Miami and the fall of Castro
By Varela
A Miami-Cuban journalist once asked Walter Mercado about the fall of Castroism. Walter appeared troubled. Presumably, a psychic should know the future, maybe not his but others’ at least. I remember that Mercado – very businesslike but also very clever – answered: “Castroism will fall when you say so, not when I say it.”
When I arrived in Key West in 1980 and stepped off the boat onto the dock, I read a sign on a hangar wall that said, “Will the last one to leave Cuba please turn off the light.” I had never seen such an apocalyptic reminder before.
In the 30 years since, I have read, seen and heard worse predictions of Armageddon, with all kinds of forecasts, sorceries and divination about the future of Cuba. Almost all of them, made up by opportunists, have become running jokes. Such as the radio slogan “We’ll roast the next Christmas pork in Ceiba Mocha.” Or the crass lie “Fidel Castro died a long time ago in an accident, but they’ve put a double in his place.”
Out of all the fortune-tellers, the ones who deserve the most ridicule are Andrés Oppenheimer and Willy Chirino. Oppenheimer, a Miami Herald columnist, wrote a book in 1992 titled “Castro’s Final Hour,” in which he told about military conspiracies and political labyrinths that would topple Fidel’s regime faster than a rooster crows.
Then the rooster crowed. Chirino, a local salsero, recorded “Our Day Is Coming.” It’s as if they had agreed to come out with a book and a song. All that was missing was the movie. And it almost appeared (the movie, not the final hour), because comedian Armando Roblán staged a comedy in Little Havana’s little theaters – Oppenheimer’s “Final Hour” with music by Chirino. Roblán contributed the Fidel impersonation and a casket.
Someone should have come out with a Nintendo game, but at the time the necessary technology didn’t exist in Miami or in Silicon Valley.
It was the last decade of the past century, and European communism had collapsed along with the Berlin Wall. The mistake of anti-Castro Miamians was to think Europe was the Caribbean. It’s not the same and never has been. For example, the Europeans usually come to the Caribbean in search of sun, beach and dark-skinned beauties. However, I know of no Caribbean who goes to Europe because of the clime or the beach or human specimen, no matter how handsome the Germans are, how tall the Scandinavians are, or how erotic the European Latinos are. For that reason, tourism to Cuba increased.
Meanwhile, Miami has been driven by impulses. In 1994, a lot of people gathered at the Malecón, in a dither over a motorboat that, instead of cruising the bay, crossed the Straits of Florida. In Miami, people began to pack their suitcases for the return trip. According to rumors, the tanks had come out onto the streets of Havana, dozens of people had been killed and even more were detained in baseball stadiums. After the rumors died down, many of us said, “They’ll never again trick us like this.”
But they did. In 1996, Cuban MIGs downed two Brothers to the Rescue planes that were dropping leaflets over Havana to justify the money they received (they had run out of rafters). Surely the Americans wouldn’t allow that. Rumor had it that the 82nd Airborne Division, the same that invaded Grenada and Panama, was being mobilized. On the brink of invading Cuba, someone in the Pentagon must have gotten cold feet, so the trigger was never pulled, the local TV announcers said.
Then, in 2000, Our Lady of Regla sends us little Elián. He is the Elewá (the one who opens roads, according to African santería), the child who, according to lore, will save the motherland. The Orishas say no, but Miamians know more than the Orishas. The experts on TV say that Elián was saved by Yemayá, the goddess of the sea, with the aid of dolphins – and that’s a sign.
The faithful surround his house with candles and walk in processions. The most faithful travel on their knees from Calle Ocho and 27th Street to Elián’s house, wrapped in Cuban flags. Castroism has never been so weak and off-balance, Miami TV pronounces nightly.
Well, Elián is an army cadet on the island today, blowing the candles of the Comandante’s birthday cake and hugging him. The only time he puts his knee to the ground is to fire an AK-47.
They say that a glass that is half-filled with water can be seen from two perspectives: the pessimist sees the glass as half-empty, while the optimist sees it as half-full. The recalcitrant Miamian says that, if the glass is Cuban, it’s cracked and the water is leaking out.
But the water never does.
