- from Filibuster Cartoons
They say the city of Miami will throw a party in the Orange Bowl when Castro dies. I don’t know if that still holds true, but it is a nice thought. When Fidel Castro resigned back in ‘08 it was a bittersweet victory for me. Instead of dying a revolutionary’s death in a hail of bullets (as many would have preferred) he relinquished his power as an old man, enjoying more comfort than he ever deserved. This icon (praised by some, reviled by others) endured longer than anyone could have imagined becoming the epitome of bicho malo nunca muere (a bad bug never dies).
His revolution forced Cubans into a gypsy lifestyle scattering them across the globe to flee the new tyranny. Some settled in foreign lands resigned to their fates, displaced and ill at ease. Others plotted, schemed, waited, and dreamed of their eventual return. Those without the money or means of escape were shackled by yet another oppressive dictatorship… garbage in, garbage out.
Because of the embargo the US has against Cuba I can never legally go there. My entire familial homeland denied to me because of one man. Sadly, the land my grandmother knew no longer exists, destroyed by isolation and subjugation. Even when travel is allowed what will there be left to see? Are these folks raised under a Communist regime in crumbling cities really my people or are they hollowed out shadows of my heritage?
If you met me you wouldn’t think I was Hispanic, let alone Cuban. No accent in my English, no dark Latin skin tone and when I speak Spanish it’s not with the comfort of someone who grew up surrounded by it. I feel cheated of my heritage, the roots of my parents withered away by separation and time. Distant relatives are merely voices on a phone (if that). A cultural identity is completely hidden from me by politics that lost their meaning a long time ago.
The blood in my veins is all I have to tie myself to Cuba. When my feet finally touch its soil maybe something will stir, reaching out for facets of me that have never been satisfied. I can only hope. The one thing I am grateful to see is that adaptability and perseverance runs deep in my people. Wherever we have landed we’ve thrived, bringing a bit of the tropical island along with us.
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