Tales of Being Catholic in Cuba, part 1

Living under a communist regime is not optimal for Catholics. At home, my family would openly criticize the government and even make fun of our leader, but this was done in secret and in whispers.

 My mother would warn me. “Whatever you hear, don’t repeat it at school. Okay?”

“Okay,” I would reply.

“Good, you don’t want me going to jail.”

My father was already living far away; so losing my mother was not an option. Whenever a teacher would ask me something about the Revolution or about Fidel Castro, I would always reply with the schoolbook answer; the Revolution was great, everything was perfect! I knew this was a lie from firsthand experience. One of my classmates, Michael, had a parent who worked with tourists. His father was a scuba instructor and he received tips and gifts from tourists. In the 1990s, the dollar was king. The Cuban peso, and still to this day, was worth nothing. The Revolution had created a caste system where top government employees had an abundance of everything; the few who worked in tourism came next in line and then came the rest of the nation. There weren’t many options available and it was hard to move from one step to another.

One could always join the government, but for that, one would have to betray family, conscience and even belief in God. On top of all this, I would hear my family talk about how awful things were in the country. They didn’t make it a point to talk about it openly in front of us kids, but my two cousins and I would hear their conversations or sometimes a remark would escape their lips because of anger and frustration.