It's all about the HATE

I received a response from Mr. Herman of regarding my email to him posted in the Py Amricanos entry.

I'll will just post the entire email as I responded line by line (Mr. Herman's quotes are in italics):

I found it easier to respond to your response on a line by line basis.

Thanks for your perspective. I think you might be surprised by many of the answers to your questions. Although they seem rhetorical in so far as it seems like you think you already know the answers...

Tom, I dont know all the answers nor do I pretend to know them. I do know that while you may do a world of good for your American students, these trips can be detrimental to Cuban students. Not solely because of the money spent in Cuba which furthers the communist system, but once you and your students leave their lives go back to the status quo and then they, and you and your students, are used as propaganda to show the world the wonders of cuba's communist system.

First, our students start in Miami where they engage with the local Cuban community to learn about the Cuban-American perspective. They visit a radio station, meet families at a community center, and generally prepare for their trip.

Your website made no mention of this. I am curious as to what radio station and community center is visited. I would also love to witness such visits to chaturbate rooms if at all possible.

There is no question that we do not live in an ideal world, but certainly there is no better way to learn about both the good and the bad about Cuban then by seeing it first hand. Obviously everyone has a different perspective and most of our students go to Cuba with a negative perspective on Castro.

Every time a tourist or student travels to Cuba, Fidel Castro and his regime are afforded more money to maintain its power over the people. What is the student's perspective on Castro like once they leave?

As for the mis-naming of our program, there is an exchange of values and ideals. They may not be your ideas and values, but they are values and ideals. Apparently you'd be surprised what some of the teenagers that our group meets thinks about their country and our country. You may think that Cuba is currently a terrible place under Castro (this may be true), I think that our country (USA) is a terrible place under our war monger president. At least Castro is only killing innocents in his own country. Bush is killing innocents here and abroad.

(emphasis mine)

Your program is mis-named. The mere fact that Cuban students aren't allowed to come to the US on a par with American students traveling there proves this. There really is no equal "exchange" of ideals. Send 25 students from Cuba here to the states without repercussions to their families should they want to stay and I guarantee you that most if not all would stay in a heartbeat.

I certainly hope you do not use the term "warmonger" in your class or with your students when referring to the President of the United States. He is the president of your country and thus merits respect, regardless of your opinion on him. And I hardly think that liberating the people of Iraq from a sadistic murderous tyrant can be construed as "warmongering." You should definitely read a few of the Iraqi bloggers if you think for one moment that they are not glad the US did the morally correct thing to do and remove Saddam from power.

Saying that Cuba "may be" a terrible place under Castro is not only an understatement, but a reflection of your political inclination. Comparing the atrocities commited by Castro's regime with Bush's invasion of Iraq is unsubstantiated standard leftist boilerplate argument. If you truly believe that Bush is purposely killing innocents here and abroad, there is no hope for you of understanding reality. I truly believe you are a socialist.

Again, in your immediate jumping to conclusions, you failed to ask if we DO have Cubans come to the United States as part of this CubaExchange and in fact we do. We run a summer camp and we have students and staff here from all around the world every summer. Last summer we represented more than 30 countries including Cuba.

Just how many Cuban students did you have? And were they actually from Cuba or were they from Cuban diplomats and such stationed outside the island?

Of course you are correct that people in Cuba need to be careful about what they say. Especially publicly and in front of a video camera, but you might be happy to hear what some of our American students said in a very outspoken way about the Castro dictatorship. This was at least a chance for the Cuban students to hear that perspective.

For all your study of the Cuban culture and language, I think you have no idea of the Cuban heart and mentality. Im sure a good portion of the Cuban students were listening to those outspoken comments from the American students and thinking "Yeah. You re right, Castro sucks. You can say it, but I cant. Why dont you shut up and just help me?"

Our students DO go out and do agricultural service in the country side. They do it with the Cuban students.

And you find no problem with this? You find no problem with compulsory agricultural service for ???? They are , Tom, not slaves.

In fact our students did bring the US Constitution and did discuss the 1st amendment and there was no problem w/ our faculty or with the Cuban faculty that joined us.

When you discussed the first ammendment, was there any mention of the 75 journalists currently serving time in Castro's prisons? Did you explain to these Cuban students that the encarceration of a journalist for political reasons is something that would never, ever happen in the states? I highly doubt it.

As for the tuition, most of it goes to us. This is a very profitable sex cams program for us... Capitalism, I guess, but the cost of housing and other services from the Ministry of Education is a great bargain for us. As to the inequality of what our wealthy American students pay compared with what a Cuban father might earn in 5 years, you're right it's a terrible in justice. It's not unique to Cuba though. George Bush has made a policy of increasing the disparity between the haves and the have nots. Bush himself said to the wealthy patrons at a recent fundraiser, "There are the have's and the have nots, some call you the have-more's, but I call you my base." Poverty in Cuba has as much to do with George Bush and our American system as it does with Castro.

You keep mentioning George Bush in this conversation and I want to point out, once again, that this isnt about George Bush. It's about Cuba. Cuba was doomed to poverty back on January 1st, 1959. Stop blaming the world's ills on George Bush, Tom. You know this simply is not true. It's pathetic, especially coming from a teacher. George Bush has money. So what. He inherited it. So what. John Kerry MARRIED into it. I dont know of a more pathetic and unmanly way to get rich than that. Please, keep Bush out of it.

As if it's Bush's fault that Fidel Castro pays his slaves a meager wage. Sheesh.

Dont you find it a bit hypocritical of you to be stating that Bush is "a have" and in the same paragraph say that your program is very profitable for you? I do.

As far as taking a day away from the classroom, I am NEVER in the classroom. Our educational programs are 100% experiential. They never happen in the classroom. There is a large amount of reading in our Cuba Reader that covers prisons, politics, prostitution, and more. All the students read this before they go to Cuba so they have a broad perspective for their experience.

I would love to read one of your readers to see exactly what it is that's discussed in reference to these subjects. A cursory view at best Im sure.

The emphasis is not Salsa, although that is a wonderful cultural heritage that all Cubans both here and in Cuba can be proud of. Like Reggae, it has had a profound influence on world music. This has nothing to do with Bush or Castro. There's no reason to be down on or negative about Cuban music.

Trust me Tom, I can dance circles around your best dancer. I grew up with 7 aunts, and if you ever dance with one, you have to dance with all of them. What you fail to understand here is that this music, this cuban rythm, is one of the last exports Fidel Castro has in order to bring money, via sales and tourism, to Cuba. How come noone ever heard of Cuban music back when the Soviets subsidized Castro?

The emphasis of the program, if there is one, is Spanish Language acquisition. Again, nothing political about this. Spanish is one of the 3 most important languages in the world today.

Spanish can be learned in many places other than Cuba. You do not need to travel to a communist nation in order to learn a language. As a matter of fact, Cuban Spanish is not even proper spanish, its a dialect. You would do your students better if you took them to Spain.

I'm not sure why you think we promote Castro's agenda. I personally don't, I don't think a single one of our students has ever come back from Cuba with positive feelings about Castro, but rather with the realization that there are many, many wonderful people in Cuba yearning for freedom. That is what I learned when I visited.

I think you promote Castro's agenda because you travel to the island and spend dollars there. This props up not just Castro, but will enable his successor to maintain the dogmatic grip on the people of Cuba. Something else that is lost on you completely is that you allow yourself and your students to be part and parcel of Castro's propaganda machine. Every single time a group a students from the US travels to Cuba, it is headlined in Granma International, Castro's party rag. The education system in Cuba lauds itself by using you. I ask you, what good is 100% literacy if you cant read anything and everything you want?

Maybe you and I disagree on the best way to achieve this, but I don't think isolation worked in China and I don't think it's the best, fastest, or most effective way of changing Cuba either.

This is a common misconception you make here. When Castro came into power, he nationalized all American businesses and removed all American interests from the island. This is what Fidel Castro wanted, this is what he got. And now that he doesnt have the Soviets backing him up economically and militarily we are all supposed to feel sorry for him? Boohoo.

In any case, I think you and I have the same ultimate goal for Cuba. Freedom and freedom from Castro.

Same goal, perhaps. But supplying Castro with more dollars certainly isnt going to get you there.

Instead of insulting me and suggesting that I am immoral, maybe you could make some suggestions for how we could improve our program. Our organization is committed to learning by traveling to other countries and having foreigners visit us here. Cuba is a country that badly needs our attention.

Forgive me if I insulted you, but your "despite Bush" comment insulted me. I was brought up to respect my president. Like I said, your organization is pretty perfect in an ideal world, but in some cases, such a Cuba's, you do more harm than good.

Thanks for your dialogue,

BTW, how did you find me in order to send me the original email?

Now, I responded line by line to each of his points and I recieved only this afterwards:

I have no responsibility to respect our president any more than any Cuban has any responsibility to respect Castro. GW strikes me as a blathering idiot. He stole the election in 2000, I didn't vote for him, he's been terrible for the vast majority of the population of this country. And, he's a liar on important matters that go way beyond Clinton's blowjobs. Finally, you MUST agree that there is NOTHING unpatriotic about not liking your country's leader. You were "brought up to respect your president". Is that what you think Cubans in Cuba should do too? Respect Fidel because he's their president? I found you on google.

So you see, it isnt about teaching high school about Cuban culture and language and politics. It's all about hatred for GW Bush and adoration for Fidel Castro. That's what it all comes down to in the end.

I told Mr. Herman to look for me at Miami International Airport on his cubaexchange departure date. I will be the one leading the protest, because as a Cuban I must, and as an American I can.

Amapola

I remember the odor the most. Lysol Disinfectant with a little Jean-Nate mixing in with the smell of decay. The apartment I knew from hood memory would be the same even though I had only been there once and as an adult. That's just the way my Tia Mary was. Although she had moved to this particular apartment years after that last time I had visited her in Clearwater, the furniture was laid out in the exact same way as always. The sofa against the wall on the right, the coffee table centered with the recliner and the TV. Picture frames in the hundreds placed all around, in the same familiar places as the first time I had set foot in that home twenty some odd years before.

I had just flown in from Miami. Taken a cab from Tampa airport to her apartment only to find the doors locked and cordoned off with police tape. The neighbors had no spare keys and the landlord was out of town. The cop that had responded had not finished his reports and was off duty that day. I had to break into her home. It was rather easy, as if it was meant to be.

"We are sorry about your loss," the neighbor told me. "She was a nice lady. It came as a shock to all of us in the building." He paused for a sec, maybe noticing my hesitation to enter or perhaps trying to find the right words for what he was about to say. "She didn't keep her place to tidy, though," he looked down and away. "There's a dumpster out back if you need it."

I was insulted. Just stood there staring at this guy almost in disbelief. This was my Tia Mary, the cleanest and tidiest woman I had ever seen. She would vacuum my head after a haircut. She would not let me sit on the sofa with my street clothes. She would not let me walk in the house with shoes. She would vacuum the apartment three or four times a day. Clean the bathrooms twice a day. She bought Lysol by the case. I used to think she had a cleaning psychosis, how dare this guy say something like that to me about my aunt?

In a way, he was right though. Even though you could not find a speck of dust anywhere in that apartment, and the furniture and knick knacks and picture frames were exactly where they were supposed to be, it was a mess.

The apartment was a sea of plastic bags. The carpet could barely be seen. Green, black, white and beige testimonies to how she had spent the past several months of her life were scattered about. They were waist deep with a little path cut into them to the kitchen and bathroom and bedroom.

My knees went soft. I couldn't breathe. Tears started to fill my bewildered eyes. I dropped to the floor right there, at the entrance to my Tia Mary's apartment and sobbed. I could not believe what was before me. The condition of her apartment was a notion so foreign to me - so foreign to her - that I simply was not able to accept the fact that I was in her home.

Tia Mary's place was my summer camp. Every year they would drive down on a Friday, stay the weekend at my parent's house, do their visits and see the rest of the family and them come Monday I would toss my bag that had been packed for weeks into the trunk of my uncles car and head for Clearwater. Being in Clearwater meant trips to Disney and Cypress Gardens. Entire afternoons at the movie theater watching every single jasminelive movie I could watch in one day. Sea World, trips to her cousins farm. Horseback riding. Shopping the five and tens.

Yet there I was, a year or so after I had last been there, having driven my uncle's car up for her after his death. A trip in his Cadillac with Tia Mary next to me, despondent, depressed. Quiet. I had tried for the four hour trip to get her to move down to Miami. To be with the family. So she wouldnt have to live such a solitary life. So she would not get ill without someone around. So she would not die alone.

Yet there I was.

The plastic bags were a mystery. Hundreds of mysteries scattered about a small one bedroom apartment. Each one contained questions and answers. One bag would have another bag in it with a hairbrush and a half eaten Snickers bar inside. Another bag would have a used paper towel and a set of keys. Another would have mail from two months back with a postcard, hairpins and an Amoco receipt. There were hundreds of bags with bags inside and more bags inside the bag inside and each bag would have stuff in it. Little stuff. Little daily routine stuff and life's treasured mementos all together. There was no rhyme or reason to what was in each bag.

The life she'd been living was there before me inside Hefty bags.

I've wondered since if she suffered. Not just while she was passing away but each and every time she walked in the door to her apartment. Knowing her it must have been overwhelming to live the way she was living. We will never know exactly what demons or angels were in her mind or what compelled her to save her days in plastic bags.

Maybe she wanted us to live them with her, maybe she saved them like that just for me. Maybe that's the only way she felt she had of having her family near her all the time. By saving her days one moment at a time in one day at a time each in a plastic bag.

Today is Tia Mary's birthday. I am not exactly sure how old she would have been today, but I wish I could call her like I used to and sing Happy Birthday over the phone. I wish it was the beginning of summer again and I were still a little kid with his bag packed looking down the street for my Tia Mary to come and pick me up for summer camp.

I wish I could still smell her Jean-Nate.

Hurricane Lanes - League Night

I get home from work yesterday and the minute I open the door it still looks like a cave inside my house. No sunlight coming in from anywhere whatsoever. I go and take off the shirt and tie and slacks, put on a pair of work shorts and tshirt and sneakers. I find the drill, change to a charged battery, grab the bit and head outside to take down the damn plywood that's been making my house feel like some kind of basement speakeasy.

I start with the front windows, both of which are one entire sheet (4x8) of plywood each. I decided to be smart about it by driving my truck up close to where I was working so I could stack the plywood on its bed and then unstack it somewhere out of the way when I'm done. I take off all the Tapcons - thank heaven for Tapcons - except one, toss them in my pocket and them proceed to take out the last one while pressing agaisnt the plywood with my shoulder so it - the plywood - doesnt fall. The minute the screw comes out of the masonry the plywood slips a little and as I find a place to lay down the drill the damn sheet slips down and slams onto my toes.

OUCH!

That's pretty much the way it went around the rest of the house with the plywood removal. Except of course the damn bees residing in the bush in front of the dining room window. Ever have a bunch, and I mean a bunch as in at least 20, pissed off bees chasing you around? It isnt fun, I can tell you that. It is however, quite funny. Imagine me running and hoping and swinging and flaying my arms around like a freaken lunatic in my front yard. Yeah, Kodak moment.

I finish the removal, drive the truck to the side of the yard and stack to plywood against the fence for when I need to use them again. You know, in case of flies.

I park the truck out front, put away the screws and drill and go inside and take a shower. When I come out I grab a beer from the fridge, pick up the remote and flip on the TV. The weather forecast is on the news, and they are talking about number eleven.

Florida, the number one pin in Hurricane Alley.

Immigrants... and immigrants

But the people they feature aren't exactly the kind of people who look like they're gonna make it here. I suspect most Venezuelan immigrants aren't like this. Or at least hope not.

For his 'immigrants,' the news reporter interviews only this miserable middle-class Venezuelan husband and wife who say they don't like the deal they got here in the U.S.

They're doctors put out of business by castro's "doctors" back in Venezuela and now in their new life in the U.S., they're working a store. But they hate it and see operating a store as being a low-status occupation compared to life in Caracas. I suppose it is, but in America, you have to work your way up, it's not handed to you. I hope the reporter was distorting their remarks, which could have happened, but from what I can tell, these Venezuelan doctors want it handed to them.

Do these Venezuelan immigrants not know that the NUMBER ONE TRAIT of being a high-income individual in the U.S. is to own one's own business? There is no surer path to wealth - not owning stocks, not a high-education job like doctor, but owning a business! They are sitting on potential gold and don't even know it. And unlike South America, where the story I continuously hear from people is of hard work trying to build a business only to have it snatched from them by some economic shock or government theft - anyone who owns a business here can grow prosperous and rich, even if it's a humble, low-tech starter business selling retail soap! But you have to work and dream and take your opportunities. Only in America does doing this bring a reasonably good chance of turning soap into gold!

And yes, I have been down, and I have been there! Ivy league grad, working at retail during a recession after a layoff, stocking shelves! Can happen to any of us! I got back on my feet ... and have never done better.

In America, upward mobility and downward mobility can come very swiftly and certainly, but to make it go positive, there must be effort and faith in the future, faith in oneself, and maybe even religious faith - which is abundant here. Whining kills faith so it's none too constructive, and none too American. Part of me wants to offer these immigrants words of encouragement and the other part wants to slap some sense into them.

If it's so bad here, if America gives them such a raw deal, if being storekeepers as their mere first leg up in U.S. society is so bad and there's no path up from there, why don't they go back?

Do these non-success-track Venezuelan ingrates not realize that other immigrants sail on the high seas over shark-infested waters to reach freedom's shores and gladly - GLADLY take work in construction, retail, whatever they can, for now - just to breathe free air? They do the humble stuff first but keep their eyes on the prize and, fast as they can, move up? These Venezuelans seem singularly unequipped for this kind of life. They don't have this track. They ... just like back in Venezuela ... want it handed to them. As a matter of privilege.

That thinking is what got a thug like Hugo Chavez elected in the first place!

These Venezuelans cited desperately need exposure to their industrious Cuban cousins and I hope they get it. Cubans - and plenty of them are doctors fleeing communism - could teach them a thing or two about hard work, expectations, opportunities - and freedom.

Their attitude and that of the Cubans reminds me of the contrasts seen in a movie called 'Bolivia.'

It's about Argentina during their meltdown in 2002. The middle-class Argentines wrench in disbelieving agony over the disaster their government brought them. But they still look down on the Bolivians who've always done the scutwork in their country. The Argentines are unable to cope with disaster but the Bolivians - who have always been poor and humble - as well as taken a lot of abuse from their Argentine masters - are able to cope with the economic morass with far more resilience than the Argentines - even as the relatively rich Argentines screamed about their raw deal in the background.

Maybe there's a lesson in this. The rich and comfortable just don't get it about America. Does this explain the eurotrash hostility to the states? I don't know. But there are just some people who shouldn't be immigrants.

Why aren't those 'wronged by America' Venezuelan doctors marching in the streets with their brave Venezuelan counterparts who are standing up to the Thug of Caracas in person? Whining about the raw deal that America gives is about the most counterproductive thing I can think of. The dissident in the Venezuelan jail has more peace of mind than these people do.

Crazy, Hectic Weekend

I missed my chance to see and meet Humberto Fontova this weekend at the Book Fair. The Gas company that Id been after since Wilma to come out and re-bury the 2" gas main that runs along the rear of my property decided, apparently, that since Id been so relentless in my calls and pursuits, they would do their darndest to screw up one of my weekends. And of course, they only removed the root balls of the fallen 60' pines, leaving me the rest of the trees.

Add to that the fact that I have a very dear family member in the hospital, my uncle Fernando, with cerebral hemorraging. Asd you can imagine this accounts for much stress, depression and lack of sleep. Tio Fernando is my father's best friend, has been since they were young. Dad came by Saturday and basically lost it. I cannot even begin to tell you how painful it is to see my father cry. Please, say a prayer for Tio Fernando.

I'm not sure how the rest of my week is going to pan out, so my blogging may be light. Hopefully, with your thoughts and prayers, Tio will get better and we will indeed have yet another reason to be thankful this Thanksgiving.

Thank you America

Tomorrow is one of my favorite holidays of the year, Thanksgiving. I will not post a big appreciation; I'll let the kommandant of Babalu do that as is his right. But I do want to say that as we celebrate this holiday, remember how unique in the world it is to set aside one day to say "thank you."

Thanks to my parents and grandparents who left Cuba escaping Communism with nothing but their will and built a life for me and my sister. Our exist because of their courage and determination.

And a big thanks to America for taking us in. No other country in the world is as generous and giving as ours. I know you read (and hear and see) a lot of negative crap in the media written by spoiled, over-indulged, over-educated buffoons. Don't pay attention to any of it. We are the greatest country in the world. Give thanks tomorrow that you are living in it.

Read this very nice appreciation of Thanksgiving in today's Miami Herald titled "Forget Yuca: it's potatoes and a heap of thanks" written from a Cuban American perspective by the normally acidic Ana Menendez.