When I first set foot in Cuba I saw something I read as a sign. As I was standing in line at passport control, I noticed all the officers in their booths wearing olive green military-like uniforms. Like seeing shotgun-toting guards in wealthy markets in India, there's something slightly unsettling about the power implied by a military uniform that takes a couple days to become accustomed to in everyday life. But as I was waiting my turn, one of the woman officers got up from her booth to take her break. She stepped out, trading places with another officer, to reveal a miniskirt and fishnet stockings. Lesson learned – there's more to Cuba than meets the eye.
With this in mind, I've resolved to try not to assume I understand how things work too quickly. The 3 days I've been here certainly isn't enough time. 3 weeks probably won't be enough. Maybe 3 years would be, but by that point Fidel will be dead and who knows what changes the country will be going through. Nobody seems to be certain he's living even now, but at some point they'll run out of unseen footage to release to news services and people will begin to wonder what miracle halted his aging process.
In any case, for all intents and purposes, Fidel and his regime are alive and in control today. Without coming to conclusions like I promised I wouldn't, I will however write down my current thoughts, as if I wait until my time here is up, I will have forgotten most of them.
What does it mean to live in a classless society when the currency is explicitly divided into two classes — a "CUC" peso for tourists worth 25 times as much as a Cuban national peso? Furthermore, how do you live on an honest wage, the equivalent of 15 CUC (~US$15) a month, when two pieces of chicken cost 3 CUC? Is it really true, as Roberto, the owner of the house in Havana I'm staying at says, that everybody has a scam? Walking down the street, hearing half a dozen "hey, my friend"s murmured in my direction by a voice hoping to sell a girl for the night, or engage in a friendly conversation leading to a companionship involving beaches, bars, rum and cigarettes whose bill is only realised by the naïve tourist at the end of several days, it sometimes seems so. But surely a country can't function like that. How does it work?
"It doesn't," says Roberto. "It's a big falsehood."
On the other hand, illiteracy doesn't exist. Education is free. Some of the best medical schools and doctors are here. Culture is state-subsidised, so a ballet performance at the theatre is affordable to any person on the street. I spent a day at a book fair held in an old fort overlooking Havana and the waterfront. Wandering among the stalls packed with thousands of people browsing the literature (a large percentage of which was revolutionary-themed), or enjoying the sun and view while eating sandwiches and ice cream, I realised I was mistakenly applying my assumptions from India to this event in Cuba. Namely, that the people attending the fair were the minority wealthy enough to pay the entrance. In fact, being government-subsidised, anyone was able to afford not only entry but books too. Surely something to be admired.
Then again, government rations allow a woman one pack of sanitary towels every 3 months. A policy that must have been created by someone who skipped sex-ed class or who enjoys cruel teasing. The large dark government fruit and vegetable store I walked into was completely bare but for a few sad-looking bananas. Too bad if you depend on your ration book to buy your food; you'd better come up with a way of earning some extra pesos to spend at the regular market. And if you're above the age of 7, you won't be consuming any milk. In fact, cows are so precious that killing one will get you more time in jail than murdering a person.
What was life like before the revolution when Havana was a playground for the rich and a slum for the poor? Was it much different than today, where tourists pay hundreds to stay in fancy resorts while the people are left with crumbling buildings without the money or supplies to improve their lives? How do these people feel knowing that even in the unlikely event that they had enough money to walk into the restaurant of a tourist hotel, they would be legally barred from eating there unless they were accompanied by a foreigner?
And what would Che, who stares down from so many billboards and posters with his iconic visionary look, say were he alive today to see the results of his revolution? Would he shake his head in disbelief, regretting the results the ideals of his youth led to? Would he look at his old friend Fidel and wish someone else would have served instead to carry out his dreams? Or would he have become yet another dictator, the years slowly twisting him into a man upholding a corruptness he fought to defeat? Maybe it's just as well Che died young. His image will always be fighting the good fight, and will never have to face the difficulties presented once victory is achieved.
Trying to dig into the mind of a Cuban to find out their thoughts is going to be difficult when any response other than a thumbs up to Fidel could land them in jail for 15-20 years.
