Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Cuban revolution: Exiles' stories

Cuban revolution: Exiles' stories

The Cuban revolution that brought Fidel Castro to power in 1959 provoked
a large exodus of people, most of whom headed for the US. And in the
following 50 years, there have been waves of Cubans seeking exile abroad.

Five Cubans based in Miami spoke to the BBC about their lives.


Francisco Jose "Pepe" Hernandez is president of the powerful exile lobby
group, the Cuban American National Foundation. He arrived in Miami in
1960 and later participated in the failed exile-led "Bay of Pigs"
invasion of Cuba aimed at toppling the government of Fidel Castro.

He is a member of what is known as "Historic Generation" of Cuban exiles
- those who arrived in Miami in the early days of the revolution:

I arrived in Miami the first time as an exile in the summer of 1960. I
later returned to Cuba to continue working in the "underground", or
opposition to the Castro regime. I later participated in the failed Bay
of Pigs invasion and was jailed in Cuba for two years. I then returned
to the US in 1964.

Those of us who arrived at that time believed we were just here for a
brief period. None of us had even the most remote idea that our stay in
the US would last 50 years. In our minds, we were just here for a short
stay - some of us working to survive and others fighting for freedom in

Obviously, that was not to be. And, it wasn't until the end of the 1960s
that we understood that our return to our homeland would be a lot more
difficult than we had imagined and would take a lot more time.

At that point, we began to concentrate on building our families, seeking
new careers or professions and obtaining economic and political influence.

Proud of Miami

I think it's extraordinary to think looking at Miami now that it was
nothing more when we arrived than a sleepy country town.

Today, it's a large metropolis with skyscrapers that can be compared to
those of any major city in the world - and above all it has an
extraordinary international mix. It is truly, as many call it, the
gateway to and even the capital of Latin America.

We Cubans are extremely proud of all that we did to to work to turn
Miami into what it is today. We have without a doubt played an
instrumental role.


Ester arrived in Miami in 1971, aged 18, on what were termed the Freedom
Flights, which allowed thousands of Cubans to leave the island for the
US as a result of an agreement between Fidel Castro and US President
Lyndon B Johnson.

She married a Honduran national, has three children and lives in Hialeah
- perhaps the most Cuban of middle-class neighbourhoods in Miami:

I arrived in Miami on 5 August 1971. It was 1230 or so in the afternoon.
It was raining. I remember clearly that when the plane landed in Miami
there were all these people in green raincoats, something which harked
back to the olive green worn by the military in Cuba. I turned to my
father and said: If this is Cuba, I'm not getting off.

Coming here was a huge change in my life. I went from being a spoiled
girl and had to become a responsible adult and get to work. There was
nothing else to do but work. We had to work to start making a way for
ourselves here.

We left there because some government opponents had hidden in my
grandfather's farm. So, our house was singled out as an anti-government
house. I remember one November morning when many Cuban soldiers entered
our house and pushed us out - myself, my sister and everyone else there.
They threw us to the floor and were pointing weapons at our heads. For
more than four hours we had a man with a machine gun behind us.


My dream is to see a free Cuba. I dream of one day being able to take my
children to Cuba but as long as that system is in power there - I won't
return. There has to be democracy in Cuba like we have here - a system
that will allow me to come and go as I please. But, regardless, I will
never go back to live there. My children are American and grown-up and
their lives are here. I could never make them go there to live.

I'm very proud and happy to be living here in the United States. I
consider it to be my country. I miss Cuba but I feel happy here. I feel
free. I feel that I have rights and benefits and everything - everything
I need to realise my potential as a person.


Diana arrived in Miami 1980 at the age of 15 - one of some 125,000
Cubans who left during what became known as the Mariel boatlift.

It began in April after a driver crashed his bus through the fence of
the Peruvian embassy in Havana and thousands of Cubans took refuge in
the compound, Diana and her mother among them.

Fidel Castro responded by opening the port of Mariel, setting off a
five-month exodus of Cubans.

Today, Diana is a sales manager for a major hotel chain; she's married
and has a daughter:

I sought exile in the Peruvian embassy for 11 days together with my
mother. Then Fidel opened the ports and said all who wanted to leave could.

They put us in a boat - it was called Isabel, I'll never forget that.
They put us in the boat and called us scum.

When I arrived I blocked everything for several years - it was a
psychological trauma and I didn't remember anything. Then when I became
an adult and had my own children, I began to remember those events.

I spent a lot of years not letting on that I was a "marielita" (that is,
one of those who arrived during the boatlift). I used to say I had come
here because my grandfather had lived here a long time, and I said I
came by plane, even though I had never flown before. I said that for
years because the truth embarrassed me. People's opinion of the
"marielitos" was terrible.

I know how it was because I lived through it. The people who took refuge
in the Peruvian embassy were professional, of a certain high level.

But Fidel completely manipulated the image of the "marielitos", saying
they were all criminals, they were all mad, they were jailbirds, bad people.

So I never said I was a "marielita". Imagine applying for a job, it was
like having a criminal record.

So I was ashamed for years. I was full of hate and resentment and wanted
to know nothing of Cuba.


Miguel was one of tens of thousands of Cubans who left the island in the
1990s on makeshift rafts. He took to the open seas in search of a new
life on a precarious vessel which, like most other rafters, he had built
in hiding.

Miguel says it took him four attempts before he was successful. He left
the island with several other people, including a pregnant woman, on a
small raft. Today, he works in construction but he's also a musician and
a rapper and goes by the name of El Balsero - the Rafter:

We took four days to build that raft, one nail and screw at a time. I
made the skeleton out of wood. Freedom has no price. We built the raft
and decided to go for it. Then rumours started circulating on the
streets that Fidel had authorised a mass exodus and people started
worrying that it was part of a plan to have us end up at the US naval
base in Guantanamo. I said that I didn't care where we were sent -
Guantanamo or anywhere. The main thing was to leave Cuba.

The seas were choppy the day we left. But, somehow I felt that was my
day to gain my freedom. Our friends got into the water to push our raft
into the sea. Forty-five minutes into the journey things got really bad
- the waves and the currents. It was incredible. The very first night
our raft overturned because of the bad weather. We spent eight days in
the water.

As soon as we were rescued by the US Coast Guard, we were greeted by
other Cubans on board the vessel that had also been rescued. They all
chanted "Freedom, Freedom". I started to cry and knelt down and kissed
the ground and said "Long Live a Free Cuba without Castro".

I arrived in Miami on the 23 November 1995. The first thing I did was
sign up for English classes. I worked at night and studied by day. I
learned to do a bit of everything. Today, I work in the remodelling of

I'll tell you one thing. I never left Cuba. I live in Miami, in the
United States but I never left Cuba. It makes me sad to have to be here
because I can't be free in my own country.


Idania is the lead singer of a traditional Cuban musical group called:
Yo Soy el Son - I am the Son (a Cuban song and dance). Along with her
husband and the group's other musicians, Idania crossed the Mexican
border to the US where they sought asylum in January 2008:

We arrived in Miami after having worked in Mexico for 11 months. We left
Cuba in February of 2007 to work in the Mexican city of Puebla and
participate in the inauguration of a new franchise of the famous Cuban
bar, El Floridita - the first to be opened in Mexico. Eleven months
later, after reviewing our professional possibilities, we decided to
cross the Mexican border into the United States - which we did on the 13
January 2008.

All new beginnings are difficult but I have to give thanks to life
because we knocked on the right doors at the right time and now we have
regular work. That doesn't happen every day.

Rich roots

One day shortly after arriving, we picked up our instruments, put them
in a van and we arrived here at this nightclub - Casa Panza - and we've
been working here regularly since. However, I should point out that,
like all beginnings, it wasn't easy at first.

As a human being, my aspiration is that all of those who are able to
arrive in this great country have the desire and the impetus to push
forward, as we say in our country. I wish that all of my relatives could
be here and I would also like to see an end to all of those negative and
ugly things that happen in Cuba.

As a musician, I simply came here to defend the rich roots of the
traditional music of Cuba. I defended them in Cuba, in Italy and Mexico
and now here. The day I can no longer perform that Cuban music will be
the day I no longer work as a musician. It's what I hope to do my entire

Story from BBC NEWS:

Published: 2008/12/29 13:59:46 GMT

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