OK, the title is deceiving. It’s not about revolution...rum and cigars yes and the journey I made to Cuba as a freelance correspondent for the AP (Associated Press) in 1994. I went down at the request of the California News Network to cover the Haitian Boat People at Guantanamo Bay.
As a journalist I was allowed to enter the island, visa in hand, passport, a few Aloha shirts and some khaki shorts. The journey to Miami and then aboard a Cuban airliner was nothing compared to the fishing line of red tape I had to deal with in the US in getting there.
First off I had to get AP to issue me a Canadian Press Card which also meant all phone calls back to file reports with a portable Comrex broadcast unit and mic had to be filed through the AP office in Canada. America was still afraid of the boogie man Castro in thsose days.
My General Manager at the radio station in San Fran gave them a letter of recommendation as well as one from the California News Network with copies of the letters and my Press Credentials sent to the Cuban Office of Information in Havana.
Next...gaining permission to enter Guantanamo. Not so easy. More forms and copies of AP letters to the Naval Command Center in Norfolk, VA. As Gitmo is a naval base...the Navy had to issue me clearance and again..copies of everything to Norfolk and then to the commander at Gitmo, Commander Jim Boland who I immediately struck up a friendship with.
I arrived in Havana, and the scene flying in was spectacular. Here I was in the vortex that held Hemingway sacred, Sloppy Joe’s (closed at this time) the closest thing to Oz I could think of and maybe I could pick up a cheap Che T-shirt made of hemp. (I did get a Che shirt but no hemp or weed).
Shortly after we landed, (there were other journalists there covering Cuba) we were met by government officials and escorted to a press center. They let us stay in the country, but we were assigned a government “guide” (read “government agent” everywhere I went in Havana. My “guide” Enrique did know the best bars and where the real deal Kennedy type Cuban Cigars were and restaurants and managed to take in a few “decadent” shows. Not as decadent as the heyday of Meyer Lansky and the mob but good enough.
I was in Havana for two days then was picked up in a military jeep (our military) and taken to Gitmo to meet Jim and the PR person who would be taking me around the complex. I was offered billeting on Gitmo but instead opted to stay in a small cheap hotel in Santiago de Cuba on the coast a stone’s throw away. Had enough of military life in the army and wasn’t about to spend this working vacation as a swabby!
As for the refugees? I got my first look up close and personal the next day. A lot of the Haitians were already suffering from heat sickness and sunburn, and many had no food or fresh water on the journey over. I managed to talk to,some of the kids who were now being fed though still undernourished. Many of them were now orphans or had lost at least one parent on the trip over on rickety rafts and inner tubes. They told me that some of the mothers or fathers were eaten by sharks during the voyage.
Several refugees died during the journey and numerous rafts were found completely empty or broken into several pieces. As for the refugee camps themselves...There were high heat conditions, water shortages, lack of restroom facilities, and large amounts of trash. The camps were secured using fences constructed of concertina wire. Refugees lived in tents, and slept on military issue cots. Portable restrooms were located throughout the camp, and Navy Seabees constructed concrete shower facilities within the camps.
Camp security included interior camp patrols, exterior camp patrols, and fixed exterior towers. What I found most interesting on the lighter side of things were the camp soccer matches. OK, so it wasn’t baseball, my real passion, but I got to play in one match with the kids...we lost...actually I was responsible for the loss. Pretty sad when a team of 12 - 15 year olds hand you a devastating blow. Ha...
Artwork was constantly being created by the refugees. With several of the drawings and paintings depicting shark attacks. That was a sobering event for me to say the least. At night I would set up my Comrex telephone box and microphone through the phone lines at Gitmo and fill my stories to Canada AP.
I was there for 8 days and the impression these refugees left in my heart and soul are forever etched in me. The journey from poverty to what they hoped was a better life...the American dream. Sometimes the dream comes true ...other times it drowns at sea or gets eaten by sharks….I will never forget those people..that soccer game… or those kids who lived through hell to make a new life...not all did but I hope at least one of them found redemption...
