10 Days in Havana

10 Days in Havana

For 18 years, Cuba existed as a fictitious place to me. It only came to life in the books, movies, and stories my family members shared. I somewhat equated Cuba with Disney or ancient Greece – it was just a concept, an intangible assortment of tales about white-sand beaches and grand European-style buildings, and painful recollections about the exile.

Throughout my life, I have tried to engender what it means to be Cuban-American and honestly, I have never known where to begin. I consistently asked myself “Should I cling onto the past, and discuss Cuba with resentment as is espoused by many in Miami?” or “Should I look towards the future, dismiss the worries of my friends and relatives, and consider Cuba’s potential with blind excitement?” I began to grow tired of the constant back and forth between these two perspectives and became an amorphous being that retained the accents of my other Latin American friends, and became passionately obsessed with the region and its history. Though these may seem like positive steps, I forgot about my burning desire to understand my heritage.

Years later, Cuba was brought to the forefront of international headlines. I could not hide behind the façade that I had it all figured out. In light of lifting the embargo and consequently, re-establishing diplomatic relations, I slowly began to comprehend that this was not (and still is not) an easily digestible situation. Inspired by the multitude of valid perspectives I had been surrounded by, I attempted to shift my considerations and free myself from the viewpoints that bound me.

I am not wholly Cuban. I could not allow myself to be a part of a past that I did not understand. How could I? I did not live through the pain of the exile, and its aftermath did not affect me. By the time I was born, my grandparents and parents had already assimilated into their new home. Though it was difficult to distance myself from those I love, I worked to tell myself that the stories about the exile were not my own. Though I could be sympathetic to their struggle, I needed to free myself from animosity.

I am not wholly American. Though I was born in the United States and though I have an American passport, allowing this identity to overpower my Cuban one would be unjust. For years, I never knew anything but Cuba – Cuban food, Cuban culture, Cuban traditions. It wasn’t until I went away to college in North Carolina that I came into contact with “real” or “traditional” American culture for the first time. Living away from home showed me that I could never view Cuba as a mere business venture or believe that reestablishing diplomatic relations would instantly change things. I needed to separate myself from some of my peers because I refused to idolize Che or Fidel, I refused to think communism had worked in Cuba. I needed to be aware, but proud.

I had to be both Cuban and American, existing in both spheres equally.

The convergence of these perspectives allowed me to go into the next phase of my life with a bit more confidence. I came to appreciate that I am a product of many perspectives, Cuban, American, and Latin American. Though this amalgamation may be considered “amorphous,” I have found comfort in it. As a Cuban, I have learned to be cautious when discussing the future, as an American, I have learned to believe that change is possible, and as a member of the Latinx community, I have learned to embrace this multicultural world.

After a year of living in Chapel Hill, I began to treasure my Cuban heritage. My fascination may have been reignited for superficial reasons, as I used it to distinguish myself from my peers, but it eventually became evident that Cuban culture is a vital part of my life. Without it, I would not be the person I am today.

At the beginning of my second semester, I was presented with the opportunity of going to Cuba. It was Super Bowl Sunday and a friend of mine asked to get to dinner before the game. I was quite unsure about what our discussion would entail but knowing him, I was excited nonetheless. After chatting for a bit, he finally asked if I would be interested in joining his friend, Anton Buri, in Cuba, to organize a soccer tournament called “La Copa Artecorte” and direct a documentary about the growing soccer community. I was beside myself. After everything I had struggled with internally, I honestly could not believe an opportunity like this had materialized right before my eyes.

In the months that followed, I worked on a grant proposal, honed on my photographic capabilities, was in constant communication with Anton, and organized everything from my end.

I have to admit, by the time I finished packing the night before my flight, I was extremely anxious. I was worried about traveling with so much gear that was vital to the success of the event and about traveling outside of the United States alone for the first time. I was even more concerned about simply being in Cuba. I plowed through the preparatory measures without reflection of any sort and did not consider how significant this moment would be for me and my family. It was far too late to turn back, and as I have continuously told myself, the moments that make you uncomfortable are the ones that will allow for the greatest personal change.

The next couple hours were quite a blur: a 5 AM wake up call, a short drive to a quiet airport, a crowd of anxious family members juxtaposed with excited tourists, a 40-minute flight, and before I knew it, I was in Havana, Cuba.

For the next ten days, Anton and I organized meetings with members of Artecorte, a local Cuban non-profit, to ensure that everything was going as planned for La Copa. We ventured all over Havana to print diplomas and pick up trophies and medals for the players. We interacted with emerging business owners who ran projects out of their living rooms and with others who worked on thriving ventures.

Ultimately, our stay culminated with “La Copa Artecorte,” La Liga en Cuba’s first event. La Liga hosted eight teams from all over Havana and concluded with an exhilarating championship match. It was a huge success. While running the event, we conducted interviews with prominent individuals in the developing soccer scene and established relationships with them – creating the foundation for a hopeful future.

The days were long. I came into the trip knowing that I would have to work, that wanted to have fun, and that I needed to do some soul-searching. I forced myself to focus on all three aspects, but these are not exactly complimentary. I quickly learned that attempting to feel this much was exhausting. The days began and ended with all things La Liga – photographing, filming, walking, meeting, planning, etc. In between, we took full advantage of our limited time in Havana. And after every day, though I was more exhausted than I liked to admit, I flopped onto my bed in my dimly lit room to jot down some thoughts.

The ten days I spent in Havana were never about what I did, but about what I internalized. In trying to tackle so much in such a short amount of time, I am still trying to achieve the main purpose of going to Cuba – understanding more clearly who I am.

Here are some of the things I gathered from my 10 days in Havana:

1. La Revolución – The focal point of every conversation about Cuba has always been the Revolution. It is not something that can simply be erased from our narrative as a people, it is not something I believed we could “get over.”

For the first time though, I went to a place where the revolution was held in high regard. The leaders have become so much more than political figures because they represent an idea that is far more powerful than any political party or identification – equality.

I was alarmed that individuals brought up the revolution in passing and with levity. For many of them, it was but a mere moment in history. Do not get me wrong, the Cubans I spoke to were very passionate about the revolution and its ideals, but they never spoke about it with the same regard and intensity as in those living in Miami.

2. Maintaining their sphere of influence – In this day and age of constant communication through the internet and various social media platforms, Cuba’s government has been able to ascertain its influence by controlling access to information.

WiFi, or internet connection at the very least, is vital for nearly every task I do. Though I was completely disconnected while backpacking in the Talkeetna Mountains in Alaska last summer, not having WiFi felt completely different in Havana. It was bizarre to work on a project without having a plethora of resources at my disposal.

After getting over my initial frustrations, I began to tackle this from another angle. In the United States, I have access to breaking news all the time: I can find out about any scandal, legislation, argument, and the like. This access makes democratic interaction possible; it brings people to the table and allows them to participate.

3. Havana – To me, Havana’s beauty stems from the nostalgia of a time I never knew. I lived through the stories of my grandmothers and did not know anything but their realities.

What they related to me felt very tangible when I arrived – a relic of the past, destroyed by a new order. The decadence of once-grand buildings paralleled the widespread poverty in the city, as both have been seemingly ignored by government officials and the international community.

More jarring is the stark contrast between designated tourist areas and residential zones. On one end of the street, one could find a five-star hotel where celebrities like Beyoncé and Jay-Z have stayed, and on the other, decrepit buildings housing dozens of families. To further perpetuate this divide, luxury brands have opened up stores in the lobby areas of these hotels to help tourists feel more “comfortable,” while offering items that are out of reach for most Cubans.

4. Civil Service Groups – There are numerous organizations within Cuba already making a change.

I had the immense privilege of getting to know Papito, the founder of a social and economic empowerment organization called Artecorte – a collection of enterprises that started with Papito’s barbershop. These ventures quickly began to expand throughout the community, which has become known as the “Barber’s Alley.” Alongside launching these businesses, Papito founded a vocational school for youth that have dropped out of their studies. Through these opportunities, Papito and Artecorte have helped Cuban men and women become self-sufficient.

5. Soccer – As Cuba continues to open up to the international community, it comes as no surprise that soccer is taking Cuba by storm.  

Surprisingly, younger generations are beginning to play soccer more than baseball. For decades, baseball was the sport to play in Cuba. It brought Cubans together, it was a symbol of national identity, but today, baseball no longer has that widespread appeal as soccer is taking over.

After working with La Liga en Cuba, I learned that soccer, and sports in general, could be used for more than just recreation. La Liga en Cuba for example uses the game to instill positive values for youth while providing young professionals with the space to grow in their passion.

6. Cuban-American Relations – Most of what I will recollect here are portions of conversations I had with individuals throughout my stay:

• “Having stability can become boring. When there is a corrupt leader it allows for engagement.” This could be a sad reality. After Trump’s election in November 2016, more people than ever got involved with activist and grassroots movements. It has been quite inspiring to see this passion ripple throughout our society, but equally saddening that it takes a demagogue to provoke participation.

• “Politics aren’t everything. Look at things at face value and try to understand why individuals feel or think in that way.”

• “Ultimately, we hope to erase the lines, both figurative and literal, that divide the Cuban population from the American.”

• “Cuban culture is fundamentally different from that of America. It is unfair for the ‘developed’ world, specifically the United States, to impose norms that do not work in Cuba.”

• “El odio es heredado, el odio estimula odio, odio incita a la violencia y este odio nace en ti muchas veces.” This translates to: "Hate is inherited, hate encourages hate, hate incites violence, and this hate is born in you many times." Many people in Miami left Cuba decades ago and are rightfully still hurt by everything that transpired as a result of the exile. Despite this, the disdain with which they discuss today’s Cuba, and those who live in it, has allowed for my generation to feel repulsed by the nation. While family members may be stating these opinions from a place of sadness, the younger generation of Cuban-Americans should not. In essence, a wall is being built between the Cubans living in Miami, and the rest of the United States, and those still living on the island. We must do everything in our power to break it down.

“At the end of the day, we are still here smiling,” I was told. After everything, Cubans are still enjoying every second of life and I am going to take that vigor into everything I do moving forward. Viva Cuba!