Enjoying Cuba

Return

The cold front keeps me in the marina one day past my visa expiration date. Emigration is sympathetic and I am not subject to any additional fees. My departure is a piece of cake compared to arrival conditions. In fact, the entire return passage goes smoothly, arriving in Key West shortly after sunup on the day before Y2K.

My timely arrival means that I am able to spend New Year's Eve with my friend Glynda, helping her share what is to be her final glass of wine. Her struggle against diseases of the gall bladder and liver is another story for another chapter. For now I am content to languish in my fond memories of Cuba. However, too much down time leads to boredom. Soon I am searching for another adventure.

Before this comes about, however, at the end of April 2000 I receive a surprise phone call from Cuba, from Marianne. Her voice vibrates with exuberance. I can't understand her. With the help of an interpreter she proceeds to tell me that she has been selected to apply for emigration.

This is an interesting wrinkle to a a common belief that most Cubans emigrate to the United States by crossing turbulent seas in small, leaky boats or rubber rafts. But there is in place an established formal process for emigration. For every Cuban who enters the US without a visa by crossing the Florida Straits or through Mexico, about ten arrive with proper visas. Nearly 20,000 Cubans enter the US legally each year.

Nearly 5,000 of these visas are the result of a special lottery drawing conducted by the US government in Cuba. Only three of these lotteries have been held since 1995. In the last lottery, in 1998, more than 500,000 hopefuls sent application letters to the US Interests Section in Havana. This is nearly 5% of the total population of Cuba! This time Marianne's name was drawn. She has every right to be excited.

"This is fantastic," I respond. "But why are you calling me?"

She is apprehensive about the interview. Also, she needs a sponsor. She asks, "will you sponsor me?"

Gulp. "What does this mean?" I respond, somewhat nervously.

"Help me with the emigration expenses. Help me find a job when I arrive and a place to live," she responds, through the interpreter.

Well, this doesn't make me any less nervous. This is a lot of responsibility for an Itinerant Sailor. Fortunately, her interview is not until January. This gives me breathing room to locate a funding source for Marianne. Indeed, this also will be another story for another day.

Darsena de Varadero