As you may know, because of the U.S. economic embargo on Cuba, I could not travel to the island from a U.S. territory. I took the bus from Santa Ana, CA at 6:30pm to the Tijuana airport. That in itself was a new experience for me. "Purebred" Mexicans were on the bus with a driver who was quite talkative, moody, foul-mouthed, and fought with the passengers. In Tijuana, I took the flight to Mexico City where I waited for five hours for my connecting flight. I arrived in Havana at 2.30 pm.
After traveling all night, I was held for two hours at immigration and customs. I now understand that the Cuban government does welcome people who come for religious purposes, but first they want make sure I don´t bring items with me that convey anti-revolutionary or anti-government intentions. It took the officials two hours to determine that I was not going to misbehave during my stay.
All of the officials were very friendly with me, starting with the first immigration officer. He asked simple questions. Is this your first time coming to Cuba? Yes. Do you know anyone here? Yes. Where did you meet that person? By email. What´s your job? I am a college professor (my answers were short and precise, no chatter). What do you teach? Spanish and History. Where will you stay? At a bed and breakfast. Are you going to visit other places? If my friends take me, yes. How much money did you bring? Three thousand dollars (a support organization asked me to bring financial help for pastors and my church gave me money too. Of course, I did not tell them this). Do you bring gifts? Very few and simple. What kind of gifts? Clothes, books, sweets. After a while he asked me to wait.
Then supervisor came and she asked me the same questions. She left to talk to three other officials. They looked at me from afar and one of them came over to me. He asked the same questions, but he adds a few more clever questions. He not only asked me about how many books I have brought with me but also what they are about. Is your friend a Christian? Yes. Are you a Christian too? Yes. Do you hold an office in your church? Yes, I am a pastor. What´s the name of your church? I say the name. Is it located in Los Angeles? No, in Anaheim. But is it not the same? No sir, I replied. What State is it in? California (he was taking notes of all my answers). Do you come to perform some religious activity? I will accompany my friends where they invite me. How many books are you bringing? About thirty. What subject? History. Are you a Catholic, Jehovah's Witness, Pentecostal? I am a Christian. But of what denomination? None. But, what´s the name of the organization? Christian Church or Church of Christ. That´s it? Yes, sir. And your friend, is he waiting outside? No, I'll take a taxi.
Finally he said, “Go to customs please.” He assigned a nice girl named Diasmarys, or something like that, to check my luggage. She not only checked them, but took every single item out of the suitcases. She removed all of the books and flipped them to check inside each one of them. Meanwhile, we talked and she asked me the same questions the previous three officers asked. I thought how important it is to tell the truth, because when you lie, you have to have a good memory to remember what you said before. This girl asked me again for the books (I had taken two titles: This Present Reformation and The Yurumi book). She asked me about my history classes, college, etc. At first, she did not ask me about me being a pastor until she said "My information says that you are a pastor". Yes. She continued checking my luggage and grilling me for another half hour. I learned not to say that the books were "donated". The law in Cuba includes special restrictions that require donations to be confiscated. So, the magic word to use is "gift". I'm a writer and I brought these books to give to my friends. Then the girl discovers the hundreds of photocopies for my classes and asks me about them. They are study guides for those who will read the books. I told the whole truth, I have not lied about anything.
I think it helped me to appease her that I brought a little pamphlet with the story, "Paloma with the poorest in Africa". She asked me about it. I told her the story of my daughter who spent three months with the poorest people of Nairobi.
After she finished disarming the bags, I was relieved when she said, even jokingly, "help me to pack the bags again." Of course, -I said- in the U.S. they don´t allow you to even touch the bags when the customs officer is working on them.
On my side I also questioned her about her work and family. She told me her mother was also a history teacher. I sensed she was on my side now. I kept an eye to the books stacked to one side. When we finished filling the bags, she took the books and packed them inside the bags. She asked me to wait. Then she went to talk to the previous official, certainly reporting back my answers to her questions. Meanwhile I chatted with a gentleman who was sitting at a desk at the exit of the customs area. He was a nice person. He was a writer of poems and was working on a detective novel. I told him about my last book "Grandma Julia." We talk about literature, and he recommended several bookstores to me in the downtown area.
The officer came over to me again, this time his questions focused on my books and religious activities. I had to give him a summary of each of the books. He wanted to know what kind of story I wrote. The story of the Protestant Reformation and its history in North America. He again asked if that book was religious. “Look, history is history. Religion is part of history so yes, I wrote about it”. The girl said that she managed to read a sentence in which I spoke about "Christianity" -. At this point I wanted to laugh, but I held myself. Of course, Christianity is an essential part of history.
And then he asked about the other book, How to Escape the Yurumi´s Claws. I was surprised that they knew the yurumí was an anteater. Well, the cover picture is of an anteater. We are like ants and the anteater is the personification of evil. The book teaches how to overcome evil, it is a book about personal growth. Is it a religious book? It is for personal enrichment. They became thoughtful.
After two hours of questioning, I was running out of patience. I couldn´t hold my mouth and told the officer, "You are asking so many questions, do you have any more questions to finish with this matter? Can I leave now?” Surprised by my reaction, he told me he needed to get the permission from his supervisor first.They meet with the supervisor and discussed me for a moment. Then he came back, handed me the passport, and informed me that I could enter the country.
I went out with my camera ready to take a picture of a sign saying "Welcome to Cuba" but I found none.
The taxi I took belongs to the state and the driver was a state employee. Most of the cars are from the 40s and 50s. The city looks relatively clean and in order, but there is a lot of deteriorated and unpainted buildings. I arrived at the bed and breakfast where I finally met my friend, for whom they asked me at the airport and I had never seen in person. They were glad that the books passed and to my surprise, both the pastor and the owner of the rental house (which is a bed and breakfast), defended the attitude of the officers because “they have a responsibility to ensure that no man comes to the island with counterrevolutionary ideas”. It has been the case that some pastors have come to talk about politics on the island. I realized that I should not retell the customs story in a triumphant way. There are Christians in Cuba who have a deep respect for the government and authorities.
There are just five television channels and no cable TV. There are no commercials of any kind. They just show cultural, political, teaching, musical programs, and boring movies. The only foreign channel is Telesur, from Venezuela, with constant Chavez propaganda. I did not seen any commercial advertisement of any product in the city, just political propaganda.
Manuel took me to dinner at a state restaurant. Never in my life had I heard of the government being in the restaurant business. A couple of years ago, Raúl Castro allowed people to open private businesses. So now you can see small private restaurants and people selling things on the street. They all need a special permit from the government.
The state restaurant is very cheap. The food is not good, according to foreign standards, but tasty for Cubans. The menu had only steak, chopped steak (ground beef) and pork chops for meat choices. They only had white rice with beans, white rice and yellow rice with pork. The salad consisted of three thin tomato slices, three almost transparent slices of cucumber and a small portion of cabbage. The salt shaker was empty. No pepper and no napkins were available. The bill for two people was five dollars including canned soft drinks. The bathroom in the restaurant had no water; therefore, the kitchen did not have running water either.
In our conversation the waitress told me that her salary, and all workers’ salaries in Cuba, is 240 pesos equivalent to $10. I asked out of curiosity how much a couple and two children that just left spent. She said that family had spent 240 pesos, exactly one month's salary. Obviously people eating out have other means of support that allow them this luxury.
The next day, Manuel took me to Old Havana. Before departing, he invited me to try the ice cream parlor run by the state. The only single thing they sell is ice cream, nothing else, and they have a single flavor, vanilla. No napkins and no receipts. Paper is scarce nowadays. Days later I went to El Vedado, a more attractive area of Havana, where there is a famous ice cream restaurant called Coppelia. They sell three flavors of ice cream, but the line to get in was extremely long.
I took many photos of old Havana. There is a government official called the Heritage Conservator, whose task is rescuing the old buildings and the city historic heritage. It seems he is doing a good work with the little money available. There are beautiful buildings from the colonial era, with exquisite architectural beauty that are falling, literally, to pieces.
The next time I went to Old Havana, I was accompanied by another pastor who lives there, so he moves like a fish in water through the streets. It is sad to see buildings in a state of disrepair beyond imagination. The old houses are state-owned. People living there pay a small fee that will allow them one day to be "owners". Actually it is in name only because the state still has rights on all property. As everything is state-owned, the state needs to paint and repair everything, and of course they have no resources for that.
Many know that I collect canes from each country I visit. I bought one that cost me 12 CUC, as they call the convertible pesos. It is assumed that CUC currency and the dollar have the same value, but the dollar is devalued by a surcharge of 10% and a transaction tax rate of 2%. In the end, one dollar is only worth 88 cents convertible.
Days later, at a craft fair in El Vedado I bought another cane to give to Kiko, my Cuban friend who lives in Anaheim since 1962. He is 88 years old and I hope he will be glad to use a cane from his homeland, where he and his family never returned.
In Cuba, there are shops and restaurants that only charge in convertible pesos and others that charge in Cuban pesos. One immediately realizes which one is which: those charging in convertible pesos have something to sell, the others have a single product or are small shops that look like "garage sales."
I went to the boardwalk by the sea to eat. I was disturbed by the behavior of a couple in the patio seating area. A very pretty black girl, wearing minimal clothing, was accompanying an old gringo. The girl was very happy and hugged and kissed the gringo, who was left wanting more from her. He gave her money in front of everyone and she showed more affection. Manuel explained to me that these kind of prostitutes are admired. They bring good money to the restaurant owner, bed and breakfast, and a lot of other businesses. It grossed me out.
I also visited two commuter towns built by the Russians. There were thousands of apartments, some in Alamar and others in East Havana. The apartments are nice, but again, the state of deterioration is amazing.
Churches of Christ (Christian Churches) in Cuba have no buildings. They meet in homes, they are actually called "house churches" buy the government. They are allowed to meet in groups of 15 people. The Church at La Vibora neighborhood is the largest with 50 to 60 people meeting on a second floor small apartment. They are in the process of enrolling the church with the government. In the meanwhile they are tolerated. I visited three house churches, one in Alamar, another in East Havana and one in Marianao. Although small (10-20 people), they set the chairs like in a small chapel and have a lectern as a pulpit. All of them used recorded music, like karaoke. While holding a conservative theology, their services are very Latin and loud. The Caribbean rhythm and flavor is inserted in the worship. I witnessed three baptisms in East Havana. The baptistery is made of an aluminum frame with plastic liner filled with water. It looks like a real coffin and it was donated by a U.S. evangelist. In my personal opinion, I would rather go to the sea to baptize in these warm Caribbean waters, a privilege that is not available to everyone.
I taught a Church History class to 45 students in the Church of La Vibora. I thank God it was cold that week in Cuba. Cold, they call it, is when the temperature drops to 60 or 65 degrees. I was very happy wearing short sleeves, but my students were dressed in coats and some of them wore wool caps on their heads. If the weather would have been normal, I would have been a miserable teacher in a room with 45 people suffering with no air conditioning.
Manolo ordered a couple of extra benches for the class. They didn´t have desks or tables, so they took notes with their notebooks on their legs. At one point in the class I heard a great crashing noise, I looked up, and saw four students sitting on the floor: a bench has broken.
I was blessed by the use of a projector for my computer, which was very good because I usually give my classes quite visually. But I suffered a lot by not having a white or blackboard. I felt like Maradona when he was fined for testing positive for the drug test. He was complaining and crying "they cut my legs with this decision." I thought to myself "they have cut my arms hands with not having a blackboard." But in the absence of a board, I reinforced my limited vocabulary and artistic gifts, sometimes acting, singing, etc. (haha).
I did not know what kind of things to bring as gifts. I wanted to be sensitive and not offend with gifts, so I decided to empty my office and home of little items like pencils, pens, soaps, shampoos, hair clips, note pads, granola bars, perfumes, sweets for kids, sunglasses, costume jewelry, hair ornaments, etc. I even brought a fairly long piece of fabric that I had bought for my granddaughters to make a tent in the living room, but Nona brought them a very cute tent from Japan. So I threw the fabric in the suitcase thinking that someone was going to use it in Cuba. I chose to write the names of all students and had a drawing. We had lots of fun with that.
I am telling you this because it was amazing to witness what happened. One of the pastors and his wife, Manolo and Ismara, had been talking days before about their needs. They wanted to buy cologne and a bedspread, but the economic situation is so tough that it is almost impossible to buy stuff like that. However, because they are people of faith, they prayed about it. Well, the last day of the drawing I called a name: Manolo Venta – cologne! Ismara - a piece of fabric for curtains or whatever you need! Their names came one after the other and some people even joked about the drawing being arranged for them. The next day I heard their testimony and I couldn´t hold my tears. She will sew a cute fabric bedspread, and he is a happy man with the cologne. In fact, she also told me that days before she had told her husband that she wanted to buy some earrings and hair ornaments. My wife sent all the women who participated in the class a gift of earrings and hair ornaments. This brother told me, "Whatever my wife asks from the Lord, He gives it to her."
I am writing these lines as I wait to board my flight back to Mexico and the U.S. in the Jose Marti airport in Havana. I came to teach, but I feel as a privileged student that learned so much. Sometime in the future I will write a deeper political, economic or social analysis of a society like Cuba where the state controls everything. For now, I'm glad to see that the church of Christ is alive and active as salt of the earth and light of the world.
