Dos patrias tengo yo: Cuba y la noche.
José Martí
Sabiya loves her country. What’s more, throughout her life she’s defended the stated goals of the Cuban Revolution. And although Sabiya is not a fanatical supporter of Castro and communism, in her heart she firmly believes in the dream of creating a just society in which all citizens are treated equally and have access to education and health care.
Sabiya, who was born in Camagüey, recently turned eighteen. When she was only a year old, her father, who worked for a well-known non-governmental organization, was assigned to Mozambique. With the permission of the Cuban government, he took his family along. Sabiya lived in that African nation until she was seven.
Her father was then transferred to the Dominican Republic, where the family remained for four years. When Sabiya turned twelve, her family moved to Panamá. She has lived here ever since. In June, she’ll be graduating from Balboa Academy—a US accredited school founded by former Department of Defense teachers who chose to stay in Panama after the transfer of the Canal.
Sabiya’s family has not been immune to the divisions that typify the lives of Cubans. Her older sister, a physician, defected while on assignment in Angola, and she was forced to leave her two-year old son on the island, in the care of relatives. She continues to petition the Cuban government so that she can be reunited with her boy. Her two brothers also defected. Still, in spite of such familial tribulations, Sabiya loves Cuba and she supports the island’s right to determine its destiny.
“A person must stand for his or her country. One should be able to criticize it, but I believe it’s inexcusable for anyone to trash his or her homeland without looking closely at all sides of the issues,” she stated back in October, before her most recent visit.
Last December, during the Christmas break, Sabiya and her father returned to Cuba. Every year, ever since she was two, Sabiya has traveled there twice a year—in July and December—to visit relatives. These have been joyous occasions, allowing her to remain close to her family as well as to stay in touch with her Cuban heritage. This year, however, the circumstances were quite different.
Shortly after stepping out of the airport, Sabiya started to notice many changes. She attributes these to the diminished presence of Fidel Castro in everyday Cuban life. As soon as she arrived at her relatives’ house, they warned her to be careful while walking the streets because robberies are now commonplace.
“I thought they were exaggerating,” Sabiya says. “This was never the case in the Cuba I knew. But my relatives assured me that I needed to be cautious whenever I went out. And although the government hasn’t released a single statement about the increase in street crimes, everyone claims, based on everyday experiences, that thieves are no longer afraid of the authorities.”
Also, on previous visits, Sabiya had engaged, and rather enthusiastically, in the favorite pastime of Cubans her age—going out to dance. But last December she was shocked to learn that the government has closed every single discotheque in the country, with the exception of those catering exclusively to tourists.
“I asked my relatives why the government has done this, and they responded, ‘No reason; they’re just doing lots of things like this.’”
Sabiya noticed a considerable increase in police presence as well, which, ironically, hasn’t stopped thievery on the streets. “The police are everywhere, and they’re constantly asking people to show identification cards.”
And since her last visit, the government has embarked on a strong—and somewhat surrealistic—campaign to assure everyone that, in Cuba, everything is normal. Posters, anti-American most of them, line the walls on the streets. Television and radio programs are spending an inordinate amount of airtime glorifying Fidel, Che, and La Revolución.
“It's overkill,” Sabiya says, shaking her head in sadness. “Everyone believes that the lies of the Cuban media have crossed the line of what’s sensible. The stories they’re telling the people have become absurd. While I was there I saw two Cubas: the one the government says exists, and the one everyone else lives in.
“In fact, the entire time I was there, I was reminded of Federico García Lorca’s play, ‘La Casa de Bernarda Alba,’ where the lead character, desperate to retain control over her dominion, frequently shouts, ‘¡Aquí no pasa nada! Nothing’s happening here! ¡Silencio! ¡Silencio!”
But in spite of the government’s increased vigilance over its citizenry, Sabiya claims that most Cubans, like the thieves, are losing their fear. Underground markets, which are illegal, are flourishing. Sabiya was startled to learn that many of her family’s neighbors, some of these government officials, are selling items like cakes and ice from their homes.
And the most eye-opening experience occurred when Sabiya and her father attended a street theater performance in which the actors savagely lampooned the television and radio broadcasts that seek to assure Cubans that everything is fine and under control.
“Only six months earlier the actors, as well as the audience, would’ve been carted off to jail. But on that evening, everyone, including my father and me, applauded the show. We laughed the entire time. But at the same time we were paranoid. We kept looking over our shoulders, expecting the police at any moment. But they never came. In fact, they were conspicuous because of their absence. Indeed, Cubans are taking greater risks and getting away with things they were not allowed to do only a few months ago.”
And on this visit, Sabiya, who will be graduating in June and then attending college, saw Cubans of her age through different lenses—lenses that made life on the island seem sadder than before. Her cousins, for instance, bright, intelligent young persons, are abandoning their university studies because Cuba’s economic system has squelched their ambition to grow, to learn.
“Every young person I spoke to wants to major in tourism, but the demand for admission far exceeds the spaces available at the university. They’re no longer thinking about majoring in something about which they’re passionate. Instead, they dream of selling anything, cakes, cigars, or apples to tourists because that way they will be earning dollars.”
Sabiya also saw that many Cuban youths are spending most of their days in parks, reading and drinking.
“Alcoholism is bound to become a big problem in the future. But the thing is there’s nothing else for bright young people to do.”
When asked what the Cuban people know about Fidel’s ailments, Sabiya answers, “I heard hundreds of rumors. That’s because there is no official word about Fidel’s health; no photographs, nothing. The news broadcasts reassure Cubans, and several times a day, that Fidel’s recovering. And at the same time, the media is placing Fidel higher than ever on the pedestal.”
And, according to Sabiya, the most stalwart defenders of La Revolución are ardently proclaiming their faith in Raúl Castro as Cuba’s next leader. But although their voices were firm, she detected a flicker of doubt in their eyes.
“I could see their fear, their concern that the revolution they have given most of their lives to will crumble after Fidel’s death. And I find their anxiety perfectly understandable.”
But what worried Sabiya most during her recent visit was when she also became caught in the tides of a changing Cuba. Her father, like every Cuban on international assignment, is allowed to have his family with him. But once Sabiya turned eighteen, thus becoming an adult, she needed to obtain governmental permission of her own to continue living abroad. When Sabiya receive her new passport, she filled out an application to be allowed to return to Panama so she could graduate from the school she has been attending since the sixth grade. Her request was denied.
“The official said to me, ‘You can finish your schooling here. There’s no need for you to go back.’”
When the Balboa Academy community—high school population of 135—reconvened after the Christmas break, Sabiya’s classmates, her teachers, and the administrators were shocked to learn that she was being denied permission to return.
“Our school has a cardinal rule of never asking our parents, many of whom are very influential, for political favors,” says Gloria Ducreux, Balboa Academy’s high school counselor. “But I was willing to break this rule for Sabiya’s sake. We love her. She’s an important member of our community and I was ready to get some of our parents to ask Martin Torrijos’s government to intervene on her behalf.”
“Once my request to return to Panama was turned down, I started to feel as if I had stepped into a nightmare,” says Sabiya. “My father and I were trapped in a bureaucratic labyrinth that might have taken us months, if not years, to exit. And my dream of attending college in either the United States or in Canada began to fade.”
Fortunately, after a couple of weeks of trying to resolve the issue within the framework of Cuba’s immigration channels, Sabiya’s father decided to take a more direct route: he contacted a childhood friend who ranks high in the Cuban government. After hearing the story, the friend made a few phone calls and Sabiya was allowed to leave, with one proviso.
“I signed a document in which I agreed to return to Cuba in July, after my graduation, to continue my studies in a Cuban university.”
When asked whether she intends to honor the agreement, Sabiya answers, “I don’t know. My father intends on returning permanently to Cuba in July, but right now I don’t think I’m going back with my parents. After this recent experience, and after seeing the lives of Cubans my age, I want better opportunities for myself.”
Sabiya becomes sad when she thinks that she might not see her relatives or her beloved country for many years, but she feels it’s important for her to attend college outside of Cuba. She hopes to someday work for a non-governmental organization, like her father before her who recently retired after twenty years of service.
At present, Sabiya has applied to Wellesley, Tufts, Middlebury, the University of New York in Rochester, Harvard, McGill College in Canada, and the American University in Paris.
“My feelings toward Cuba haven’t changed. But after this recent experience, I see my country very differently than I used to. The romantic view I had of my homeland and the reality of what I now know collided, and for the moment I don’t see a place for myself there.”
And what changes does Sabiya expect will take place in Cuba after Fidel’s death?
“I don’t know. Like my own future, I’ll just have to wait patiently and hope that whatever happens will be for the best, for everyone.”
