It has taken me a few days to write down my thoughts on Cuba. It feels as though I needed time to let my mind slowly adjust to the perceptions of what I experienced so they could settle in and take root.
The land itself reminded me a lot of Hawaii. Similar landscape; palm trees, greenery, ocean breezes . . . if it weren’t for the old timey cars and buildings that looked like bomb victims I wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference.
Society is WAY different though. There’s a heavy African influence that flavors everything from the colors of clothing to the underlying beats in the music. The history of slavery and political uprisings have all left an indelible mark on the psyche of the culture.
I think it’s the level of poverty that hit me hardest. I never made it out of Havana so I admit my experience is limited BUT the desperation I found within that city was palpable.
We had been fore-armed with a list of items that were most needed by the general population. Mostly over the counter medications and clothing. Everyone in our party was well equipped to help out however we could.
The economy runs on both the CUP (Cuban dollar, pronounced coop) and US dollar. Most restaurants have both listed but the exchange rate varied. Also, the government exchange rate for the US dollar into CUP was just about half of what you could get on the black market. So, the black market is where we went.
That was its own adventure.
Some of us had taken those bicycle taxi guides to see the city. We asked about exchanging money so they took us through a couple of alleys. Into a dilapidated building, down some dark hallways to a room that had cash and cigars. I felt like I was in a movie; a little nervous but not overly so because I’ve seen my death and this wasn’t it.
One of our guys had brought his bag that contained things like Aspirin, Tylenol and other sundries . . . once he opened his bag to our drivers a swarm of people descended like flies out of nowhere and started digging in . . . soon it was more like a shark feeding frenzy. I popped out of the melee fearing I might lose an appendage . . .it was only a matter of minutes before the bag was empty . . . the bag itself disappeared when he offered that up to a late arrival.
All in all I felt honored that I had the opportunity to be here at all. I remain slightly confused by the differences between the “government-owned” businesses and private ones. Communism in practice seems different than the story I’d been told. Still, I don’t know much about it.
Also, I’ve decided that I need to go back. I want to see the rest of the country, not just the city, charming as it may be. I want to get a better sense of the spirituality I felt. There seems to be so much more to experience through the lens of this wonderful place.
