31 Marzo 2010

Today the morning couldn’t come fast enough seeing as Veronika and I were clearly sharing our hotel room with a cockroach. After an early breakfast we all climbed into our monstrous tourist van and drove to a museum in Yara. After the museum, we drove to a primary school in Yara. At the school the students sang for us and presented us with Cuban history. They were so cute! All of the children seemed very disciplined and well behaved. My favorite part was when they preformed some traditional dancing to Son music. We applauded their talented skills when the song ended. They came over to us and I thought they wanted a kiss on the cheek. Then, with an iron grip upon my hand and a immediate feeling of horror I realized we were being asked to dance by the young professionals. It was fun in the end though. My 10 year old dance partner spun me around and was patient as I botched the 1,2,3 step timing. Thank god we took even just the one lesson with the FEU kids. At the end of the visit they shared some desserts with us and gave us a cake for the road.
We departed for our next museum. Normally, I find the birth houses pretty boring; usually they have the exact same things (some traditional Spanish colonial wood and tile work, an outfit worn by the person, and revolvers or swords they used depending on the epoch of their life. Today’s was a little more interesting however. Today we went to the birth house of Celia Shánchez- she is a leading woman in Cuba’s history and worked alongside Fidel for many years of the revolution.
Our last stop today was the Museo desembarco del Granma- basically the location where the Granma ship first disembarked which is now commemorated by a small museum. We took a relaxing casual stroll to the water, which took us 20 minutes and originally took 5 ½ hours because Castro and his rebels had to bushwhack through thick mangrove stands.
The museum guide ended up staying late to answer our (mostly our professor’s) questions so we decided to give him a ride home to the nearby countryside in our monster truck of a tour bus. We asked if he had any children and found out he had one young son. As he left us, we decided to give him the cake we had received from the primary school. We watched as he walked with the giant pink cake into the cluster of palm=thatched houses. A small shirtless boy approached him. We bent down to show his son the cake which elicited a joyful leap a quick hug around the knees before the two of them waved and walked towards their house with the boy carrying the cake happily. It was much more sweet than the cake would have been.

25/2/10- still deciding how to write my dates

Today was one of the most genuine tastes of Cuban culture we have experienced. I returned directly after Spanish class to our hometel to finish writing a response to Lenin’s Imperialism: the Highest stage of Capitalism. Then, directly after Third World Underdevelopment class we trekked to the bus station to catch the P-1 bus back to the university in order to meet our friends from FEU at the FEU office on campus. It had started to rain so after a little while we agreed to settle for a more comfortable and more expensive maquina. I was the first to get one, I settled into the back of a squished green wagon of the 50s. As we were driving I tried to imagine myself as a kid in the backseat when that car would have been the envy of all the neighbors. It was still in very good condition. In any case, before a certain distance, a maquina ride from playa is supposed to cost 50cents, and when you go beyond that point, one dollar (paid in Cuban pesos, of course). I told him a location before (calle H por favor) and handed him a 20 (same as 1dollar). He looked at me blankly. Change? I asked, “No” was the reply and then some curt explanation as to why I was wrong that I couldn’t understand. I walked up the rest of the way to the school. My shoes were wet. Everything was wet really. At FEU we met our friends. Some had important things to do, so our exhibition today would be solely with L.
We walked with L to another bus stop (P-11 this time) where we encountered the soccer team from their neighborhood just after winning their game. We spend the 25-minute bus ride talking with them and joking around with the team. They were very funny and were poking fun at each other the whole way (estaban dando chuchu). When we got off the bus a few of them stayed with us while L tried to find the apartment of a friend of hers we were to meet. Minutes later we were upstairs in the apartment of a young man (and family) who practiced reglas de ocha – or, Santeria. He was planning on having a party that night, but had to cancel because his mom wasn’t feel well (poor thing! It was her birthday too!), and his friends had been unavailable. But then he continued to explain that L had told him we wanted to learn how to salsa dance, and about his religion also.
Soon his speakers were blasting some traditional Cuban salsa music with the likes of VanVan, las Orilljas, and many others I have never heard of. they cleared a spot for us and the next thing we know we’re on our feet dancing away. Presently a few friends came in, an exchange student named Paula from Colombia, a younger brother and a friend. Soon we’re being taught the steps by everyone in the house and having a great time, though I’m not sure it was such a pretty sight. We worked up a sweat dancing so our friend asked if we might like to take a break. We collapsed on the couches. Then, he described the beginnings of Santeria and also its modern day applications. Santeria began under colonization by the Spanish when the Cubans went to the catholic ceremonies but secretely worshiped many of their traditional afrocuban gods. With their traditional and catholic religions combined, they saught to find similarities between their gods and those of the colonizers.
Today the religion of Santeria does not discriminate by race or sex. Each household varies in how strict they are. In Cuba one sees a great number of people walking wearing all white-which at first seems quite peculiar. Those in all white are on their way to becoming saints, and must be pure- so they wear white, carry parasols to avoid sunshine and rain in order to, as he implied, be as pure as infants because they are like baby saints. Those who practice seem to me to be very suspicious and to put much weight on ritual. They have little alters with bones and feathers and other curious items entangled within.
Once he had graciously answered all of our questions he asked if we would like to play a game of dominoes. They asked if we had ever played. “only when you line them up and then break them” I answered. From the lack of response to this comment, I don’t think they have ever seen such a game occur. In any case, that was not the dominoes game we were playing. This one involved strategy and skill and though I had beginners luck the first 3 games, by the fourth (my first without assistance) I lost by quite a lot.