Chavez murió

While walking the narrow streets of Havana Vieja with friends on Tuesday afternoon, one of the Cuban members of our crew stopped for a moment to check the TV inside a small store. There were a few people huddled around, all male, and I assumed there was a baseball game on or reports of a game, and asked “Quien juega?” (Who’s playing?). He turned to me quickly and said “Chavez murio.”

Chavez died. I felt like I had been hit in the stomach. The group kept walking. I looked around astonished that our pace hadn’t even slowed down. I felt like we should stop, felt like I needed to sit down. I looked around at their faces, “Am I the only one who’s shocked by this?” And my friend answered, “No, of course we are too, it’s just too soon to know all the ways it will affect us.”

I rushed home and found my host moms red-eyed. “Que cosa mas terrible.”  I certainly wouldn’t argue that Chavez always said the right thing. Or that he was an incredible diplomat. But Chavez was a champion for the poor of Venezuela and for unity in Latin America. He has made mistakes in the way he’s gone about certain things, but he has used the wealth of his country to improve the education system, provide free health care, and drastically cut unemployment. And he had a vision that went far beyond his own borders – enough so that upon hearing of his death I immediately thought of Nicaragua. And Ecuador, and Bolivia and Cuba. All of the countries that have so greatly benefited from ALBA (the Bolivarian Alliance for the Americas) – a trade agreement that focuses more on mutually beneficial agreements that will strengthen the unity of Latin American countries as opposed to focusing on profits.

I’m curious as to what news coverage has looked like at home. Here, it has generally dominated the news cycle since it happened. The country declared two days of ‘official mourning’ and today was declared a day of ‘national mourning.’ People I’ve spoken with only remember three times that ‘national mourning’ has ever been declared: the death of Che, an act of terrorism against Cuba that killed more than 70 people, and today.

It’s hard for us to understand what he means to so many here. Yesterday Raul Castro’s statement was released: “It is with deep and excruciating sorrow that our people and the revolutionary government have learned of President Hugo Rafael Chavez Frias' decease. The Cuban people view him as one of their most outstanding sons.”

We wanted to pay homage with our Cuban host families and coworkers yesterday. We all piled into a bus and headed down to the Plaza de la Revolucion where a memorial site was set up and open from 8am to 8pm. The plaza was so full we formed a ‘line’ a few blocks away. After
about an hour, having hardly moved we realized it would take most of the day and decided to return to the MLK Center. My host mom was upset. “We have to do something, we can’t not honor him.” They quickly made a plan, each went to their homes and collected newspapers, flags, music, and pictures: they made their own memorial for Chavez. Their own tribute to an imperfect leader who realized that he could learn from the successes of the Cuban government and became a student, a son even, and implement socialist policies and programs already test-run by Cuba. A leader who took seriously his commitment to economically help a country that had been entirely abandoned by the other economic powers that be. A leader who dared to stand up and speak out boldly against the United States, regardless of the consequences.

And now people will wait. According to the Venezuelan constitution, in this situation there will need to be another election, in the next 30 days, I think. And people don’t know which side will win – the last elections were close. It’s evident that people here realize this election will have effects that reach far beyond Venezuelan borders – that it will affect everyday life here in Cuba. And that’s a frightening thing. There is a reason so many of my acquaintances here have been red-eyed the last few days. And still, I see people attempting to be hopeful.

varadero!

We're back from the beach and headed right into another week. Varadero was just as beautiful as everyone told us it would be and we had perfect weather for the whole weekend. I'm beginning to understand why Cuba was the mafia's playground before the revolution. So close to the US and incredible beaches/climate.

It was a great weekend trip despite the tiny- yet dramatic - electrical fire fright at the beginning of the trip! I'm sure you'll hear the stories later :)

another full week...

on our way into the Feria del Libro - held at the fort in Havana

It's Friday afternoon and we just finished our 'evaluation' (which is our weekly check-in) and are waiting for lunch. As soon as we're done with that we'll head out to Varadero - a carribean, white sand beach.
 
We all reflected on how quickly this week went and how full it felt. Tuesday we visited the Literacy Museum (more on that later - a pretty incredible place), Wednesday we spent the afternoon at the Book Fair, and yesterday we toured the University here in Havana and spent the evening out dancing and listening to live salsa. Not to mention class every morning and readings on Cuban history and Marxism at night.

I'm physically exhausted, but enjoying all that I'm learning and hope to write a more meaningful reflection on some of it at some point next week. For now: vamos a la playa! :)

cold front, warm heart

It’s a chilly afternoon and I’m happily cuddled up in bed reading Cuban history and analysis of Marxism and napping on and off occasionally.

The group schedule originally had a trip to the beach (only about 40 minutes away) planned for Saturday but mid-week all of the locals started talking about the ‘frente frio’ (cold front) that was moving in and how it would be an awful week to head to the seaside. I’ll admit that I was skeptical; not actually believing that it would get very chilly but it rained all day Friday and after spending the first two weeks here in tank tops and shorts we all threw on long sleeves and sweaters. It’s a welcome change, really. And it’ll be 90 and sunny again by mid-week, so hopefully the trip planned to Varadero (another beach) next weekend won’t also be cancelled.

Hard to believe we’re wrapping up week two already. Our ‘evaluation’ or check-in of sorts that we do each Friday was really interesting this week. Lots of good things, but there are also some frustrations surfacing. And I could feel it in myself too – I was homesick this week and unjustifiably bothered by little things.

Being away on my birthday is always harder than I expect it to be. Some of you know that I wasn’t sure I’d even tell people here it was my birthday…but since my host family got my passport information before I even arrived, it was never up to me. :) They had plans from the beginning – and since I’m living with the daughter of the director of the MLK Center, there was a big cake at lunch and singing and a formal blessing from my host-grandfather wishing me health happiness and ‘un buen mozo’ (a good husband). In the evening we all went out as a group and after the first two places we attempted to get into were closed we ended up at a third venue and had a blast bonding and dancing until far too late in the evening/morning.

I must also mention that the brightest parts of this weekend were receiving so many beautiful emails from loved ones all over the world. I feel so fortunate for the windy, sometimes unnerving, always exciting path that has been my life up to this point. This last year has been one of enormous learning and of being pushed to be mindful and of realizing how much of a choice I have about whether or not I am happy. I can’t say how powerful of a realization that’s been – something so seemingly simple.

And with all of that in mind I must also say thank you to all of my teachers and friends and inspirers and all of the people that have been the reason that those simple lessons finally started making sense. Thank you.

quite taken

Sunkissed and exhausted after a lovely Sunday afternoon of mojitos, good political conversation, and a long walk along the malecon (a boardwalk of sorts along the shoreline), I’m feeling quite taken with Cuba.

Clearly I’m in the honeymoon stage – but Cuba seems to have all of the marvelous parts of tropical Latin America (and more) with so much less of the crud. Of course any place has its crud. Dirty streets, smog in the city, noise, long lines, bad service, cat calls and kissing noises when you walk by…but there’s less of it here. And so much less of the really awful crap – next to no crime or violence, low levels of corruption, and rare is the beggar or passed out drunk or child asking for money.

Imagine this: it’s not ‘risky’ to make the 25-minute walk home from work/the MLK Center, with a purse, alone! And when I commented “I probably shouldn’t take my computer since we’re going on the bus” my host moms laughed at me. The fact that crime is almost a non-issue makes taking care of a group of young foreigners a whole lot less stressful and it changes the way communities interact. I should probably put that the other way around – it’s likely because of the way communities interact.  Whatever the cause, it changes everything, this absence of fear of the people around you. I don’t know if I realized how much that fear has affected my experiences in Latin America over the last four years. And now that it’s gone, it feels…well, liberating.

And the conversation! I’ve had incredible conversations with Cubans on just about any topic – clearly I’m spoiled with my host family – my two host moms are progressive, highly educated pastors. They differ in perspective and table discussions are fascinating and always educative. But beyond them, I’m continually amazed with how *much* Cubans know about their own history, about global history, about politics and economy and health. It’s really fun. They also talk more than I’ve ever been talked to. Hardly ever in my life have I had to really fight to get a word in edgewise…Cubans give me a run for my money. I’m working hard to listen more and am enjoying what I’m hearing. I’m certainly learning. My perspective and paradigm are being stretched and pulled in interesting and exciting ways.

I’ll say it again. I’m taken.

que linda es!

My Cuban adventure has begun!

It is baffling to me to think that a week ago I was running around with my shoulders to my ears on one of the coldest days of the year in Minnesota as I prepared for departure. It has always stretched my understanding that a person can be in two entirely different realities in such a short span of time. I’m one lucky girl: this spring I have been given the opportunity to work with CGE’s new semester program in Cuba for three months. The 12 students, 2 professors, and I hopped on a charter plane in Miami on Monday afternoon, and a half hour later landed in Havana.

Walking down the roll-up staircase to exit the plane and toward the one-room airport, we were embraced by the soft-sunlight and gentle heat of late afternoon in ‘winter’ in Cuba. There were a few questions about our visas and the typical waiting that happens when you travel in a group of 15 before we headed to the Martin Luther King Memorial Center (our home base for the next three months) in the working class neighborhood of Marianao.

To our surprise we were greeted there with dinner and our homestay assignments! We hadn’t even put down our bags before we were being welcomed into our new families. And they have been beyond welcoming; students are acclimating incredibly well and programming is moving along beautifully.

I feel incredibly blessed to be here and can’t wait to process and share some of the things that we’re experiencing. That being said – blogging will be a challenge given the internet situation here. Wi-fi is nearly non-existent and when you can manage to get a connection the social networking sites (among many others) are blocked. My dear mother has agreed to ‘administer’ the site if I can manage to send her text (and maybe even pictures occasionally) through email.

Thank you for all of your kind thoughts and support through these last few weeks of transition. I am so grateful for such an incredible support system!

girasoles...

In Spanish the world for sunflower is girasol. The verb girar means 'to turn' or 'to rotate'; so sunflowers, more than just being of the sun in Spanish are acclaimed by their title to also be always turning toward, always seeking the sun. That I would also be so.

A dear friend posted this video on facebook this week and while I had read the poem (by a Nicaraguan poet) I had not been so captivated by it until I watched this compilation. Nicaraguans love their poets. But more than that, they love poetry. They live poetically. This video was a visual reminder of the beauty in a broken place like Managua, but more than that, a poetic reminder of what it looks like to live out one's ideals in the face of brokenness. You'd have to plant sunflowers. Hope you enjoy.

Habría que sembrar girasoles

A Vincent Van Gogh
Habría que sembrar girasoles 
a lo largo del camino,
sembrarlos en la tierra, 
en la ciénaga, en el barro,
plantarlos bajo el odio, 
como se planta el fuego. 

Habría que sembrar girasoles 
aunque la tarde prosiga
con su rumor de polvo. 
La caverna está en el centro, 
y tras los días, los girasoles
subvierten al desprecio,
pero habría que sembrar girasoles, digo,
—no por insistencia—
sembrar girasoles con afán 
de prolongar partidas,
regarles la noche con ajenjo,
cubrir de arena la sorda vida.

Habría que sembrar girasoles de pesadumbre,
de tallos largos que sostengan
la gravedad del hombre,
sembrarlos a lo largo del camino,
plantarlos en los techos de las casas,
en todas partes, con su luminosa forma.

Si hacemos esto,
de aquí a veinte años,
aprenderemos a dar abrazos a las piedras
antes de arrojarlas al Sol. 

Francisco Ruiz Udiel