| Written by Maria Elena Salinas |
| Monday, February 11 2002 |
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| (Note: This is the first column in a series of three that Maria Elena Salinas is writing about Cuba.)
Havana, Cuba - She is more beautiful than the last time I saw her. Old buildings are being restored. Some dilapidated ones are being rebuilt. Fresh paint covers walls that were peeling from old age. There are parks, gardens and playgrounds. Buses full of tourists roam the streets of "El Centro Historico." There are five-star restaurants and nightclubs. And, of course, that ever-present Caribbean charm that inspired Hemingway novels. But it doesn't take much to remind you that in spite of her facelift, Cuba remains a hard-line communist country.
On the surface, it would appear that Cubans are better off than in the past. Department stores in Havana are well-stocked with everything from TV sets and VCRs to designer jeans and French perfumes. You'll also find all the basic necessities: shampoo, toothpaste, deodorant and plenty of food. Just a few years ago, ordinary Cubans were not even allowed inside these stores. Now they are open to everyone. The problem is, you have to have dollars to buy anything in these stores, and the vast majority of Cubans don't have them.
Lazaro graduated from the University of Havana with a degree in economics, but he works as a tour guide in Old Havana. As an accountant, he made the equivalent of $10 a month, but showing foreign visitors around town, he makes $10 an hour. I met him while covering the visit of Mexican President Vicente Fox to the island. Like Lazaro, many Cubans depend on the tourism industry or the money they get from their family members abroad to survive. They are the lucky ones. Most Cubans have to survive on pesos, Cuba's nonconvertible national currency. Lazaro complained that with pesos, Cubans can barely afford to purchase the rations provided by the government: 3 kilos of rice, 3 kilos of sugar, half a kilo of beans, eight eggs and one bar of soap per person, per month. His biggest wish, however, is to be able to complain about it without fear of reprisal from the government.
Rosita, my husband's cousin, dreams of one day riding in one of those fancy air-conditioned buses that ferry tourists around Havana. Every time she sees one, she thinks, "That is not Cuba." To her, the real Cuba is experienced walking in the hot sun on an empty stomach. In Rosita's Cuba, toilet paper is a luxury. Her husband, who makes $8 a month as a maintenance worker, would have to work four days just to buy a single roll of toilet paper.
Cubans are known for being very resourceful. For example, they have found a way to escape the dreariness of government-controlled television and make money at the same time. Shortly after I arrived, I was surprised to see that I was being recognized almost everywhere I went, despite the fact that Univision does not broadcast to Cuba. Then I learned that Cubans have established an underground video network that would rival Blockbuster video. It works like this: Small satellite dishes are smuggled in piece by piece. Those who have them hide them in everything from air-conditioning units to trash cans. They tape shows on the Spanish-language networks from the United States and rent out the tapes for 5 pesos each.
This was my fourth trip to Cuba as a journalist in the past six years. And this time around, it became more evident that there are two Cubas: The one that puts its best face forward to attract tourism and investment, and the one of broken revolutionary promises and hopelessness. Fidel Castro's revolution promised equality. Instead, Cuba has become the land of haves and have-nots. The country that so vehemently criticizes capitalism and runs away from globalization has become a capitalist playground for a select few. |
