Drama on a Cuban mountain
“Gary what do you think of heading to Cuba for a couple of weeks?”, my wife Therese ask. I look over at those big green eyes staring at me and I know she has this all worked out already. “When?”, I ask. “The last week of March and first week of April, and it’s a great deal !..”, she answers. What about business?, I ask. “No problem, everything can be done from the Santiago Hotel, they have computers with internet access.” she says. “Are you sure?, you know Cuba, famous for it’s lousy and expensive communication system.” I say. “It’s a five star hotel, there will be no problem.” She says convincingly. So we book the trip and she began to fill me in on all the exciting details. Little did I realize at the time, I would have an experience on this trip that would tax my emotions like none other before.
We had visited Cuba many times before but this one would be different. It would be
our first visit to the Santiago area in the southern part of Cuba. Our usual Cuban
destination was to Cayo Coco (Moron) although we have been to Havana, Varadero and many
other cities, towns and villages throughout Cuba.
These many trips did nothing
to improve my Spanish; languages are not my strong suit, unlike my wife, Therese,
who immigrated to Canada from Sweden twenty six years ago. She speaks Swedish,
English, some German and her Spanish is good and improving all the time.
Knowing Spanish is very helpful in Cuba especially when you leave the resorts. It
was reassuring to know she could communicate especially when visiting a part of
Cuba I was not familiar with.
This was a particularly
exciting trip because we would be vacationing with our good friends Mario, his
wife Alina and nine year old daughter Elaine. “Alina says we can celebrate our
birthdays in Cuba”, Therese shouts holding the telephone. “Sounds good to me”,
I reply. She is referring to Therese and my birthdays, we were both born in
April. It didn’t matter we would not be there on the actual day, Therese on the
17th and me the 13th. They continue on discussing what to pack, what to wear
etc.
We first met Mario seven years
earlier. Therese was one of the directors of Worldfest, a yearly festival held
in our home town of Cornwall, Ontario. Worldfest invited song and dance groups
from around the world to perform under a big tent for four days in July. She
received a call inquiring if she could invite Mario’s group the Trio Franco,
consisting of Mario, Andy and Miguel. They came and even stayed with us at our
home. We became close friends with Mario during the week, and remain so to
today, even though they were forced to
walk and play “Guantanamera” for 45 straight minutes in a Worldfest showcase
parade. Mario is also called “El Chino” because his grandmother originated from
China and he has this big beaming smile and thunderous laugh.
On his next visit, he decided
to stay in Canada and seek refugee status. A very difficult decision for he had
to leave his family behind, including his daughter who was 4 years old at the
time and knew he would not see her for a long time. To make a long story short,
Mario had after nearly five years of living in Canada, finally received his
Canadian landed immigrant status and was finally able to have his wife and
daughter join him in Canada. Mario who is an industrial engineer by trade
actually made his living in Cuba playing guitar and singing, anyone who knows
the situation in Cuba does not have to ask why. He continues to earn part of
his income with his music, in Canada.
We had many great house parties over the five
years, we did not have to ask our friends twice to attend, they could not wait
for Mario to start playing and singing, of
course everybody always wants to hear Guantanamera. The parties were fine
but you could see he missed his family. Now with Alina and Elaine here in
Canada with him, we never saw him so happy. This was the atmosphere that we
planned the upcoming vacation in, we could not wait. First
time back in Cuba with his family??
The first week was spent at
the all inclusive resort ‘Brisas Sierra Mar’, where Mario performed for many
years with his band “Trio Franco”. It was amazing, the resort was beautiful, the
sand, sun and atmosphere were fantastic. The most amazing and satisfying of all
was watching Mario, Alina and Elaine enjoying themselves as tourists. “Hola Chino, que bola?, Hola Amigo!, come
estais? all his friends shouting out to him with big smiles!. He happily introduced his
family, and us, to all his ex-coworkers, friends and even to some guest who
remembered him from his days playing. It was a treat. A que rico!.
We left the resort on a high;
we drove the 2 hours into the city of Santiago. The road was in terrible condition with big potholes and at one point
we had to stop for 200 crabs crossing over. We took our time and looked at the
small villages including one called Chivirico (little goat) which happens to be
where Alina is from.
Santiago de Cuba is the second
largest city in Cuba and Mario’s home town, a beautiful city of over one
million people. We arrived at the ‘Casa Particular’, the equivalent of a bed
and breakfast in Canada, owned by Mario’s good friend Boris and his family. One
of my favorite sayings is that “Cuba is like a box of chocolates, you never
know what you are going to get”. Well, we were pleasantly surprised, our room
was very clean, spacious, we had our own on suite bathroom. The house was big and
beautiful, had marble floors and a large terrace on top on the first floor.
After the revolution, the new Cuban government
gave the house to Boris’s father, a doctor, as a reward for staying and helping
the people, after the revolution sent many doctors scurrying to the USA. The
house was owned by a businessman, apparently the second richest man in Santiago
at the time, who also fled to the USA.
The neighborhood reminded me of one you would
see on TV of Miami in the 1950s, large houses with well manicured lawns clean
streets with classic American cars on it. This is in far contrast to any other
part of Cuba I have ever seen. Most homes in Cuba are run down and in dire need
of a paint job. On a daily basis the gardeners would arrive to work on the
lawns and flower gardens, working with hand tools. It was quiet and peaceful.
That first evening, a Friday, we spent up on
the terrace we had dinner, lots of drinks, good conversation then we headed off
to bed.
Saturday morning we awoke to
knocking on our bedroom door, the door opens and there is Mario and Boris
playing their guitars singing “ happy birthday
to you, feliz cumpleanos to you, happy birthday dear Garry and Teresa”...
They enter the room followed by Alina, with her beautiful smile and shinning
long black hair, Elaine with her chubby cheeks and cute mischievous smile, both playing the maracas
followed by other members of the family and household. Here we are lying in bed, surrounded by all
these happy people, it was a first and it was great! They finely shuffle out to
allow us to get showered and dressed for breakfast.
Over breakfast, we found out
what was going on. They had planned a surprise birthday party for us that
night; they had ordered a roasted pig and special vegetables, sounded
delicious. Problem was they required a car to pick it up, for it was about 35
minutes away and I was the only available driver with a car.
The women were going shopping
on foot to pick up the other party supplies. Mario and Boris would come with me
in the car. Mario shouts out the
window as we drive away “Alina, recuerdo, para recoger el torte de Garry y
Teresita” y tambien hielo para la cerveza!” (pick up the cake and ice for
the beer).
I was hoping the drive would allow
me to see some of the city and as I found out a lot of the country side. We had
to have the car back at the rental office by 1:00 pm. We planned to rent a car again in a few days to do some
sightseeing in the area.
It was near 10:00 am. when we started out. Now, anyone who
has ever driven in Cuba knows it is an adventure. There are bicycles, donkeys,
horses, scooters, old American cars, small Russian cars, wagons and large
trucks spewing black smoke from what is suppose to be an exhaust system. Some
weaving in and out, others going so slow that if you want to get anywhere you
are constantly trying to pass, you get the idea. This along with small, medium
and some very large pot holes. Driving
under these conditions, does not leave you much time to look around.
Mario and Boris are talking away rapidly in Spanish, they
have a lot of catching up to do, meanwhile Mario is pointing the way, and I
am concentrating on driving. After 15 minutes we leave the city and head up one
of the numerous mountain roads
The city of Santiago is surrounded by mountains, each has one road heading up, and they all look alike. The road is small
and squeezed in between the mountain and a never ending cliff one side. Five minutes up, I have to slam on the brakes, to
avoid hitting three goats that suddenly appear in front of the car, after
jumping down from the side of the mountain. Continuing up, there are large
pieces of the road missing near the edge of the cliff. I am hanging on to the
steering wheel so hard I thought it was going to come off.
We finely reach the
top, as we turn right around a curve, there is a newer looking building
overlooking the cliff. I find out from Mario it is a restaurant constructed for
tourist, although I see no vehicles or people around. We pull up still on the road, park and get
out.
At last I can relax, feel the blood come back in my hands
and take a look around. The first thing I notice looking left opposite the
restaurant is a small village with a few people walking around, it looks very
poor. It is at least 8 feet down from the road, and there is no way you could
drive down, that I can see. There are huge rocks scattered about the village. Large rocks are blocking any possible
entrance for a vehicle to enter the village.
Mario and Boris ask
me to wait with the car while they go down into the village to pick up the pig.
I watch them walk down into the village around a bend and out of sight.
I realize I am being bitten by the “Cuban noseems”, these
bugs that are so small, you can hardly see them and really itch when they bite.
I jump in the car and wait, after 20 minutes they show up carrying a large
metal pan with the roasted pig. The pig is spread out and is about 3 feet long.
It looks delicious and smells even better. We put it in the trunk and Boris
takes out this big pot, they now have to go back for the vegetables.
I decide to turn the car around so I am facing down the
mountain. I am getting bored and start to think we may not make it back in time
to return the car at 1:00 o’clock. Then out of the corner of my eye, coming
from behind the restaurant I see this man. He is running as fast as possible
across the road in front of the car, heading down into the village. He is
running so fast!, I think he is going to fall forward onto his face, I am
stunned and figure some guy has to be chasing him with a machete, he looked to
be running for his life. Then I notice a crowd of people running up from the
village. The running man has now reached the crowd and older women hands an
obviously seriously injured child into the man’s arms. The man runs back up to
the road followed by the crowd...
Then all eyes look at me and my car, oh, oh this is not
good!. I frantically look around for Mario and Boris, they are nowhere in sight.
What I knew was going to happen, did. The man, who by now I figured was the
father opens the door and jumps in the front seat holding the motionless and
completely silent child. An older women and a girl about fourteen jump in the
back. They are all screaming "HOPITAL”
... "HOPITAL" and pointing down the road. I take one more look
around for my friends, they are nowhere in sight, I throw the car in gear and
take off.
The father is crying
uncontrollably and I presume all the while telling his son he is going to be
all right and how much he loves him. The older women and teenager are doing the
same. I take a peek over at the child, no blood that I can see but he is out
cold. I have seen women cry over their children, including my own mother, but
to see a father, it is heart wrenching. I am not sure who is controlling the
car; it must be a higher power. Driving faster than I would on a flat normal
road, passing all sorts of vehicles, animals, pot holes and avoiding the
missing pieces of road and staying on the road had to be a miracle. Thinking,
how frantic I would be if that was my son, shaking my head it was too difficult
to even think about. Wondering if the child was still alive, seeing Mario and
Boris standing at the top of the mountain wondering where I could have possibly
gone.
Eventually, we reach
the bottom and are on the roads leading back to the city. I finally say out
loud, “does anybody speak English?”, nobody answers, I shrug my shoulders, put
up my hands and say “hospital?”, the girl seems to get it and starts to point
directions at me. Traffic is picking up, we are in the city, the girl pointing out
the direction and crying out “izquierda, recto, recto, derecha, recto, aqui, derecha,
aqui, aqui, pare aqui”. We are in front of the emergency entrance of a large
hospital, doors open, everyone runs into the hospital leaving the car doors
open.
It is all of a sudden very quiet, I look into the hospital,
they are gone, do I wait? I reach over close the car doors and sit there; I
don’t believe what just happened. Do I wait, no, this is going to take a long
time, and they have friends or family to come back for them.
The next problem,
how do I get back?? In all the
commotion, there was no time to look around; this is going to be interesting.
Then another sense kicks in, the delicious smell of the roasted pig in the
trunk.
I sit there,
pondering my situation, I don’t know the
name, address or telephone number of the place I am staying at, and I don’t
know my way back up the mountain where my friends are waiting for me ,wondering
where the hell I went to.
I turn left out of
the hospital entrance because I know I turned right coming in. I drive along
until I come to an intersection that looks familiar. Turn right towards the
mountains, I can see the mountains, the problem is they are roughly 10 or 15
kilometers away, and there are numerous roads leading to numerous mountain
roads. I take one of the roads and drive about twenty minutes, stop, this is not it!, turn back. Try another, same
thing, not it.
By now, I am not yet panicking, but I am getting anxious, I realize there is no way I am returning this car on time, hopefully no
one is waiting there to rent it, and the pig is really smelling good, making me
hungry.
Driving down the
third road, going too fast, because I’m starting to get tired driving and just
a little pissed and suddenly the road turns sharply right and before I realize
it, I am heading for a monster pothole. Now this thing was 8 feet long and wide
and a foot deep. I can’t believe it!, I slam on the brakes. Too late, the car
hits the hole and stops with the two front tires up on the road with the rest
of the car still in the hole. It hit so hard, every bone in my body shook, and
all of my teeth, thank God, for seat belts!.
Hitting this hard,
there has to be major damage. Gary, you did it now, just what you needed to add
to this weird unbelievable day. I shake my head trying to get my senses back,
open the door and get out. I look up; I am in the middle of a neighborhood,
surrounded by four story cement apartment buildings... Remember, it is twelve
thirty on a Saturday afternoon, everyone is out, the balconies are full, the
sidewalks and roads are full of people, and every one of them staring at me.
Wondering who the hell this speeding idiot is?. If it wasn’t for the fact, that
I was so shocked and stunned, I may have been embarrassed, but I wasn’t, I
slowly turn toward the car, fully expecting to see broken parts, dripping oil
and water all over, nothing, car looked fine, except for the fact it was
hanging out of a huge hole. Remind me never to curse out a Hyundai again. I
gently get back in the car press the clutch and brake, put it in first gear and
softly move forward. I can’t believe I’m out of the hole. There is a God!.
Slowly, I make a U-turn
and drive back from where I came to get away from all the people and possibly a
cop. I stop about five minutes down the road, to take another closer look at
the car. Again, I can’t believe it! no damage, nothing leaking, all right!...
Continuing down the road, I formulate a plan. There is a
twenty story, five star Melia hotel about 15 minutes from the bed and
breakfast, I know if I can find that, I will go in have a drink and ask someone
there if they know Boris or the B and B, someone will surely speak English in
there.
At the end of the
road, I pull into a gas station to rest and contemplate how I am going to get
to the Melia hotel. Staring straight
ahead, I’m drawn towards a very bright orange t shirt, It’s Mario! on the back
of a motor scooter, He spots me at the same time and the scooter heads towards
me. Mario is waving like crazy, I get out of the car, and Mario runs up
shouting excitedly “Garry, amigo, ay mi madre, you ok?”. Talk about relieved. He
jumps in the car, points the way back up the mountain to where Boris is waiting
with the pot full of vegetables.
The pig! it must be
all over the trunk after the crash into the pot hole. I’m afraid to even think
of what it must look like. Guess we will find out when we reach the top.
Mario proceeds to tell me what transpired after I drove
away to the hospital. When they returned with the pot of vegetables the crowd
of village people run up to them shouting, “The tourist rushed the injured
child to the hospital”. They fill Mario
and Boris in with the details.
Mario realizes I am probably lost, and in shock, so he manages
to find someone with a scooter, to go looking for me, and thank God, he found me.
At this point, all I
want is a good cold Cuban beer. Mario goes to the restaurant and returns with a
cold can of Cristal. I open the trunk, hard to believe, the pig looks fine, still
on the steel pan, Boris puts in the pot of vegetables. Now, I know all about
drinking and driving but believe me that beer calmed me down enough to allow me
to drive back down the mountain and back to the BB.
On the way, they excitedly tell what happened; the child
had grabbed onto a frayed electrical cord of an old lamp and was electrocuted, they had to pry off the hand with a
stick. That was the father, sister and grandmother who I drove to the hospital
with the child, the mother was at work in the city, she is a social worker. I
was quite, listening to them, thinking about the child, hoping he was going to
survive and really too exhausted to tell my end of the story.
When we arrive back
they rush in to tell everyone what had happened, the whole house is loud,
excited and very busy preparing for tonight’s party.
We have to return the car, we are now three hours late,
Mario tells the story to the rental guy, no
problem, no extra charge. We take a taxi back to Boris house.
I need a nap; Therese stays up to help prepare for the
party. The party was great; there were about twenty people there. The roasted pork,
vegetables and dessert was delicious. The drinks were flowing and of course
much of the conversation centered on the mountain story. The party goes on very
late and finally we head off to bed, for a much needed good night sleep.
Chapter 2
THE NEXT DAY was April 1, 2008 it happens to be the first day
that the law was changed to allow Cubans into hotels and resorts, of course as long as they pay. Believe it or
not, before that, unless you had very special permission, the average Cuban had
never been inside these places, they were only for tourist.
Therese and I
decide to take our friends, about twelve in all, for a day around the pool at
the Melia hotel. Ten dollars per adult,
kids were free, for a relaxing day in a five star hotel. It was an oasis in the
middle of a large city on an extremely hot day.
It was beautiful, large pool, comfortable lounge chairs, good food and
lots of beer. Everyone is in the pool; I’m lying on a comfortable chair, taking
it all in.
Mario is talking to
some people in the pool. He knew one of
the guys, they had both worked at the Sierra Breezes hotel. Mario calls me
over, he’s laughing, he tells me the guy has just told him the story of the
tourist who rushed the kid to the hospital from up on the mountain. He had heard
it from a bus driver, who drives tourist up to the mountain top restaurant. We
laugh, small world. No, he does not know anything about the child or how he is
doing.
Mario confesses the
mountain top restaurant was one of the spots he had intended to take us to
sometime throughout the week. He is not sure if we want to return after our traumatic
experience. Of course we want to go. We want to know how the boy is doing and
so does all our friends.
We decide to rent a
car and go the next day.
Therese puts together a bag of small gifts for the child. A
Canada hat, clothes, candies, chocolates and a few dollars to help out. Of course, we will not show it or give it
until we find out his condition, God forbid he did not survive.
Since I had the one and only available vehicle, I would drive
Therese and some of the women and children first, drop them off and return for
the rest. By now I knew how to get there.
I walk in and see
our group at a large table, the place is packed. I walk up to Therese and she
points at a pretty young woman with a child in her arms. It’s the child, thank God he’s alive! After
introductions, I sit down and listen to the story. The child’s name is Julio,
he’s two years old. His injuries consisted of a burnt hand and his memory was
affected, for example he did not recognize his favorite toy. The Doctors told her that in time he would
eventually return to normal. They had also told her it was a good thing he made
it to the hospital that quick or it could have been much worse, possibly fatal.
The mother is
thanking us again. Therese gives the mother the gift bag, I look around the
table Alina, Therese, the mother and all the other women at our table are
crying, the mother gets up and leaves, she does not look in the bag, we never
see her again. We finish our lunch and leave. It’s been a very emotional but
happy day.
Now you would think this is the end of the storey but there
is one more related incident.
Chapter 3
We are taking a trip south of Santiago to a beach and to
visit a dinosaur park. Guantanamo Bay, the American base and now prison is in
this direction, as a result there are check points along the way. We arrive at
one of these, pull over and stop. A cop comes over and wants to see my passport,
driver’s license, car registration and rental papers. After searching the glove box, Therese’
purse, the only thing I have with me is my Ontario drivers license, it seems
the rest is on the bed back at the room. The cop is not impressed, and gets an
even meaner look on his face. I am
ordered out of the car and taken across the road to a control room, Mario
follows.
The head officer or Captain is in front of a bunch of
computer screens. Realizing I can’t speak or understand Spanish, they allow
Mario to stay and translate.
Apparently I am in big trouble; I am to receive a large fine and could
be held in custody. Mario starts to freak out, he tells the guy in Spanish, “we
are not normal tourist, we have been to Cuba over thirty times, each time we
bring medicine and all sorts of supplies to give to the people of Cuba, we were
taking his family to the beach”.
The Captain is not
impressed; he calls Mario over to one of the computer screens, on it he shows
him a picture of a stolen car they are looking for, the exact same color, make
and model as the one I am driving. Can you believe it?!.
As I am looking over the computers through the window, I
see Therese getting out of the car. She is about to cross the street to find
out what’s happening. I know that look on her face, she will get involved, not good.. At this time Mario, who was not about to give
up, decides to use the “piece de resistance”. You got it; he tells ‘El
Capitaine’ and the three or four officers in the room, the story about the
rescue on the mountain top. The captain listens, says nothing for about two
minutes after Mario finishes telling the story. It is all quiet; finally he
gets up shakes Mario’s hand and tells us we can go.
We intercept Therese
coming through the door, get in the car and drive away. We are waved through
the rest of the check points both there and back. We enjoyed another great day
and returned home with no further incidents.
I guess I was rewarded for my mountain top good deed. This
was a classic case of being in the wrong place, or in this case the right place
at the right time. I know most people would have done the same thing as I, if
they found themselves in the same circumstances.
The pretty Sunwing flight attendant handed us our two glasses of champagne as we settled in for our flight home. Aren’t computers wonderful, Therese ask? Not really expecting an answer. We managed to take care of all our business while we were away. We had a great time, met new people and managed to help save a little boy. “It’s one vacation, I will never forget” I answered. Well, a toast to our next vacation as we raised our glasses.
Hasta Luego Cuba!.
I knew she was already planning the next one.
Photo: Alina & Mario in Santiago de Cuba
The End