CUBA: Memories of an exile

Although generally considered not a devout country, there are various religions in Cuba, the focal point of Catholicism being the shrine of la Virgen del Cobre. From Miami, Alberto Gutiérrez defends the religious beliefs of the Cuban exiles and tells his own experiences: "Cubans do not take religion as lightly as it seems :La Ermita de la Caridad del Cobre, a shrine dedicated to Cuba's patron, was built in Miami many years ago with public donations.It is considered the spiritual center where all kinds of Cuban exiles pray, among many things, for democracy and the return to the homeland. El Rincón de San Lázaro, San Juan Bosco church and Félix Varela Hall are other results of thousands and thousands of donations. Here we have schools like La Salle Brothers and Belén (the same Jesuit institution that was one of the best in Havana, but remains exclusive and terribly expensive). There are also many Protestant congregations under Cuban pastors. Most Cuban Jews live in the Miami Beach area. In 1961 they established the Cuban-Hebrew Congregation and built the temple Beth Shmuel. La Santería (African cults) is popular among all sectors, but I suspect it has declined a little. Curiously,during the heyday of drug smuggling many Cubans involved in revolting dealings wore what they called protections, some kind of amulets, to avoid police interception. Los babalaos, the priests of Santería, made little fortunes manufacturing those amulets.However, lots of smugglers were caught. Unfortunately, the traffic has not ended, and once in a while the police find a shipment of drugs inside a cargo container at the Miami River . There is an old indictment of Raúl Castro and a former rear admiral of the Cuban Navy, but the document is conveniently kept in an unknown drawer to serve(I disagree) the best interests of the nation.

I remember very well March 10, 1952,the day Fulgencio Batista led a military coup and ousted President Carlos Prío.I was finishing sixth grade and getting ready to take the high school entrance in Pinar del Río. In those days the curriculum of the Cuban high schools was complicated and extensive.Though widely accepted, the US high school never was the equivalent.Even today I refuse the comparison. I passed the exam and on January 28, 1953,the hundredth anniversary of José Martí's birthday, I, like many classmates (useful fools according to Lenin),was enticed to a celebration after dark honoring the apostle of our independence.The gathering became a display of animosity against the Batista dictatorship. A detachment of soldiers took control of the situation,and I ran to my home as fast as I could. That was my "initiation" to Cuban politics. I was merely twelve years old, but I had excellent (perhaps a little irresponsible) parents who seldom asked questions and were unaware of many things I did, just expecting that I would study and stay out of trouble.

Also that year, the day after the attack to the Moncada Barracks, I heard about Fidel Castro. A few days later I visited Santiago de Cuba with my parents as part of a vacation tour. The military facilities and the barricades were noticeable from the highway to the center of the city. Among many other memorials and tombs at the historical Cementerio Santa Efigenia, we entered the military cemetery and saw several women in mourning. According to one version, Castro's men had entered the hospital adjacent to the barracks and murdered some sick soldiers. Also some friends told us about other Castro men who surrendered but were killed by the soldiers. In a matter of days an army patrol found Castro, but his life was spared in part by the intercession of Bishop Enrique Pérez Serantes.

I participated in several demonstrations of students against Batista until I realized that we were used by the FEU (Federación Estudiantil Universitaria) from Havana. Our support was almost compulsory,but they could not care less about the issues that affected us high school students. I was an avid reader, and my father always bought me good books. Nothing seems impossible to a young imagination under such influence. As result, the idea of doing something positive and serving my country with distinction began to take shape in my mind. By the time Castro came back from Mexico with a small expedition and sought shelter in the Sierra Maestra, I had decided to become first a naval officer and later a lawyer. My parents didn't like the idea, they had in mind only the university. At the same time some of my classmates considered me a sympathizer of Batista.Those were days of political assassinations by members of the police force and the army, and waves of retaliation from sectors fighting the dictatorship.The economy of the country was not bad at all, but a large percentage of Cubans opposed Batista, weary of his illegality, his goons, the military abuse of power and the rampant corruption in official circles. In spite of periods of censorship a few magazines, newspapers and radio commentators never hesitated to denounce what was wrong. Sometimes, however,they overstated facts without taking into consideration their influence among the people. Eventually that would be harmful to all.

Frankly I didn't like Batista but somehow I was never able to develop any degree of sympathy for Castro either.To begin with, I knew some of his ardent followers,and didn't want a repetition of what happened after President Gerardo Machado left Cuba.To me sooner of later Batista would go and Castro was not the answer, but no one among my classmates seemed to agree with me. However, without enough information, I expected only some kind of temporary rule under him or his revolutionary movement. With these mixed feelings at sixteen, I passed the entrance examination and was admitted in the Naval Academy at Mariel. I had lots of ideas about fixing the wrongdoings in Cuba, but very often things would go the opposite way I wanted or planned. Worse yet, we Cubans didn't suspect that our jump into the abyss was just around the corner.

Small as it was, the Cuban Navy had many professional officers who under the circumstances merely tolerated Batista. Then in October 1957 they launched a revolt that failed. At the Naval Academy the rumors were hushed .The the midshipmen, particularly the freshmen like me, continued the strenuous training in a kind of oasis far away from political turbulence.The curriculum was a copy of Annapolis in many ways, to point of using Bowditch, Dutton and other books. Some professors were very competent. Others, however,didn't have the ability to teach. A year later the resistance movement in the cities became very active, in spite of the official repression. The rebels had a few victories in skirmishes against demoralized army battalions, Washington withdrew its support from Batista. Finally he left the country for good.

In matter of days, the Cuban Navy, now controlled by those who supported Castro, became one more organization unconditionally adjusted to please him. In addition to the well-known executions, there were many purges everywhere.The midshipmen were not exempted. I was one among the very few spared because the new inquisitors couldn't find a single point of discrepancy in my entrance examination, and so far my performance in the institution was crystal clear. Even so, I and few others midshipmen like me were summarily transferred to the Cuban Merchant Marine, and the curriculum was cut in half because they wanted us out as soon as possible. I felt like a persona non grata.

In January 1959, the night Fidel Castro arrived in Pinar del Río as the conclusion of his victorious march through the country,I was in town on leave from Mariel.The people gathered at the main street, as never before and never since, to greet the new messiah who would end all our tribulations.My parents were mesmerized like almost everybody else.To the disappointment ,and probably the indignation of those around me I made it clear (with Batista in mind) that Castro was the same dog with a different collar. Today, looking back, I realize that my remark then was close to reality but not enough.The perversity in Castro is such that it defies the worst opinion of him.

Finally, on June 1960,after many trying situations,I ended my courses and became a apprentice navigator aboard Cuban merchant marine ships. I was required to navigated 20,000 nautical miles in order to qualify for a deck officer's license, but I chose the wrong vessel. On account of the US economic measures in retaliation for Castro's actions, it carried one of the last shipment of Cuban sugar to Baltimore, and on its way back to Havana it caught fire off Cape Lookout, NC.The fire was due to a mistake in the engine room. I was on the bridge under the orders of the first mate, with no business down below.Yet in Cuba "revolutionary justice" ignored the behavior of many sailors during the fire, and I became some kind of scapegoat.In matters of days I was forbidden to navigate in any ship. Then I heard rumors of a court martial, and I was elated. I would be my own lawyer and prove my innocence. I decided to attend the crash courses of the Law School at Havana University. After all, I always wanted to be a lawyer, and perhaps the professors could advise me on the defense of my case. I remained in a limbo; I was not fired, but I was forbidden to navigate,and the court martial never materialized. In the meantime I got many units in Roman Law, Administrative Law, etc until I felt uneasy with Constitutional Law and left never to return. Castro ignored what he previously said in favor of the Constitution of 1940, there was no end in sight to the revolutionary laws and the execution wall was there to stay, unfortunately with popular consent. The purge in Havana University had reached the professors I expected to help me with my legal difficulties.Finally the intercession of a professional navy officer gave me the opportunity to navigate again Once more I pressed the issue of the fire with the navy captain in charge of the Cuban Merchant Marine, but he only admitted that perhaps I had been the target of an unfair judgement.

By then, due to the honeymoon between Castro and the Kremlin,the ships of the Cuban Merchant Marine were carrying sugar, copper, chrome, molasses,etc to ports behind the Iron Curtain. On the return, bound for Cuba, the ships were loaded, mainly in Poland and Western Europe, with all kinds of machinery, good and bad things,but almost no foodstuff. Soon rationing would be enforced to control the Cuban population.I navigated to many countries aboard several ships in order to accumulate mileage for my license, and reached the conclusion that people in capitalist countries knew little about Communism.The reality of poverty and oppression was sad beyond description.

Before the Bay of Pigs invasion I lost the contact with my classmates from the Naval Academy,.since I was engrossed in the problem of the fire and the courses at the School of Law. Some began to conspire against Castro, and I was unaware that they had included me in their plans. I found out when the militia in Pinar del Río began awave of preventive arrests, so I went back to my ship in Havana to get away from those who could denounced me.The invasion failed, the underground was totally disrupted, but we were not detected. I was promoted several times, and I became first mate of the "Río Caonao". That rusty steamship was in dry dock for several months. I was a hopeless fool linked to minor subversive activities.Nothing important but enough to end at the execution wall if caught. As first mate of the "Bahía de Matanzas" I was involved in a plan to scuttle the ship in the Kiel Canal to protest in favor of the political prisoners in Cuba. In Hamburg a CIA connection of my two comrades vetoed the plan and refused to support us if Castro demanded our extradition. As result, my two comrades quietly asked for political asylum in Germany. I returned to Havana pretending to be in the dark about their defections.

In Cuba I felt like a mouse near the fangs of a snake. Somehow I realized that it was time for an strategic withdrawal to a safe haven. Fortunately in matter of a few days the "Bahía de Matanzas" departed with a shipment of sugar for Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada, There it would load tons of potatoes to ease a little the hunger of Cubans.What seemed at first an urgent task lasted almost two weeks. I dedicated my free time asking for political asylum in the local US consulate, and I moved my clothes and books to a motel surreptitiously.The October crisis took place during those days .I worried a lot about what could happen to Cuba and my relatives, but after the last potatoe was on board, I left the ship for good just before departure time.

Next day the "Camagüey" arrived in port. Not happy enough with my successful defection,I assisted four officers and a sailor to follow my steps.The Canadian Mounted Police was not amused ,and my friends went into hiding with local help until they could get their US visas.Since my documents were ready, as soon as I reported my defection at the police precinct, I was granted 24 hours to abandon the country.

In New York, I was hired by a shipping company with a large fleet under the Liberian flag (lower wages and no labor complications). Soon I learned about navigation among ice packs inside the St Lawrence Gulf in winter time and the heat of the Orinoco river in the middle of summer. A year later I left that company to take care of my own family, but for a short time I was in touch with a group of Cubans with radical ideas. In Chicago I returned to college and got some credits but I lacked time and money. Also lots of patience, because a sport page of the Chicago Tribune in a garbage can seemed more impressive than my diploma from the Naval Academy any time I asked for its evaluation. And of course my diploma from the high school. was merely a high school diploma! Never mind the courses of physics,chemistry, math or philosophy. Perhaps it was fate, perhaps I didn't have the will power to prevail.

In Miami I have been associated with at least six different organizations against Castro and his regime. For a while I wrote simple contributions to local tabloids. Once I developed a quixotic scheme to help a bunch of black Cubans abandoned in Peru after the crisis at the Peruvian Embassy in Havana. It only worked for a while. Also I established a link with some members of the International Society of Human Rights based in Frankfurt, Germany, who sympathized with the cause of democracy in Cuba. Before this, I had witnessed the physical and ideological cracks at the Berlin Wall, and enjoyed a lot my humble assault on that shameful concrete with a borrowed pick. Nowadays I spent hours writing to everyone I think is necessary on behalf of Cuba, from King Juan Carlos of Spain to Jimmy Carter, from Dan Rather to Colin Powell".

My note: This is one of several long messages I have received from Alberto Gutiérrez. It is posted as the testimony of one Cuban. It has been edited to make it more comprehensible to Americans. It raises several interesting questions. Castro studied with the Jesuits in Havana. Who paid his expenses? He is said to have been a student leader there. Was he resentful of the wealthier students? What was his relationship with his Jesuit teachers? In power he has shown no gratitude. There is a classic study of the young Luther. Is there a study of the young Fidel?

Ronald Hilton - 8/23/02