Go Back To Cuba Part 2

The Irish came to the Caribbean in many ways – as Oliver Cromwell’s slaves, sailors in British naval fleets, even pirates. 

But the greatest early influx came courtesy of the Spanish army that employed four regiments of Wild Geese – those who fled Ireland rather than submit to British rule.

That’s how Dubliner General Alejandro O’Reilly arrived. He took control of the Spanish Army in Cuba after a humiliating defeat by the British, restructured Havana’s fortifications, and set the city on a course to become the jewel of the Caribbean.

There’s a street named after him - and a decent pub - but perhaps more importantly there’s a plaque on the corner of O’Reilly and Tacon that states, “Cuba and Ireland, two island peoples in the same sea of struggle and hope.”

The Irish play a prominent part in Cuban history:  Poet Bonifacio Byrne wrote the patriotic and inspirational Mi Bandera (My Flag) still quoted frequently, the O’Farrills of Longford became one of the wealthiest families (slave trading didn’t hurt their coffers), while Irish-American Johnny “Dynamite” O’Brien is revered for running much needed arms to Cuban revolutionaries in the 19^th Century. 

But there is little doubt that Che Guevara Lynch had the greatest impact.

He still holds an almost mystical sway over the island. Physician, poet, writer, political theorist, military commander and ultimate martyr, he was the spark plug of the Revolution.

His literacy campaign led to universal education. He demanded and achieved free universal health care; he was also the force behind the Agrarian Reform Law that redistributed land to the peasants, and limited the size of private farms to one thousand acres. 

He often reminds me of Michael Collins – another man of huge ambitions and abilities; it should be noted that neither had the least compunction about executing political opponents. 

Che will always be the young, handsome, idealistic hero urging his people onwards, for he was executed at age 39 in Bolivia while on his quixotic mission to pursue world revolution.

The pertinent question is: What does Cuban youth now think of Che’s ongoing revolution?

There are more hip-haircuts on the Malecón waterfront than on New York’s Lower East Side, while Beyonce’s commercial paeans can now be heard arising amidst the Afro-Cuban chants on the narrow back streets of Havana.

And yet there’s a widespread acceptance of La Revolución as homegrown and part of intrinsic local culture. Cuba’s socialist state has its problems but it does inure the populace from the black hole of college debt and the financial uncertainty of US health care. 

While everyone seems to have some complaint with their economic system Cubans take pride in what they’ve achieved as a people. In the words of one person – “We’re not all about money. There are other things in life.”

Part of that has to do with Castro culture. Though Raul is seen ambivalently, Fidel is their George Washington. He may have his failings but there’s never been a suggestion that he – or his family – have lined their pockets at the expense of the people.

That’s a huge thing in an island nation that has dealt with an economic embargo for almost sixty years. “As long as everyone is in it together,” a waiter stated, “one can accept sacrifice.”

Cuba is a strange and often fascinating country where the Yoruban religion of the African slaves has syncretized with Catholicism, and co-exists with a James Connolly style socialism.

Where Iyawó (initiates) in the all white garb of their Santería religion stroll past giant etchings of Che and Fidel. I never saw anything of that nature in the old Eastern Bloc countries where religion was at best frowned upon. 

But that’s modern day Havana for you. Rum, rumba, and politics jig together in a great big Caribbean cocktail under the shadow of a giant statue of Jesus.

But now it’s late - tomorrow I go home. The windows are wide open in this mosquito-banished city.

A television drones in the distance, a Salsa band kicks into gear, while down on the Malecón Latino lovers walk arm-in-arm.

“Go back to Cuba!” A memory taunts.

“Yeah, I probably will, and you should come too. You never know, you might like it.”