What's New At The Zoo

What's New At The Zoo?

Prominent in the news these days is Namibia's gift of 146 of its indigenous animals to Cuba for its zoos. Most animal advocates are strongly opposed or at the very least ambivalent about zoos. It's hard to justify confining a wild animal to a small space and unnatural food for the rest of its life—all for the entertainment and curiosity of the general public. But that is what's going on, and starting in October those hapless Namibian animals will begin to arrive at Cuba's zoos.

Maybe justice and fairness are human ideas not understood by animals, but animals nevertheless deserve justice and fair treatment. I maintain that zoo animals deprived of their natural habitat and denied the opportunity to live their lives without human interference are being treated unfairly and unjustly.

I've heard all the tired old rationalizations about biblically ordained "dominion" over animals and how animals, lacking a sense of self, do not deserve humane treatment. Well, "dominion" talk is clap trap. We can see them suffer, we can hear them cry, and we can observe the empty eyes of a caged chimp that has already tried and failed thousands of times to enjoy the grass and trees he can see from behind his bars.

Ideas like "dominion," come from the writings of men, and certainly not from the mind of God. And the men who promoted those ideas did so for their own reasons, to the detriment of the animals. Where does anyone get off interfering in the normal life activities of an animal? Doing that is detestable speciesism.

Oh, and don't bring up that I treated my house for an attack of Chinese ants last year. That's no different from a bird fighting off another to protect its nestlings—it's a natural behavior to protect ones home and family. Also I admit I keep several dogs and cats in my house, but that's not equivalent to a zoo's jailing them forever and putting them on display. My dogs and cats enjoy our home as much as I do. This house, in which I sit writing, is their natural habitat.

Namibia and Cuba should know better than to uproot animals and send them to zoos. A look at Cuba's zoos should be all it takes to convince you it is wrong. The only zoo in Cuba with possibly enough support is the National Zoo in Havana's far flung outskirts. With the exception of a cell block of iron cages for smaller animals, the larger land animals are in huge fields simulating their natural habitat. Visitors ride through in protected vans (sort of like Lion Country Safari). But "simulating" is the key word here. It's not the same thing, and you can be sure the animals know it.

The Havana Zoo is much worse, and it isn't well maintained. Candy wrappers and discarded water bottles are everywhere. Ponds are green with slime, and some spaces have no visible drinking water. Here concrete grottos try to simulate natural habitats, but what part of "concrete" is natural?

And don't even mention the hundreds of smaller "attractions" all over the country that hold animals for curious people to look at. In a country without one law requiring humane treatment of animals, I'll leave you to imagine how the captive animals enjoy their lives.

Philosopher Jeremy Bentham got it right about 200 years ago when he stated, The question is not, Can they reason? nor, Can they talk? but Can they suffer?

Les Inglis

Triangulating the USS Maine

On February 15, 1898 there was an explosion aboard the USS Maine which sank at her mooring in the mouth of Havana Bay. The battleship had been dispatched to Cuba the month before because of instability in the area caused by a war between Cuban revolutionaries fighting for independence and Spanish colonial occupiers. It was the Cubans' third revolt against Spain, and victory for the revolutionaries was by no means certain. The tragic loss of life and of the ship was a shock to the US, but the resulting American declaration of war surely shocked the Spaniards and led to an ignominious end to what was left of the Spanish colonial empire. Spain in rapid succession lost Puerto Rico, Cuba, and the Philippines. Several investigations, some as late as the 1990's, failed to fix the blame for the explosion. "Remember the Maine" was that era's equivalent of "Remember Pearl Harbor" a few decades later.

Well, from my history classes, I remembered the Maine, and when I got to Cuba the first time I wanted to see where this historic event happened. We had been out to Cojímar, Papa Hemingway's little fishing village east of Havana, and on our way back to town Nora directed the driver to see some places of interest.

We came to a little green park on a bluff overlooking Havana Bay and the city beyond it. We were at the feet of a 65 foot tall statue of Christ overlooking the city. A plaque at the foot of the statue told us it had been a gift of Dictator Fulgencio Batista to the people of Havana on December 25, 1958, just a week before Castro's Revolution was won and Batista high-tailed it out of the country. (See Cristo de la Habana, my blog of December 2011.)

Several teenagers patrolled the park offering to point out sights and answer any questions. They were after tips, of course, and one by one we were all approached. When a young man asked me if I had any questions, I did—I wanted to know where in the waters below us was the USS Maine when it exploded. He hesitated a minute and then told me it had happened in a part of the Bay not visible from this overlook. I wondered if he really knew and didn't put much stock in his answer.

Later at home, I got busy with my computer and found a photo of the wrecked man-of-war with only part of its superstructure, bent and broken, showing above the water. I was struck by the apparent point of view of the picture. The photo could only have been taken from the same overlook—the site of the future statue of Christ.


Well, this was getting interesting as a few landmarks were visible in the city beyond the submerged wreck. Practically in line with the ship and behind it was a distinctive mission church bell tower in Old Havana. Remember, there were few tall structures in Havana in the 1890's, and this church was one of the tallest structures visible in the sweeping photo of the Bay and city. With the help of my souvenir map of Havana (see last week's blog, Souvenir), and photos from my friend, Bob Skogland, I identified the San Francisco Plaza in Old Havana and the church with its distinctive bell tower.

I estimated the wreck was practically centered in the wide mouth of Havana Bay, and I then had all the coordinates I needed to pin down the spot where the Maine had sunk. I can locate the spot without doubt whenever I set foot in that little park.

The Spanish American War is now 114 years behind us and not well remembered by most Americans. But, it was a momentous occasion, as it ended Spanish rule which at one time had reigned in most of this hemisphere. Even though the US and Cuba don't see eye to eye on much these days, the war was the final step in changing Spain from an oppressive global colonial power to the quiet, charming tourist destination it is today.

Les Inglis

Souvenir 

The Plaza de las Armas is a little one block square park in Old Havana, surrounded by book stalls and booksellers in the style of Paris' Left Bank.  Most tourists in Havana eventually pass through the Plaza to browse through the books.  I had already decided what I wanted to find as a souvenir of my first trip to Cuba—a book or perhaps a map would be perfect.  This choice was aided by US government attitudes towards buying anything in Cuba and bringing it back to the US.  Basically they don't want you to buy anything or to bring it back unless it is printed material or works of art.  Books, magazines, maps, etc. are obvious choices as souvenirs, and the friendly merchants of the Plaza are there to help you find them.

The book stalls encircle the park nearly completely facing outward toward the square of sidewalks and streets.  I had thought about maps as they could be framed easily and displayed on a wall of my study at home.  Thus the first merchant who asked was told I had an interest in old maps.  "Just a minute," he said and disappeared behind his stall   He came back with a worn old Texaco road map of Cuba—the kind that years ago one could get free in a gas station.

I tried to explain that gas station maps weren't what I wanted, and he began another search behind the stalls.  This time we walked on, slowly perusing the books and magazines on display.  I hadn't yet come to the end of the block when he appeared and showed me his second choice.  I was surprised at how well he had chosen this time.

The map was produced by the Cuban Tourist Commission in 1951 for tourists.  It was 20 x 24 inches in size and was a perspective drawing of the entire city and all the major buildings.  The artist's (Rogelio L. Mirabal) viewpoint was about one mile above the Plaza de las Armas looking down on the city in a southwesterly direction.  Thus Havana Bay was in the lower left, and the airport was in the upper left.  The entrance to Havana Bay guarded by El Morro Castle was in the lower right, and the far-flung suburbs of Miramar and Playa were in the upper right.  Street and Parks were shown and tiny letters named all the streets.  Notable buildings were numbered and identified by a legend placed in the open waters of the Florida Straits.

The map was worn, but restorable, and I knew I could look all day and not find a better choice, as I rushed to find he 5 CUC (about $5.00) he was asking.  I couldn't believe my good luck.

Well, the booksellers at the Plaza seem to be a tight knit community, and it took no time at all for them to know what I had bought.  As we walked along the other three sides of the Plaza, several of them offered me maps as well.  One even had a 1953 edition of the same map, which I bought for 3 CUC.

At home I found a fine art restorer who was able to lay the map flat and mount it on a board that matched the color of the faded paper of the map in color.  This made practically invisible several worn holes at the fold lines.  His careful matting and framing created a finished product which now hangs at a focal point among the picture on my study wall.  The 1953 edition was passed on to my good Cuban friend, Dulce.

I've been in the Plaza de las Armas several times since then, but I don't spend much time browsing.  Instead, being a public place it is a gathering spot for stray dogs.  They seem to know that handouts of food are more likely to come from tourists.  Nora and I and my fellow travelers often have lunch in any one of several restaurants nearby, and, as is standard practice in Cuba, we always come away with delicious leftovers.  It is never hard to find a happy canine recipient of these scraps.

Bella, a sweet long haired Daschund mix, about which I have written in the past, was found there in the Plaza by a British Airways flight attendant, Angela.  Her prompt attention and search for help led to Nora and finding the sick little Bella, and today she is a beautiful, healthy resident of Aniplant's headquarters.  I might add, Angela has made two trips back to Cuba since Bella's rescue to see the lucky little dog.

I have several reasons for remembering the Plaza de las Armas.

Les Inglis

Les Inglis

Once More to Las Terrazas

I've written about Las Terrazas before in these blogs.  It's a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve about 50 miles west of Havana, high up in the Sierra Rosario Mountains.  On my first visit, Xenia Mathews and Bob Skogland, accomplished animal activists and good friends were my fellow travelers, and the second time, Nikki Kil and Marianne Meijer, animal activists and TAP supporters, were along with Nora and me.

The little mountain town is hardly typical of Cuba, having been built in the 1990's to cater to the many tourists the UNESCO Reserve attracts.  Formerly a coffee plantation, the terraced land was rapidly reclaimed by a dense tropical jungle parted by miles of hiking trails.  A beautiful hotel and a famous restaurant, El Romero, offering only locally grown vegetarian food are the two main businesses in town.  Nora's friend, Tito, who developed the restaurant for the Cuban government, was with us again for the second visit.

After a memorable meal, we all lingered at our balcony table, looking out over the neat little cabins of the town and the lake, all below us in a little valley, making a perfect picture of peace.  We talked about how idyllic it would be to live there, but we questioned if we soon would feel isolated from the music and bustle of the city. Chickens and a pheasant scratched around in the yard beneath our balcony, unafraid of the vegetarians in the restaurant.

Nikki and Marianne spotted a horse tethered in a yard far below us and decided to walk down to see it up close.  Not far past the horse was the center of town, hardly more than a general store and a few cabins.

Nikki returned to say there was a dog lying in the road in town and then left again to investigate.  I elected to stay with our paraphernalia—a tote bag, a sweater, and a camera, and to enjoy the mountain air and beautiful view.  I watched as the ladies circled around the dog, but they were way too far away from me to hear what was going on.

Perhaps half an hour passed before they came back one by one, and this time Nikki had a large shopping bag of stale bread from the general store.  They reported the dog was unhurt and capable of walking—it had merely been sleeping near the edge of the road.  Like most dogs in Cuba, he was hungry, and, like most Cuban strays, he had fleas.  Nora, who always has treatment for fleas and mange with her, administered some meds, and Nikki bought the bread and fed him all he wanted before they all climbed back up the hill to El Romero.  We busied ourselves feeding the bread to the birds patrolling the grass below the balcony.  While down with the dog, Nikki had found a young man in the town, given him money for more bread, and gotten him to promise to keep the dog fed.  Tito's friend, Carlos, who regularly visits Las Terrazas, was pressured to check up on the dog.  Nikki had arranged help for the dog long after she returned to Holland.

The quiet little town nestled with its lake in a mountain valley almost had a sedative effect on us.  We were in no hurry to get back to the big city.  The horse, the dog, the young man, the clerk in the general store surely retained memories of the two Dutch women and the Cuban lady with the medicine in her purse.  Otherwise we left Las Terrazas as we found it—sleeping by a lake in the mountains.

Les Inglis