Cuba- the land where time stands still, but its people keep it moving.

Many of my trips are determined by countries that represent the African diaspora or a part of Africa itself. I’ve visited Jamaica (about sixteen times-love that place), Bahamas; Salvador de Bahia, Brazil; Dakar, Senegal; The Dominican Republic (although I would have rather visited Haiti), St. Thomas, and one or two others that escape my memory. 

But let me tell you about Cuba. I had always wanted to visit, especially when I found that this country had sent over 30,000 troops to aid Angola in running the Portuguese into the Atlantic Ocean. 

A friend, Steve Williams, told me about the Jazz Festival in Havana, so I signed up. What I didn’t sign up for were the people I ended up hanging out with. They were intelligent, accomplished, and had enough street cred to fit into the Cuban environment. It’s rare to see the women knocking down drinks as much as the men. And party? These sisters could hang. I didn’t kick it like this when I was running the streets.

We even had our own Spanish speaking member. She made stuff a lot easier. Props to you, Corlette.

We stayed at the Inglaterra Hotel. This hotel was constructed around 1875 and it shows. Things worked most of the time, but the internet was shaky, the food was so-so, and two of our rooms had an electrical short, requiring that we move to another suite. The elevator was out for a half-day because it was being painted. And although there were two, only one was in operation.

As I walked the streets, my first impression was that ninety percent of Cubans were musicians, artists, or cab drivers. I guess I heard at least thirty to thirty-five bands either in an informal or formal setting and all were good. Even the bands that played at my hotel were great. A lot of Cuban music is influenced by the Afro-Cuban sound that was only recently given its due.

Someone told me that Cuba has so many great artists and musicians because their studies are government-financed, and it shows. 

The people are very friendly, but I was surprised to see an undercurrent of poverty since most government services are socialized. Some are persistent with their requests for money but not too. But I’m wondering: why is there so much poverty if education is free? The impoverished appear to make up a large portion of Havana’s population. And then again, maybe they don’t, and they are what you see while everybody else is working.

When you tell a Cuban you are from America, their first response is, “I love America.” I’m like, really? After a 60-year embargo? Okay. From an individual standpoint, though, I understand it.

And yes, I found a golf course called the Habana Golf Club. I paid $35 for eighteen holes and club rental. I got a caddy for another $20. I needed him because the course design would leave you lost. Having a caddy for the first time, regardless of the course, leaves you feeling a little PGA ish.

If you are a serious golfer, though, I wouldn’t suggest it. The whole course, including the greens, was “rough.” My caddy explained that they did not have enough gas to power the mowers. 

On the fourth and fifth hole, I see these wild horses eating grass, and I’m thinking, okay, there is some course maintenance. I was happy to shoot a 95 and lose only three balls. I believe Tiger would have had a hard time breaking 80 on this course.

As I looked at restaurant walls and statues during my walk, there was a strong presence of white or almost white subjects. I’m not sure if this was a reminder of the past that Cuba doesn’t want anyone to forget or a salute to a Eurocentric influence. Viva la revolucion? One striking statue was a Catholic Priest with his arms around a boy in only a loin cloth. If I were to caption that statue, it would read, “Public enemy number one.”

During my entire time in Cuba, I saw two police cars. I never saw any arguments or fights, not one.

Havana has the largest population of Afro-Cubans of any city in Cuba and it shows. I swear I saw at least ten Cubans who looked like some of my brothers and sisters off 105th Street. I did not get to go to Matanza and Santiago, the Afro-cultural heart of the country, but I will next year for sure.

We visited some great restaurants, but the one we had the most fun at was Al Carbon. You can tell from the half-drunk, well-fed people in the pictures.

Cuba is known for its cigars and rum, but we were cautioned that you couldn’t legally transport them back to the United States. I’m like, what? But then you get to the airport where you can buy and transport. Someone explained it to me, but it went over my head. I found a few places to be overpriced, so you have to shop around. 

One of my favorite words is adapt, and I think the Cubans do it better than anywhere else I’ve been. The classic cars are just one example of how an isolated country survives. They say that the United States embargo is because of Cuba’s refusal to democratize and because of human rights issues, a stance that many of our own human rights organizations criticize. I mean, we trade with China and Russia, right? 

I believe that Cuba, like Haiti, kicked some European butt, and folks are still mad. Viva la revolucion. 

I stayed eight days and enjoyed every day there despite a few bumps in the road. It’s a place I think you, too, will love. It was a pleasure meeting you, Bob Dockery, Dennis Miller, Coretta Perry, Cheryl Moore, Margo Bouchet, Madeline Wilson, Deborah Dixon, Lydia Dorman, Lynda Dorman, Vikki Davis, and Erwin Walker. I hope I didn’t leave anybody out.

Next stop, Ethiopia, and then Ghana.

Pictures: https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fo/ggnoqvuli8ze3d7vjyjyd/h?rlkey=wdu8kkewtxi3jg3nn6vfgq91d&dl=0