Shared Tears - One Woman's Struggle

28 - The Routine of Survival

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Thu, 10 Feb 2011 19:58:00 +0000

Thriller Novels--the Perfect Escape From Everyday Life

The popularity of thriller books is at all time high. Although studies show that there are several reasons for this unprecedented increase in thriller book sales, one reason that these novels have become so popular is that their stories of suspense offer the reader excitement and intrigue; they are the perfect escape from the repetition of every day life.

In a society where many travel and commute on a daily or weekly basis, it is most convenient to pick up a thriller at an airport bookstore, newsstand, or any number of retail outlets. These suspense novels provide entertainment comparable to any 2-hour movie of the same genre—but with the flexibility of reading when it’s convenient.

Thrillers first gained popularity in the 1980s, when Tom Clancy's love for all things naval led directly to the publication of his first novel, The Hunt for Red October. It was an instant bestseller, earning Clancy high praise from President Ronald Reagan, who said Clancy's book was "a perfect yarn" and "not-put-downable." Tom Clancy, along with Michael Crichton, literally defined the techno-thriller genre of the 1980s.

Today most people work longer hours and are balancing increasingly more personal and professional responsibilities, and as a result, working people need a means for escape. Books that take readers on a thrilling, adventurous ride to a world different and more exciting than their own offer the escape that so many crave and desire. Indeed, the techno-thrillers of the 80s have paved the way for the new science fiction best sellers and crime mysteries of today.

From The Post Card Killers to Angels & Demons, the works of James Patterson and Dan Brown are the most widely read mystery books in the world today, capturing the attention of even the most critical adventure readers. Many online websites like Amazon.com are publishing the decade’s best thriller books, as well as the newest science fiction thrillers.

For science fiction thriller fans, the newest offering, Time is of the Essence by Aldo Paredes is making waves. This captivating thriller blends science fiction, crime, mystery, and conspiracy into one of the most compelling new thrillers on Amazon. The main character is an alien who has been living on earth for thousands of years along with his centuries-old partner. Ostensibly leading normal lives, these two have been chronicling human history as it occurs and waging an unseen war with an evil, unseen foe. An evil alien who is pursuing the pair is also responsible for many of the evils of the world--past and present.

From the absorbing start to the explosive finish, Time is of the Essence is one satisfying thriller, with its ingenious clues and escapes. Providing a high level of detail – you get the taste and feel of 1931 New York City. It engages the intellect to make it the perfect read for both science fiction lovers and anyone who likes the quick escape of a modern thriller. You definitely won’t be able to put this one down—a two-hour train ride will feel like two minutes.

Science fiction readers need not be limited to a few popular authors, as the floodgates of online shopping portals have opened, leaving no stone unturned when providing the most authentic information about the newest thrill, mystery, science fiction and suspense books—and newly-discovered authors like Aldo Paredes are leading the pack.

Back to our story:

Shortly after my father and my mother got together, we all moved to Havana City, to a little apartment building. The address was Industria 102, corner of Industria and Colon, which were only 3 blocks from the famed Malechon and about two blocks from the central boulevard named El Prado.

The little I recall we lived comfortably, it was not lavish but it was not a hobble either. There was a large terrace of the back that you can see down the street in either direction. Often my mother or my sister would walk me about two blocks down to the bakery, where bread was made fresh everyday.

My sister took me to different locations around the city. One memorable place was a park, called “Parque de los Enamorados” or lover’s park. My memories are almost always fleeting and I am unable to define any specifics, so I rely a great deal on others to relate some stories.

Once we were in Havana, my mother got a job as a waitress at a Restaurant / Bar called El Lido. I have several photographs of her during this time period and she really was gorgeous. But yet again happiness would not stay long with us; for soon my father would show his true colors and the abuse would start all over again.

My father was a socialite and he liked to drink, heavily. So when he decided that he wanted my mother, she had to be at his disposal. One clear memory I do have is my father trying to roughly grab my mother and she had had enough and hit him over the head with a Coke bottle. The Coke bottles in those days were not made out of plastic, they were thick glass. How he survived I will never know. My father was a cook and supposedly a good one. He worked at all the fine hotels, such as the Inglatera.

27 - Life Goes On

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 19:57:00 +0000

Time is of The Essence

by Aldo Paredes

Science Fiction. Mystery. Crime. Intrigue. Conspiracy. Time is of the Essence by Aldo Paredes has it all. Disguised as a successful businessman in 1931, Aldric Cronique is a 2,000 year-old extra-terrestrial on a mission to record the history of life on Earth.

In the midst of an interesting and eventful life, chronicling historical events as they occur, Aldric and his savvy wife, Victoria, unwittingly possess secret information that a malevolent enemy so desperately seeks. Aldric and Victoria enter the fight for good vs. evil with help from Anthony, Aldric’s loyal valet and confidant, along with a few of their other rare and trusted friends.

Enter the villain, Jean Froissart--an even older extra-terrestrial who is on an evil mission. Not only has he created a sinister alliance with the Vatican and Hitler, but he has also been the evil architect of many pivotal moments throughout history.

Why has Froissart been hunting them down for so many years and what does he want from them? Why is the secret so explosive that both Aldric and Victoria have to fight off multiple enemies to get to the truth? Will Froissart succeed in destroying New York City? These are some of the questions the pair needs to answer, and fast.

Sprinkled throughout the book are glimpses into Aldric’s valuable collection of private journals, in which he has recorded 2,000 years worth of historical events from all over the world. Set in the post-World War I era, Time is of the Essence is a splendid history lesson, and Paredes keeps the suspense taut and engaging.

From the absorbing start to the explosive finish, Time is of the Essence is one satisfying thriller. Its ingenious clues and escapes, and sharp intelligence make it perfect for a long flight home--you’ll never know where the time went!

Time is of the Essence is available through:

iUniverse Publishing (www.iuniverse.com) and Amazon.com.

Review by: Todd Rutherford, AskthePublishingGuru.com

I hope you will read my new novel, I know you will enjoy and come back for more. But don't worry, the sequel is in the works. See below a small excerpt of - Time Is Of the Essence.

Aldric began to address them, solemnly. “My friends, it appears that it is over. I must admit, it looked bleak for a while, but some of our suggestions to the Allies began to produce results. I am very sad Japan did not respond appropriately. I was hoping the specter of total destruction would have been enough and it would not have been necessary to go so far. President Truman would not listen to reason – he wanted to end the war once and for all and decisively. So, our objective should now be to help our friends at the different agencies learn from past mistakes. We must make them understand that by unleashing this new power the whole human race is at risk, from within and from an external source. This one event has made our cause all the more difficult. Remember, I’m not the only one watching.

We should not allow one mistake be multiplied into others culminating in the annihilation of humankind. Our trip to the Vatican yielded no good results, other than, discovering that the Pope is under Froissart's influence and somehow he was able to block my probe. We still need to find Froissart and deal with him.

To Froissart this is all a game of chess – he places his pieces in the right position. If you know how to play, his moves force the opponent to give up their advantage and fall into his trap. The strategy is to control the center, which can be done from the outer edges of the board – invisible. The Vatican was just a Bishop that he used in one of his moves. The Vatican could have stopped, or at least minimized the damage Germany caused, but because of her unswerving loyalty, Germany acted with impunity. The Vatican was not moved by the outcries of the persecuted. Only a blinded mind could act this way.

His use of the Vatican helped Germany gain international acceptance and created solidarity with other countries of like mind. Even more incriminating is the fact that the Vatican set up an organization to smuggle and protect SS Soldiers in other friendly countries. The secret operation was uncovered by a young reporter. The name of the organization is Organisation der ehemaligen SS-Angehörigen or Organization of Former Members of the SS.

Just as the events after the first Great War ignited an escalation of political unrest leading to this Great War so, too, the most significant change of events over the long term, after this conflict, is the balance of power, against political entropy. Britain, France, Germany, and Japan ceased to be great powers in the traditional military sense, leaving only two, the United States and the Soviet Union. What will they do with their strength?”

Aldric stared at all his friends with a look of dismay. “Maybe we should resolve ourselves to the fact that Froissart was right. Those events could not have been stopped no matter how hard we tried. Evil has no bounds; it will blind the minds of good men, caring men, governments and religion, even the Vatican. Maybe, good doesn’t ultimately triumph over evil, because evil proliferates.”

The End

Back to our story:

There came a time when choices had to be made; because now her struggle would embrace two additional souls that for the time being couldn’t fend for them selves. She would try and rely as much as possible on family. By now most of her brothers were married or in the Armed Service so their opportunities to help would be limited. She would come to rely considerably on Jacinto, Uncle Roberto and Uncle Ismael. Uncle Roberto was married by this time to a wonderful woman my Aunt Mora. She would take care of my sister on numerous occasions while my mother took my brother to the doctors. My Uncle Roberto and Aunt Mora had one daughter that was born in Cuba before they immigrated to the United States; her name is Sunilda and we commonly know her as Suny. My Uncle Ismael lent a hand as best as he could. He would come over and take my brother at times to the doctor’s instead of my mother, so that she could hold down a job.

The story starts to get a little fuzzy at this point and even a little incestuous. As you have conclude by now my father is not Ruben. He was my sister and brothers father during my mothers first marriage. During the time that my mother was married to Ruben, his sister Rosita was married to a man by the name of Anibal, whom I just recently introduced. Together they have a son, whose name is Anibal but everyone calls him Pupi. That, of course, makes him my half brother on my father’s side but cousin to my sister Regla and my Brother Ruben on my mother’s side. Are you, my discerned reader, following this? So he too was deep into his relationship with the Lima family, as you could well imagine.

Some say that my mother intentionally broke up that marriage so that she could marry Anibal. It may sound plausible, it may sound provocative and it may even sound alarming but consider the circumstances and consider the man. My father for as long as I have known him never had the fortitude or the resolve to be there when he was needed the most. Whatever was new, younger and prettier that’s the direction he went in. So in hindsight he saw a woman that was in need and available so he made the opportunity. I know that I have said I was not going to pass judgment during the course of this book, unfortunately I couldn’t described this and allow room for disparaging thoughts about my mother. Don’t misunderstand, she’ll be the first to admit that she was no saint, however I believe my mother to be of descent moral fiber. Also too consider the circumstances she found her self in, economically depressed no home or a place to raise her children. She took what became available to her. So now imagine, that’s twice my mother has interfered in the Lima family composition. Disdain would rain upon her as if sent by god himself.

Matrimonial separation has always been the same, it does not matter time or place. Spouses
become disgruntled and the children become ping pong balls in a never ending match. The only difference between now and than is that there were no attorneys involved. The same occurred when my mother separated from Ruben. My sister and my brother were ferried from Havana City to Martin Perez. The mental anguish that children suffer is also the same. Especially was this true, as I recall when my sister or my brother would get out of hand. When my mother felt that they needed a strong hand, she would ship them to their fathers in the hopes that he could do better.

26 - Life After Ruben

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Thu, 30 Dec 2010 16:19:00 +0000

Welcome back. I know, it has been quite a while and I'm sorry I've been gone so long but thankfully I have been busy. I have reached a milestone in my life and wanted to share it with you – I have published my first novel. It's available mainly through Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iuniverse and Borders.

Time Is Of the ESSENCE.
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_12?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=aldo+paredes&sprefix=aldo+paredes

Synopsis: The World in 1931 was in turmoil; filled with political suspicion, greed, contempt and a destructive nature. What would happen if one being, an extra-terrestrial, had come to Earth to document human development, only to find out that one other being was responsible for all that was wrong in the world?

Aldric Cronique is not human but he is not superhuman and he has been on Earth for more than 2,000 years. His mission is to chronicle human development and stand as a champion on behalf of humanity, along with his chronicles of history, before the universal tribunal. At stake is the continual existence of the human race. Greed, murder and destructive inclinations will not be tolerated, especially when this influence might extend past the boundaries of our world and threaten the stability and peace of the universe. He hopes to prove that humanity has great qualities and although, often times not choosing the right path, some have the potential from within to be great; for the human race and the universe.

During his millennia of interaction with humans, he has found humans from many cultures, displaying to a greater extent than others, the characteristics of the sentient beings that seeded human life and has asked them for their assistance. These people he recognizes by their inner worth and strength of character, usually during a brief moment of physical contact; good stock he calls them. His closest companion and confidant, over the past 500 years, is Victoria a French 14th century woman, strong and intelligent.

Now they are in 1931 New York City reeling and recovering from the first Great War and the Great Depression. During the difficult process of transition, transferring his identity from one person to another, he is contacted by a deadly enemy. This Evil incarnate is not a mystical, mythical or fabled creature from our imaginations or horror stories; he is real and has been around longer than Aldric and has influenced world history and historical figures for his sole purpose; create anarchy and become ruler. So the race for time finds Aldric equipped only with his intellect, historical journals and his circle of friends trying to figure out clues and find a way to stop, humanities greatest adversary. In so doing, Aldric employs some of the most unlikely people of the time, Paul Castellano the mobster and Nikola Tesla.

Aldric’s adversary decides to unleash a vile earthquake machine, designed by Nikola Tesla, the electronics genius, upon the city of New York to ensure cooperation. As time ticks by, Aldric comes to the realization that his adversary has no conscience and a long reach, through very influential and powerful people. Not knowing who to trust, Aldric and his circle must take as many risks as is needed to stop the plan for initiating another Great War. In addition, advanced technology that is being introduced by the Devil, must be intercepted before it gets into the hands of Adolph Hitler.

Aldric’s search through his journals, with a new found focus, has led him to understand that his adversary has been responsible for the death of Abraham Lincoln, the fall of Constantinople, the death of Christ and many other events that have contributed to radical shifts in human and societal development. Kings rose and fell at his will; all for his vain purpose.

In the final push to save humanity, the circle must scour the subways, the Empire State Building and Niagara Falls to find all of the quake machines. The final face off comes down to the sacrifice of one man. Even with all of the strife and efforts, will it be enough to stop another World War and the march of the Third Reich? Just when the circle thinks they’ve stopped this diabolical menace, the Vatican comes to his rescue as in times past.

Although, Aldric and his band of heroes manage to stop this fiend, they are unable to stop the momentum of another Great War and Hitler’s march. However, Pope Pius the XII comes to the aid of Baphomet, humanities oldest enemy and he will attempt to repeat history.

I hope you take the time to read because I know you will enjoy it. I'm currently working on the sequel which I would describe as much more controversial, regarding politics and religion. Next post I will give you a small excerpt form my new novel – Time Is Of the ESSENCE.

Back to the story:
Before I continue, I thought it would be a good time to introduce you to my family. Following you will find some photos.

From left to right: Tio Enrique, Tio Roberto, Tio Juan, Tio Cirilo, Tio Ismael
And of course, front and center; My Mother at age 12.

This is my Mother at age 9 and my Grandmother.

This is my Mother at age 16. Wouldn't you agree – she's beautiful.

This is my Mother at age 30. All I can say is "Wow!"

Time marched on and my mother along with my sister and my brother would have to live in a variety of places. One of the places she went to live was San Francisco de Paula; a little town in Havana province. Three of my uncles would own three parcels of land there but only two would have the opportunity to enjoy it, we’ll get to that story later on in the narrative. So my mother would live with them on and off during the course of the next few years. My grandmother too, would live with them for a while. My grandmother was an accomplished seamstress and periodically made garments when material was available. At times neighbors would retain her to fashion clothes for them and they would pay her.

Both my brother and sister recall on one occasion while my grandmother was busy on a garment project, my sister, my brother and my two cousins, Ezekiel and Caridad his sister, were fooling around on the bed while teasing my brother and he fell off and landed on his back. Upon hitting the floor he jammed a sewing needle into his back, as my mother describes it, the needle was very close to his spine. It had gone so deep that it could not be easily removed. At the time there was a man who eventually I will introduce you to, as my father Anibal, and he with the aid of a Gillette razor attempted to remove it. It had gone in so deep that they finally went to a clinic.

It is interesting why my sister and two cousins were teasing him. As it turns out the house where they were staying was close to a cemetery and funerals were an everyday event. So my grandmother found great delight in scaring my brother continuously, telling him that some dead person was going to come and take him away. Additionally, she teased him too with typical Chinese music. Everyday at around two in the afternoon a radio program would come on but it would start with an introduction using Chinese music. My grandmother would revel as my brother ran for cover. There was something about that Chinese music that terrified him and she knew it and loved it.

These were things that would make an enormous impact on a young child’s mind and it did. As I ponder over it, I conclude that my brother and grandmother really never did have a great relationship. My grandmother always complained to my mother about how abusive he was towards me – he is about 9 years older than I am.

I, on the other hand, adored my grandmother. I call my mother mima – and so does everyone else but I called my grandmother, mama. She always took good care of me up until her death at age 89 – may god keep her in his thoughts and in our hearts.

25 - Polio

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Thu, 01 Jul 2010 18:59:00 +0000

So, here we are five months after the Haiti earthquake. One would imagine that reconstruction is in a fever pitch, especially knowing that we are now in hurricane season. Unfortunately the reconstruction has come to a complete halt.

Think about that fro a moment. Millions have been displaced, nowhere to live but possibly a make-shift tent, no real food or water source. Rubble everywhere and anarchy rules.

The stop on reconstruction, as is said, is because of the lack of leadership. Yes, you heard me correctly, LACK OF LEADERSHIP! So, how loud does one have to yell so that those in a position of authority listens.

The people of Haiti need help.

To quote a news source; Haiti has made little progress in rebuilding in the five months since its earthquake, because of an absence of leadership, disagreements among donors and general disorganization, a U.S. Senate report says.

Obtained Monday by The Associated Press, the eight-page report is meant to give Congress a picture of Haiti today as U.S. legislators consider authorizing $2 billion to support the countries reconstruction.

That picture is grim: Millions displaced from their homes, rubble and collapsed buildings still dominating the landscape. Three weeks into hurricane season, with tropical rains lashing the capital daily, construction is being held up by land disputes and customs delays while plans for moving people out of tent-and-tarp settlements remain in "early draft form," it says.

The report was written by staff of Sen. John Kerry, the Massachuetts Democrat who is chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, and other Democrats who interviewed U.S., Haitian, United Nations and other officials and visited resettlement camps, hospitals and schools throughout the quake zone.

"While many immediate humanitarian relief priorities appear to have been met, there are troubling signs that the recovery and longer term rebuilding activities are flagging," said the report, which is scheduled to be released Tuesday.

Three times it says the rebuilding process has "stalled" since the Jan. 12 disaster.

The report also criticizes the government of Haitian President Rene Preval and Prime Minister Jean-Max Bellerive, saying it has "not done an effective job of communicating to Haitians that it is in charge and ready to lead the rebuilding effort." The report calls on Preval to take a "more visible and active role, despite the difficulties."

So, did you get that? It was said; little or no progress, construction halted, grim, no leadership, our senate is now considering. All of this while the people suffer. What could be said of a leader that shows no leadership. Remember what everyone said of President Bush and the New Orleans fiasco? Or President Obama and the Bp Gulf disaster?

If the President of Haiti does not respond or shows the proper leadership, should not the United Nations step in? Or is the world going to wait for the next disaster to befall this island and i'm not talking about an earthquake.

With the current conditions on the island all it takes is a minimal hurricane and there will be thousands more that the world will be reading about, dead or dying.

So, where is the unofficial ambassador to Haiti, so assigned by the United Nations - Bill Clinton? Oh yeah, I forgot, he's in South Africa watching the World Cup. Please, let's not interrupt that ever important affair. The people of Haiti can wait until the rest of the world remembers their plight.

Back to our Story:

When last we were together, I told you that my mother had just gotten the news, that my brother was suffering from polio - a disease that swept around the world.

The effects of polio have been known since prehistoric times; Egyptian paintings and carvings depict otherwise healthy people with withered limbs, and children walking with canes at a young age.

The first clinical description was provided by the British physician Michael Underwood in 1789, where he refers to polio as debility of the lower extremities”. The work of physicians Jakob Heine in 1840 and Karl Oskar Medin in 1890 led to it being known as Heine-Medin disease. The disease was later called infantile paralysis, based on its propensity to affect children, usually striking by six months of age.

Before the 20th century, polio infections were rarely seen in infants before six months of age, most cases occurring in children six months to four years of age. Poorer sanitation of the time resulted in a constant exposure to the virus, which enhanced a natural immunity within the population.

In developed countries during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, improvements were made in community sanitation, including better sewage disposal and clean water supplies. These changes drastically increased the proportion of children and adults at risk of paralytic polio infection, by reducing childhood exposure and immunity to the disease.

Small localized paralytic polio epidemics began to appear in Europe and the United States around 1900. Outbreaks reached pandemic proportions in Europe, North America, Australia, and New Zealand during the first half of the 20th century. By 1950 the peak age incidence of paralytic poliomyelitis in the United States had shifted from infants to children aged five to nine years, when the risk of paralysis is greater; about one third of the cases were reported in persons over 15 years of age.

Accordingly, the rate of paralysis and death due to polio infection also increased during this time. In the United States, the 1952 polio epidemic became the worst outbreak in the nation’s history. Of nearly 58,000 cases reported that year 3,145 died and 21,269 were left with mild to disabling paralysis.

Records were not well kept in Cuba, so statistical analysis is nearly impossible. However, my mother and brother are certain that it was wide spread and during the 1952 outbreak, she noted more young child cases than any other. According to her account, the clinics were full of children with the same disease.

The polio epidemics changed not only the lives of those who survived them, but also affected profound cultural changes; spurring grassroots fund raising campaigns that would revolutionize medical philanthropy, and giving rise to the modern field of rehabilitation therapy. As one of the largest disabled groups in the world polio survivors also helped to advance the modern disability rights movement through campaigns for the social and civil rights of the disabled.

The World Health Organization estimates that there are 10 to 20 million polio survivors worldwide. In 1977 there were 254,000 persons living in the United States who had been paralyzed by polio. According to doctors and local polio support groups, some 40,000 polio survivors with varying degrees of paralysis live in Germany, 30,000 in Japan, 24,000 in France, 16,000 in Australia, 12,000 in Canada and 12,000 in the United Kingdom.

Many notable individuals have survived polio and often credit the prolonged immobility and residual paralysis associated with polio as a driving force in their lives and careers.

The disease was very well publicized during the polio epidemics of the 1950s, with extensive media coverage of any scientific advancement that might lead to a cure. Thus, the scientists working on polio became some of the most famous of the century.

Fifteen scientists and two laymen who made important contributions to the knowledge and treatment of poliomyelitis are honored at the Polio Hall of Fame at the Roosevelt Warm Springs Institute for Rehabilitation in Warm Springs, Georgia, USA.

So my brother was now stricken with this debilitating condition at a very young age and forced to live as normal a life as possible. In years to come he will confront many challenges that would test his mettle.

For now let this serve as an introduction to both my sister and my brother. They both go on to be tested, I believe, beyond human reason in vastly different ways, so they both will occupy large portions of this narrative. In much reflection, I believe I am right when I said that my mother passed down to her children an indomitable spirit; unwittingly perhaps but most assuredly.

Later i will explain how my brother at a very young age had to undergo to extraordinary, unproven surgical procedures. The pain and discomfort, as described, was beyond my comprehension. But he endured and survived.

24 - A New Enemy Strikes

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Mon, 14 Jun 2010 16:25:00 +0000

Yes, I have been absent from these pages for too long but happily I'm back to continue our discussions.

Today, I would like to mention a tragedy of a different nature but one that effects us as much as the loss of life we have seen thus far this year in the many earthquakes we have witnessed on the news. The tragedy I'm referring to is the ecological disaster unfolding in the Gulf of Mexico.

Day after day, crude oil continues to spew out, by the hundreds of thousands of gallons. It destroys our wildlife, our beaches and the beautiful oceans - not just the Gulf but possibly many others in a short period of time.

Everything that has been attempted to fix the problem has failed. Now, get a hold of this one, they want to detonate a nuclear bomb as the only viable solution left to them. Yes you heard correctly - a nuclear device.

So, how long will we continue to linger on whether we need to develop better, renewable energy and eliminate the use of fossil fuel. Our planet is on the brink of a major catastrophe and we are still vacillating. Our home deserves better occupants, better stewards. The last time I checked, there was no other world close by where we can all move to. It's a cliche I know but it needs to be said - let's go green.

Back to our story:

I had mentioned earlier the disdain my mother incurred from the Lima family. Well this disdain would be extended to my sister and later to my brother, although my brother in later years would engender himself with them.

So in addition to the economic depression, harsh treatment from Ruben she would also have to endure a form of discrimination hurled at her daughter. It was hard and life was always a struggle, however she survived.

My sister for the most part was a well adjusted child. She always had a bright smile on her face as evident on many of her childhood pictures. Long red curls and almost always in a nice clean dress. My mother would often sit her in a small rocking chair set outside on the terrace, where she could wave and talk to passerbies but always under the watchful eye of my mother.

At times Ruben would take her with him out and about. Some stories have circulated, that often he would wind up at a local eatery or diner and he would put her atop of the counter and my sister would dance and sing to the delight of all. The only picture that has always been in my mind as I listened to these stories is, Shirley Temple.

With the exception of the usual childhood diseases, my sister was relatively healthy, beautiful and smart. However, that would not be the case with my brother; his name is Ruben, so named after his father.

My brother was born about two and half years later, on January 22, 1952 in the same small town; very light skin and dark curly hair. For the first six months of his life all would be as normal as can be. Fate would not be that kind and a series of unfortunate tragedies would begin to hurl themselves at him and by extension at my mother and sister. By the summer of 1952 my mother was certain something was terribly wrong and a series of visits to the clinic would begin and a barrage of test followed.

She knew, as many mothers usually do, that something was very wrong with her son. My brother was unable to stand or crawl and his right leg was beginning to look different. So my mother, in what would seem like endless doctors’ visits, took my brother to every available clinic to see if someone could tell her what the problem was and how to stop it or cure it. No one was able to help; the only diagnosis she received was “he has a cold or some mild form of the flu”.

To her horror many months later she would confront an enemy that was sweeping the entire world, Poliomyelitis or as is commonly known Polio.

23 - The Fina Affect

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Thu, 15 Apr 2010 13:55:00 +0000

In the following paragraphs I need to discuss an issue that needs to be brought to the fore but I must do so ever so delicately, I don’t want to give any impression of my mother, other than what she really was; a strong willed woman, survivor and someone that would do anything for her children.

Well as it turns out, prior to my mother stepping in to Ruben’s life, he had a girl friend or possibly a fiancé; her name was Fina. They had been together for some time and as such, she had ingratiated herself deeply with the Lima family. Everybody loved her and considered her part of the family. Obviously, she had certain characteristics that allowed her to meld well into that clan.

Than on one unfortunate day, my mother stepped in to the picture. As with many Latin men and especially with Ruben, my mother was probably just one more conquest for his manly ego and probably an easy target. However, my mother turned out to be more tenacious by this time than anyone might have given her credit for. It was just not going to be a simple matter of his conquest and than he would go on about his usual life. She was astute enough to know how the game was played by now and she won that battle. However, by my mother nudging Fina out of the scene, she would incur the disdain of the Lima family for many decades and it would have far reaching consequences on future days to come.

So in a very short while my mother would become pregnant for the first time and my darling sister was born, her name is Regla. My sister was born on October 13, 1949 in a little town called Martin Perez, in the province of Havana. Fiery red hair, freckles set in a canvass of milky white skin.

My sister would display characteristics and personality traits resembling the Lima family more so than the Mesa family and definitely more than she cares to admit. Her exuberant and gregarious personality would be some of her more endearing traits; she was always the life of the party. My mother would shower her with love and affection as best as the times and circumstances would permit. However times were hard and they would get worse.

Ruben, although he dearly loved his daughter, would not always adequately provide. Often my mother would have to go and do odd jobs even take on work in order to provide enough for the family. While she had to overcome this hardship, she would also have to endure his drunken attacks upon coming home. He would rage because she had no dinner ready for him or his clothes were not clean or pressed.

So while my mother was consumed trying to feed my sister and keep her in as much a normal environment as possible, Ruben was consumed with business schemes, women and santeria. As described above, although he had great talents and had the means by which to make a fairly descent living, he chose to scheme his way through life; always trying something new, different or better as he would put it but never making a steady income.

22 - It's Finally Over

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Fri, 09 Apr 2010 20:55:00 +0000

It had been a little over two years since they had wed and my brother had come on to the scene. So with two kids to look out for, she made her trip back home. Upon arriving, she found out that Ruben had gone to his family's ranch for a party. My mother, being the woman that she is, got on the bus and made the half day trip to his family's ranch.

Once she got there, what do you suppose she found? You got it. Ruben was having a grand time with a long time girl friend – Fina. Remember this name because she will come into conversation several times more. Now, most women would have walked out. My mother decided to make his life miserable and stayed.

I can only imagine that she analyzed her situation and decided to stick it out, for the sake of my sister and brother. So life went on, for a little while longer. By this time Arnedo had gotten wind of what had occurred and confronted Ruben.

Let me give you a brief Physical description of Arnedo. He was approximately six feet and a half, blond hair. Not muscular but very strong, as all accounts go and very forthright. Ruben didn't take kindly to this rebuke and things began to escalate.

One day while my mother was working, handing out her flyers, Ruben waited. Across the street from where she was working, was a bar and of course he began to drink. When she got off, he confronted her and beat her badly. So, off she went to her haven – Arnedo's house.

As she was recovering, Ruben showed up ready to apologize. That's what he led everyone to believe. During this one visit, he tried to get my mother to go with him to sign some papers to get a small house, so she and the kids could come back. However, my mother was not buying it and refused to go anywhere. Ruben became incensed and grabbed her by the hair and began to hit her. Arnedo's wife walked in just on time and yelled out for Arnedo.

Ruben was not going to stick around and see what Arnedo was going to do. But he made a vain bravado gesture and told Arnedo's wife that he would wait for Arnedo out by the road where they could take care of this like men. Well by the time Arnedo made it out to the road, Ruben was gone.

There is an interesting foot note to this story. A few weeks later, my mother ran across a mutual friend of hers and Ruben's. As it turns out Ruben had this friend drive him on that occasion to Arnedo's house. The intent was not to have her go with him to sign papers, as Ruben claimed. The intent was to drive her to an isolated place, where Ruben was going to beat her and leave her by the side of the road. This mutual friend was surprised by Ruben's request but was actually not going to allow this thing to happen – so he said.

Shortly thereafter, my mother found good work at the Lido. The Lido was a restaurant-bar near the tourist section. She was able to make a number of very good friends that would remain loyal to her until the time we left Cuba.

There are a few interesting stories surrounding Arnedo. As I had mentioned, he was a captain in the army and with certain privileges and liberties. On one of his leaves, he decided to go to the eastern side of the island, typically called Oriente. On this particular outing, he went to buy pigs, with the view to re-selling them back home for a profit and maybe keep one or two for himself.

While he was away, his army unit lead by his Colonel began their usual patrol of the area. As they were traveling a particular highway, who do you think they came across? You got it, Arnedo and his newly acquired pigs. Well, since hauling those pigs, without a permit was illegal the Colonel confiscated them. Arnedo was not arrested because they knew each other and I'm sure the Colonel made out.

Not allowing this to dissuade him from his original purpose, Arnedo went back and got more pigs. On his way back he drove by his unit and as he passed them he blew the horn and waved.

On another trip to get more pigs, the roads were really being patrolled. When he got to his destination to buy the pigs, there were none but one. However, this one was very large.

Not wanting to take a chance of getting it confiscated he made a daring decision. He sat the pig in the front seat next to his wife. They tied his mouth shut, put a scarf on the pig and painted the pig's lips – just in case. I thought that could only work in the cartoons but it did work.

Some sixty-years later and that story, is still being used by the family. And yes, I must admit, they even use it in inappropriate ways – I'm sure you can guess.

21 - Not Everthing is coming up Roses

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Wed, 07 Apr 2010 15:47:00 +0000

Its has been a while since we discussed earthquakes. Well, Indonesia has been struck by two earthquakes in succession. One was a 7.4 and this morning they were struck by a 7.8. Far less intense than the one in 2004. This in connection with the one that struck Haiti, than Chile, than Turkey, than Mexico and Lower Baja California, finally the two in Indonesia.

There have even been earthquakes in Utah, five in a twenty-four hour period. Previous to this, only 23 in the last forty years. In addition, volcanoes have become more active as well. So, what's going on?

There could be a great many plausible answers. One, says that we are simply feeling the affects of the earth's climate change and as a result the plates are shifting more often. Recently, I have heard that the polar alignment could be changing. Another says, this is the beginning to what will conclude on December 21, 2012. Yet another says, these earthquakes are a direct result of using the Bunker Bombs.

I'm not one to panic or let my imagination run away. But I do say, we should keep a keen watch on further seismic activities. Sooner or later the right answer will emerge and when it does, we should be prepared as a world-wide community.

Back to our story:

Well, as you would suspect, nine months after my mother married Ruben, she had her first child – my sister. However, things began to go awry almost immediately. Initially, the physical abuse didn't surface. It was more of neglect than anything else.

Ruben was the type of man, as my mother describes, not to want a steady job although he was talented as mentioned earlier. If he needed two Cuban dollars today, he would go out and flimflam someone and get the money. But as usual, instead of spending it at home he would drink it, gamble it or spend it on his Santeria.

When food was needed, my mother had to go and borrow or find a way to get it to feed my sister. The first room that they had was only four dollars per month and after the 6th month of living there the landlady asked them to leave because Ruben couldn't pay the rent. So, as had been the case in the past, my mother moved in again with her cousin, Arnedo. However, keep in mind that her cousin had his own family and financial worries. But he loved my mother along with another cousin and always took care of them no matter what.

At this point in time, Arnedo was in the military service and had many liberties. One of those liberties was a nice home to live in. So my mother along with Ruben and my sister occupied two rooms in the rear of his home.

This however, did not spur Ruben to do better or provide for his new and growing family. Since Ruben couldn't live to far from his mother's house, shortly thereafter he moved the family to a one bedroom apartment; back in Martin-Perez – a small town in Havana province. By this time my sister was old enough, to be in a day-care. The daycare cost twenty-five cents per week and Ruben couldn't pay that either.

As one could imagine, times were economically difficult for everyone but especially for woman. Jobs were not easy to come by but my mother saw no other recourse but to try and get a job. So, a friend of hers recommended her for a small job in the office where she worked. The job was easy; all my mother had to do was hand out flyers. This helped out quite a bit.

However, one day as my mother was doing chores around the house, Ruben walked in with bloody and muddy shoes. He had just slaughtered a pig and without any regard, walked across the house that my mother had just cleaned. Now you must understand that my mother is not a saint and she does have a temper. So, at the sight of that, she began to yell and scream. Ruben turned and struck her in the face with the leg of the pig. She was hurled backwards and hit the brick wall with her head. This singular incident began a series of attacks that would culminate in their split up.

Now all bloody and bruised, this one time, my mother went and found shelter with my Tio Enrique. My mother describes the following actions, as humorous. Ruben decided to send ambassadors; as my mother describes it. Ambassadors to negotiate her return home. After several months of volleying accusations and requests, my mother returned.

20 - Believe it or not - Just Beware

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Tue, 06 Apr 2010 12:59:00 +0000

The following, are true accounts as witnessed by my brother:

My brother has related two examples of the Santeria influence. He does not subscribe to this religion but he says it is difficult to see with ones eyes something and casually dismiss it. However, keep in mind that often what a young thirteen year-old boy sees or thinks he sees, can be distorted. So, read with discretion but don't discard the possibility either.

My brother lived with his father in a small house in a very small town in the province of Havana. The lot next to his house was empty and remained that way for many years. Ruben therefore took the lot for himself and fenced it in and even built a work shop. No permits were required in those days or proof of ownership.

However one day, when my brother was about thirteen years old, the legitimate owner of the lot sold it to an immigrant of Spain, they were usually known as Gallegos. Without any discussion with Ruben, this man came and took everything that he had built and demolished it. He also installed a new fence that was much higher and sturdier than the original; he even installed a block wall in between properties.

Well Ruben was so incensed, that he took out his Elgua charm and placed it by one of the walls to the new fence. He chanted something and my brother supposes he asked for some retribution. The end result was that within a very short period of time the man got in to an accident and broke both his legs. Within a few days of that he died of complications. Shortly after that his wife died and their youngest son was forced to remain in Spain working almost as a slave to a wealthy man.

Could it be coincidence? However, would you like to be the one on the receiving end of an evil incantation? As my brother would say, "You better have strong faith and a great relationship with your god, for evil is coming and he wants vengeance."

One last story; my brother has never attended any of these rituals accept for this one time and never has since nor has he forgotten it. Ruben – my brothers father – took my brother to this ritual where in attendance, beside them, were several other well known people. One of the attendees is a man by the name of Guarino, who happens to be the high priest in this particular Santeria event. Noteworthy is the description of this man. My brother describes him to be about seven feet tall and weighing close to three hundred pounds. Also in attendance is an older woman of about sixty years of age and somewhat frail.

The ritual commenced and shortly thereafter the old woman was possessed. Possession was a usual occurrence at these ceremonies. She began to dance and chant, during which she grabbed a machete and began to swing it around in her dance. She also would take the sharp edge and run it across her arms, legs, face and torso but never cutting into the flesh. As my brother reflects upon the events, he is not sure whether she was not pressing hard enough to cut or the trance somehow protected her.

In an instant she dropped the machete and picked up a rooster, typical for sacrifices, and bit his head off. Yes, you read it right – she did an Ozzy Osborne – she bit its head clean off. She also ripped the body apart and poured some liquor, called Guamba into its body and drank it. Immediately she went over to Guarino and picked him right off the ground and began dancing with him as if he was a rag doll.

All Cubans know of Santeria, most are not believers or practitioners but all respect it. So too my brother although not a santero, he has great respect for it, especially after all he has witnessed. All that he has related to me has been as an eye witness. He also says that it all may be coincidence but he would not dispute its validity.

Unfortunately Ruben had other character flaws that would impact my mother's life and by extension my sister's and brother's. Ruben was an abusive man, in all sense of the word. Unfortunately there is no easy way to describe this marring characteristic. In the time my mother spent with Ruben, she had to endure some difficult treatments; from physical assault, to mental distress and deprivation. I have heard many tales, in which Ruben instead of bringing the money he earned home for food or even for the basic necessities of life, he would drink most of his money away or spend it on his santeria.

Many times, my mother mentioned, she would have to go to families to beg something to eat and in later times not just for herself but so that my sister and brother could eat.

19 - His First True Love - Santeria, Part II

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Fri, 02 Apr 2010 21:10:00 +0000

Last time we were together we discussed Ruben's love of the occult. This post we will discuss certain segments of the Santeria religion. Keep in mind that santeria has different aspects of it depending on the country but also depending in the region where you may be. Here-say has it that even in Miami, there are different aspects of santeria - some really black and evil in nature.

Back to our story:

Ruben Lima was a devout santero and would devote much of his time to his beliefs along with one or two of his siblings. His beliefs were centered on the “Palo Mayombe” branch or Paleros as they were commonly called.

There were three main deities that guided his normal everyday life. The first was called “Elgua” or god of the roadway. The charm that usually represented this god was a large stalk of sugar cane with cryptic carvings or symbols or it could have been a coconut or a bunch of bananas.

Usually this graphic emblem or icon was to be placed safely behind the main entrance door as a protector. It also represented that he could open or close doors to happiness or sadness, that’s why it was placed behind the doors. He typically had two days dedicated to him during the week; Mondays and Tuesdays. He also had two holy days during the year; January sixth and June thirteenth. He was one of three gods known as the “warriors”. Take note of the dates listed above for it will surface at a later time in our story.

The next god was “Yemaya”, probably one of the most famous of all Santeria gods, other than chango who was supposedly son to Obatala, the next god in our discussion. This name would become famous to the point that it became part of the everyday street lingo. People would use it in jest as well as in metaphorical use.

Yemaya, also known as the Virgin de Regla or the Virgin Regla, was a woman and she was the queen of the Moon, Oceans and universal motherhood, she was also black.

In the bay of Havana there is a visible section on a small cliff where a statue of this saint resides overlooking the bay and its travelers. And the Ferry that went from one side to the other was called “the Ferry of Regla”. Most people kept a statue of this virgin in the front of their homes, usually in the front lawn. Still in many Miami homes you can see statues of the Virgin Regla. She usually is displayed or represented with blue and white colors. One other notable thing, my dear sister is named after this saint, Regla. Could you guess who decided to name her?

Finally there was “Obatala”, which is the Major god. He is the creator of the earth and sculptor of the human being. In addition he is pure, owner of all that is white. He will safeguard your head, mind, thoughts and dreams. He always resides in the highest of mountains, indicating his loftiness. He is usually pictured as an old man with long flowing hair and beard and with a white walking stick. Typically when his altar or statue is displayed it has a black cloth over it, since he does not like the light. Obatala had power over all other deities.

Ruben always had a charm hanging across his torso under his clothing. It would hang diagonally, usually from right shoulder to left side of torso. This charm was a fusion of many deities but Obatala was the most significant.

He usually carved all of his own images and was thoroughly involved in the preparations for sacrifices and baptism rituals. Being a butcher he usually prepared all of the animals that were to be used during the sacrificial rituals and collect all of the blood from these sacrifices that would later be used to submerge a new convert. These rituals usually lasted days and into all hours of the night and attended to by possibly upwards of hundreds of santeros.

The rituals usually consisted of some kind of procession, invocations to the different deities requesting their presence, lots of music and rum. The music was usually very rhythmic, mainly performed by various types of drums, a few other percussion instruments and usually all of it was overshadowed by the cacophony of voices chanting some repetitive incantations or songs. All of the songs or chants were done in the African tradition and using original or as close to the original languages, such as; Locomi, Yoruba and Macumbe. There were others but these were the most popular.

From my brother's perspective, Santeria is to be respected but not followed. It would not behoove us to underestimate that which is dark and far from our understandings. Too much coincidence surrounds this form of religion to be taken lightly. And as with all things, it can be used for good or it can be used for evil.

18 - His First True Love-Santeria, Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Wed, 31 Mar 2010 18:49:00 +0000

Like most other African tribes in the process of creating a systematized, tangible religion, the Yoruba conceptualized God as an unknown mysterious, creating force. Beneath the omnipotent god is a pantheon of orishas, gods and goddesses that are extraordinarily human. There are many orishas in this vast pantheon. Some African authorities say the number exceeds 600. However, only a few of these are known and paid homage to throughout Latin America and the Caribbean particularly is this true in Cuba.

As various African families were brought to the New World through the slave trade and the Caribbean trade route, their religious practices became influenced by the surrounding beliefs, customs, and languages. Each Caribbean island has developed its own version of Santeria, although similar, as is evident in Haiti. This brought great diversity into the magical ceremonies of the African slaves. In Cuba, the Yoruba slaves became known as Lucumi. As a result of religious persecution that the Lucumis suffered at the hands of the Roman Catholic colonial Spaniards, they camouflaged their collective deities under the iconolatry of the Catholic sainthood. This was the beginning of Santeria.

As mentioned in several paragraphs above, Ruben had many gifts but none caught his attention or devotion as Santeria. Throughout my life my mother has told me stories of Ruben’s involvement in this religion. In most cases she is convinced, and I am not here to dispute the veracity of her claims, that many of the bad things that occurred in her later life after meeting him, was due to the Santeria influence.

I have been raised with the belief that Santeria is an evil religion and one not to be taken lightly or scorned. We have always been aware of Santeria iconology. Many times have my mother come to visit my wife and I and is startled by some arrangement of decorating accents, such as; shells of all various sizes and color, shot glasses, salt shakers, candles, etc and the infinite amount of arrangements of the mentioned items.

A good example of this is; some years ago atop of a coffee table my wife and I had arranged a large and very beautiful conch shell surrounded by a beautiful set of gold covered shot glasses given to us by family after a trip to Mexico. Upon entering my house, my mother saw the arrangement and immediately took the shell and placed it on one side of the room and placed the shot glasses on the opposite side of the room. After her explanation for this befuddling exercise was; that arrangement was used by Santeria in one of their ceremonies. The only thing missing was the whiskey in the shot glasses and the chicken blood over the conch shell – we understood. Several days later we throughout the shell and stored the shot glasses, out of respect for my mother.

The intensity of abhorrence, by most, to this religion is as big as its devotion by its few followers or santeros. There appears to be no middle ground in this struggle. Those that hate it will tell you that its evil and one must avoid its influences at all costs and fight its very dark nature. For they will tell you; that Santeria is devil worship dressed in white robes and followed by crosses and other catholic regalia to blind the unbelievers.

Several things that have been ingrained in to my consciousness is to never accept gifts from a known santero or someone who is sympathetic to that religion and never give a santero a picture of you or allow them to take one. The claim is that they can cast a host of spells through the gift or picture and even introduce evil spirits by way of these items.

The conjuring of spells or divination by many means is foreign to us in our modern society but those that have experienced it first hand will tell you tales that can make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up with fright, as you will see. For the most part it has been easy for me to steer clear of this religion and thus avoid any potential, even if just imagined, influence.

17 - His Darker Side

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 19:27:00 +0000

Las post, I introduced you to my Mothers first husband. Following I will tell you about his family and his other qualities and gifts.

The Lima family, were all gifted musicians, singers and poets. Several of his sisters and brothers would actually go on to have quite a career as recording artists; the most notable would be Radeunda and Raul. Most of their music was based on folk music of the era. My brother still has one of their most popular records and occasionally dusts it off and plays it.

More than twenty years ago, one of my brothers and sisters aunts came to visit and I had the privilege of listening to her sing. Even at an old age, she had an absolutely amazing voice. She could bellow out notes and sustain them beyond what I would have thought to be possible so late in life. She was how I remember most of the members of the Lima family sardonic, bombastic, churlish and glib, fun to be around but only for a little while.

So too, Ruben would have this same inclination and as I hear tell, was actually quite talented in other areas. Especially were his poems stirring and popular with members of the opposite sex. However, he would not continue this rich, enticing and colorful artistic profession either.
Ruben would learn to be a mason and as my brother describes him, a very good one. Throughout the years he developed great skills as a craftsman not just as a mason but as a carpenter as well. My brother recalls him, able to build an entire home practically by himself.

I recall stories as a child, in which many people would chase after him to come and do small projects for them. I recall distinctly that even after my mother and he split up, he came to the house where we lived in Havana City and built a bathroom for us.

In all the research I have done, there was no mention of shoddy workmanship. He was instrumental in the construction of the Regional / Municipal Airport in San Antonio de los Banos. He would also learn to forge beautiful and high quality knives. Even teaching my uncle Ismael how to forge them and create handles out of bone. He would collect old and dilapidated bicycles refurbish them and resell them for a good profit, most often during the Navidad season.

The Navidad or Nativity season was celebrated in lieu of Christmas from the New Year to about January sixth. However, he would not follow any of these rewarding careers either.

My brother boasts about him in a very proud and manly way, as he tells it, his Dad was very smooth and had many a women at his beckon call. With his great poetic quixotic nature, he would recite impromptu verses and woo the female hearts.

My brother says he can attest to his charming and debonair personality first hand. On several occasions he witnessed Ruben, come in to a restaurant and approach one or two women and start his hypnotic chant. By the end of the session the victims were so enthralled with his dissertation that they were left dumbfounded.

What an unfortunate waste of talent and charisma. However, there is one more item that I must describe – his propensity for “Santeria” or Cuba’s version of witchcraft or voodoo.

Santeria or voodoo in Cuba dates back to some of the first African slaves ever to reach the island. Most rituals and practices have its roots in African traditions. Santeria, commonly referred to as Latin American magic, is a fused religion that intertwines aspects of Roman Catholicism as it is practiced in Cuba with magic or magic rituals.

Although the vast majority of Santeros, followers of the religion, are found in Cuba, Santeria is by no means indigenous to the island. Santeria, derived from the Spanish word santo meaning saint, is the Cuban name for this religion because of the significant involvement of saint worship.

Despite the trappings of the Catholic sainthood, Santeria remains intrinsically an African religion that originated on the shores of the Nile River in present day Nigeria among the Yoruba tribe and possibly other geographical locations. It was inevitable that the religion would reach Cuba along with the slaves being imported from Africa in the slave trade of the 1700 and 1800’s.

Next post, I will describe some of the fundamentals of Santeria and Ruben's involvement.

16 - Ruben - Her First Husband

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Fri, 26 Mar 2010 16:16:00 +0000

I've sat this morning and last night, listening and watching the street march, going on in Miami. This peaceful demonstration was in support of the "Ladies in White."

Let me take a brief moment and explain. In the past few weeks there has been hunger strikes in Cuba by several political prisoners. Instead of this prompting the Cuban government to have open conversations, it decided to allow these prisoners to die by not giving them food, water or medical aid. The most notable and first to die was Mister Zapata.

So, a group of women, wives to those fellow political prisoners of Zapata, got dressed in white and marched around Havana as part of a peacful demonstration. This was met with violent hostility. Many women were beaten by a special police force. They dress like the crowd and once they have infiltrated the epicenter of the demonstration they begin to beat up everyone around them.

Once news reached Miami, the Cuban community joined by many other Latin protesters, staged a rally down Calle Ocho. Over One Million protesters came to join in solidarity.

We, as humans have the right to voice our opinions to any government, as long as it's manifested in a peaceful manner. Women in particular should not be allowed by any government to be treated in this manner. This is yet another indication, that we must come together as a community, in support of our neighbors.

This Brings us back to our story:

My mother was around sixteen when finally she went to stay at a close relative’s home. His name is Arnedo (the “A” is short and the “e” is short as well). Arnedo would become a very important person in my mother’s life. Many times she would have to rely on his generosity to even feed her children. She would return to his home several more times in the future for help, shelter and even to hide from certain events.

Arnedo lived in a very small town, even small for the time, called Martin Perez. With some nurturing care from this family she would soon be able to put the hellish nightmare behind her and think about the future. With no formal education past the sixth grade, my mother would find work as a waitress in a restaurant in Havana. But well before she begins to exercise some freedom, things take a turn.

The year was 1948 and my mother was about seventeen years old when another climactic event would take place in her life. One day as she was working at a small publishing house, she met a gentleman by the name of Ruben Lima. By this time, Ruben was approximately twenty-nine years old and he began to pay a lot of attention to my mother. Soon after he proposed marriage, they were wed.

The conventional wisdom of the time might have concluded that he was an older man, stable and willing to take care of my mother, so therefore it was a good match. For the first few months, that conventional wisdom was correct. Soon my mother would become pregnant, with my sister and life would go awry once again.

Let me take a moment to introduce you to Ruben Lima, my mother’s first husband. I must exercise caution on my explanation of Ruben, so as not to insult my older Sister and Brother – their father. So I will attempt to cast him in as best a light as I can, however, as John Adams once said while defending the English Soldiers of the Boston Massacre in December 1770, in his argument he said; “…facts are stubborn things; and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passion, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence”.

I have asked my Brother to share with me some insight as to how he remembers his father and I have received enough information to be certain of what I am about to share with you. My sister on the other hand, has sparing images and memories of those times. It's a matter-of-fact some things I am about to describe were a complete revelation to her.

Ruben was born on March 19, 1919 in a town by the name Vueltas in the province of Santa Clara. All together they were seven siblings and all of their names started with the letter “R” and listed in chronological order; from oldest to youngest. Their names were Rafaela, Roselia, Ruben, Romelia, Rosita, Raul, Radeunda and Rene. Their father’s name was Jesus and he was a butcher by trade and owned his own butcher shop in a nearby town called Guerrero.

Since Ruben was the oldest of the boys he worked closely with is father and became a very good butcher as an adult. Being a butcher in those days was quite different than the butcher you may be acquainted with at your local meat market or grocery store.

A butcher in those days had to be able to select a cow, goat, sheep or a pig based on observation only, mentally making notes as to how much meat there would be for the market; once selected he would have to actually kill it, skin it and clean it completely. One more thing, in those days it was illegal to slaughter and sell meat without notifying the authorities and of course giving them a large portion of the best meat. So often times, these butchers slaughtered and cleaned their meat at night, in the house, in the bathtub and sold it on the black market.

However, for as noble and profitable a profession this might have been, Ruben would not follow in his father’s footsteps, leaving my mother and siblings, often times without food and clothing.

15 - Her Strong Will

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Wed, 24 Mar 2010 18:36:00 +0000

If there is a positive side to all of this, it’s that my mother had to develop a strong will and was able to overcome such dire adversity. Her strong will and personality is what helped her get through this and much more. But it also has hindered some development.

For example, her strong will have prohibited her from really enjoying a relationship with a man. She frowns upon and will not accept anything a man has to say. She refuses to acquiesce to any requests and even less a demand from any man. She has been married three times and all three times it has resulted in utter catastrophe.

You, my discerned reader, might say that she is an independent woman, a modern woman, a woman that does not put up with anyone's crap. And you would be right. However, what I see is a lonely woman and one that is going to grow old with no companion.

Having a companion, a close associate, is not the same as having your kids about you. I'm not just talking in the intimate sense, which is important but as a close confidant, someone to go on vacations with. So, I am saddened for her, for her future, for her happiness, for the empty part of her heart that should belong to some lucky man.

Life is always full of unpredictable outcomes and detours. My mother has shouldered much in life, things in which many of us would have given up long ago. She has been a living "life lesson" on how to go on, how to cope and endure. It also appears to me that women of that generation had a sturdier composition and a true fighting spirit. Maybe it’s because they didn’t have, as many advantages as we do or modern conveniences but I do know they had to have a strong will to survive.

I also look at my wife’s own mother, Marie. She endured her own brand of abuse for years; the loss of a child, discrimination, economic oppression and still she is the epitome of comfort to others, self reliance and a genuinely great person to be around.

I have been blessed, because to know one person with such enduring and strengthening qualities is a lifetime achievement but I have had the good fortune to know two! However to talk about my wife’s family, requires a sequel to this book. In their own right, their history is as colorful, entertaining and heart breaking as mine.

14 - A Shameful Act - Still Hurts

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Mon, 22 Mar 2010 20:10:00 +0000

Last post, as well as this one have been very difficult to write and make public. Not so much for me but for the sake of my mother. I don't want her to feel any embarrassment or regrets.

So, ashamed and embarrassed by it all my mother withdrew into a shell. Not being able to talk to anyone about what had occurred. Knowing that her silence meant food on the table, she tried to keep her distance and endured.

For the next two years she would endure his savage advances time and again; fighting him off as best as she could but always reminding herself how much they needed him and that she should keep quiet.

Finally my grandmother, although not being able to confirm anything, would finally realize that something was amiss and decided to take my mother to a relative’s house, away from the house. What happened afterwards between my grandmother and this man is not certain. All I can piece together from my mother’s comments is that he disappeared.

I wish I could tell you that that means he literally disappeared; alas I have no substantiating information as to his final outcome. I ask myself, why didn't anyone of my tio's do anything about it? Did any of them know? It’s difficult to try and impugn their non-action or read it as uncaring, concerning an event that occurred more than sixty-three years ago.

By the time my mother broke her dark silence, my grandmother had already died and my uncles all profess they didn’t know any of this. I think the consequences would have been far greater and severe, had they known what happened to their little sister – la niña.

If I may, I would like to make a small comment regarding the issue of rape. In our modern day, approximately 65 to 70 percent of all rape victims feel a sense of guilt and often times blame themselves for what happened. About the same percentage, fail to report the matter to the authorities; much for the same reason – guilt. I have become familiar with this topic in the past 18 months. You see my daughter was raped as well and along with her I carry an enormous amount of guilt, not because of shame but for not being there to save her.

My mother, on the other hand, had to not only endure this horrible treatment but also endure in silence for well over sixty years. I'm not sure which is the greater torment; suffer the cruelty or suffer the cruelty in silence.

I can tell you without reservation, that it has been a very difficult conversation. I don’t know if it has been good for my mother to talk about this; however I can tell you that it was met with great surprise and anger. I was angry that no one did anything to help her. My mother and grandmother never spoke about it.

Even now as I write, all I can see is my mother’s tearful face as she explained, these occurrences, in between sobs. Oddly enough she still blames herself and continually apologized. Words escaped me as I tried to comfort her and tell her we all loved her.

Rape in whatever shape or form it comes in, is a violent and cowardice act that leaves scars beyond comprehension. Whether it is used by soldiers as a weapon of persecution during war time or a psychopath’s act of violence or just one degenerates way of getting his jollies, rape leaves a black imprint upon a woman’s soul that can never be washed away. This act is despicable enough when it’s heaped upon a grown woman but when it’s thrust upon a young teenage girl; it merits punishment of an extreme nature.

13 - Alone, with no Protection

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 18:36:00 +0000

As a young girl, my mother had a great relationship with her brothers. Her nickname is “la niña”, which means the little girl and seventy plus years later; they still address her by that same name. They were all very protective of her and she was not allowed to go where the boys went or do what the boys did.

Sometimes the boys took off to go swimming in the river or go hunting and my mother had to stay home. Often, she would be seen dragging the old barn mare and bringing her near to the fence, trying to mount the horse and take off after her brothers.

My grandfather, while still alive, never permitted my mother to participate in those types of activities and was very strict about her activities outside the home. There existed certain etiquette for young ladies in those days. There were many activities and conversations that a young lady could not participate in and certain other subjects that were strictly taboo.

My mothers upbringing conformed to the times and customs; an amalgamation of ideas brought from Spain others from the local gentry and yet others made up by my grandfather.

My grandmother - home economics or family and consumer sciences teacher - taught her how to cook, although my mother would grow to become a much more accomplished cook. She was also taught how to sew, knit, embroider, and keep-house as well as many farming chores, usually relegated to the boys but nonetheless, my mother learned.

As the years went by, she developed a natural affinity and ability for all that is plants; until this day, my mother has an incredible green thumb; she can make anything grow even a rock.

As a young woman she was absolutely beautiful; silky white skin, blond curly hair and big brown eyes. I have pictures of her as a young child, as a teenager and in her twenties; she was beautiful – the allure and beauty of Sophia Loren. Despite her beauty, she like a few other women in my family never developed the ability to select a decent man for a husband, not even if their life depended on it. I have seen this phenomenon, odd, as it may be, repeated in my own sister; which is a whole other story yet to come.

Some time after my grandfather’s death – after an appropriate amount of mourning – my grandmother, with not many alternatives opened to her, decided to take in a suitor. What the real relationship between them was, your guess is as good as mine.

What I was able to surmise is that the family had known him for sometime but with the presence of my grandfather all was platonic in nature. This man had some means and was able to provide for the necessities of life. Eventually, he moved in with my grandmother and mother; this, however, would be the start of a two-year nightmare for my mother.

My mother was 14 by this time and never really had any serious male companions, as would be expected of a young woman of that time. Yes, she did have some male interests but from afar. Nothing had developed into anything serious, mainly due to circumstances. She remembers with fondness a professional young man who looked at her with longing eyes – I'm not sure if that was love or lust.

At the onset all appeared to be good and life moved on. Than slowly things began to take on a dark turn for the worse, unnoticeable at first but soon it would escalate.

At first, as my mother explains, it was just looks. Looks that made you cringe both with fear and disgust. The days turned into weeks and with each passing second, he came closer.

One day as my mother was bathing this man walked in and began to make sexual advances towards her. She would fight him off as best as she could, that worked for a while. Afraid to tell my grandmother, she kept that to herself. Now she felt completely ALONE and with no one to help.

A little time lapsed by and the man made no further attempts, until one day when my grandmother had gone on an errand, he had returned early, he approached my mother again. This time he would be successful in his intent of not only molesting my mother but much more – my discerned reader, use your discretion.

12 - Tio Ismael and Tio Enrique

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Tue, 16 Mar 2010 19:36:00 +0000

Last post you got a chance to meet Tio Roberto and Tia Mora.

Something I failed to mention; my Tia is the gentless soul, you ever care to meet. She always speaks good thing about everybody; no matter how despicable they may be. She remembers every birthday, anniversary and memorable occasion about everyone in the family. My Tio Roberto is probably the most fortunate man, ever, because he has my Tia Mora. Without her, he probably would not be half the man he is. Thank you Tia.

Next in line is Uncle Ismael; shorter in stature but with a great sense of humor. He was always known for riding a motorcycle and was seen often all over Havana. He would be called a pica-flor or a flower picker. In years gone by this term was affectionately given to men who chased after woman, from one to the next, city to city, breaking hearts everywhere he went. Uncle Ismael had a great love of mechanical things as well and had an insatiable desire to figure out machinery. This wonderful trait he would pass on to his son, Ezekiel.

Today, Tio Ismael, is suffering from a bit of dementia and prostate cancer. He begins his chemotherapy this week and as always his son is by his side.

Due to his dementia, Tio Ismael, confuses people and dates and occurrences. For example; he is convinced that my grandmother abandoned him while they were young. I don't profess to be an expert on all of our family history but I have discussed many issues with all of the immediate family members and they all agree; no such thing ever happened. On the contrary, she did many things to ensure their well-being. It might not all have turned out how she really wanted but she tried, as we shall see.

One other issue he seems to get confused; that my grandmother took his inheritance money that supposedly was left to all six kids by their grandfather. The sad truth is that there were some Spanish gold coins but the idle gossip says, a cousin and uncle stole it. Unfortunately, I have not been able to confirm this tale with any other branch of the family. I have confirmed, however, that my grandmother did not take the gold coins.

Finally the youngest of the boys, is Tio Enrique. He was the most gregarious of all. He could play several instruments and was a real prankster. Unfortunately, due to circumstances brought on by his own volition, I along with the rest of the family would loose respect for him.

When he and his family immigrated to the United States, it was by way of Spain. They would go on to live in Spain for over two years before they would be allowed to come directly to the United States.

During their stay in Spain, my Tio Roberto, by enlarge, supported him financially.

Prior to his admission into the United States my Tio Roberto would have to make sure and prove that he had a job to go to upon his arrival, that he had a place to live and that both the kids were enrolled in school. My Tio Roberto did all of this to ensure easy entry.

So upon his arrival, he went to work with Tio Roberto at the Ford Motor Corporation, in Mauhau, New York. Tio Roberto would pick him up and drop him off every day; this went on for years. One day, on there way home from the night shift, Tio Roberto fell asleep behind the wheel of his Ford Falcon. They crashed and were hurt very seriously; thank goodness that they didn’t hit any other car or pedestrian, they slammed into a tree.

Months after rehabilitation and recovery, Tio Roberto found out from his attorney that Uncle Enrique is suing him and his insurance company. Obviously this didn’t settle well with Uncle Roberto or the rest of the family. I'm convinced that Tio Roberto would have done everything in his power to make his brother whole. If that meant supporting him indefinitely, he would have; there is no doubt in my mind.

Well the end result was, the lawsuit went through and Tio Enrique kept all of the money. This created a terrible rift in the family and its now well over thirty years and the two have never spoken again.

Sometimes life has a funny way of molding you and making your deep-seated priorities surface. I will say this often throughout these pages, I am not here to judge or condemn. However, it is difficult to sympathize with someone, when his or her actions are deliberate and resolute; especially when your actions hurt your family.

Tio Roberto was injured emotionally more so than financially. He cared for his brother and his family for well over two years and was repaid with tremendous duplicity and ungratefulness. Well, you have met everyone with the exception of my sister and brother. In later chapters you'll get a chance to meet them.

In some of the upcoming posts, I hope to upload some pictures. Please come back and continue to share with me.

11 - Tio Roberto and Tia Mora

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 21:10:00 +0000

I don't know if you have read some of the facts about the Chile earthquake. I have mentioned a few in previous posts but here are few additional facts that drove home the power and energy it exerted. Additionally, it shows how truly insignificant we are and the importance of coming together in times of global peril.

The city of Concepcion was "literally" moved west by ten feet.
The Capital city of Santiago, hundreds of miles to the north, was moved eleven inches.
The city of Buenos Aires in Argentina, hundreds of miles to the east, was moved one inch.

During the inauguration of the new President of Chile, there were several additional earthquakes, although lower in magnitude. The strongest to date was 7.2, although less in force but still more powerful than the one that struck Haiti.

Turkey, has also been hit by a powerful earthquake, I'm just now beginning to acquire information so I can share it with you.

I'm beginning to get a foreboding sense of dread. WE can't wait on our leaders to come together as a worldwide community, because we just don't know where the next disaster will occur - they are interested in politics, we should be interested in humanity. I don't want to be a preacher of gloom and doom. But, when will we take a decisive step, as humankind, and come together as one. We depict worldwide unity in literature, movies and song - when will we do it in real life?

Back to our story:

In Spanish the word for uncle is Tio – just say the word "tea" than add a long "O" following it. The word Aunt is Tia – again say the word "tea" and this time add a short "A" following it.
Something important to note; in the Spanish language there are many nouns that have a male and female version of the word. Tio and Tia is a perfect example of this.

So, following Uncle Cirilo, is Uncle Roberto. Out of all the Uncles, he would prove to be my favorite and the most important in my life.

Uncle Roberto is and always has been a true family man; he married young and is still married to the same woman now for over fifty years. He and my Aunt Mora, would become my surrogate parents and to a large degree I have modeled my life after theirs.

Uncle Roberto has a countless supply of energy, even at the age of eighty-six. I have always said that if I were able to bottle his energy and sell it, I would be the wealthiest man in the world. He was always a hard worker and would do anything; I repeat anything, for the family.
He has always been exemplary in all his dealings and that he instilled, at times with a good beating, into his two children and by extension me.

His daughter is the oldest and a beautiful woman – her name is Suny short for Sunilda. His son, an incredibly intelligent man – his name is Robert Junior but everyone calls him Bob. Bob and I are similar in age and to some degree we actually look alike; in the end, though, I'm better looking. I couldn't resist that jab – sorry Bob.

As we grew up, Suny and I couldn't stand each other; why I couldn't say. We went to the same school – a private catholic school in Prospect Park, New Jersey. One day, as I was playing out in the schoolyard, I ran into a light pole with a metal spike and split my head open. When they took me to the nurse's office, Suny saw me and fainted. Well, I was not hurt badly but since that day on, Suny and I have gotten along just fine. I love her and Bobby like if they were my Brother and Sister.

I tell my Tia, that it has been years since Suny and I have fought. However, upon their death, the only thing I want them to bequeath to me is a painting she has hanging in her living room – I have admired that painting since I was a kid. But Tia tells me that Suny loves that painting as well; you know what I say to that, don't you? "Suny, I love you but get ready for the fight of your life."

I remember with great fondness the countless summers I spent with them in their various activities. One of the most memorable was the visit to the lake or "al lago." We would get a place up on a hill that overlooked the entire lake and Tia would set up the entire picnic. Bob and I would swim the entire day with only allowing enough time to woof down a burger. In fact, I really can't remember many of the lunch items but I do remember they were all good. Sometimes, late in the afternoon, Bob and I would rent a row boat and spend a few hours horsing around on a boat.

When Suny decided to get married, I came to the realization that she was getting engaged to the brother of my mortal Nemesis. I blew up telling her, "I can't believe you're doing this to me." Well, I quickly got over it and in spite of my extreme reservation, she has had an incredibly successful and happy marriage.

Years later, I'm convinced, they got even with me. During Tio and Tia's 25th wedding anniversary celebration, I got stinking drunk. Suny's husband, Ed, was bar-tending and allowed me - since I boasted of being able to drink anything they gave me - to drink myself into a tremendous stooper. They poured me what they called, "eye-winkers." I'm still not sure what it was but let me tell you, over 35 years later, I'm still winking.

I look upon and think often, with fondness, my days with them all and how much I miss that attention and their company. My cousins and I have grown apart in our old age, mostly my fault for allowing life to draw me away from them. There is nothing like fond childhood memories, they do last a lifetime. Like the saying goes, "let's make some memories."

10 - My Great Grandfather and Uncles

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 17:52:00 +0000

A few posts back, you had a chance to briefly hear about my Great Grandfather, Miguel Mesa. If you'll recall, he had immigrated to Cuba from the Canary Islands; which makes me ask how bad could it have been there?

So, during one of our family discussions, the question was posed. What was the Canary Islands economy based on during that time? So, my Sister, brother and I began our research and here is what we found.

The Canary Islands are a Spanish Archipelago and a Spanish Autonomous Community only since 1982. The archipelago consists of seven major islands, one minor island, and several small islets. They are of volcanic origin and can be found in the North Atlantic Ocean. These islands are located just off the coast of the north western portion of the African continent or mainland, nearest the political divide of Morocco and the Western Sahara. The Canary Islands were formed by the Canary hotspot. The Canary hotspot is a location of volcanic activity just off the North West coast of the islands. The status of the capital city is shared by the two cities of Las Palmas de Gran Canaria and Santa Cruz de Tenerife.

Today, the bulk of the Canarian economy centers on the tourism industry, accounting for up to 80 per cent of the gross income of the archipelago. With one of the most favorable climates of the world, the Canary Islands attract millions of tourists every year.

However, in the centuries following the Spanish conquest in 1402, the mainstays of the Canarian economy were the sugar and wine making industries. Sugar production on the islands started right after the conquest with sugar-cane imported from Madeira, but it declined in the middle of the 16th century due to the strong competition from Brazil and the Caribbean, which could produce cheaper.

The vinification industry enjoyed its peak during the 16th century than collapsed at the beginning of the 18th century due to a locust plague and mildew attacks, which destroyed the vineyards. It’s since been revived, however, with the wines of Gran Canary, Lanzarote, La Palma and Tenerife proving increasingly popular. But, from about 1830 to 1870 as the demand for carmine food dye grew, cochineal production boomed throughout the islands – promising a better future also to the poorer population.

Yet this dream did not last very long, with the development of synthetic dyes causing a considerable decrease of the cochineal industry. It was towards the end of this time period that my Great-Grandfather immigrated to Cuba.

Unfortunately, I was not able to gather much information on my Great Grandfather, other than he was a stern disciplinarian and a hard worker. My mother and uncles did not have very much information concerning him or willing to share. So, what I gathered is; he was not so involved with the family or he was not appreciated by them and so refuse to share any information.

Now, let me introduce you to a couple of my mothers five older brothers, my Uncles.

My mother had five older brothers with vastly different personalities. The eldest was Uncle Juan – tall, light hair, debonair and the most intellectual of all my uncles.

In addition, he was probably the one that received the most education of all the kids. As a young adult he was very serious, loved to read and eventually would join the Cuban Air Force. Joining the Service was and still is the only means of improving ones life. Eventually, he would go on to become an aviation mechanic.

However, after Castro's revolution, he would be arrested and sentenced to twenty plus years in prison by Castro’s communist regime, for just being part of the previous administration as a mechanic. In later chapters, I will go into more detail concerning his ordeals in a prison camp, which makes Gitmo a five star luxury resort.

Currently at 91 years old, Uncle Juan is still in Cuba and as he puts it, waiting out his days. He has visited the United States on several occasions but has no desire to live here, where he would be a burden on the family.

After Uncle Juan, would follow Uncle Cirilo. From a young age he would be the great roustabout. It has been said, that he had a girl in every town.

On one occasion, he was ran out of town by the men with machete's, for improper conduct with a young woman behind a church. Of course all they wanted was for him to marry this young woman but that was not in his immediate plans.

Many tales of his physical prowess and propensity to fight would follow him most of his life. On numerous occasions, as a young teenager, he would put a stick on his shoulder and dared anyone to knock it off. Time and again, a fight would ensue only to be followed by a beating when he got home, for fighting in school clothes.

He would follow Uncle Juan into the Armed Forces and after his short service in the Cuban Armed Forces; he would go on to work at the docks.

As a young boy, I was mesmerized watching my uncle and admiring his incredible physique. Although he was short in stature, he was still a physically imposing man. He reminds me much of two-time Mister Olympia Champion, Franco Columbu; both in appearance and physical composition, my uncle, resembled Mister Columbu. perhaps not as defined or as large but definitely every bit as impressive.

His feats of strength were legendary at the Port of Newark, where he worked for over 25 years until he retired. Here is one such tale; a crate was being unloaded and typically the long shore man untied the metal fasteners that went around the wood crates.

One day, one of the metal fasteners got stuck and could not be pried open, even with special tools. So, they did what they always do when something needed sheer brute force – they called my Uncle. He proceeded to clasp the two ends with his bare hands and unlock the metal fastener. However, the force of the springing action was so great, they told him that it slung him ten feet into the air and 20 feet away from the crate.

A few minutes later, when he came too, he asked what all the fuss was about and went back to work.Out of all the Uncles and for as strong as he was, he is the only one to have passed away thus far.

On the next post, you can meet the rest of my Uncles. So make sure you come back.

9 - How Much She Misses HIM

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Sun, 07 Mar 2010 15:46:00 +0000

In a country, like the one we live in, a single woman can live and raise her children without a male figure in there lives with no negative impact. But in a country and an age, such as where this story started, it was not easy and sometimes impossible - without making compromises and sacrifices - for a woman to do so. And it's at this point in time that my mother's life would take a turn for the worse.

My grandfather worked hard for the entire family. He toiled from early morning to late at night. It did not matter if it was raining or hot, early or late, hard or easy he worked incessantly on behalf of the family. With no modern machinery to help in the keeping of the farm, he did everything by hand to the point at times of bleeding due to sores. He had to dig ditches by hand for irrigation, had to till the soil with a heavy manual plow pulled by oxen. Harvesting was all done by hand, depending on the crop, you either cut it with a machete or you had to dig it out of the ground mostly with your hands.

They lived very simply and he tried, to the point of exhaustion, to provide but it was hard to eke out an honest living under those conditions and under such hard economic times. Depression and World War II had a strangle hold on the world and the political situation in Cuba had a strangle hold on the country. Sugar had been a great economic boost for the countries export, for a short while but soon it came crashing down.

Finally, when he was passed the point of desperation, he accepted a position with a nearby landowner. The position entailed the working of the farm and its fields for a weekly wage. He made twenty-five cents a day for his hard labor from sun up to sun down. His search for a better way of life never materialized, for soon he would be consumed by economic depression and war that would make work, wages and the pursuit of a better way of life exiguous.

The final straw, came when his own farm was taken away, by non-other than a relative. Imagine, working so hard and the result is loosing your home; actually your family's home.

I know what you're thinking; it was probably just a run-down shanty. And you're right; the farmhouse was very rustic and plain, built mainly of mud bricks and a thatched roof. The floors were mainly packed dirt. In some areas of the house they laid flat rocks or slate in the floor.

The house consisted of a small kitchen with no running water, electricity or refrigeration. The house had three bedrooms; one bedroom for five boys, one very small bedroom for my mother the only girl and youngest of the kids and one bedroom for my grandparents. No toilet facilities in the house, there was only a latrine out back. Baths were in the evening in one tub, which water was shared by all of the kids. My mother was usually the first to bathe, followed by the boys.

All of my uncles were an integral part of their small farm, maintenance and operation. Chores were handed out according to age, size and strength. The performance of these chores was judged with an exacting measuring stick. Failure to perform these exactly as instructed or failure to perform them at all, were met with severe and adverse consequences.

Still with all of the work required to keep the family fed and housed, life was more often than not, extremely difficult. Jobs were not plentiful, money scarce and necessary goods hard to find.
I never met my grandfather; he committed suicide when my mother was only thirteen. After many years of struggle, he became immensely distraught when his inability to provide for his family adequately became an all-consuming struggle and it was obvious that alternatives were not easy to come by.

One morning he took a rope and went out to a tree just out of eyesight of the house and he hung him self, in this instance the rope would not break. He was about forty-four years old.

As I reflect upon this, in comparison to my own relationship with my daughter, my mother lost a person extremely important to her continual development and safety. As a young woman the need for a father to protect her is still felt. For all of her future relationships with men would be filled with perversity and cruelty. I believe this one incident would unleash a cascading chain reaction of events in her life and most of those events would lead to tears. I can’t imagine what she must have felt.

As you read this passage, you my discerned reader, may choose to call him a coward. I could not blame you for it and I'm not here to pass judgment on a person who by all accounts loved and cherished his family. How would I have reacted to that oppressive situation, I'm not sure.

Remember life was very arduous and at times very cruel and an honorable man that could not provide for his family was judged a complete failure and often scorned. That is how one was viewed. This was the culture and his upbringing. I for one am not going to take the high and mighty position, for I know how difficult it can be to provide and how easily depression can settle in and choke one with its grip.

The consolation for you and I is that we live in a modern society, that offers many opportunities and as long as you are willing to work, one can always provide. Opportunities abound and there are avenues always available to find a means; this was not the case seventy years ago in a country like Cuba. Throughout the years, I have reasoned that if he could have had modern medical assistance, he may have been saved. But as we shall see, just because one can avail themselves of modern medical conveniences and treatments, life can still hand down unforeseen and often time’s sad twists and conclusions.

8 - Juan Mesa - Grandfather

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 19:17:00 +0000

Well, I thought we would have alot more time before discussing with you about another catastrophe and the importance of coming together as a worldwide community to aid our neighbors. But I was wrong. The 8.8 earthquake that struck Concepcion, Chile and the 50 foot tsunami that hit Constitucion, is yet another example of how fragile we are and how much we must depend on each other.

What really drove home the point of our vulnerability and how we are all interdependent, is exemplified by the following sobering facts:

The earthquake struck just offshore but it was felt as far north as Ecuador, as Far East as Argentina and Brazil.
As a subsequent event, a Tsunami was ignited and was felt far and wide. I was one of the ones glued to my tv set waiting for the tsunami to hit Hawaii. I'm glad that the anticipated water-surge became a non-event.
The 8.8 earthquake was the 7th strongest ever recorded in history and it affected everyone on the globe. Why would I say such a thing?
This earthquake shortened our normal day cycle by 1.26 milliseconds.
This earthquake shifted the earth's figure axis by about 3 inches.
The figure axis is not the same axis that runs north – south, but it's the axis around which earth's mass is balanced. The offset, one to the other, is about 33 feet. Now we can add 3 additional inches.

Our place on earth is based on a delicate balance. WE should all extend a helping hand, because we are all affected. Our neighbors are not just those next door but those across a city, county, state, country, continent or hemisphere. Our world has become very small, making it impossible to overlook or ignore world events.

Back to our story:

Last time we were together, you had a chance to meet my Grandmother. Today I want you to meet my Grandfather. My grandfather’s name was Juan Mesa. I never knew him because he died long before I was born. However, I have heard so many stories about him and about his character that words may not do him justice. So, I will tell you the little I know of him as best as I can.

The mental images I carry of my grandfather has in many ways dictated how I have tried to live my life. However, I have fallen short of that mark and I hope he is not too disappointed. As with all things, my appreciation of him has deepened the older I have gotten.

My grandfather was born in Cuba to an immigrant of the Canary Islands, who had come to Cuba seeking a better way of life – imagine that, coming to Cuba for a better way of life – that’s the irony of life.

I will introduce you to my Great Grandfather, Miguel Mesa, in just a little while.

So, my Grandfather was a first generation born Cuban. My grandfather was not an educated man, it’s a matter of fact, truth be told, he couldn't read or write. However as all descriptions go, he was a wise man in his own right. I will attempt to offer some tales that may describe his conventional wisdom, character and how he attempted to impart that wisdom and values to his progeny.

As a farmer, he innately knew when to plant, when to sow and all that entailed the processing of foods and its safe storage. Life on a farm requires minute attention to everything. My mother always said, "nature speaks to us and it's up to us to listen and obey." It really is true that people of generations past had a better connection with the earth and nature than we do today.

Although Cuba has no notable seasons, it does have a dry season, a wet season and hurricanes that could upset the whole balance on any given year. My grandfather also had a little livestock; cattle, pigs, horses and chickens. He understood well the requirements for their care and treatment, as well as how to keep them healthy and productive.

One of the many tales I always heard was that when castrating pigs you were not to do so during the full moon. The reason was that the meat would be susceptible to worms. I am not here to refute the scientific accuracy of such thinking; all I know is that it apparently worked for them. This thinking was a prevalent thought among all farmers of the time.

Something interesting occurred to me concerning this apparent unscientific thought; I was in my early forties and began to have a conversation with a close friend and we began to relate old family stories and when I broached the subject of pigs and the full moon, he chimed right in of how his family prescribed to the same thinking. My friend and his family lived on the opposite side of the island.

His wisdom went further; I have been told stories of rituals farmers would perform around the winter solstice or equinox. Before you let your mind wonder with images of witches, pentagrams and virgin sacrifices let me explain.

At midnight on that day, he would set up twelve small piles of natural salt. Typically the salt they used was processed from sea water or if you were fortunate enough, you would have access to salt deposits. At the chime of twelve, he would light a cigar or use some other item that produced smoke. This allowed him to determine wind direction and set the piles to line up with the wind direction. Than he would wait till morning.

Each pile of salt represented a calendar month in sequence. The objective of this exercise was to discern water content on each individual pile of salt. The amount of moisture indicated how wet or dry each month would be for the rest of the year; giving him insight on how to handle irrigation cycles, the planting season and the harvest. This ritual was called “las doce cavernuelas”. The exact translation to this phrase has been difficult but i'm guessing it refers to the 12 piles of salt.

I have had many conversations with my oldest uncle concerning this process and he is a little unclear as to how exactly this worked. What he does tell me though is that apparently it worked sufficiently for my grandfather to plan his farming activities for the entire year and as a result, he was relatively successful.

My grandfather was not superstitious nor did he subscribe to “brugeria” or local witchcraft. He was not afraid of many things, particularly was he not afraid of ghosts or spirits. People in those days tended to be very superstitious and had many holy sayings, chants or saints to guard them on such occasions, that divine protection was required.

There was one tale I have heard many times. Apparently there was an area a few miles away from their farm where there were strange voices and apparitions.

One day he had heard one too many stories, from his friends and neighbors, of voices coming from apparently nowhere and scaring many them. That evening he saddled up his horse took his machete and headed out to where these supposed voices and apparitions had been occurring. He spent the whole night taunting the ghosts to come out or at least talk to him. He came home at sunrise with nothing to say other than, “the ghosts have moved on”.

He was a stern man and accepted no tomfoolery, especially from his sons. His favorite method of discipline was to whip my uncles with the reins or with a “pisajo.” The pisajo can best be described as follows; take the leaf off a royal palm and remove the leafy green portion on each side of the central vein. What you had left was a thin, flexible almost none destructible whip. As I hear tell, once you got hit with this whip, the welts would last for days and the pain even longer; this was something not easily forgotten.

Let me share, one last story about my uncle. This one centered on my five uncles. Apparently there was a small lake within the property, which he used to water the cattle. He had a strict rule that the boys should not jump, swim or play in the small lake because it would stir up all the mud and the cattle would not have fresh water.

One hot day my uncle Cirilo decided that he was not going to listen because he was too hot and jumped in. Well of course that stirred up the mud and my grandfather saw it and became incensed. He whipped my uncle without mercy. My uncle became so distraught and angry he took a rope, looped it over a branch and attempted to hang him self. The good news is that the rope broke and he was fine, just his emotions were badly bruised along with a rope burn on half of his neck.

In our modern understanding, we would classify that kind of treatment, abusive and in most respects I would agree with you and never, under any circumstance, would I condone that kind of behavior. However, I do know that my grandfather did not treat them like this out of hatred, ill temper or because he had an abusive nature. He was stern out of necessity, life in those days did not allow for leniency.

Everything affected the way the family lived; if the cattle didn’t have water they could die, at worse case. The most probable thing would be that the cattle would give sour milk during the next few days and there would be no milk for the family or milk to sell for other household, necessary goods. Everything everyone did or not do, affected the family in one way or another and most often the affect of disobedience was adverse. All of their actions had repercussions that could be felt for days, weeks, months even years after.

Throughout the years I have spoken to my mother and uncles about all of this, what I have come to understand and appreciate is that they loved him dearly, in spite of his stern personality. The way my mother and uncles explain it; his sole existence was for his family.
At night when they were all gathered after supper, he would sing to them or tell them stories. At times he would tell them adages or instruct them on how to conduct themselves as adults. He would tell them whom they should do business with or who their associates should be.

He showed my uncles how to make their own instruments and together they would play folk songs. They would make bongos out of goat skins stretched over hollowed tree trunks. They would take a certain wood and wet it then put in some kind of mold and with this process they would make base guitars and other four string instruments. They even formed a small little band and would play at local events. They called themselves, “el conjunto del batey”. I can still see them laughing with delight as they all reminisced about a father taken from them far too early.

A fathers love could be a great thing. As a father and grand-father, there is much I can learn from examples like this.

7 - Verania - My Grandmother

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 16:18:00 +0000

Welcome back, I'm glad you decided to come along and share this very special story with me. Let me take a little time and introduce you to the rest of my family. As I do, I would like to tell you a little about them, so you can get to know them as intimately as I do. My descriptions will consist of explanations or anecdotal stories.

My mother was born to loving parents. My Grandmother's name was, Verania Llanes (you pronounce the double “l” as a “y” followed by a short “a” and a short “e”), but I called her MAMA, whereas, some of the other grandchildren called her MITA. I grew up with my grandmother and she was a major part of my life until her death at the age of ninety-three. I can tell you without any shame, that I miss her very much.

One aspect of my grandmother that I really didn't appreciate, until after she had passed, was her spirituality. She, in her own way, searched all her life for some meaning to God and how to better serve him. Stories are told of how she would attend spiritual séances, go to witch doctors, go to some Christian reform masses until about 1961 when she began to study the Bible with a small Christian group in Cuba.

I remember attending these small Christian gatherings, where the Bible was considered. On several occasions, all in attendance were forcefully escorted out of the building by the authorities. This occurred, not because this small group was controversial or radical in anyway but because all religion, after Castro's revolution, became a source of great irritation to the government. And after 1965, all organized religion was banned and if you were caught participating in any religious celebration or activity you were imprisoned.

This aspect of her life would become an anchor for both my sister and I. After our arrival to the United States in 1967, my grandmothers influence would be felt greatest on my sister who was 17 at that time. Upon our arrival, we settled in Paterson New Jersey, the town made famous by Lou Castello. Even in those days, Paterson was a rough place to grow up in. Drugs, the Hippy scene and violence was prevalent. So in order to keep my sister away from that influence, my grandmother introduced her to this christian way of life. It not only served her than but little did she know, it would serve her even more in decades to come. But much more on this later.

My grandmother was a very hard working woman. She would cook, clean, wash clothes by hand in a wash-tub with homemade soap, that she made herself sometimes out of bees wax. She made her own candles for the evening, mended the family’s clothes with thread and a needle and put her hand to the plow if need be.

One such example of a typical task was ironing. This simple activity, which we today take for granted, was an all day affair. Early in the morning, after she had fed the family breakfast and sent them on their way to the various activities, she would begin to boil Yucca. Yucca is a root that has many functions. Two of the most notable are; after boiling, the water becomes very starchy and once you dip the clothes and they dry, it produces the best starch results you could imagine. Second, is for food. Most of the Latin community enjoys this simple but tasty dish. We'll talk more about this and other foods as we move along.

Once the clothes dried she would get her cast-iron iron. She would than heat it over coals and after sprinkling the clothes with a little water she would iron them. I never saw this task being done but I am told that it requires a strong arm and incredible endurance.

Oddly enough, my grandmother was not the greatest cook in the world. I recall fondly making fun of her cooking. In her old age, her favorite breakfast was rice-crispies with coke-a-cola; can you imagine? The way she looked at it was, as long as she could make white rice and fry some pork, which she had stored in its own lard and boil some vegetables – limited selection – that was fine. Everything was simple, nothing complicated or long to prepare.

My grandmother too, was uneducated but had a great mind for figures. Even at an advanced age, whenever she went grocery shopping, she could have in her head the approximate change due her before the cashier was done.

She was exacting at times, even, critical of people. Many stories circulate in the family about things she did in her early life.

One, such incident that always comes to mind occurred when my uncle Roberto was about ten years old. Everyday he would come home from school the same way and everyday he would taunt a neighbor’s dog. On one occasion, during his taunting, the dog got loose. After a short chase, he caught my uncle and bit him.

We have to understand, that in those days, especially in a third world country, there were no rabies vaccines, no veterinarians. The common way to treat rabies was to destroy the dog or animal and watch the victim.

Well my grandmother went to the neighbor’s house and demanded that they destroy the dog, insisting that her son was worth more than the dog. Unable to perform the requested task the neighbor offered her the dog and said she was more than welcome to do so herself. Without hesitation, she took the dog and summarily killed the dog her self. The details of that act, is probably something better left unsaid. One very important fact I failed to mention; the neighbors were my grandparents best friends.

However, one-day life would certainly help her to see things quite differently. That day came when my grandfather took his life. How would she fend for her self and her daughter who was the youngest and the only one left at home? The farm and possessions she owned were virtually worthless. She certainly did not have enough money to hire a work hand. How would she make a living? How would she survive alone? The answer that soon came in to their lives would not turn out to be great for my mother.

6 - December 1931

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 14:48:00 +0000

I'm sure you have wondered why I have discussed Haiti to such a great extent. Because my heart goes out to the People of that island-nation and the conditions in Haiti greatly parallel that of Cuba's. Although Cuba has not been devastated by a 7.0 earthquake, it has crumbled into ruins, nonetheless. What used to be once a great tourist destination, is now just an ad in magazines with pictures of gone-by days.

Just imagine, monuments and national landmarks in disrepair for over fifty years. The result is going to be crumbling buildings, streets fit only for oxen or horse driven buses or cars and raw sewage running down the middle of its capitol along with power outages on a daily basis.

Today Cuba much like Haiti, has little resources and much would have to be imported. So, in the future reconstruction of Cuba - a mere wish - the blueprint that is employed in Haiti could be adapted here as well.

Back to our story:

It is under these circumstances – depression and constant governmental upheaval – that in December 1931, Eulalia Mesa, my mother was born and where our story begins.

She was born in a very little town by the name of San Felipe, Jurisdictional Municipality of the coastal City of Batabano, in the province of Havana, about twenty five miles south of the Nation's Capital City of Havana.

Today, more than fifty years after Castro's revolution, much of the countries landscape, forests, natural caves and hillsides have been leveled or destroyed. All with the view; limit the areas where rebels could hide and mount a coup.

So along with some of the natural beauty of the country, this small town too has virtually disappeared along with many others. Although I don't really remember these towns I do, however, carry a very real mental picture of them based on childhood stories. Many towns and cities I have traveled to fill me with a certain déjà vu. In essence, my dreams or mental pictures get superimposed on these real places and it fills the void I have carried for so long, a desperate attempt to put a face to my dreams. Some of those places are; Savannah Georgia, Boston Massachusetts, Charleston South Carolina, Sacramento California and Mount Dora Florida.

So, with no real way to make a living, the inhabitants of these rural and farming communities leave for the larger metropolitan areas and so these places have become nothing more than a picture in my mind. The communistic revolution has erased not just cities, towns and landscapes but it has also erased people’s identity, land ownership and family history. Legends, stories, adages and humorous tales are all that remains when the dust settled.

I don't want you, my discerned reader, to think I am using this open forum to denounce the wickedness of communism or to promote hatred towards Castro and his regime or to advance a political agenda. I'm simply stating how the actions of this government, destroyed a people.

Families were completely dissolved and displaced never to be the same again. What started out as a revolution on behalf of a nation and its people, turned out to be a decimation of a culture and of those that kept it alive since times past, the people. The end result is a homogeneous blend of people with no historical record or identity, except what is left in the collective memories of a generation gone by.

The next post I will introduce you to my family, so I hope you'll come back and meet them.

5 - The Final Piece of that Puzzle

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 20:40:00 +0000

As Haiti slowly moves forward with the recovery and reconstruction, the issue that must be weighed is; how does that Nation rebuild it's housing problem and infra-structure to provide basic services - electricity, potable water and sewage processing? Basically, there are two schools of thought; 1. Do they use conventional methods of construction? or 2. Do they employ "Green" technology?

We must consider that Haiti has unique conditions that must be understood and incorporated into the reconstruction plan. It must now be considered a seismic or earthquake active zone and it's right in the middle of the Caribbean hurricane zone. In addition, Haiti has very little resources, requiring the importation of a great many supplies and materials. So, would a nation with these serious conditions consider anything other than "Green"?

To make matters even more serious, combine the above stated with the immediate pressing need of providing safe and comfortable shelter for the short term, we could start to comprehend the enormous problem the world faces as it renders aid. The PEOPLE of Haiti, await our direction and kind consideration - now and into the future.

Back to our story:

When last I left you, Cuba had just gained it's independence and was poised to take it's place as a sovereign nation. Gratitude should never be in short supply, for those who put themselves in harms way - Cuban nationals and Americans.

One such American that comes to mind is Theodore Roosevelt and his Rough Riders. His eagerness, to lend a hand, to free a country from tyranny and oppression was so great that he resigned from his appointed post in the Department of the Navy and created the only Volunteer Mounted Cavalry to take part in the Spanish-American War.

Immediately after the war sugar production increased and with the subsequent destruction of Europe's beet industry, during World War I, the sugar prices soared to the point where Cuba enjoyed what is still commonly refered to as the dance of the millions, but the music was not to last.

The boom, however, was followed by total collapse and wild fluctuations in prices brought repeated hardship. Politically, the country suffered fraudulent elections and increasingly corrupt administrations. Gerardo Machado as president instituted vigorous measures, making great strides in mining, agriculture, and public works, then he abandoned his great projects in favor of suppressing political opponents. One such opponent was the ABC Revolutionary Society.

The ABC Revolutionary Society was founded in 1931 and was made up mainly of young men and women, intellectuals, professionals, and students, organized around underground cells. The ABC embraced armed struggle and responded to government violence with reprisal, committing itself to creating conditions of revolution through systematic use of force against the government.

The Organización Celular Radical Revolucionaria (OCRR) also adopted a cellular structure and used armed struggle and sabotage as the means to overthrow Machado. What made the collapse of the Cuban economy between the late 1920s and early 1930s especially devastating was timing; it occurred just at the moment that the vast post war 1898 baby boom population was reaching the age of peak economic productivity. Nearly three quarters of a million young Cubans had recently entered the labor force and most could not find work.

Machado was overthrown in 1933 and from then until 1959 Fulgencio Batista y Zaldivar, a former army sergeant, dominated the political scene, either directly as president or indirectly as army chief of staff.

With Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s administration, a new era in United States relations with Cuba began: Sumner Welles was sent as ambassador, the Platt Amendment was abandoned in 1934, the sugar quota was revised, and tariff rulings were changed to favor Cuba. Economic problems continued, however, complicated by the difficulties associated with American ownership of many of the sugar mills and the continuing need for diversification.

The Great Depression by now had engulfed the world and political wrangling was threatening war in Europe. What had started as an economic crash on Black Tuesday, turned out to be a decade long economic downturn, not just for the United States but for the entire world.

By 1933 Hitler had been named Chancellor of Germany and dissatisfaction from the First World War, was beginning to make itself manifest in European relations as well as Japanese discontent.

4 - Events leading to the Spanish-American War

noreply@blogger.com (aldo) — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 22:21:00 +0000

Today, February 22, Haiti was hit by yet another earthquake. It's true, they are smaller in magnitude and geographic coverage. However, the emotional toll that these natural events continue to exert on the people of Haiti, is unfathomable.

Just imagine that you are a Mother or Father who lost a loved one - your child. Would not the sound and sensation of earth moving cause a sense of panic, reliving the whole ordeal again. That moment in time, is indelibly etched into the minds and emotions of all who expereinced it.

Back to our story:

I hear you; what does all of this have to do with our story? The previous Historical account frames for us the events that will lead up to the Spanish-American War and Cuba's final push for independence. This next section describes how independence was achieved and the final section will show beyond independence and how the stage was set for Castro's Revolution.

As you will recall, the conference in Osted did not proceed as anticipated by the United States. So, President Pierce ordered a conference of the three diplomats in Europe, all proslavery Democrats, at Ostend. The resulting manifesto strongly suggested that the United States should take Cuba by force if Spain refused to sell. Southerners, who had long feared that Cuba might become an independent black republic, applauded the document, but it was vigorously denounced by the free soil press as a plot to extend slavery. Marcy immediately repudiated it on behalf of the U.S. government.

The Ten Year War was caused by Discontent or excessive taxation, trade restrictions, and virtual exclusion of native Cubans from governmental posts. Disaffection grew until the year 1868, when Carlos Manuel de Cespedes and other patriots raised the standard of revolt. On April 20, 1869, the revolutionary republic of Cuba was established, with Bayamo as its provisional capital. The capital was burned later in the year, and the republican government was forced to change its seat frequently. The warfare was purely guerrilla fighting without major battles, but it raged furiously in the eastern provinces. Chief Field commanders were Máximo Gomez y Baez, Antonio Maceo, and Calixto García y Iñiguez; late in the war the government was headed by Tomás Estrada Palma.

Under orders of the Spanish commanders, General Valeriano Weyler y Nicolau carried out bloody and ruthless reprisals against the patriots. The Cubans retaliated by attacking all upholders of the Spanish cause. United States sympathy for the rebels was intensified by the destruction of United States property in Cuba, while the activities of American mercenaries and soldiers of fortune aroused the indignation of Spain. In 1873 the Virginius affair brought Spanish American relations to a crisis. The Virginius was a filibustering ship who fraudulently was flying the American flag and carrying arms to the Cuban rebels.

The Ten Year War dragged on without decisive incident until internal affairs in Spain settled somewhat, than greater attention was given to the war in Cuba. General Martinez de Campos managed to conclude the Treaty of Zanjón, which nominally granted reforms and gave the Cubans governmental representation; the promises were not kept, and conditions did not improve. The costly and bitter war was seemingly without result, but actually it foreshadowed the Cuban war of independence that broke out in 1895 and the subsequent Spanish-American War.

Revolutionary leaders, who many by now were in exile in the United States, planned another revolt, and in 1895 a second war of independence was launched with the brilliant writer José Marti as its leader. There was strong sentiment in the United States in favor of the rebels, which after the sinking of the Maine in Havana harbor led the United States to declare war on Spain. The Spanish forces capitulated, and a treaty, signed in 1898, established Cuba as an independent republic, although U.S. military occupation of the island continued until 1902. The U.S. regime, notably under Leonard Wood or Woody, helped rebuild the war-torn country, and the conquest of yellow fever by Walter Reed, Carlos J. Finlay, and others was a heroic achievement.

Cuba was launched as an independent republic in 1902 with Estrada Palma as its first president, although the Platt Amendment, which was a rider attached to the Army Appropriations Bill of 1901, stipulated the conditions for United States intervention in Cuban affairs and permitted the United States to lease lands for the establishment of a naval base in Cuba.
The Amendment was reluctantly accepted by the Cubans but it kept the island under American protection and gave the United States the right to intervene in Cuban affairs. United States investment in Cuban enterprises increased, and plantations, refineries, railroads, and factories passed to American ownership, albeit absentee ownership.

This economic dependence led to charges of “Yankee imperialism,” strengthened when a revolt headed by José Miguel Gomez, president of Cuba led to a new United States military occupation from 1906 to 1909. William Howard Taft, who later would become the 27th President of the United States, and Charles Magoon acted as provisional governors. After supervising the elections, the United States forces withdrew, only to return in 1912 to assist putting down black protests against discrimination.

Today, most Cubans use a term in their everyday conversation - guajiro. This term describes the typical farmer. It is not used in a deragatory manner. It is important to understand this word, since it is not really used by any other spanish speaking country.

During the Spanish-American War, a large population of farmers were involved in the struggle. So impressed were the American forces, the valor, loyalty and commitment, that they called them War-Hero's. Upon hearing this, the Cuban farmers undestood it differently and thought they simply were refering to them as farmers - guajiro's. Cuban's ought to be honored by this expression, given to them by their brothers from the North.