Pensamientos de Cuba

Filed Under anecdotes, away from home, politics, sadness

I don’t know when I will return to Cuba. The current restrictions make it virtually impossible for me to travel alone. I’d have to go as part of a sanctioned group. While I could easily visit via Jamaica or Mexico, I refuse to have to be a criminal to visit my father’s birthplace.

It would be a very different experience going to Cuba as a non Muslim. When I was there before, most people knew right off the bat that I was not born there because of my Islamic dress. But one day I wore my headscarf tied up into a gelee, and donned a pair of jeans and a white polo shirt. Suddenly, I was incognito – no one stopped me on the street to ask what language I spoke, or for money. I experienced persistent whistling and the annoying “psss psss pssss” call from men passing by, but that was typical. Somewhere not far from the Malecón in Havana, I wandered into a visitor information shop. As I was browsing city maps, the armed soldier stationed inside suddenly began shouting in Spanish. I looked up at him, startled. He approached me and gestured towards the exit. “Get out of here,” he was saying. “You’re not supposed to be in here!” I was so taken off guard that I stumbled backward toward the door, my eyes on his automatic rifle. With the white tourists inside staring at me curiously, I attempted to apologize in broken Spanglish. As the glass door swung close in front of me, I could see the confused look on the guard’s face as it dawned on him that I was not Cuban.

Well, maybe in a year I can visit Panamá and Venezuela.

(photo by Nils; HSA in clogs)