Red Angel by William Heffernan

Author:William Heffernan [Heffernan, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780062028976
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2000-12-22T00:00:00+00:00

11

They drove through the outskirts of the city, following the shoreline of Santiago’s sprawling harbor. They passed a cigar factory, a rum distillery, and a brewery, all positioned to send their cargoes out to sea—mostly to customers that no longer existed. Poor houses, no more than two- or three-room shacks, were jammed into narrow adjoining streets, all surprisingly clean despite the obvious poverty. Young boys, barefoot and shirtless, played in vacant lots and along sidewalks, as young girls stood watching them. Other children sat with women in front yards, some weaving baskets, or mending clothing, or washing dinner dishes in large tubs. On nearly every street, fathers and husbands gathered in small groups, trying to breathe life into beaten old cars and trucks.

Adrianna, seated next to Devlin in the rear seat, let out a long sigh. “Everything is so damned poor here,” she said.

The words didn’t seem to be directed at anyone, and Devlin wondered if she was just speaking to herself, just wondering aloud about this strange, impoverished country that was part of her heritage.

She turned and spoke again, this time to the back of Martínez’s head. “It’s because of the embargo, isn’t it?” she asked. “That’s what’s keeping everyone so poor.”

Martínez let out a sigh that matched her own. “It is a large part of it. But it is also too simple an answer.” He glanced back and gave her a regretful half smile. “An end to the embargo would make life easier. More tolerable. But Cuba must make changes, too. We survive the embargo. If anything, it gives us strength. It also gives us an excuse, an enemy at which we can point. If the embargo did not exist, changes would still have to be made. Now the government can simply make slogans about preserving the revolution.”

“And that’s still important to the people?” Adrianna asked. “Preserving the revolution?”

“Yes. Especially for the older ones, who knew the life Batista gave them. For the younger ones, not so much. They only remember the things they had before the East crumbled, and that these things they still want are no longer available to them.” He made a gesture with one hand like the flapping wing of a bird. “Many would fly to Miami tomorrow, if they could. They see the Miami Cubans who visit, and they see American movies and television, and that is their new paradise.” He glanced back and gave her another half smile. “There is a popular Cuban joke. A young child is asked what he wants to be when he grows up. The child says, ‘I want to be a tourist.’” He paused and glanced out the window, as if the joke was painful to him. “But these children who want to be tourists, I am afraid some of them are twenty and thirty years old.”

“So why doesn’t your government make the changes?” Devlin asked.

Martínez let out a small, bitter laugh. “Fidel will not allow it.” He glanced at Devlin, then Adrianna, his eyes harder now. “Fidel is like a monk.

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