Cuba Diaries by Isadora Tattlin Read Free Book Online Page B

delicious”), one of the men who has just been waving his knife around says to me, in a honeyed basso profondo. “
Señora, felicidades
. . .” (“Congratulations . . .”). He makes a flourish with his knifeless hand, as though he were doffing a hat.
    â€œYou’re from the United States?” the high official to my right says. He is very thin, with bad posture and a few strands of hair combed over his baldness. His voice is thin, too, plaintive.
    â€œHave you ever been there?”
    â€œNever,” he says. “They won’t
let me
. . .”
    â€œMaybe you will get there some day . . .”
    â€œBut the United States, it has this policy, this embargo, it won’t
let
Communist ministers like me in. Only to the UN . . .”
    â€œThat’s really too bad,” I say, “because Cuba is a beautiful country, and the United States is a beautiful country, and I think they would enjoy each other so much.”
    He sighs. “I just don’t know why they don’t
like us
. . .”
    â€œThe United States is a very large country, a very vast and complicated country, and there are some people in the United States who are for the embargo, but there are also a lot of people who are against the embargo . . .”
    The man to my left is saying something across the table about North Americans.
    â€œThe
señora
is North American!” the man to my right, leaning forward, calls to the man to my left.
    â€œThe
señora
is North American!” the man to my left repeats. He looks at me. “You can help us! You know Sullivan’s wife—you can talk to her!”
    Sullivan is the chief officer of the U.S. Interests Section of the Swiss Embassy, the de facto U.S. ambassador.
    â€œBut Sullivan doesn’t
have
a wife. He is divorced . . .”
    â€œHe has a wife! You should talk to her!”
    MIGUEL APPROACHES ME in the garden after breakfast. “
Mira, señora
. . .” I follow him to where the hose we use for watering the lawn and vegetable garden is lying on the ground. He picks up the end of the hose. It is completely bare. “One of the chauffeurs last night, they stole the attachment for connecting the hose to the sprinkler. It will take much more time to water the garden now.”
    â€œOne of the chauffeurs from last night? One of the chauffeurs
of the officials?
”
    â€œ
Señora
, when Cubans come, you have to hide things.”
    â€œBut people
from the government?
”
    Miguel looks at the ground, shaking his head.
    â€œCan you find attachments in Cuba?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThat’s why they stole it, then.”
    Miguel considers this. He sticks out his lower lip, nodding. “That’s why, of course . . .”
I. 19
    Lorena’s son is in prison. He was sentenced to ten years in prison when he was eighteen years old. He has already been in prison for three years. Muna hasn’t found out yet what he is in for. Lorena goes once a month to visit him.
    After Lorena has gone home for the evening, we ask Manuel what Lorena’s son did. Manuel shrugs, saying he thought it was just an ordinary crime.
    After a minute or two, Manuel returns. He clears his throat. We know what’s coming. Manuel has the habit of shuffling his feet and moving one hand, then the other, beyond his ample paunch as he talks, in a kind of sedate cross-country skiing action. “With your permission, there is something I have been meaning to talk to you about . . .”
    â€œYes, Manuel?”
    â€œI don’t want you to think I’ve been trying to hide anything from you. I, too, have been in prison. For political crimes. After
el triunfo de la revolución
, I didn’t agree with the way things were going. I aided some counterrevolutionaries and I was put in jail for nine years. My conviction is here if you would like to read it . . .”
    Manuel returns with his conviction on a silver tray.
    Manuel, too,