Cuba Notes
Cuba Notes
Joselyn set down the plate of jamón. “Bebo, how did you sleep?” he asked Papi.
“Lying down.” It was a devastatingly matter-of-fact reply, but Papi betrayed himself with a wry smile.
Joselyn chuckled. “Well, how did you sleep lying down?”—and then, to make sure he was quite clear—”Did you sleep well?”
Eventually Monsi and Esteban came bag with a bulging bag of soap, which they deposited in the trunk. Soon we were again on our way to Esteban’s house. We weren’t very far along, however, before a policeman signaled us to pull over.
“¡Lo sabía! ¡Lo sabía!” Monsi groaned as he pulled over.
Esteban grunted, “Well, what does one expect?”
Monsi hopped out of the car and pulled out his wallet in one practiced motion. Esteban followed for moral support.
The police examined the proffered ID. “Open your trunk!” came the inevitable command.
Monsi unlocked the trunk and lifted the door.
“Why do you have all this soap?” the policeman barked.
“We have two American relatives visiting,” Monsi replied patiently and truthfully enough. Slightly less truthfully: “They always bring lots of clothes, medicine, and soap to distribute to the family.”
“All this soap,” was the suspicious reply, “for just the family?”
“¡Tenemos una familia grande!” Monsi protested: “We have a big family!”
We met for the first time an old man named José. He tottered actively about the patio, leaning heavily on a stout stick and dragging a leg along. Despite having only one tooth to his credit, he had one of the nicest smiles in Cuba. From the tolerant smiles that answered his unintelligible babbling, I realized that he was senile.
Papi gave him a new patterned handkerchief. For the rest of the day it was José’s chief pride and delight. Occasionally bursting into haphazard song, he would unfold it, smooth it, fold it again. He waved it encouragingly to anyone who passed. “¡Niña!” he called to me again and again. “¡Niña!” I would turn and smile, and he would grin toothlessly back, waving his handkerchief for me to admire. “¡Qué bonito!” was my limited answer, but he chuckled happily over it. “Sí.”
We drove past a small park. “Parque de la Revolución,” Monsi remarked. He paused and grinned. “But we don’t say it that way. We say Robolución.” Since robo means “rob,” it’s an informative illustration of the people’s real opinion of their Grand Revolution. I would hear the mocking term whispered and laughed over several times.
Joselyn had warned me not to drink the water served at the restaurant, but to drink only my own bottled water. Well, I forgot—fortunately, without consequence. Joselyn, however, made a great fuss when he found me sipping from my glass. “Is that the water from the restaurant?” he demanded urgently. My embarrassment was answer enough. He called the waiter and very loudly (because he cannot speak otherwise) reminded him that the Americans were not to be served water, lest we die in the throes of grievous intestinal complaints. Well, that was the gist of it, anyway. The waiter apologized and emptied our glasses.
“Now,” Joselyn intoned, “You must only have drinks that are bottled.” I promised meekly that I would. He relaxed into amusement. “Ah-ha-ha! Olvidó.”
We slept in very late. Through a gray haziness I heard the honking of the trucks, women calling to each other across the street, Monsi saying goodbye to his wife. Finally I managed to stumble out of bed, rubbing my eyes and trying my best to feel lively. Mama soon yawned and turned out of bed. She switched on the television to check the time.
“It’s just after eight o’ clock. Papi’s probably wondering where we are.”
There was a soft but determined scuffing on the stairs, and someone banged unceremoniously on the door. We didn’t have to ask who it was.
“There he is already, to ask.” I scurried to the bathroom with my clothes. It was better not to keep him waiting much longer.
“¿Qué pasó?” I heard Papi’s voice at the door. “Have you stuck to the sheets?”
“How did it come out?” Monsi asked, taking the camera.
“Well, I think,” Oscar Luís parried.
The first photo was total darkness. The second was the same except for a single leg and shoe illuminated in the corner. “What’s this?” Monsi laughed, “It’s a portrait of Esteban’s leg!” The camera was passed around delightedly and everyone had a very good laugh at Ocar Luís’s expense.
“Well,” he admitted defensively. “I couldn’t really see anything.” Everyone tells him that he needs glasses, but he’s too proud to wear them.
Wanting to be sure I was in on the joke, Monsi brought me the camera. “See?” he chuckled in my ear. “He took a photo and all that came out was Esteban’s leg!” I nodded and laughed politely, He walked away, but there was a fresh burst of laughter, and Monsi came back. “No, no! Look, it’s your leg!” It was.
Monsi decided that if an acceptable picture was to be taken, he had better take it himself. After all, my single leg was a poor memento of our visit, except perhaps as a testament to all the walking we had done.
Embarrassed by his own attempts at photography, Oscar Luís teased Monsi. “Look at the photographer!” he breathed with mock reverence, as Monsi kneeled for a better angle. “See him kneeling down, like a professional!” He then began to assume all manner of awkward and ridiculous positions in good-tempered mockery. Monsi ignored him.
I continue to work on my account of my March trip to Cuba, as I have time. I thought I would post a few amusing snippets here for my patient readers. There is so much to remember and record! We certainly had an eventful time: unheated showers, four stops for police, black markets, a funeral, and no seat-belts.
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STEPHANIE said...
I enjoyed reading of your adventures in Cuba. What a blessing to be able to spend time with family there. =)
Wednesday, May 12, 2010 12:08 PM
HANDMAIDEN said...
It was indeed a great privilege and treat to meet “the family” about whom I had been listening to stories for years. Papa wanted to know if I experienced culture shock, but I told him it was more like a recognition. I was meeting people and places I already knew!
I am glad you enjoyed these snippets. Perhaps sometime I’ll be able to post something a bit more substantial. Thank you for commenting!
Thursday, May 13, 2010 08:26 PM
Tuesday, May 11, 2010