Cuba
by Robin Lloyd

peace&justice news | Robin's Nest
by Robin Lloyd

We are living on a street of purple cobblestones, lined with druid trees with long beards reaching towards the earth, seeking rejuvenation. Our residence hall – a small mansion, with white columns and a generous porch – is one of many mansions here in Vedado, an upscale section of Havana. Our’s is owned by the Small Farmers Association of Cuba (ANAP).

For the next three months, I am on-site director of the Burlington College Cuba program. We are among a very few US colleges/universities that have a semester abroad program in Cuba. Our six students and I share this residence hall with 12 students from American University, headquartered in Washington, DC.

Everyone has been saying that this spring will be a time of change in Cuba. And today (2/19/08), indeed, the change was announced in a front page article by the Comandante en Jefe: “I do not aspire to and will not accept – repeat – I do not aspire to and will not accept – the position of President of the Council of State and Commander in Chief.”

So far, this announcement has been accepted in a matter of fact way by the Cuban people (The Cuban American people in Miami and Tampa are reportedly a lot more demonstrative in their feelings.) Only our Spanish teacher, this morning, exhibited excitement at the day’s an-
nouncement.

“This is an historic day. You must buy a newspaper!”

The headline on the two government papers that are the only source of written news in Cuba – no international newspapers are available, even in the fancy hotels – was a slightly larger font size than usual, and ran across four columns:

“Mensaje (message) del Comandante en Jefe.”

No screaming headlines, no op-ed pundits weighing in on its significance. On the 8pm news, the same mensaje was read en toto, as is done whenever a ‘reflection’ is published by Castro. It was followed by a number of interviews with unidentified people:

“We’ve been prepared for this decision...”

“Nothing will change...we’re going to keep struggling...”

“Fidel has always been a part of us...”

“For the young, this statement implies a bigger commitment to the fatherland...”

The frequently voiced statement that ‘nothing will change’ is offered as a positive assessment, and given the impossibility of its realization, reveals a certain anxiety on the part of the public. Indeed, our students, in talking with young people, have found that there is significant unrest, uncertainty as to which direction Raul will take the country, and deep hope for change. As one Latin American foreign student, who has lived in Cuba for five years, said, “we know there will be change, we hope it will be for better and not for worse.”

Becoming a Doctor in Cuba
Several weeks ago, our Burlington media team (Brent Harrewyn and Misa Blackmer) interviewed an American student in her second year at the Latin American School of Medicine, and a few students and I sat in on the exchange. Rebecca Deming Ballantine is part of a program developed by Pastors for Peace and supported by the Congressional Black Caucus, with grudging US governmental permission. There are presently 100 US medical students in the program, mostly Black, Latino, and low income.

Rebecca, 28, is white and from rural PA. Her mother runs an alpaca farm, and her father lectures on permaculture and tantric yoga. She graduated from St John’s College in New Mexico, a unique college based on the great books, which prepares its graduates to think, but not much else. Deciding to become a teacher, she got a Masters in education, but could not cope with the American public schools.

Misa asked her why she decided to participate in the Cuban program.

“I was interested in alternative medicine and wanted to do international relief work,” she said, “but I felt my life was full of compromises. Every time I put my credit card into a machine, I got depressed. I think most people in our country are depressed and don’t know it. We’re standing on the shoulders of a system that is doing things I don’t believe in.”

She felt strongly propelled to experience a different reality. ‘I’ve got to get out of here,’ she remembers thinking, referring to her sense of psycho- logical oppression in the US.

“‘Here’ doesn’t even acknowledge that Cuba exists. I wanted to see things in an entirely different way. I have moments when I want to go home, but just by staying the course of this commitment I feel I will be transformed into a better person.”

When she first arrived in Cuba she wanted to forget the US. “It’s a shit hole. At that time all I could think of was the School of the Americas,” the military institution in Georgia that trains soldiers from Latin American countries to oppress their citizens. She made a timeline of the interventions and invasions committed by the US and put it up on the wall of the medical school. That built a connection with students from Latin America, in fact they contributed to it.

She’s noticed that some American students remain ensconced in an American life style – and they don’t make a commitment to let Cuba – or Latin America – into their hearts. “They miss a opportunity to build relationships,