Monday, February 05, 2007
BY KEVIN MANAHAN
Star-Ledger Staff
MIAMI -- On the eve of last night's Super Bowl XLI, on the other side of
this city from Dolphins Stadium, three beer-gutted guys wearing
Indianapolis Colts jerseys walked into the standing-room-only Versailles
Bakery, a coffee shop connected to the most popular restaurant in Little
Havana.
Nobody cheered. Nobody booed. After a quick glance, the patrons at the
circular stone-top tables continued chatting in Spanish and sipping
coffee. The others, waiting on line, kept ogling the pastries, stuffed
with cream, drizzled with chocolate and beckoning from behind the glass.
Seconds later, grandmother Gladys Fernandez entered. The customers took
one look at her apparel and went crazy. They whooped. They applauded.
They whistled. What was she wearing? A Chicago Bears jersey? Nope.
On the front of her white T-shirt was a photo of Cuba president Fidel
Castro. Above his face was the word "Asesino," Spanish for assassin.
Below was "Bestia," or animal. Quickly, the chant broke out: "Cuba, si!
Castro, no!"
You see, in Little Havana, they have been waiting a long time for
someone to kick off, but it isn't Adam Vinatieri of the Colts or Robbie
Gould of the Bears.
"He cannot die fast enough," said Paul Debesa, a Cuban exile who came to
the United States 50 years ago at the age of 15. "He is a monster who
has killed many of our people. We have been waiting a long time for him
to die. Finally, it is close. Every day, we hear the news: 'He's sick.
He's better. He's sick. He's better.' Up and down, up and down.
"Many people here believe he is already dead. Maybe, maybe not. But
that's okay. We'll wait a little longer. But when it comes ... Oh,
there's going to be a big party here. This will be our Super Bowl."
Miami is home to more than a million Cuban-Americans, and last week a
citizens committee announced plans to celebrate Castro's death with a
party at the Orange Bowl. Let your spite be your invitation, they said.
Musicians and performers were contacted, slogans were suggested,
production started on clever T-shirts. But when the rest of the world
questioned the civility of dancing on someone's grave, city officials
backpedaled.
The city wasn't sanctioning the event, said Mayor Danny Diaz, himself a
Cuban exile. Miami would provide security only. Besides, this Cubano
Gras -- of beer and (rosary) beads -- wouldn't necessarily be about
Castro's death. It would be about the possible end of communism in Cuba.
And where better to have the celebration than the Orange Bowl?
That's where exiles gathered in 1961 to hear President John F. Kennedy
explain the failed Bay of Pigs invasion. The stadium also was a staging
site for the Mariel boatlift refugees, who left Cuba in 1980.
Elonzo Alvarez, a 72-year-old exile on his way into the Sosa Family
Cigar Shop, stopped on the sidewalk of Calle Ocho -- Eighth Street, the
main cultural artery of Little Havana. Around him were NFL banners
hanging from utility poles trumpeting "One Game, One Dream."
"Let me put this in sports terms," he said. "You see the people rooting
for the teams in the Super Bowl? We don't follow football, so we're
rooting for Castro to die. When it happens, it will be like our team won."
They haven't waited as long as Cubs fans, but for 48 years,
Cuban-Americans have ridden an emotional roller coaster, with the
steepest climbs and descents the past few years. As Castro's health has
ebbed and flowed, two generations -- those who came here and those who
were born here -- have watched videos of him like forensic detectives,
looking for the slightest tic, the smallest tremble, anything to
indicate he is closer to death.
Castro fainted after a speech in 2001, stumbled after another in 2004
and underwent intestinal surgery last July. Each incident has invoked
feelings of nostalgia, anger, frustration and hope.
In a video released Tuesday after a long absence from public view,
Castro appeared sturdy while smiling and chatting with Venezuelan
President Hugo Chavez. The two chanted in unison: "Fatherland or death."
Clearly, for now, Castro is choosing the fatherland. If nothing else,
the video was a message to the Cuban exiles: Don't pop the corks yet.
There is death bubbly. Gift shop owner Maria Vazquez sells a sparkling
cider in a bottle labeled, in Spanish, "Don't open until Castro's
death." She says she has sold 2,500 bottles, many to Cuban-American
tourists, because "everyone wants to have one when the day finally comes."
There are other anti-Castro items in her store, Sentir Cubano. One
T-shirt shows Castro's head on a dog's body. Another bears a picture of
a cadaver in a morgue with a toe tag that reads, "Case No. 666, Fidel
Castro. Cause of death: Injustice to the poor Cubans."
And if you don't want to wait (or can't), there is toilet paper with
Castro's face on it. The roll beckons the user to "make your wish come
true."
In a world of cell phones and Blackberries, the news will spread quickly
when it comes. Some have been monitoring the situation on the Internet.
Frank Calderon, a Miami blogger, created www.castrodeathwatch.com, a few
weeks ago. Born in the Midwest to parents who left Cuba, Calderon
predicts a long, hearty and spontaneous celebration.
In July, Little Havana erupted when Cuba announced Castro, frail and
serious ill, had ceded power to vice president and younger brother Raul.
Cars cruised Calle Ocho -- with horns blaring, Cuban and American flags
waving. People danced and sang and banged pots and pans. They dreamed of
a free Cuba they could return to one day.
They didn't care that Castro was still alive. For the first time in 48
years, he wasn't in power. That was enough for a party.
Now that the Super Bowl is over, there will be no distractions. The next
biggest event to hit Miami will be this Carnival de Castro. Calderon
doesn't believe a few balks will lessen the enthusiasm when Castro's
death is finally announced. Picture the Munchkins when the Wicked Witch
bought it.
"Sure, there have been some emotional ups and downs with the news," he
said. "But there is a lot of frustration pent up over all of these
years. People have lost loved ones. They're going to think about how
many died in poverty in Cuba and how many died on boats and rafts trying
to get here. No, when the news finally comes, Little Havana will explode."
Kevin Manahan may be reached at kmanahan@starledger.com.
http://www.nj.com/news/ledger/index.ssf?/base/news-11/11706555118960.xml&coll=1
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