CUBAN TRANSITIONS

Photo credit: Lauren Stamm

Friday afternoon, our last day in Cuba, we got to spend doing anything our hearts desired. Something brought Lauren’s, Hannah’s, Bianca’s, and mine to La Universidad de la Habana. Rather than walk we took a quick taxi over there–coming within millimeters of hitting a pedestrian on the way. As soon as we got there we began running up and down the main steps. Then we went and explored the main office and the bookstore. The men and women who we assumed were staff and/or faculty.

Upon strolling around, we happened upon a 28 year old Cuban man who asked us if we went to the school. We all shook our heads no, and when we responded with the fact that we were American, he immediately came closer, noticeably more interested. We proceeded to talk to him for ten or so minutes before a question about the Cuban Five provoked him to quiet down and glance hesitantly from side to side. When we asked him if he would be more comfortable if we were to stop videotaping him, he responded saying, “It’s difficult to talk about this stuff here right now you know. I don’t know if you want to go to another place you know because here in Cuba’s it’s a problem you know…it’s not about the recording, it’s about here, you know?”

And there our adventure began. We followed him for a good fifteen minutes, chatting the whole way until we arrived at a small paladar. He invited us inside and we ordered three drinks to share. From there we talked for another 45 minutes or more about everything from Obama to Jay Z to Tupac. In his opinion, “Obama received a pretty hot potato with the economy.”–he sympathized with the president, aware of the fact that at this point, Obama is a better choice from Cuba’s stance than any Republican nominee. He refuted the argument that the US was withholding bandwidth from Cuba: “I know people that have access to internet–there are journalists there are government officials who have perfect access to internet here.” And when it came to Raul, he was highly critical, mentioning that he thought he was worse than Fidel. Wesley also mentioned his dreams to be able to go to the United States someday, and although he was somewhat skeptical of his chances any time soon, he emphasized his perseverance in the matter.

When the conversation wound down and we told him we needed to find La Coppelia, he gladly walked us the approximate ten blocks to the ice cream shop, and upon his departure, we were sure to exchange email addresses with him.

La Coppelia!

The minute we landed in Miami, I turned my phone on and lo and behold, waiting for us all was an email from Wesley himself. He’s kept contact, each email shorter than the last, but his latest news is as follows!