After an early breakfast of fruit and honey with the usual spread, our little crew stretched out and attempted to get comfortable in our MLKC bus because we were road-tripping, Cuban-style! And by that I mean not try to hitchhike and hold on for dear life like some Cubans have to do to get across the country to visit family, but we were at least road-tripping a couple hours west to Puerto Esperanza, a town on the coast in the province of Pinar del Rio.
Along the way I did spy with my little eye...
- ... Cuban police. For the first time. If anyone has the conception that this is a police state, it certainly does not feel like it, especially in comparison to Chinese cities where you do see so many more police and military and can feel like you are being watched (these are generalizations in response to Diego's question of how socialist Cuba feels in comparison to communist China), and actually, our own riot police in response to protests in the U.S. Cuba just has the feeling of any other developing Latin American country, and here there is actually very little crime and police do not need obscene weaponry or technology to maintain order in society.
- ... goats on tethers, sheep wandering up hills, and random horses and cows.
- ... mountains with strange peaks. These particular formations are apparently only found in Cuba and in China!
- ... a random rice paddy on the side of the highway.
- ... bridges to nowhere. Literally. Traveling on this cross-country highway, we have passed under a few bridges that are standing with no roads attached. Ariel told us that is because when the Revolution took over, the ministry that builds roads became split from the ministry that does bridges, so somewhere along the line, somebody in bureaucracy missed a few memos.
... a campsite! A "popular" campsite, to be exact, aka "camping of the people." We pulled in here for a brief rest stop, and even though this venue seemed to be quite in the middle of nowhere, it had obviously been given the touristy rustic makeover.
We were not the only ones to stop there... Kera (on the far right) is waiting patiently in the end of the line for the restroom. Some of our crew may have just gone the natural route and found a nice tree instead of waiting in line.
Woah, where did those swanky new vehicles come from? These caterpillars (for the record, this is just what I like to call them, due to their form, antennae, and brightly colors) are, surprise, from China. It is so interesting that the evidence of Cuba's political history and present lives in its vehicles.
While I cannot tell you if this truck is Cuban- or elsewhere-made, I can tell you we are officially in tobacco country. By and large Cuban food production is now organic, but tobacco is the crop that still needs chemicals and heavily fertilization. We were to meet with a tobacco farmer the following day, but for now, Diego's fun tidbit was that during the curing and drying processes, there are huge cigar rolling rooms and someone will sit at the front and read a story to pass the time. From this tradition, a type of cigar was named "Romeo and Juliet."
As we neared our destination, the soil became bright red-orange and rich with iron, and we also passed more sugarcane fields, stalks strong and mighty. Given the health concerns of Hugo Chavez, president of Venezuela, there is a general nervousness in Cuba surrounding the future of their own economy because Venezuela's next leader may not be so kind as to continue Chavez's exchange of cheap oil for free medical care. Why do I place those two sentences back-to-back? Here is the link: because of the uncertainty over the future of the favorable oil deal, Cuba is, once again, emphasizing production of sugarcane for export and possibly ethanol (although ethanol could not really be used in-house without a transportation technology shift from diesel and gas.
And I say "once again" because the Revolution has characterized reliance on sugarcane for export as dependence on foreign countries and markets, just like any other "banana republic." Indeed, prior to the Revolution, Cuba had relied on mainly the US purchasing their sugar to sustain their economy, and since, sugar production has ebbed and flowed depending on the state of the economy and political will. In the 90's, after the USSR fell, the Revolution once again realized they had ended up once again in an unhealthy dependence on sugar exportation, and when they lost their favorable market (the USSR this time), Cuba undertook widespread conversion of agricultural land to food production like I have previously written. I personally believe Cuba will keep in place its innovative and now stable system of sustainable food production, but it will be interesting to see how the government will approach sugar and tobacco production for exportation, and therefore a capitalist way of thinking to fund the socialist system, in the near future.
Another economic issue the Cuban government will have to address in the near future is the dual economy because, well, the people are unhappy with it. Allowing CUC, convertible currency, to be used in the Cuban economy was to alleviate the pressing need for capital, but it only works halfway. Drivers, artists, and servants have access to higher-valued CUC but doctors do not? Farmers who can sell extra products at farmers' markets may end up with a lot of Cuban pesos, but that will only get you so much. This dual economy has resulted in some unintended social stratification that the government needs to reevaluate, given its egalitarian goals. (Note: if I lost you with the CUC versus Cuban peso dual economy talk, I attempted to clarify this whole crazy system in this post:
Rise and Shine).
Much of the time on the bus I regressed into introversion and introspection, just trying to soak everything in and make sense of it all, but I wanted to highlight those conversation threads for you, my dear readers. We also discussed how Cuba could have a future for ecotourism, depending on its political goals, given its beautiful, abundant natural resources. We got a peek of that possibility at our campsite rest stop, as well as this second rest stop in the mountains.
Here is the view over the railing at the small complex. The greenery that stretches out into the mountains is just breathtaking.
While we were merely using this complex for a restroom and stretching break, they did have a tiny market of postcards and souvenirs that regular old tourists could buy. This man let me take a picture of him engraving the base of an elegant wood statue of a dancing couple. I also learned the word "engravar" in Spanish - aren't cognates wonderful?
Our group also took this opportunity to take a few photos while we were all together and with our "U.S.-Cuba Friendshipment" bus. Here's our crew! From left to right: Nino, Kera, Judy, Bob, Elise, Betsy, Ariel, Diego, and Tineke.
And of course we had to get one with our awesome driver! Here is Judy with Chino.
And because I was taking the other group shots, I am happy to have just one of me in our ride, and here Diego gave a good sonrisa, smile, too.
Though we still had a little ways to go, our lunch stop would be in
Viñales, where all the roofs in the town have the same classic Spanish
brown-orange curved tiles. Viñales is preserved as a UNESCO site and is
well-established as a
tourist town. On our walk to the restaurant, we passed by a pink Mason
lodge, thankful that we had some Mason history under our belts so we
could pick out the symbols. This one is apparently more conservative and
would not even allow women to enter. We did not try, though.
We did, however, get a peek at some of the artwork and hand-made crafts for sale (below) as well as some of the literature in a tiny book and postcard store. There was your standard book on the Fidel and Che friendship, one on the Cuban Five, and another of note was a rundown on the history of "U.S. Aggressivism in Our America" (my emphasis added). There still is a good deal of anti-U.S. rhetoric that floats around here, and seeing those words presented so starkly, especially the reframing of "America" was the first time I had been confronted by anti-U.S. sentiment since I have been here. Never once from the Cuban people, but from a publication. And on a side-note, I personally would posit that the U.S. should not have ownership over that term, and I would like to include all of North and South America under the umbrella of "America" or "The Americas."
Here is more of the Spanish architecture I mentioned, and Judy off in the distance! These columns held up the outer roof structure to the open-air restaurant where we chowed down on box sets of beans and rice with well-cooked tuna on top. Each table was also served a healthy heaping of tomatoes, cucumber, and yucca.
More mountain scenery in the hour between Viñales and Puerto Esperanza. One would not know by looking at them, but there are caves hidden within. And in the coexisting valleys, ranchos have their little pastel plantation houses, each one with a porch facing the road, complete with wooden chairs to watch the world go by.
In that last stretch, when my mind wandered off into the scenery, from across the aisle I heard, "Pssst, you're on a bus driving through Cuba!" Kera, always keeping it real. Once in a while we just had to do something to pinch ourselves to make sure we were actually here.
Speaking of Kera, here is my roommate in our lodging for this one night! This center in Puerto Esperanza is affiliated with the King Center in La Habana, and the main building is comprised of a thatched roof over partitioning walls.
Each wall was probably only ten feet high, so while we had separate entrances to each of our rooms and could lock the shared bathrooms in between, noise and light traveled easily between our compartments.
Here is the view from the bus window with the comedor, dining room, to the left, the sleeping quarters straight ahead, and Judy surveying our impermanent residence.
We were officially on the coast! This was no white-sandy-beach town, but we did have an opportunity to see what Cuban life was like by the rocky shore.
Before heading over to our meeting with the fishing cooperative, this little old man so badly wanted to help us stretch as far out into the sea as we could. When else would you ever get to experience the good intentions of a homeless Cuban man taking you by the arm across the treacherous dock?
We insisted it would be safer to just go one person at a time because putting more weight on single boards like these seemed like perhaps not the smartest plan.
A regular Casanova, he whipped out a bunch of fake flowers from his back pocket to take a picture with our lovely Judy and Kera.
While he was very sweet to want to help Kera and me walk out on the dock, we quickly ascertained that he was struggling with some mental health issues and did not really realize that we were just hoping to enjoy the view for a few minutes. It seemed the community around the dock was accustomed to seeing him here, but rather than avoiding him or reacting harshly like may happen in the U.S. because our culture is simply uncomfortable with being confronted by the combination of poverty and need for mental health resources, people here were visibly looking out for him. If he tried to enter the nearby restaurant to beg for money, they had to turn him away but did so gently. And upon seeing that he appeared to be bothering us, another man from the community man approached us to make sure we were okay and to help manage his eccentricity. We were not exactly sure what the homeless man was trying to explain to us, but this was actually the first time I had heard a regular Cuban utter Revolutionary slogans (we have seen them on billboards and storefronts and otherwise heard acknowledgement of the Revolution's accomplishments and a few shortcomings), referring to Fidel, Che, and Camilo Cienfuegos with awe and praise.
He also told us about his family, showing us with repeated graphic gestures, tongue hanging out sideways, that his son had hanged himself a number of years ago. That was hard to take in. The other community man attempted to explain things partially in English to make sure we understood, but also to quietly add that the homeless man did not have much family, his son did indeed take his own life, and following that, he basically lost his grasp on reality. Kera and I were still unsure as to how to get ourselves out of this situation, but we were in no danger, as both men really did want to interact with us under good intentions. The homeless man had a deep desire to ensure our safety out on the pier, and the other man wanted to handle the situation apologetically, and also quietly and ambiguously let us know that he had fish in his freezer at home in case we were interested in buying any (our assumption being he was not licensed to sell fish and was looking to make a little extra money from a couple of foreigners).
They were both just trying to figure out life. There is no abject poverty in Cuba, and though there are many poor people, there is hardly anybody left wandering the streets without a social net. But there are many who do what they need to do to survive, like exchange services or take a few supplies from work and try their hand on the black market. The government of course has an interest in keeping people off the streets, and image is probably a factor, but it seems caring for others is so ingrained in this society and culture. It is not just about the societal and political goal of ensuring access to medical care,
good medical care, but also about this actual concept of solidarity that you can
feel. He was unfortunately left without family or a place to go, but at least there were others looking out for him.
When Kera and I returned from the pier, we found Diego and Elise connecting with Cubans on the basis of our common humanity and love for beisbol. Baseball is the beloved sport of their nation and ours, and my papa, a devotee of the Minnesota Twins, had of course jokingly only let me go to Cuba if I would be able to at least talk with Cubans about baseball. Diego and Elise had both played for a good number of years, so we enjoyed seeing our Witness for Peace leaders in a new light of sports skills, and they kindly encouraged me to mix in for some catch. I had to admit that I had not really played since first grade softball, so I got some tips from our pros and also a few Cuban men who hollered both advice and taunts. We got a couple of them to rotate in as well, and the sass from especially a guy in a second floor window waned once we all got a feel for our limited grassy space out by the coast (and I got a feel for catching with a glove versus barehanding whatever other objects flew my way in life).
Here's Elise throwing to a young guy who asked to join us.
This man saw how Elise was pitching to our new young Cuban friend, and he decided to come over to tell her that the way she was throwing was "like a man," so she should throw "this way," aka underhand. Unbeknownst to him, she had in fact played some college softball and knew very well what she was doing, but she patiently took in his brief lesson and then continued to throw like a boss.
We then took a quick jaunt up the coast to visit the fishing cooperative, and off the bus we hopped, and Diego and Ariel discovered the rolling flatbed used to transport ice and other heavy items down the dock.
Elise with the Cuban version of an Uncle Sam poster.
Even funnier than these shenanigans, as we walked over to meet one of the cooperative leaders, one of the older men who had hung around to watch us
playing baseball for a few probably ten minutes prior was now here
working at the cooperative, recognized me, and gave me a big wave! We would see him again when we got to step out onto an actual fishing boat. Our expert told us they generally catch tuna, snappers, and cobo (a type of shellfish we did not know how to translate), and their quota per year that they have to meet is 471 tons. He added last year was better, and right now they still have 25 tons left to complete the quota amount, so ideally they would be able to catch more than what is required of them by their co-op agreement with the government and then sell what they catch beyond those 471 tons. Their boats fish both the northern and southern coasts, and their crews of around 11 people will stay at sea for ten days at a time. The co-op also has an ice-making factory that produces ten tons per day and a shipyard to repair vessels, and considering most vessels here are made of wood, on-sight repair is pretty handy.
It was difficult for us all to figure out exactly the nature of the co-op's relationship with the government and other private versus public businesses, so we had a fair number of questions in trying to wrap our heads around the quota and market systems. It was a huge help that Bob, one of our delegates who now works on a broad swath of poverty and social justice issues, in fact spent a portion of his life working on a fishing boat, so his knowledge of a lot of technical terms and simply the workings of fishing systems was monumentally helpful. It is amazing to see how the varied experiences of all of our delegates enhance our experience here and what we can get out of every meeting on different aspects of Cuban society. I will do my best to parse through what I could understand from the cooperative. Just to be clear, "cooperative" has a different meaning in Cuba than it does in the U.S. In Cuba, it does not mean that all workers are owners, but just that the co-op is a business in a contractual relationship with the state that requires fulfillment of a production quota in exchange for favorable prices and free or cheap equipment and other resources.
At this fishing co-op, once the fish are caught, they are sent to an empresa, enterprise, where they are processed to either can or sell frozen. The empresa, a division of the state, prices the fish and sponsors the co-op because the co-op give about 40 million lobsters per year to the government. The Cuban government exports basically all lobster and shellfish, so that business is key. The government also exports part of the bonito catch (type of tuna) as well as snapper, and the fish that remains in-house does not appear in the libreta, ration book, as a guaranteed good for all Cubans, but rather can be sold at regular markets here for people to purchase with their Cuban salaries.
One may argue that there is no incentive for the co-op workers to go above and beyond to catch more fish since they will be paid a typical Cuban government set salary anyways, but that is in fact not the case. Workers here are guaranteed the basic minimum Cuban salary, but beyond that it depends on how much they catch. The empresa actually has the power to decide the salary, so if the co-op is able to bring in more fish, the take-home rises for the entire co-op.
There are 99 fishermen at this co-op, working twenty days and resting ten, and hundreds of laborers work at the empresa to process the fish. Our expert did indeed say men are working the boats, and it is still tradition in many of these coastal towns that most are sons of fishermen, but there are also schools to train to be fishermen, machinists, sailors, etc. He himself went to fishing school and has traveled on huge ships around the world, including to Canada and Spain.
After this introduction, our expert took us to step out onto one of the fishing boats, where he showed us around and we grilled him with more questions. Men were hard at work on the boat next to the one we were visiting, and there was a bit of commotion on ours as well.
By the dock the water was so clear and shallow that we could see all the way down to these amazing starfish minding their own business.
One of the crew members hands Ariel their typical wooden fishing pole, which is all they need! And if they use bait, they throw it in the water first instead of using hooks.
I spotted a dead swordfish lying on the dock...
... and then of course the guys picked it up and played with it. Here's Ariel modeling it for us.
Our group listening intently to our expert fisher, next to Betsy (our lovely interpreter in the red and white striped shirt).
He further broke down the quota situation for us, saying that the co-op has quotas per month to meet for the state, but this plan is not a requirement, but a goal. They are not punished if they do not meet the quota, but as I mentioned earlier, the workers all start with a base salary that increases if they exceed the quota and catch more fish. They do not have to pay taxes on their catch above the quota, and some may see these reforms of recent years as capitalist measures and incentives within the socialist system.
Another aspect of this sector of the economy that we discussed is leadership. The director of the co-op is elected by the empresa, the entity that buys the fish from the co-op, so they are very much intertwined. If there is an open position otherwise, the director has the power to choose who is to fill it among those who apply and are qualified. The directorship is a rotating position, and there is not necessarily a vertical ladder like we would assume in a U.S. company. Higher positions do have higher salaries, another incentive to put in one's time and good work, but workers whether young or old, male or female, make the same salaries in the same positions.
Something that may surprise us with regard to this typically male-dominated work environment is that the current director of the co-op is a woman. She was elected to the position because she was well-qualified and has been working with the co-op for thirty years. Our expert noted that they do not have fisherwomen because the ships do not have the conditions for women, but they have 23 working for the co-op, and in this community, women also work in medicine, education, artesanía (artisanry), agriculture, etc.
Regarding the concept of incentives for people to work, this concept has evolved over time and with trial and error in the Cuban system. In the 70's and 80's, the Cuban state did have a lot of problems with worker motivation because Fidel expected working as one's patriotic duty to be enough. I do not know how that played out in the fishing sector, but absenteeism and shoddy work were rampant in the cities in that era because workers were basically guaranteed their common salary, so the system was enforced through various penalties and jailtime if you were not performing your best for your patria, your homeland, and the Revolution. The state has instituted some reforms to still maintain their guarantee of basic needs provision and base salaries to their people while instituting incentives, like in this case of the fishing co-op, some upward mobility and the freedom to sell extra products on the market. I do not have any statistics on production outcomes, but it at least seems like a better mix for the state to take in the quotas they need, the state-run enterprises sell the fish on the market to make money for the government to fund its system of providing for its people, and the workers to have incentives to produce beyond what is required of them.
While we were wrapping up our discussion, a worker wheeled these batches of ice down the pier for delivery to the boats.
Peaceful boats on tranquil waters.
Some of the details of the fishing sector that is so foreign to most of us delegates (except Bob!) and the broader economic system that is quite different from our own continued to perplex us, but we continued to work through things conceptually on the bus and with Ariel and Betsy over rice and beans, squash, beloved sweet potatoes, chicken, veggies, and a chilled mango dessert. They added that nowadays, there are still community police that can fine you or jail
you if you do not work, and you can also be fired if you do not do a
good job. In theory, it would be a wonderful idea if we as humans all found and were trained in a vocation that we are good at and can do to help society and if we all had completely pure motivation to do that job for the common good, but the Cuban state has had to adapt how it frames the concept of work so that the country as a whole can be more productive, compete better in the international market (even though foreign dependence is still a dangerous thought), and still provide for the well-being of its people.
Our dinnertime conversation also transitioned to lighter topics, such as hilarity and possible embarrassment that can ensue due to language mistranslations, mess-ups, and misinterpretations. Following some good laughs, our group was joined by two pastors from the pentecostal church associated with this center, an 81-year-old man and his daughter. The older man did most of the talking, but his daughter was also presented a confidence and an at-ease persona and took some of our questions at the end. Her father began by telling us some of his story and how he was called to be a pastor. He made a lot of mistakes as a young man, was looking for purpose in life, and Jesus Christ called him to turn his life around and called him to preach, he recounted. From a young man who ended up in trouble with the law for petty misdemeanors, he rose up as a pastor who was then jailed for preaching after the triumph of the Revolution, just as Raul Suarez (founder and director of the MLKC) was, and they were both sent to work the sugarcane fields a couple of times.
His personal take on religion and politics is that "You cannot be both Christian and Communist." These men were excluded from society for being Christian and also believing in the ideals of the Revolution. They were truly motivated to do good for their people, and they were good Revolutionaries, but they were still persecuted for preaching after the Revolution became Communist because the Cuban Communist Party modeled their platform after Russia's, which included instituting atheism as the model for human progress. The goals of the Revolution also clashed in a historical context with the legacy of the Church in Cuba because the fact of the matter is that the U.S.-backed dictator Batista and the Catholic Church were rich while the people were poor. The Revolution wanted money to go to the people rather than the institution of the Church, which resulted in a demonization of the Church and its leaders.
The line between religion and politics cut society so deeply that some religious people on the island would not sing the national anthem, but after Raul Suarez and other pastors had a long meeting with Fidel, things changed little by little. With the relaxation of the state's stance towards religion a couple of years ago, the way of thinking is changing within the state and society, and the state now takes the position that its people have both material and spiritual needs. For many communities, the tricky part of starting a church is the financial aspect, and in the last few years,
funding from other countries has been flooding in. In this case, Suarez
inspired had inspired this pastor to build this center like his baptist
church built the King Center, but he needed funding from an
international NGO (non-governmental organization) to make it possible. Many more churches have sprung up, and now most churches are in good communication with political leaders. You first need permission from the government to start a church, and if
you wish to have services or religious meetings in a home, you must
submit a letter signed by all members of the house. As more political power is shifting to local levels, political and religious leaders oftentimes are now able to work in tandem to serve the people and help the community, and at the very least, pastors just want to preach and not step on anybody's toes. The official message from the government is more ecumenical to encourage people to have their beliefs, respect those of others, and work with their fellow Cubans for the common good.
From my background in academic foci on Latin American politics and culture, in our studies we have learned the general trend throughout the region is that Pentecostalism is gaining in popularity faster than other Christian sects, so I asked if that was true of Cuba as well, or if Christianity in general is gaining in membership since the state's expanded tolerance of religious freedom. This pastor confirmed that Cuban Pentecostalism is indeed part of the broader Latin American wave that tends to resonate with poorer populations, focus on the gifts of the Spirit within their physical bodies as they usually cannot rely on much material wealth, and see how God is working within their own lives and in their communities.
He added the Pentecostal church (it was hard to tell if in general or just his congregation) was taking off with women in particular, and he personally believes that because the gospel had women serve, women now should be encouraged to serve in high church positions such as deacon or pastor. This is certainly a more progressive vision than the Church as a whole, but it perhaps reflects the push for egalitarianism within Cuban society and the Revolution in particular.
We adjourned our meeting with these two gracious pastors, and as some of our group headed off to bed, Elise, Kera, Bob, and I ended up parked in the comedor with Betsy and with more questions. Betsy told us her sense of church communities is that it is still difficult to convince youth to go to church as many are simply disinterested. Many may be religious, live out their faith day to day, and want to do good, but they may not attend church. Reflecting on my own generation, many young people may be searching for meaning in life and perhaps a moral code, but they do not find resonance in church or organized religion. This is a trend that both of our societies will need to examine to ensure our youth continue to search for meaning and also find a community where they can ask questions, be challenged, and feel at home.
Our comedor table crew also ended up on the topic of accessibility of the political system, in terms of reality and perception. Human beings are supposed to
feel represented by the political
entities intended to represent us, and a large portion of that is the
question of how we get our system to listen to us. In reality, the Cuban government has basically opened up a suggestion box every so often in the Revolution's history for its people to anonymously offer critiques of the government but only in conjunction with constructive advice. These fora send a message to the Cuban people to say everything you want and offer solutions, but do it now and there is power in your hands to change things. These days, in a complete break with the image of totalitarianism that may have once rung true, people can raise critiques in even their university classes and at the CDRs (Committees in Defense of the Revolution) in their own neighborhoods without fear of persecution (in theory, in practice I cannot speak to), and their government has to respond.
In Cuba, even though the Castro brothers have been around forever and people have been waiting on certain changes for a long time, political history demonstrates it is normal for the president to acknowledge he is wrong, or at least announce a shift in mentality or policy. Here (to generalize, of course) people feel their president is more accessible, especially as Fidel has responded quickly to disasters such as the Bay of Pigs and hurricanes, and many see him and love him as a father or grandfather.
While the people see Fidel as more idealistic and yet willing to connect emotionally with his people, Raul is recognized as being more practical but also more distanced from the people he is now leading. A lot of people hate Fidel, and a lot of people love Fidel. The transition to Raul's or a new presidency would have been very different if Fidel had died, and there would have been a huge shock to the system. As I have written, many of the reforms Raul has instituted have been met with open arms by the Cuban people, and as the Castros are both aging, the world will be watching the health of both brothers. Betsy echoed what we have heard from other Cubans and what I had learned in my classes, that the population is very educated and therefore has a broad range of opinions about the country's direction with policy and reforms. About her opinions she said, "I have these feelings as a young person, just imagine what feelings my parents and grandparents have." Even in the Special Period, her parents stayed in Cuba through the tough economic times because they believed in the system. They believed in the basic needs model that the government wants to maintain to provide everyone with something, while instituting reforms to reward more for harder and better work.
Thousands left in the Special Period, but of that period, Betsy said, "If one person was able to get meat, they would share it." Communities who stayed took care of each other through those desperate times, and these days, there are new generations returning to Cuba, recognizing that not everything is perfect, but also knowing that not everything is perfect outside of Cuba. Especially young Cubans who left for developed countries, they saw if they worked hard, they could get an apartment, but if they fell on tough times, they would lose their home, whereas in Cuba, space may be tight, but you will always have somewhere to live. These younger generations also found themselves worrying if they fell sick in their new county that they would be charged monumentally for healthcare, and also unsurprisingly faced a lack of geographic community or welcoming like they were used to at home. So many are returning to Cuba with experience on the outside, and those on the island are thinking twice about leaving because they may take what they already have, albeit imperfect, for granted.
