Hello all! Sincerest apologies for the delay, my three days in NYC were booked for family time and laundry before the 18 hour journey to Cape Town. I feel relaxed here in South Africa, I think partially because of some of the lessons I picked up in Cuba, on some of the images of poverty gleaned from our three weeks exploring the outskirts of Trinidad and Havana, and of the time spent away from home. The major issues here seem more similar to those of the US rather than those in Cuba, of massive wealth inequality and the consolidation of power into the hands of those rich few. A burgeoning problem for our southern neighbors. Though a police state, I felt there was a stronger disconnect between our casa owners and tourist industry folk with the average Cuban than between the drunk, salsa dancing cops and the people they enforced. The beginnings of privatization are creating some of the same class distinctions we see in other free-market societies yet on a smaller level. This was the most surprising aspect of Cuba, actually. It was in the little improvements, gifts from other travelers, fresh paint as well as some serious things like patched roofs and decent plumbing that divided neighborhoods. The few times I felt like I was really being scammed there, being led into a dark alleys for cheap goods or up a shoddy staircase for my golden cigars… I knew the cash would be circulated in those peripheral places and that maybe some of these lessons could be translated into solutions later on. Our weeks there and my few days here in S.A. have made me think a lot about how problems are sometimes replicated throughout history, they’ve made me question revolution and the roles of culture in times of political turmoil or suffering. Anyway, here are some of my notes on the Cuban trip:

Havana was the crumbling infrastructure of the colonial era reborn in the 50s and frozen there in time. Viva la revolución… Rubble, chicken bones and coconuts came tumbling off the rooftops in what felt like an endless party. Són, rhumba, raggaeton and hip hop came pouring out of cheap speakers on every street corner. There was energy in those ruins. People walked casino salsa, whistled and hollered. Spies tucked themselves in alleyways and the constant hustle stripped me of my pesos in less than a week. The two currency system does a really good job at directing us tourists on specific routes within the country, where CUCs are all that you have and their value is only accepted in certain stores (as opposed to the national currency). This becomes evident as you move outside of Havana and travel further east on the island. In Trinidad I came to realize how significant this barrier was, on how difficult it is to communicate given the preventative measures the government enforces upon its people. A card–a license–is given to those that work in the industry and that allows for conversation with foreigners. Discussions on politics become difficult to broach and nearly impossible given the law. I started feeling paranoia creep in and became more shocked by this aspect of control than by the dead dogs on the side of the highway or the one floating in the Cienfuegos bay (its sad bloated body in the shadow of a sparkling, Canadian cruise). It really started to get to me. Another American called me out in a coffee shop one day to his Cuban tour guide as a “definite supporter of the revolution… look at that nose ring and his tattoos!” I responded by drawing a crudely shaped penis and quickly flashed my notebook before fleeing the scene. I feel like a lot of non academics in the States try to understand Cuba in this way, through bold assumptions and an ahistorical logic. People neglect some of the ideals expressed by the younger Castro and Guevara in order to maintain their anti-communism and nationalistic upbringings. Our current president’s reversal of Obama’s attempt at reconnecting the two nations is a horribly misguided approach and confirmation of this mindset. Cuban domestic policies are certainly not what we should accept in the States today but global communication is of the utmost importance. And I made some interesting connections that showed a certain resistance to this aspect of Cuban governance. For instance, while spending a week returning to the same eatery, night after night trying to improve my Spanish with the same set of employee/residents (most private businesses are startups in the home), and eating the same cheap food and on-the-house bananas, I made an important discovery: pornography. One of the people I met at the eatery beckoned me over one night to look at his cellphone, he was a Cuban guy with connections in Australia (he told me he could never move there because of the gun violence and prejudice against his skin) and he was asking if I liked the ladies. He pulled up some b-rated porno and gave me a big smile but upon realizing my discomfort he got one of the servers over and the two of them sat gazing into the screen. Eventually another two guys stumbled in the doorway and plopped down for the show! Digitized sex is banned in Cuba and with the spotty wifi its not an easy feat to acquire it. People smuggle porn in on USB drives from other parts of the world. Along with music, movies and TV shows, these portable catalogues are black market commodities. They quietly chip away at the hegemony of state and the borders that confine the Cuban people.