a week as part of a delegation of journalists seeking to
document the influence of Africans in the Caribbeans. In this, my final
letter from Cuba, I want to share a slice of Cuban life. It's hardly
definitive; it's a collection of observations made from a series of bus
tours, from conversations with Cuban residents and from the streets,
neighborhoods and taverns of Havana.

I came to Cuba with fresh eyes, hoping to gain a fresh perspective on a
country that Americans generally are banned from visiting due to a
four-decade-old trade and travel embargo. I learned right away that some
Americans circumvent those travel restrictions by coming here through other
countries, such as Mexico or Jamaica.

My visit is legal, and I hope it's not the last. There's so much more to see
and learn.

On my first day here, as my tour bus chugs along Independence Avenue, I
notice a bus packed with people; the seats and aisle are crammed with flesh.
"That's the Camel," my tour guide says.

The Camels, which spit out more smoke than a fireplace, are the old public
buses that haul Cubans around. I notice that all the bus stops are teeming
with people who don't seem the least bit agitated.

In Dallas, or any American city for that matter, I'm almost certain a fight
would erupt if people were breathing down one another's necks like that.

Over the next few days, I notice men wearing mustard-colored uniforms
flagging down cars. I thought they were policemen. I was wrong.

"Those are the Yellow Men," says

Diana Rosa Aday Martin, my tour guide. She says the Yellow Men are part of
Cuba's solution to its transportation problem, which includes a shortage of
fuel and spare parts to fix cars.

"The Yellow Men are posted near bus stops and hitching posts, and (they)
stop all Cuban state cars if they are not full," she explains. "The Yellow
Men were put in areas to help people get where they need to go. It is a
system that was implemented seven or eight years ago."

You're not forced to go out of your way, she says. But if you're stopped at
Point A and you're headed to Point C, you must offer a ride to anyone who's
heading the same direction. "If they have room in the car, they must take
someone with them," Diana says.

Imagine American politicians suggesting such a thing.

The people here are remarkably kind and friendly. Some are too friendly,
such as the young women, desperate for American dollars, offering to show
you a good time.

But virtually everyone I talked to - with the help of my tour guide and
another translator - demonstrated a good grasp of Cuban history and culture,
which is more than I can say about many of their American counterparts of
the same age.

Cuba, of course, boasts an adult literacy rate of nearly 96 percent, and
quite a few of those with whom I came in contact spoke another language
besides Spanish - usually English, German or French.

Diana, my 32-year-old tour guide, is fluent in Spanish, English and
Portuguese, and she speaks a little French. She says that all high school
students used to be able to get a free college education, but now only the
best and brightest can attend; the rest are weeded out by a battery of tests
and urged to learn a craft or trade. There simply aren't enough professional
or white-collar jobs for everyone.

People such as Diana, who works in the tourism industry, including top-notch
hotels and restaurants, have it better than most. They can get more tips in
a single day than most Cubans make in a month or two, or longer.

For example, I ventured out the other day into El Moro, a small bootstrap
community in southern Havana, and talked to several of the poor people who
live there. The community looks like an old, run-down public housing
project. The residents, if they are employed, earn a few bucks a month.

One, Leonid Junco, 27, had recently quit his job as a construction worker,
he says, because he was making only 120 pesos - roughly $5 - a month. The
women who clean the hotel rooms and make up the beds can find that much
waiting for them on a couple of pillows each morning.

Leonid is now selling bread out of a bag until he can find a better job.

Cuba has personal success stories, too, the kind we Americans like to boast
about.

Such as Dr. Ruben Remigio Ferro, the great-grandson of an African slave
who's now president of Cuba's Supreme Court. He's viewed as a proud symbol
of social and racial progress under Castro's regime.

I spent much of my time here in Havana, the country's heart and soul.

It's a splendid place with magnificent architecture. Many of the buildings
need a face-lift, and some are being refurbished.

I also ate many plates of traditional Cuban food - black beans and rice
usually accompanied by roasted chicken, pork or fish. The pre-dinner salad
typically includes sliced cucumbers and pickles and shredded cabbage. It was
great the first time. And the time after that. Even on Day 3.

But, to tell you the truth, if I don't see another plate of black beans for
a year, I'll be happy.

I had some of the meals at the former homes of rich foreigners, including
Americans, whose property was nationalized after Castro came into power in
1959 and converted into offices, resorts and restaurants.

Some folks sure knew how to live.

There was little time to play. But we did go to Varadero, one of the
island's most popular beaches, for a day.

On the drive there, Diana points out where Ernest Hemingway used to live. We
pass a rehabilitation center that was built for Russian kids who were
exposed to radiation in the 1986 Chernobyl nuclear plant accident, and we
pass what Diana called the "military fields," the place where young Cubans
get military training to prepare for an invasion or attack.

At the end of each day, I return to the 16th floor of a five-star hotel - to
a room with a TV, two beds and a decent view of the North Atlantic Ocean.
And, for a week at least, Cuba seems like a far less threatening place than
the communist island I read about when I'm at home.

---

(James Ragland is a columnist for The Dallas Morning News. Write to him at
The Dallas Morning News, Communications Center, Dallas, TX, 75265, or send
e-mail to jragland(AT)dallas news.com)

---

By James Ragland The Dallas Morning News

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