Triangle group delivers aid and reconnects with the past
By Yonat Shimron - Staff writer
Published: Thu, Jan. 15, 2009 05:40AM
Modified Thu, Jan. 15, 2009 05:52AM
HAVANA -- After 48 years in the United States, Ceci Berenthal wasn't
sure she would recognize her childhood home.
But on a one-week trip to Cuba with a group of other Jews earlier this
month, she spotted a familiar metal railing on the third-floor balcony
of a house she once knew well.
"Is this it?" she asked as she looked up to the Bauhaus-style building,
which housed three families, each on its own floor. The more she gazed
up, the more certain she became. On that balcony some 50 years ago,
Berenthal tickled her sister's foot and incurred her mother's wrath.
Berenthal, 62, now lives in Raleigh and was one of five Triangle Cuban
Jews who joined a group of 33 others in the Caribbean nation as part of
a U.S. government-sanctioned religious mission. Their goal was two-fold:
They wanted to deliver aid to the surviving Jewish community of Cuba,
and they wanted to reconnect with the country many left behind after
Fidel Castro came to power in 1959.
Cuba was once home to a thriving community of Jews, many of whom
immigrated to the Caribbean island in the mid-20th century to escape
persecution in Eastern Europe and the rise of the Nazi party in Germany
or simply to find a better life. To them, Cuba had become a kind of
second Zion. They formed synagogues and social clubs, bought property,
ran businesses and, by all accounts, were happy.
Berenthal's home at 117 20th St., in the still fashionable Miramar
suburb of elegant villas and shady parks, was a beautiful place. A few
blocks away was a social club, El Casino Deportivo de la Habana. Beyond
that a silky smooth beach with clear bluish-green waters. There were
boys who courted her, movies to see, parties to attend.
One particular boy, she knew, had his sights on her.
His name was Saul Berenthal. Like her parents, his family emigrated from
Eastern Europe with nothing. Ceci's father cleaned toilets. Saul's
father was a businessman. But they suffered no anti-Semitism and quickly
rose to become successful businessmen in Cuba.
Tradition was important to both families, and they made sure their
children -- whose first language was Spanish -- socialized together. But
under the seeming tranquility was roiling change, and the Cuba of their
childhood would soon become a lost and distant ideal.
Years after they fled Castro's revolution, Ceci and Saul's love story,
which transcended boundaries, languages and cultures, propelled them
back to Cuba in search of their roots.
Challenging life
The island has changed tremendously since the Berenthals and others
fled, and yet some things are the same. The cars on the road are vintage
1950s. The island's natural beauty still draws tourists.
But only one-tenth of Cuba's estimated 15,000 pre-Revolution Jewish
population remains in Cuba today. The largest number live in Havana, but
there are Jewish communities in small towns throughout the island.
Like all citizens of Cuba, Jews earn an equivalent of $20 a month and
subsist on government food rations. Cut off from fellow U.S. Jews
because of the long-standing trade embargo, Cuban Jews rely on help from
Canada, Mexico and South America.
In 1991, as part of an ongoing rapprochement with Rome, Castro allowed
Cubans -- most of whom are Roman Catholic -- to practice their religion
more freely. Participation in religious services once limited the
ability of Cubans to secure government jobs or study in universities,
but Cubans are no longer discriminated against because of their faith.
Still, it's lonely being a Jew in Cuba. The island has no permanent
rabbi, and in many places Jews worship in fading synagogues and use
outdated textbooks.
yonat.shimron@newsobserver.com or 919-829-4891.
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