THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, July 23, 1995 TAG: 9507210707
SECTION: COMMENTARY PAGE: J1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY MARIA ZAMMIT
LENGTH: Long : 158 lines
It was too good an opportunity to pass up. The first American book fair in Cuba since Fidel Castro's revolution. Did I want to come along? You bet. If nothing else, it would be fascinating to compare Cuba in Castro's last years to whatever future government transpires.
So in February I joined a delegation of 60 or so publishers, writers and various other members of the American Association of Publishers on a State Department-sanctioned visit to Havana.
We stayed at the elegant Hotel Nacional, Havana's top five-star hotel, which sits on the Malecon, a splendid road hugging the coastline. It was very beautiful, and the government is doing its best to keep it well-maintained despite the shortage of hard currency.
One could easily imagine Meyer Lansky and his gambling cronies during their heyday in the 1950s, sipping Cuban rum and smoking cigars on one of the many patios and terraces overlooking the sea.
But as enticing as the hotel was, the streets of Havana were even more compelling.
It had obviously once been a beautiful city, particularly Old Havana, with its graceful Spanish colonial architecture and majestic buildings such as the Cathedral and Palace of the Captains General (now the Museum of the City of Havana).
But like the sumptuous mansions in Miramar, Havana's upscale neighborhood, all these gracious buildings - except those serving as embassies - have fallen into a sorry state of disrepair. Crumbling facades, rusted ironwork, dilapidated windows - and there's no money in government coffers for major restoration.
The cars in Cuba seem to match the houses: holdovers from another era, the 1950s, with periodic tinkering that somehow keeps things running but no chance or money for major overhaul.
Then there's the waiting game. Cubans have to suffer through long waits as part of everyday life. Lines for buses, lines for food, lines to transport bicycles through a downtown tunnel. And often there is precious little to show for it. As one tour guide explained, after a couple of hours waiting for a bus, people often give up in frustration and skip work that day.
The shopping situation is no better. Shelves in stores that sell goods for pesos are depressingly barren; stores that sell goods only for dollars (available to a very small fraction of the population) are well-stocked, if expensive. Which explains the scramble to drive a taxi or work in the tourist industry for tips in dollars. Several taxi drivers we encountered held university degrees, and one was a molecular biologist.
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How do the people cope with the hardship? I asked at every opportunity. Often there would be a shrug, and an allusion to the ``special period'' - the government's term for the current state of the Cuban economy.
With the collapse of the Soviet Union and the end of economic handouts and subsidies (aid from the former U.S.S.R. was estimated at 25 percent of Cuba's GNP), coupled with the U.S. embargo and a few years of dismal sugar cane production (70 percent of export earnings), the Cuban economy began a nose dive in 1989.
The worst year was 1993, when shortages of oil, the effects of the U.S. embargo, and torrential rains and flooding brought the Cuban economy to its knees. The government was forced to undertake some changes, such as legalizing certain categories of self-employment, permitting Cubans to hold dollars and undergoing some privatization. For example, a Mexican investment group has purchased a 49 percent share of Cuba's telecommunications company and plans to modernize its telephone system.
But are the changes enough to keep people satisfied?
Despite the hardships, many in Cuba still point to the benefits of the revolution: the end of corruption, the extension of medical care to everyone and a high literacy rate.
While medical care may be universal, the conditions are sometimes less than optimal. Someone in our group required stitches during our trip. Refusing to climb on an examination table still coated with some other patient's blood, our colleague was finally taken to the hospital for foreigners, where health care standards were markedly better.
In a meeting with our group, Ricardo Alarcon, president of the National Assembly of Popular Power and Cuba's former representative to the United Nations, admitted that there will be challenges ahead for the Cuban government beyond its tentative steps toward economic openness.
In weighing the benefits to the economy, Alarcon believes the challenges will be worth it. He admits, however, that the government cannot predict the outcome, since most people in Cuba today are unfamiliar with anything other than a state-controlled economy.
I then asked him if he had any misgivings about the United States lifting its embargo. Many analysts believe Cuba actually needs the embargo as a convenient political scapegoat for its domestic ills and difficult ``special period.''
But he shrugged nonchalantly and expressed unconcern about the effects of lifting the embargo. ``When the U.S. comes to invest,'' he said, ``the answer will be, `I am sorry, the Canadians came first.' ''
By way of demonstration, he pointed out that the United States has already been closed out of the nickel and tourism industries - other countries have beaten us to it.
But in private conversations, a Western diplomatic source told me that he felt Alarcon was overstating his case. Yes, other countries are investing in Cuba, but there will still be plenty of room for the United States should the time come to invest.
What is probably less well known is that American money is already moving into Cuba despite the embargo.
One of my taxi drivers told of recently driving three men around Old Havana for several days: two well-heeled Americans (one of whom was a banker) and a Canadian. They were reviewing plans and targeting buildings for a major restoration project. The Americans were providing the funding, while the Canadian was serving as the official investor as a way of getting around the embargo.
Later, when a diplomatic source mentioned the current renovation of Old Havana, eyebrows were raised when I related the news about American financing.
But evidence of tourists and outside money was everywhere. Spain is investing in the tourist industry, and investors from all over Europe, Canada and South America were tripping over each other throughout Havana and the Cuban countryside.
In fact, during my first morning there, I literally walked into French film star Gerard Depardieu in Havana's leading cigar factory. (Unfortunately, he refused my offer of a photo op and seemed more intent on pursuing fine cigars.)
But the harsh realities of Cuban life remain.
Some would argue that Castro eliminated many of the glaring inequalities that previously existed. Unfortunately, now everyone seems equally poor. It may just be a temporary byproduct of the ``special period,'' but adults and children were thrilled with handouts of soap, fountain pens and Chiclets.
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The question inevitably arises: What will happen after Castro? No one can predict with certainty.
Senior diplomats in Havana feel that the role of the armed forces in Cuba is becoming more prominent. Raoul Castro, Fidel's brother, is the designated successor, but analysts feel he lacks the charisma and depth of Fidel to hold onto power indefinitely.
Alarcon, Cuba's No. 3 man, is a firm believer in the revolution, and a particularly articulate and savvy representative.
And then there are the Miami Cubans: extremely conservative, extremely wealthy and well-organized, and extremely anti-Castro. Unfortunately, they have also displayed some heavy-handed tactics against moderate Miami Cubans seeking a middle ground and, perhaps, an exploratory dialogue with Castro.
One wonders whether their return would only replace a left-wing extremist government with a right-wing one - not to mention the resentment felt by the Cubans who stayed against those who fled when Castro took over.
In many ways we left Cuba as we came: Some misperceptions were cleared up, but many questions remained. Was this book fair just an anomaly, or the first step in improving U.S.-Cuban ties?
The people were genuinely warm and friendly to Americans, but the distrust on an official level was palpable.
One thing, however, is undeniable: As one of the book fair's organizers commented, ``the most important aspect of the exhibition is that it took place at all.'' There are now thousands of American books throughout Cuba, which will, perhaps, exert the most lasting influence in the long run.
To paraphrase a comment by one member of our delegation: Why bang only on the front door when the back door is open? ILLUSTRATION: Color photos
MARIA ZAMMIT
Stores that sell goods for pesos are barren...
while stores that sell goods for dollars are full.
by CNB