Destroyed Dreams

By Esperanza Reynolds

A fresh, never told before, recount of events after Castro's revolution, leading the reader through major events, Bay of Pigs invasion, Missile Crisis, and the exodus of innumerable number of Cubans, leaving the Island in search liberty, opportunity, and the pursuit of happiness! The dream of one man became the nightmare of a Nation! Destroyed Dreams surfaces Cuba's Castro as never before!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Dec 18, 2008
• ISBN: 9781466953925

Esperanza Reynolds

Esperanza Amelia Rodriguez Diaz was born on January 5th, 1954, in Pinar Del Rio. Left Cuba on December 30th, 1968, for Mexico City, arriving in the United States of America on June 29th, 1969. Holds a High School Diploma from Miami Springs Senior High, an Associates Degree in Secretarial Sciences from Miami-Dade Community College, and a Bachelor of Business Administration from Florida International University. See the author at our booth during the 2007 Miami-Dade Book Fair. Don’t miss Here’s Help Radio Show interview of our author.

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Destroyed Dreams

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Andy, Ramon, Esperancita, and Esperanza Rodriguez Diaz

© Copyright 2006 Esperanza Reynolds.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Note for Librarians: A cataloguing record for this book is available from Library and Archives Canada at www.collectionscanada.ca/amicus/index-e.html ISBN 1-4251-1168-8

Certificate of Registration with the Library of Congress in the U.S.A. USA=TXu1-324-491

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Contents

Dedication

Prologue

1-The Priest

2-The Agony

3-Macho Ferro

4-Esperanza Diaz

5-Ramon Rodriguez

6-Catechism

7-Punta De La Sierra

8-Charles Aznavour

9-The Neighbors

10-Andy Rodriguez

11-Maria Martina

12-Bay Of Pigs

13-Treasure Hunt

14-El Niño Disappears

15-Zoila & Regino

16-The Dance

17-The Man Who Cried

18-Revelations

19-1St Day Of School

20-Literacy Campaign

21-La Ajiconal

22-The Roadblock

23-Struggle To Survive

24-Slavery

25-Monin Is Born!

26-A Cdr On Our Block

27-The Lubumbas

28-Photo For Posterity

29-Making Faces

30-The Sewing Kit

31-Tio Benito

32-Admonitions

33-The Militiamen

34-The Military March

35-Refuge At The Park

36-Tina’s First Letter

37-Zoila Departs

38-Demagoguery

39-Father Cayetano

40-Regino Leaves Cuba

41-Voice Of The Americas

42-Missile Crisis

43-Fidel Castro Ruz

44-Osvaldo Dorticos

45-Turmoil In October

46-President Kennedy

47-American Embassy

48-President Nixon

49-Camarioca Boatlift

50-Stale Mate

51-Vicentico Cue

52-Carnival

53-Alex Del Rosario

54-Che Guevara’s Book

55-Aida Rosa Perez

56-Bella Y Alejandro

57-The Nun’s Funeral

58-Humiliation

59-Letting Go

60-Steps To Freedom

61-Visas Are Granted!

62-June 29Th, 1969

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Present

End Notes

Dedication 

Alexander J. Ariano, Mental Health Counselor, has brought much to my life. First, a rebirth of emotions that had died for me since the death of my late husband, Frank Reynolds. Second, the awareness that part of the drive that kept me awake many a night, was the burning fire of dormant pain. Third, a renewed purpose, for as I uncovered pain, the pages of this book surfaced. Finally, his daughters, Katya & Nadya Ariano, today intricate members of our family.

To him, I dedicate this book. Thanks to his gentle nature, patience, and inordinate ability to listen, I was inspired to put down on paper the stories of the years that forged my personality.

To you, dear Alex, all I have to say is, love you... Thanks!

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Alexander J. Ariano and Hope Reynolds

Cast of Characters

Prologue 

The dream: is to be an agent of change. To make a difference while alive and leave a legacy that improves the collective spirit of humanity. This book shares a perspective on the human experience from the point of view of a Cuban born, who hopes the human race catapults itself into possessing worldwide values that ensure world peace, tranquility, and liberty for all.

For the first 14 years of my life, I grew up under a totalitarian dictatorship, Cuba. My passion was the reading of great books. Perhaps a way of extracting myself from the reality that surrounded us. My parent’s voices still ring in my ears as they called me in the superlative tones of great distress. For; by the time I heard their call and was able to detach from the story I was reading, they had yelled for me several times.

The examples provided were lived under a socialist / communist regime, today admired by many throughout the world. Yet, we lived under a government, lead by Fidel Alejandro Castro Ruz, one of the worst manipulative and criminal minds of the 20th Century.

While my purpose is not to politicize, I am afraid any person writing about Castro’s Cuba has no other alternative. There are millions of Cubans emotionally scarred by the horror of death by firing squads. The crime simply being that the person did not agree with the ideals of Castro’s government. Others were impacted by expropriation of property. Many were forced to leave Cuba, whether on a raft or by legal means, in search of freedom of thought. During the last 50 some years, Cubans encountered innumerable trials and tribulations throughout the world.

Those of us that are a byproduct of living our childhood under such circumstances possess an impassioned belief in political freedom, an ardent desire to live and prosper where the rights of the individual are respected, and a fervent commitment to exercise the individual’s right of freedom of speech.

Living under such circumstances is trying on the spirit, for you see the worst of mankind at play. For some, a deep resolve to move as far away as possible from tyranny is created. For others, we stand in shock at the power of evil and dream of changing the world.

These stories are shared to surface the evil encountered when a person, social order, or government, chooses to enslave people by using the inherent human weakness resulting from lack of knowledge, absence of insight, or an inability to see through manipulation.

In the end, Castro’s revolution proves to be nothing more than the perennial struggle of the age-old conflict between stability and anarchy, between the haves and have-nots. As many other socialist or communists before him, the very ideals brought forward by the Castro regime that all citizens are equal, in reality are flawed.

Legal terms dictate that all men should be considered equal. Equal rights with regards to freedom of choice as to what to do with their lives. But these very laws recognize the natural differences that exist between human beings. By the diverse fabric we weave throughout the world, we are recognized by differences in wisdom, traits, abilities, likes and dislikes, genes, beauty, hair and eye color.

A person that wakes up at 5 AM in the morning to work hard at whatever enterprise suits him or her, will accomplish plenty by the time anyone who chooses to, let’s say, wake up at noon. Highly educated people are surprised to find uneducated persons achieving as much, or perhaps more because of tenacity, or sheer luck of being at the right place at the right time.

Thus, no government can, or should, tell these individuals that they are all the same, for to do so results in what we see in Cuba today. Doctors who spend several years studying to rid humanity of most ills, riding bikes towards hospitals where the cleaning crew earns relatively the same, or all equally standing in line to get the rations of food allowed by the Government. What are the incentives under this form of government to accomplish and work hard?

The purpose of this book is to inspire the firm resolve to never allow indoctrination to penetrate the psyche. As a child, I witnessed the struggle of the masses to believe the words of demagogues, artfully playing with popular prejudices, making false claims and promises in order to gain power. These people attempted to find a way out of misery by listening and choosing to believe a master of manipulation.

How do we impact future generations with the knowledge necessary not to fall victims to demagoguery? How do we surface, share, and disseminate our story to ensure the necessary awareness that prevents repeating the past?

The pen is mightier than the sword, write a book! Stories shared with the purpose of preventing others from suffering the consequences of selecting a mad man to guide their nations.

Castro became a master at controlling others through empty words. Words such as those expressed during Castro’s first speeches to the Cuban people, where Castro warns the Cuban nation of the dangers of complacency and asked, Why did we do the revolution? Did any of us have any special ambition, any ignoble objective?

The answer to Fidel Castro’s questions is that Castro’s ambition ran deep. Castro’s dream-the nightmare of many-was to gain control of the government of Cuba for the next 50 some years. Castro has never permitted free elections through democratic choice. Castro’s ignoble objective was to take away everything from everyone, through the excuse of communal priorities, and be the commander in chief of what once was a rather prosperous nation.

Fidel Castro’s dream is to be immortal. He has masterfully achieved it. Few rival his ability to be center stage. In the year 2006, Fidel Castro is the world longest-reigning dictator, having ruled since taking power in 1959. 47 years!

How did Castro learn the refined art of demagoguery? How does he become a leader who makes use of popular prejudices and false claims and promises in order to gain power? He learned from the master, Adolph

Hitler. By reading Hitler’s book, "My Life. This is not an easy book to read because its content challenges us to live inside a rather sick mind. On Page 34 of Mein Kampf¹, Adolph Hitler shares insight that provides Castro with the fuel necessary to accomplish his master plan. Hitler writes: The psyche of the broad masses is accessible only to what is strong and uncompromising. Like a woman... who would rather bow to the strong man than dominate the weakling-in like manner the masses of the people prefer the ruler to the suppliant and are filled with a stronger sense of mental security by a teaching that brooks no rival than by a teaching which offers them a liberal choice."

Hitler continues: They have very little idea of how to make such a choice and thus they are prone to feel that they have been abandoned. They feel very little shame at being terrorized intellectually and they are scarcely conscious of the fact that their freedom as human beings is impudently abused, and thus they have not the slightest suspicion of the intrinsic fallacy of the whole doctrine. They see only the ruthless force and brutality of its determined utterances, to which they always submit.

Hitler continues: the infamy of that technique whereby the movement carried on a campaign of mental terrorism against the bourgeoisie, who are neither morally nor spiritually equipped to withstand such attacks. The tactics of Social Democracy consisted in opening, at a given signal, a veritable drum-fire of lies and calumnies against the man whom they believed to be the most redoubtable of their adversaries, until the nerves of the latter gave way and they sacrificed the man who was attacked, simply in the hope of being allowed to live in peace. But the hope proved always to be a foolish one, for they were never left in peace.

The same tactics are repeated again and again, until fear of these mad dogs’ exercises, through suggestion, creates a paralyzing effect on their victims. There in essence is how Castro begins to formalize his plan for overcoming a people, for gaining control of an Island, for forcing what once was a beautiful world, into a disintegrated society, whose members may be found all over the world. By taking those words apart to gain insight to the mind-set of the crowds, and through his rousing oratory, Fidel says the words that people want to hear, speaks ill of those he wants to destroy or conquer, and gains ground against enemies, who always gave in, in the hope of being allowed to live in peace.

Today, a Cuban living outside the Island is a pariah, willing to live anywhere and do anything, rather successfully, to recreate what once was, but realizing the great loss of what we gave up to live in peace. Some lost the rights to a legacy of dreams achieved through the hard work of our ancestors. We have not taken the time to record and disseminate the horrors we lived, to tell the story of destroyed dreams, some for lack of time, others to focus on work to recreate a good living, and many due to fear of reprisal against family members left behind in Cuba. But it is time to say, enough fear! Let the chips fall where they may! It is time to tell our truth!

Chapters

1-The Priest

Both lines in front of the confessional were so long they wrapped around to the entrance door. There was no way I could wait that long. By now, they might have noticed that I had left the apartment. With resolve, I walked directly towards the Priest.

Please, I need to talk with you. The Priest noticed my stressed expression.

Can’t you see that I am in the middle of confession! Why must you talk to me? Do you need to confess?

No father. I need a friend, someone to hear me out. I am at the end of my rope!

Now, now. Wait a moment.

The Priest motioned towards the sacristy where an altar boy was preparing for mass. The boy approached.

Yes Father? Looking towards me, the Priest said to the altar boy;

Tell Father Antonio to come here at once! I need a substitute! Wait there until the Priest joins us. Then, we will talk in the Sacristy.

Not knowing why the process had stopped, the people waiting for confession stared at us. Soon, Father Antonio appeared and walked towards the confessional booth. His demeanor showed puzzlement.

Yes father?

She needs help and has asked to speak to me. Do you mind taking over?

Not at all!

Still not sure what was going on, Father Antonio sat at the confessional booth and continued to provide services. We walked towards the sacristy. The Priest opened the door and soon we found one another in a rather small office, with barren walls. The only decoration was a crucifix behind the simple desk. He took the chair on one side. I sat on the other.

My child, what can I do for you?

Where would I start? Why am I here? What do I want? How do I talk through this choking desire to burst into tears?

I am all alone! I have been thinking that my life is meaningless, I don’t even know if my past life is real anymore. Tears welled up, my voice faltered.

Ok, let’s stay calm. Why are you alone? Where are your parents? In Cuba.

How old are you? 14 years old.

How can you be here alone? Who takes care of you? How do you live? Where?

I live in an apartment with 10 other people that I don’t know! The man and woman of the house take care of me because they are friends of my uncle and aunt. This couple promised to look after me until I go to the United States. My uncle and aunt are now living in the U.S. and every month they send money for my bare necessities, but I know this is a sacrifice for them. They don’t have much themselves! The apartment of the couple that I stay with is in the Colonia Roma.

Dear God. Who are the 10 people that you live with?

The couple of the house is, Raul and Rosa, they are married and have a child. Rosa is pregnant. The others are members of their family, who like me, just arrived from Cuba and are in transition to go to the United States.

How big is this apartment?

There are two bedrooms, living and dining rooms, a small kitchen and one bathroom.

Ten people living under such confinement? Yes.

How are the sleeping arrangements?

Raul and Rosa sleep in one bedroom and they moved their child’s crib in with them to allow space for the others. The other couple, with their three children, sleep in the second bedroom. I sleep on the folding sofa with the second couple’s oldest daughter. And the mentally challenged cousin sleeps on a folding cot by the second bedroom.

Dear Mother of God! When did you meet them?

Tears flowed. The Priest handed me a box of tissues and left the room. He soon returned with a glass of icy cold water. For a few minutes, he did not say a word. Finally, softly, he said;

When was the last time you ate?

Oh no! They feed me, I am ok.

But, you are so skinny! How much do you weigh?

I have no idea!

Continue to cry for a bit, I’ll bring us some sandwiches. You may be fine, but I am hungry. He left the room. Crying, I reached for the glass of water and took a few sips. The water was so cold. I trembled. He was returning, I could hear his footsteps.

Glad to see you had some water. Here are the sandwiches I could get my hands on.

He sat the plate down. These were small sandwiches, like the ones my mother use to make. The crust had been removed. Thin slices of ham and cheese embraced by two slices of the soft part of the bread were then cut to form triangles. I closed my eyes.

What is the matter? Don’t you like sandwiches?

They look like the ones mother used to make.

Well, eat them. They may also taste like the ones your mother used to make.

Sharp wit, it made me laugh. As I heard my laughter, I froze.

What is the matter? The Priest was riveted on my every non-verbal motion as if desperately trying to read my mind.

Nothing. I have not laughed in so long it surprised me!

Dear God in Heaven! Please eat! The Priest’s words had a soothing effect. Reached for a sandwich and tasted. Delicious. Soon I had devoured three. The Priest stared.

Aren’t you going to eat too? Guilt made me ask. I was eating alone.

The way you are eating, you don’t seem to want to share. I better go get us some more.

No, please. Stay. I am fine now. So, when did you meet the people you live with? He reached for a sandwich.

The day I arrived from Cuba. How long ago was that? Two months ago!

Let’s see, you arrived in Mexico City either at the end of December ‘68 or early January ‘69.

I arrived on December 30th, 1968.

Tell me about that day.

No, it is too painful. Dreaded the thought of reliving that day.

That is why you should tell me. Pain surfaced is pain dealt with.

On the early morning hours of December 30th, 1968, we went to Rancho Boyeros Airport. My uncle and aunt, the ones who live in Havana and my parents were with me. I had heard so much about the airport experience of Cubans leaving the Island that I dreaded the day I would have to live through the experience. We said goodbye at the door. Through the glass windows I could see my parents staring at what I was doing. The militiamen searched my bags and let me go through. We walked towards the airplane. It was my first flight! As I was going up the stairs, I looked back but could no longer see anything inside the building. The glass windows had turned into a mirror and all I could see was the long line walking towards the plane. At the door to the aircraft, the stewardess looked at my papers and handed me a sign I needed to hang on my neck. It read Minor, traveling alone. As I put the sign over my head, I looked back again and caught a glimpse of people standing on the roof. There were my parents. I waved, they waved back. We went inside and found our seats. Opening the window shade, I could see my parents. I desperately waved to see if they would notice what window I was on. Mother waved back, turned, and put her head on my father’s shoulder, so I knew she was crying.

My voice faltered again. A knot in my throat prevented the projection of my words. Tears flowed. The Priest raised his right arm and placed his hand on my shoulder. I started to weep, convulsively trying to catch my breath. The Priest moved his hand and placed it on my head. Slowly, I regained composure.

I heard the voice on the loud speaker requesting that we buckle up. The Stewardess started to explain something, but her words had no meaning, there was sound, but no understanding.

You were in a state of shock. It happens. When life brings us difficult moments, the brain disconnects. A way to cope, to survive.

Finally, the plane started to move. Some people were crying, others were screaming. Two seats away, a woman complained of having a terrible tooth ache. The plane went far away from where I had seen my parents, slowly turned and started to gain momentum. The rooftop where my parents stood came into view. We were in the air. I looked back for as long as I could, every second realizing their image became smaller, and smaller, until... they were gone! That was the last time I saw them!

Bursting into tears, sobbing out of control, I put my head down on the desk.

There, cry. cry all you want. I only have a Church full of people waiting to hear mass.

In between tears, I found myself laughing again. That was true! The Priest had left all his obligations to be with me.

I am sorry for taking your time this way. Wiping my face with some tissues, I looked up.

Would you like to attend Mass today? It will do you some good and once I finish, I’ll walk you back to your house. During our walk, we can talk some more.

You are not going to tell on me! Are you?

No, but I want to visit the apartment where you live. Will it be ok if I ask that you be allowed to come to Mass every Sunday and help us? We need all the help we can get!

Not sure what to do, I thought it would be nice to have a friend. Someone to talk with and a place to come to on a regular basis, so I said: Ok.

The Priest asked me to walk ahead of him, right behind the altar boys. Once I reached the first pew, I was to find a seat and hear Mass. He said;

Sit on the front pew so I can see you during Mass. Today’s sermon pertains to you.

Mass started, following its usual rituals. Finally, the Priest took the podium and started his sermon.

The afflicted shall never perish as long as they have hope in the Lord. The Lord’s eyes are on those whose hope is in his unfailing love. We wait for you, O Lord, and we know you will answer, O Lord our God. What do we look for? Our hope is in you. When we are downcast, when we are disturbed... We put our hope in God! He is our Savior. Blessed are those who put their hope in the Lord, for his unfailing love shall always be with us. Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. Blessed is the person who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, So shall your off springs be. We rejoice in our suffering, because we know that suffering produces perseverance. Perseverance produces character. And Character produces hope. Hope does not disappoint us because God has poured his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit when he has given us hope. For in this hope, we are saved. Be joyful in hope! Be patient in affliction! Be faithful in prayer! For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through endurance and the encouragement of the Scriptures, we might have hope.

The Priest stared in my direction. Was that a smile on his lips? Kneeling, I closed my eyes and prayed that I would soon see my family. Once Masswas over, I walked towards the front door of the Church. There he was, shaking the hands of several people attending mass. He noticed me and walked over to where I was.

Let me take the robe off. I’ll soon be out and walk you home.

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Birthday Party: Titico, Teresa, Martina, Cuca, Father, Nena, Mother, Neida Coira, Bella. Glicita, Alina, Maria Tina, Alex, Raulito and el Chino

Part of the crowd standing outside, I was surrounded by so many people. Yet, I knew no one and no one seemed to care to know me. Closing my eyes, I focused on the past, the gentle times when surrounded by family and friends, I felt protected and loved.

2-The Agony 

Your parents sent you away alone?

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Godparents and Parents hold me as Father Cayetano performs baptismal rights

They had no other choice. Like most Cubans leaving the Island, my parents presented their documentation to leave, but our paperwork was part of a shipment that was misplaced or burned. After mother had lost her job as a teacher, we realized we had to start the process all over again. My uncle and aunt were leaving Cuba through Mexico and they requested a Visa for me, which was granted. I came because it was the only way to get a Visa for my parents to follow me through Mexico.

Why couldn’t you wait for the paperwork to be processed through normal channels? Why could you not wait to leave with your parents?

Castro’s rule is that boys reaching the age of 15 are no longer permitted out of the Island. They must first serve time in the Mandatory Military Service. So, if I do not get the Visas, my brother would have to stay, and my parents will not leave the Island if he is drafted.

But, your parents were willing to send you alone instead?

There is a difference. I am traveling towards freedom. I am undergoing tremendous sacrifice to enjoy the rights granted by living in a free society.

When are you scheduled to leave for the United States?

Do not know yet. As the paperwork progresses through Government Center, here in Mexico, you get called. Right now, my great fear is that most Cubans in Mexico are waiting over two years to reach U.S. soil.

But that means, your brother may reach the mandatory military age! The Priest looked concerned.

That is why I can’t take it anymore! What happens if my parents are never allowed to leave the Island?

Let’s not focus on that right now, tell me more about you. Why did you come to see me? Why don’t you talk to the people you are staying with? "With you, it is easier. You are a representative of God. Back in Cuba, Father Cayetano was a close friend of my parents. When they had serious troubles, they went to see him. The people that I am staying with don’t seem to understand the pain I am going through. Every time I try to say something to them, they tell me I should not protest. They tell me I should be thankful that they are helping me. Every time I have tried to talk, they tell me about their problems. They tell me they live under rather difficult circumstances since we arrived from Cuba. They tell me to consider that, in the midst of all the terrible things people go through in life, my case is simple by comparison. But it is not. I am tired of hearing how I should put my life in perspective by comparing to the lives of others! I am in pain! I feel all alone! I am afraid of never seeing my parents again! I don’t want to know that