Cardenas to Playa Largo
Biking south from the north coast of central Cuba to the south coast took us up out of Cardenas and into the rural country side. Posted along the road on billboards and telephone poles was one Cuban political slogan after another, “Vive Cuba!” and “Castro es feiles!” (faithful) and “Vive la revolution!” It was a bit overwhelming and made the area feel heavily militaristic.
The reason for these signs is because Cardenas is the area of Cuba closest to the US and many people leave from here on fast boats to try to make it to Florida. I guess a last ditch effort to try and foster some Cuban national pride is understandable. Many people here have voiced discontent about their country’s politics to us. It comes up in nearly every conversation.
We met a grandfather in his sixties caring for his five year old twin grandsons because their parents had left on a fast boat out of desperation to get money enough to care for them. They can return in eight years, until then they face time every night.
We have met several men whose wives work in America as doctors, physical therapists and laundresses, and all of them hoped to see them again in two or three years. “This is life.”, shrugged our waiter whose wife was working in Mexico City, “It is what we have to do. She will be home, I hope, in a year.”
As we cycled farther from the coast, the signs were replaced with sugar cane fields, banana groves and yucca farms. I was grateful to take a break from this feeling of unrest. The sun beat down upon us and after many miles we stopped in a little shack on stilts on the side of the road to seek some respite in the shade.
As we looked across the fields from our little perch, I saw a fire flaring up along the side of the road further along. We sat there watching it, wondering if it was a controlled fire situation or not as the flames grew bigger and bigger and began devouring more and more of the vegetation. The wind picked up and the fire jumped and roared and we saw then that it was racing towards a little house surrounded by livestock.
By now, other farmers had noticed the smoke and had come to help, They started hauling the cattle, the horses and the calves away from the house and tying them in them in the road where maybe the flames wouldn’t reach them. Weezie and I went to help as well, just as the owner of the house roared into view on her motor bike. She saw us standing there watching the flames engulf everything she had and shouted at us, “This is Cuba!”, gesturing and the crackling flames. We asked if we could help.
“Maybe.” she said, and we stood together in the road waiting to see what could be done, while the flames soared ever higher and closer to her home.
(The house was saved and so were the animals due to lots of help and a truck full of water that sprayed the house. But, the flames continued to race across the land and burn many many acres. We left when the house was safe, but the fire was still completely out of control.)