Cuba is on my mind tonight

While I was in middle school I had to write a paper. I chose to write about my experience of leaving Cuba as a five year old girl.  As I wrote that paper I was surprised at how easily my tears flowed putting down words that had been held captive in my heart for some 6 years.  I realized then that expressive writing could be my therapy.  It felt very good to be able to put into organized sentences the mixed emotions and the fuzzy memories that a young girl protects until such a moment when they are released into the light.

Today, as a much older person, I sometimes feel that same sentimentality. It still surprises me that I can tap into the aroma of sadness  of that dark clear night when our family crammed into the back seat of a taxi bound for the airport; destination: Miami, Florida. My beloved abuelos were left standing on the street curb waving good-bye, I still can see my mother, holding my younger brother on her lap, and I sitting in between her and my dad, while she was crying into her handkerchief. We left with nothing but the clothes we wore.  At the airport, after humiliating strip searches by mean looking people, and removal of any other possessions that belonged to the state, we were not so kindly told we free to leave.  These images of that night,  I don’t believe can ever be erased. In a way, I am glad because I never want to forget the conditions under which we had to leave our native land. (Another future blog perhaps, I will go into those details).

Many people think that Cubans left in the early sixties to come to the US in order to find a better life, a better economy (since Socialism was beginning to take shape in the new Revolution imposed by Castro), and a prosperous future.  Yes, I suppose that is part of it:  but more than that really. 

You see, I was born in 1961, a time when a Cuban was seriously constrained of any freedom.  This was not the Cuba of my parents or grandparents.  My father had seen what the dim view of our future would be in Cuba and we were one of the lucky ones to be allowed to leave because he was over the age of males who were being forced to enlist into the new revolutionary army. We were deemed indispensible and in actuality, we were thrown out because we did not agree with the ideals of Socialism.  I was “expatriated”, as it is stamped clearly on my old, useless Cuban passport. 

When I turned twenty three, I willingly studied for and took my US citizens test and passed, actually surprising the man who  was verbally testing me. He was impressed that I knew so many historical details….I was even able to tell him where our National Anthem was written and what battle inspired it.  (It was last year of the War of 1812, during an attack on Ft. McHenry on the evenings of Sept. 13-14, 1814. Francis Scott Key was inspired and wrote the poem, which later became our anthem. I always liked learning history. )

Anyway, when we were banished from our country, our citizenship was removed.  Our choice at that time was stay in Cuba and help fight for the new revolution or leave but you will never and can never be a citizen again. There was no grey area in that choice and no grey area in knowing what we had to do as a family.  We had to leave because my parents knew that the human person cannot flourish, a family cannot be truly whole, and a child cannot reach its potential if it is forced to believe in an ideal that is not in accordance to their conscience. 

So, to set the record straight, my family was exiled from Cuba because we did not believe that the Socialist ideals were the best for our human dignity. My parents probably would have done better professionally in Cuba.  Both of them had attended college there and received professional degrees but they would have been forced to have joined the Communist Party as was mandated for all its citizens, no doubt my life would be much different today.  Had we stayed, I would have had to join the young “Pioneers” movement at school and I would have been rewarded for betraying any family members or friends who had thoughts that went against the Castro regime. I would not have been allowed to attend college if the school found out that we practiced our Catholic faith and attended Mass regularly.  I would have had to learn to live a dual life, which is what happened to all my cousins who were not as fortunate as I was. My parents would have had to be vigilant that the block captain (Committee for the Defense of the Revolution) where we lived did not suspect us of being “counter revolutionaries” because of having family who were already living in the states. 

So tonight, I am thankful that God opened a door for my family and we had the courage, hope and faith in God to take advantage of it. Through much sacrifice my parents did what was right for all of us and for the future of their grand children. 

Tomorrow, Dec. 10, 2011 is the 63rd anniversary of the Declaration of Human Rights….I think I shall read those articles again, articles that in 1948, many nations signed, including Cuba.  No. I don’t want to forget how much work there still is left to be done in our world, and in particular, in my exiled land of Cuba. 

 “Article 1-All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in the spirit of brotherhood.”  

Tonight, again I light my candles and prayed.  I prayed for peace and freedom for all those living in oppressed lands. I pray for all those who strive daily to be peace makers and defenders of freedom….these are the prayers on my mind tonight.   Lord, send me.  Amen.