On our first week here in Cuba I walked back with one of my group members to their house that I hadn’t seen yet since we’re all living separately and I met the owner of their house. An elderly man named Francisco. Much like most other Cubans I meet here, he thought I was Cuban at first until he heard my accented Spanish. We got into a small conversation about my ethnic background and then Francisco started telling me about the cultural differences between the US and Cuba. He said, in pretty good english, “In the Estados Unidos everything is very fast, but in Cuba, we take it easy”. Now, almost 3 weeks in Cuba, I’m beginning to realize Francisco’s words couldn’t have been truer.
I’m not sure what the truth in that statement means in regards to how I, an American used to the fast-paced capitalist society, will adjust to Cuba. For me its seeming that the process of getting accustomed to Cuba will also be an equally slow process. I began to realize this about Cuba not long after we landed. The constant skepticism I was receiving from the Havana airport security people at processing along with constantly being asked “Did you arrive on Delta? Are you sure you arrived from Atlanta, not Cancun? With them? You?” made me realize that out of everyone in my group, what distinguished me to the Cuban security was my skin color. Not 15 minutes in Havana and everything we discussed about the the myth of racial democracy in Elliott’s class was coming to life before my eyes. Of course, while I am no stranger to experiencing unjust treatment or hostile behavior from authorities when I travel, this kind of racism was different from what I’ve experienced in the past. They didn’t attempt to hide it in the slightest, since the Jose Martí anti-racism ideology is very much engrained in the culture here, it won’t be seen as racism. It’ll just be seen as authority figures doing their job, free of all racial bias.
Casual racism I’ve began to realize is really common here. What would be considered horribly racist and offensive by most moderate American standards is perfectly fine here in Cuba. I don’t think theres a day that has gone by in the last three weeks where someone hasn’t called me “el negro” or “negrito” at least once. Despite the revolution claiming to have resolved racism back in its early days during that one conference Fidel had, it just seems to have swept it under the rug and let the anti-racist ideology take the reins in lieu of actually dealing with the inequality. Racism aside, Havana isn’t all bad. I’ve had some good times. Like one night when Julie took us out to Barrio Chino (Chinatown, Havana Style) and we met two of her friends, Che and Juan Pín. We walked all around Centro Habana and walked our way into a torch lighting parade thing which I think was either in celebration of Jose Martí’s birthday or something regarding the youth then we ended up at the Hotel Nacional bar, a favorite hangout spot for mobsters when they ruled Havana back in the day according to Julie.
All in all, one thing I’ve learned is that Cuba is one of those places you can’t rush if you really want to get to know it. Carving out a comfort zone is easier said than done but the sooner you accept that the easier it’ll be to get accustomed to Cuba.