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Wednesday, September 25, 2013


                                                                       Scavanging


Decades of Discord

The cold war was about 13 years old when Fidel Castro came to power in Cuba, pushing a host of changes in how the island nation thinks and acts, and precipitating a long period of enmity between Cuba and the US.  That contentious era continues to this day, and is now 54 years old and shows few signs of moderating.

Oh, a few hopeful signs of better relations between the two counties have made news recently.  The negotiations to normalize postal cooperation are the most recent.  Right now if you if you mail a package to Cuba, you pay $10 per pound postage and get no guarantee of delivery within Cuba from USPS,  All they'll promise is to get it to Cuba, and they don't promise delivery within Cuba.  A postal cooperation would be a boon to people on both sides of the Florida Straits.

But it is still a baby step toward normal relations.

Obama's relaxation of the crazy rules affecting travelers is another small, but welcome change.  I do, however, think it was done more to poke a finger in the eye of his US opposition (Republican conservatives) than to bring about a new era of friendship.  But don't get me wrong; I support relaxation of the travel rules.

I hate to say it, but I really believe the long term spat had begun to widen the cultural differences that separate the two countries.  In Cuba, all those years of authoritarian government have produced an almost cynical pessimism among Cubans hoping for a change.  The prevailing attitude seems to be, "It is what it is," and that seems to be replacing any advocacy for improvement.

One the US side, our Congress and political parties, who never did much anyway, have now found a detent in which a minority of elected legislators can prevent nearly any bill from being passed.  This minority is dead set against admitting immigrants to the US, and this includes Cubans.  So, any suggestion we moderate our tough policy against Cuba is met with legislative deadlock.  There'll be no easing of restrictions under the law until our Congress grows up and decides to work for the good of the country on needed legislation.

Clearly, if the people on both sides don't expect a rapprochement, it isn't likely to happen.  Thus a customs agent or a postal inspector in Cuba can and does stop a package for the tiniest infraction.  An immigration officer in the US will apply the letter of the law and send a Cuban refugee rafter back home, even after he crossed 90 miles of rough water at great peril and now stands only ankle deep in the waves lapping at our shore.  But, once the Cuban's feet are dry and he stands on US territory, the refugee gets special treatment no other foreign national gets.  He gets instantly a green card permitting him the right to work in the US, practically free health care, and counseling to help him achieve a new productive life in America.

That almost sounds incongruous.  Why whisk an arriving man back to Cuba if he is still in the water on the one hand and yet give him a warm welcome and much help to settle in here if he actually has made it all the way to shore?  But who ever said government policies on either side make sense?

On a practical level, if you're trying to help the animals of Cuba, you might want to send medicines and medical supplies from here to there.  But you can't without jumping through bureaucratic hoops, both Cuban and American.  You might want to send a computer for animal protectors there to use in communicating with their American counterparts.  You might want to rehab a sick puppy and send him to an American home, but you think twice before running the gauntlet of government and veterinary rules and regulations enforced by stern faced airport and airline people.  And the scrutiny of Americans in Cuba is more severe than for others while vice versa is also true.

You can title this lament, Leslie's Complaint, for I have offered no real solution.  All we can do is try to comply with red tape, expect delays, refusals, and next to no official help in doing what we want to do.  It's easy to see that everything is more difficult and everything takes longer in both countries if Cuban and American cooperation is involved.

In both Florida and Havana live two warring camps—those who want normalization between the two countries and those who don't.  I decided a long time ago not to take sides in those political fights, as it is easy to make enemies

I just wish someone could show me how this bitter dispute has helped even one person on either side or how it has helped even one sick, stray dog begging for food in a Havana public park.

Les Inglis

Thursday, September 12, 2013


                                                                    Malecon


Mala Agua

You have to hand it to Diana Nyad, the 64 year old long distance swimmer who on Labor Day was the first person ever to complete a Cuba to US marathon swim without the protection of a shark cage.  Diana offers us all an object lesson in perseverance.  She first tried and failed in 1978, and finally succeeded on her fifth attempt thirty five years later.

A friend, speaking for Diana, said she wanted to send a message of peace, love, friendship, and happiness to the people of the US and Cuba.

Well said, Diana, I say, and congratulations too.

One of the worst hazards in the cross-straits swim is stinging from jellyfish.  They had stopped her before, but this time a partial face mask helped her to success.  Thinking about her feat, I was reminded of a little walk I took one day from my hotel in Havana,

I headed north on Avenida de los Presidentes, and in two blocks I was at the Malecon, Havana's seaside highway.  Built in the early twentieth century the Malecon is a wide coastal expressway separated from the sea by a four foot high splash wall.  Sometimes when the surf is up, the waves break against the wall and the large rocks below causing huge displays of spray that dwarf even large trucks on the street.  On rare occasions high surf closes the street.

In quieter weather, the top of the wall is a spot to sit, sun, read, talk to friends, cuddle with a lover, or fish.  In a way, the Malecon is a park for Havana's people.

I stood by the wall looking down at several fishermen, perched on the rocks working at fishing like the serious business it is.  They were after tonight's dinner for their families.  I noticed a number of filmy objects that looked like surgeon's gloves floating in the slightly choppy water.  They looked strange to me, and I yelled in my gringo accented Spanish to the men below to ask what they were.

"Agua mala," answered one man—that meant "bad water" in English—but it was apparently their way of saying jellyfish.  I understood right away those gelatinous blobs were something to avoid.  Certainly one would not want to swim when they are present.  There are so many of them at certain times of the year that even the Havana kids stay out of the water.

I was only a few miles east of Marina Hemingway where Diana Nyad started her record setting swim.  I was about 90 miles from where she finished it.

And I was a million miles from the home sweet home I'm used to.

Thanks, Diana, for helping us to see that our two countries aren't really so far apart.

Les Inglis