6/26/17- People to People, and Many More People
We’ve been in Cuba for less than 24 hours, but already I feel immersed in the culture and community. Havana has given me a sense of incredible smallness. There are so many people, so many stories I will never know. These people live their lives in the same full and complete way I live mine, and I won’t ever understand them in the way they understand themselves. I could spend a lifetime learning about every person on one street of one intersection of Havana, one city among many on one island, which is itself among many other islands which are among continents and… I could go on forever. I’m dwarfed by the sheer vastness of experience packed into the streets of Havana. As an artist who tells stories (and I believe the feeling of a journalist would be similar), there’s a sense of comfort in knowing just how many people have stories to tell.
One of those people is Idania, who owns the Cuban design shop Clandestina. She’s a graphic design artist who has faced countless government hurdles in opening her “gallery.” Her work was beautiful, whimsical, poignant, and distinctly Cuban. It’s really a store, but the Castro regime has prohibited them from establishing private enterprise. It was difficult for me to understand that she wouldn’t be allowed to follow her dream. Raul permitted them to have private homes, which introduced the loophole that Idania used to found Clandestina. The production house is in the back corner of the shop— it was hot, cramped, and inefficient. But it was the best they could do with the budget and space they had. The lesson I learned from her was loud and clear: the opportunity won’t always be there for you to follow your dreams. When it arrives, you should hold on tight and never let go.
6/27/17- Peeking into the Past
Today we visited Callejon de Hamlet, which was incredibly beautiful and moving. It is so rare to see performance art in its truest and most pure form, especially in a modern environment like Havana. This journal entry is quickly going to turn into a theatre history lesson, but bear with me. Theatre began to take shape independently among different regions of the world but, miraculously, all followed similar storytelling structures. Traditionally, it involves religious dancing, chanting, and hymns performed by a large group, called a chorus. Occasionally one leader would emerge to lead the chants or tell an isolated parable. Songs and stories were devotional in nature (usually praying to gods of harvest or fertility) but over time evolved into more generic preachings about morality and community. The Greeks took this format and exploded it in the West, where it eventually evolved into the hyper-commercialized and intensely concentrated form we recognize today. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing; the past century alone has given rise to some of the most masterful pieces of drama ever. But we can’t understand the art we make if we don’t understand how it came to be, and there are so few modern examples of traditional, ritual theatre. Callejon de Hamlet and the dance we saw there is exactly the kind of diverse performance students should be exposed to in order to fully understand the art of theatre. I was so moved by all of the deeply rooted symbolism and authentic sounds and movements. The dancers and musicians didn’t learn those songs and dances at NYU or Boston Conservatory or Juilliard. They learned by growing up around it, because it’s important to them to preserve their heritage and keep this historic and beautiful ritual alive. That’s something I don’t see in America, but I really wish I did. Could you imagine how culturally rich and beautiful our country would be if families embraced and passed down their heritage instead of homogenizing?
6/28/17- Writers, Young and Old
In the morning, we visited the Hemingway museum, which was gorgeous. I thought it was interesting to hear about how the strained relationship between our countries affects Hemingway’s work and how it is preserved. It sounds naive, but before this class and this trip I thought the embargo and the anti-Castro sentiment in the U.S. was more talk than action. I just assumed it was largely political, but leaders could set aside their differences and work together where it mattered, like historic preservation. Sometimes they did, but sometimes they didn’t. I didn’t think tensions ran that deep.
Then, we met Marta Rojas, an elderly journalist who was the only person taking notes at the Mocada trial. Her story reminded me a little bit of James Comey; she knew this trial would change the course of history and had the forethought to document it. I asked her about the sexism she faced as a female journalist, but that isn’t an aspect of her narrative. 60% of Cuban journalists are women, and they have a lot of the basic rights we lack, like equal pay for equal work and maternity leave. Though domestic violence tends to remain a problem for Cuban women, it’s nice to know worker’s equity is possible and successful.
After lunch, we met two Cuban news outlets, elToque and OnCuba, both run by young people just a few years older than us. At elToque, the journalists made quite an impression on me. I asked about generational political divides, but they reminded me there is not room to criticize the government here. The lawyer said, “imagine what the Cuban people could do if they had the same power to change their reality as Americans do.” That was really a check-your-privilege moment for me; for everything I dislike about the U.S., I have never not had the freedom to speak my mind.
6/30/17- Culture Shock and Castro Billboards
We’re in San Diego de los Banos now, and it’s vastly different from Havana. I imagine it would be similar to going from New York City to Secaucus, New Jersey; I got the sense that everyone in this town knew everyone else’s business. In Havana, the tourist destinations and upscale neighborhoods seemed to mask some of the poor infrastructure. It sounds insensitive, but the conditions in Havana seemed almost charming. The old buildings, despite having fallen into disrepair, added to the history of the city. In Soroa and San Diego, however, they just made me uncomfortable and sad. I also noticed much more pro-revolution and pro-Castro imagery and billboards in the rural towns. I wonder why that is. Could it be because provincial areas are more likely to be discontented with the government and desire change, so the propaganda is added to remind them of the state’s power? Or do they feel more pride in the Revolution than the citizens of Havana, so they want to show off the ideals they value? The revolutionary propaganda reminded me of our confederate flag: it holds different meanings for different groups of people.
While visiting in town, a group of us went down to the sulfur baths. It was quite the experience, one I don’t think I’ll forget any time soon. Not speaking the language made it difficult, because I couldn’t read any of the signs or understand the woman who showed us to the pool. But the whole endeavor was quite odd. It wasn’t exactly the kind of spa that I’m used to; she led us down into a basement with a large sulfur pool and two smaller hot-tub sized pools. I felt like I smelled like sulfur for a week after, but apparently it was psychosomatic, because no one else said I smelled bad. Maybe they were just being polite. It was just one of the many instances of culture shock I experienced on this trip.
7/7/17- The End of a Trip and the Beginning of an Era
It’s our last day in Havana! As excited as I am to go home and see my parents and my pets, the prospect of not being able to come back to Cuba is looming over our heads. This experience and these people have had such an impact on me, and I can’t bear to imagine never visiting again. There’s a whole right side of the country I haven’t seen yet! Like so many aspects of U.S.-Cuban relations, I don’t understand the need for the travel ban. Why would Trump want to limit Americans from interacting with Cuban people and witnessing firsthand their vivacious energy and generous spirits? On the other hand, I’ve been privy to the limits Castro has placed on his people, and the lack of democracy and free choice that hinders their capacity to grow and innovate. That’s wrong, and I don’t think Castro should be allowed to press his thumb down on progress, but asking to solve that problem with a travel ban isn’t the answer. It would be like firefighters attempting to solve a house fire epidemic by starting forest fires instead. Not only do they have no correlation, but the firefighters are just causing more problems for themselves. I hope this ban doesn’t last past 2020.
It was really inspiring that, in spite of all the regulations and hurdles they face, Cubans still push on and follow their dreams. They’re entrepreneurs, exploring something they’re passionate about and want to make a reality. That has been so life-affirming for me; I’ve got to be just as determined to make my dreams come true as they are. In addition, their work isn’t politically charged or hot button or vulgar, like so much of what we see in America. They’re promoting Cuban culture, and telling the stories of ordinary Cuban people. Politics is important, but it isn’t everything. In our country, our culture is blotted out by the stain of our political discourse, so much so that it feels invisible or non-existent. Just as we need journalism and art that criticizes and protests the government and the country, we also need journalism and art that celebrates it.
Hannah to Havana 