On March 20 of this year, I went to Cuba as a participant in the Nuestra America Convoy and Flotilla, with CodePink, a twenty-four-year-old feminist grassroots peace organization.
We went there to deliver fifty tons of humanitarian aid—food and medicine, and solar panels—using three small boats, the cargo holds of our planes, and even our carry-on luggage. Besides addressing Cuba’s dire situation, our goal was to draw attention to the United States’s punitive policy toward Cuba, and push for a more humane strategy focused on the needs and concerns of the people of Cuba.
As a former resident of Cuba during the early 1990s, I have felt for some time that most people in the United States don’t understand the situation in Cuba, as a result of misinformation in the press and on social media. Even the casual observer in the United States hears that Cuba is “communist,” “authoritarian,” and “a failed state” from our media and politicians, with little nuance added. I was also thrilled to see old friends and loved ones and to revisit the island of my dreams.
Jeffrey McCrary
The Maguro, a Mexico-flagged fishing boat, returns after dropping off humanitarian aid provided by Code Pink at a port in Havana.
The U.S. government forbids its citizens from engaging in tourism in Cuba; it also blocks or severely limits the use of many kinds of financial instruments there, whether as commercial trade or personal business. In Washington, bureaucrats monitor every commercial transaction Cuba makes, and impose sanctions on any company, regardless of whether it is located in Moscow, Idaho, or Moscow, Russia. Recently, U.S. warships encircled the island to prevent arrivals of fuel, while President Donald Trump predicted that the Cuban government would soon collapse.
Cuba was in the throes of the so-called “special period” when I first set foot there decades ago. The dismantling of the Soviet Union brought economic collapse to many of its trade partners and dragged on Cuba’s economy downward. I saw spiraling shortages of basic necessities among its people in real time, and I watched the Cuban government re-think extensively its own alliances and internal ideologies, as its population adjusted its expectations of the benefits of faithful citizenship. I pondered the similarities and differences between then and now. There were differences, but, also, many sad similarities.
The Nuestra America Convoy/Flotilla was conducted in accordance with the U.S. Cuban Assets Control Regulations that severely limit where a visitor can do things as simple as buying food and renting a hotel room. Our group stayed in a hotel in central Havana. It was comparable in quality to an older, well-worn Holiday Inn.
We would have been comfortable with more modest accommodations.
Happily, the hotel employed Cubans, so our purchases did trickle back into the Cuban economy, according to the official US narrative.
While in Cuba, I was acutely aware of the energy crisis caused by the current tightening of the U.S. blockade of the island nation. For more than three months, no petroleum had arrived. Motor transportation and electrical service had almost completely stopped. This meant food delivery was extremely limited, hospitals suspended every non-emergency procedure, universities and offices were shuttered until further notice.
Jeffrey McCrary
Neighbors chatting on a typical evening in the Centro Habana neighborhood. In spite of the energy crisis which kept lights off in this neighborhood, the beer was cold—a sign of Cuban ingenuity.
We met with numerous health professionals, all of whom described the cruel effect of the current U.S. policies on Cuban people. I spoke at length with two physicians in Havana. Both were recent graduates from the Latin American School of Medicine. This school teaches future doctors who come from around the world, even from the United States. They study free of charge alongside Cubans, later returning to their home countries, where they have the commitment to provide services in underserved communities.
Why is the United States so interested in changing Cuba? Are we angry that they provide doctors and teachers to remote locations in underdeveloped countries? That they prioritize health care and education?
During our time in Cuba, our group helped paint an outdoor mural with local artists. We shared a musical celebration with a community organization for children. Aid was delivered to Hermanos Almeijeiras Hospital. Other medicines were given directly to doctors working with the ELAM medical school. We met with pastors, doctors, and journalists. We also did a lot of singing and dancing.
Cuba is that kind of place.
In addition to the difficulties already mentioned, the Cubans have suffered especially hard from the breakdown in garbage service caused by the fuel shortage. Large piles of trash are found in the street every few blocks. Immense swarms of flies cover some of these piles, adding to the risks of illness especially in the densely populated, multistory neighborhoods of Centro Habana and Habana Vieja neighborhoods.
Throughout the few days that I was on the island, I heard Cubans express varying political critiques, some extremely negative and visceral, others more measured and thoughtful. Regardless of their political opinions, everyone was focused on the scarcity of electricity, propane for cooking, municipal water, and fuel for public transportation. All recognized that this recent development is a direct consequence of the U.S. fuel blockade of Cuba.
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Jeffrey McCrary
Piles of garbage are a common sight in the many densely populated neighborhoods in Havana. Decline in garbage pickup is a direct consequence of the petroleum blockade initiated by the United States government against the island. But it is the people of these neighborhoods who suffer the risks of disease caused by the trash, not the Cuban government.
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Jeffrey McCrary
A water delivery truck in the Centro Habana neighborhood. Municipal water pipes in this neighborhood had not delivered water for the previous twenty-two days as of this photo taken in March; instead, people must line up with buckets when an occasional water truck passes to address their water needs.
Our group’s visit to Cuba was completely above board and legal with respect to the laws of both the United States and Cuban governments. Nevertheless, upon my return to Miami, U.S. Border Patrol agents detained twenty out of the twenty-three members of our delegation on my flight. The detained persons were humiliated, harangued, threatened, and all their telephones and computers were confiscated. They were released after three hours.
As the person before me in the immigration line was taken into custody, then the person in the adjacent line, I worried that I, too, would be detained, as had happened in the past. At my turn at the immigration the gauntlet, the agent asked me questions similar to the others: what kind of aid I brought, and to whom; with what organization did I travel; and what did I do while in Cuba. I answered that our group went with permits, with the intention to follow U.S. law, and to help the Cuban people with a relatively tiny amount of aid compared to the vast need.
The immigration agent was not satisfied with my responses. He asked, repeatedly, about my activities, as if something was wrong with my presence in Cuba. When he asked a fourth time, “What else did you do there?” I responded, “And I was visiting family.”
“You have family in Cuba?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Have a nice day,” he said, and handed me my passport.