And why?

I wake up every morning and my first thought is What will Babalú have to say today? I then walk over to the media room, sit down in front of the pc and start reading. Emails. RSS feeds. Blogs. News sites.

Some days are better than others. Ill have a few emails from readers sending links of interest. A few other emails from folks who've just found the blog thanking me. Some days the news items are positive: a few more Cubans managed to escape the island prison; a reporter for some newspaper will have written a scathing piece on fidel castro's Cuba; a European government will have criticized the castro regime.

Yet those days are few and far between. Most days it's all pro-fidel propaganda all the time in the news. A whole lot of journalists who disregard the truth, overlook the obvious, and write gushing little pieces on the bearded savior of Latin America.

Meanwhile, an entire island of serfs and slaves are awakening as well. From their nightly dream to their daily nightmare. Oblivious to what those foreign journalists deem a paradise. That daily nightmare they live - Where will they find milk for their children today? Is today the day they come for me because someone smelled chicken frying in my kitchen? Did they hear me criticizing my government last night? - is ignored by those who portend to speak for truth. The slaves have no truths to speak of. Or too many duplicitous ones to mention.

It's frustrating for me to witness this from the comfort of my life in freedom. Y pa' que? Ill think on any given early morning when the news is blatantly false and negative. And for what?

Why do I wake up early every day and live through this? Why do I spend hour upon hour upon hour scouring the internet and other sources for information on Cuba? Why do I spend such a large portion of my day reading and writing and arguing and debating and discussing and angry? Why voluntarily battle windmills, day in and day out?

I dont know. I wasnt raised with any political ideology in mind. I wasnt drilled on things Cuban as a child. I was raised American. A product of American public schools. A product of free thought. I am, in no uncertain terms, a true example of the American dream.

My father never made me hate fidel castro. My mother never sat me down and taught me the horrors of communism. No one in my family lost anything tangible in Cuba that couldnt be replaced. Politics were never spoken in my home. If anything, talk of Cuba and politics and fidel castro and communism was kept from me. My parents didnt want to pass on that burden. They didnt want to pass on that pain. That disdain. That darkness that overshadowed their lives. I was raised to be free of all that.

Im not a journalist. Im not an intellectual. Im not a teacher or a professor. Not a lawyer. Not a politician. Nor do I aspire to be any of those things.

Y pa' que? entonces? Why then, do I do this every day?

I could devote the long hours to my family. To my job. To myself. I could apply all the hard work and determination to make money. To further my career. To improve my home. Take my mother to the beauty parlor. Play with my dog. Go fishing. Grow tomatoes.

And I dont have all the answers either. Heck, I dont even know all the questions. I'm just a guy who happens to have been born in Cuba. It's not my fault. Not five minutes ago I replaced the American flag from the flagpole at our office building. I took the old faded Stars and Stripes down, folded her with care, like I was taught by my Cuban father, and I hoisted a new Old Glory up. She's flying out there as I type this. All nice and new and beautiful and dignified.

So why this single mindedness about Cuba? Why this obsession? Why do I work so hard at writing about what I cannot remember personally? Why dive into this pool of stress every day? Why try to maintain composure when I sometimes just want to scream? Why the cause?

It would be easy for me to give you a simple answer: I dont know, and be done with it. Continue this daily battle against windmills, knowing exactly why there must be a battle but not knowing exactly why it must be me who's to be wielding the sword.

But I'd be lying to you. I answer that why question to myself every day.

Because I can. Because the country whose flag I hoisted not five minutes ago grants me the privilege to do so.

And so I will. We will. And we may or may not make a difference in the long run, but we have exercized our rights as Americans, as free human beings, to give others the right to the same.

Val, a prolific blogfather, has given birth to many a blog in this town. (Must be the Movable Type Viagra he takes every morning.) In any event, I'll take a little credit for inspiring my lttle sister to start her own blog called Arroz con Mango. She's chosen a title that's famliar to most Cubans and she explains its meaning. Go visit her blog and leave a hello to Miami's new cubiche blogger.

Our very own Ziva was invited to a round table discussion last night with cast members of The Lost City, including director/star Andy Garcia. She'll have a full report soon, but I thought I'd post her thoughts as related to me via email:

What an experience, and not because I took part in a "Hollywood" event, I used to work at a radio station and I've had industry exposure. There were about ten of us, seated around an oblong table. The actors came in one at a time and spent about 20 minutes each talking, answering some questions.

While we were waiting for the first actor, Enrique Murciano, I got a chance to eavesdrop on the press reps in attendance. Acouple of them were joking about the movie and admitted to falling asleep. Frankly I was pretty put off by their attitude. With one exception no one at the table seemed to have much knowledge about Cuban history, the subject of the film. Shoddy jounalism if you ask me. How can you go see a film that you know the actor has spent 16 years of his life trying to make and not take the time to learn a little background on the films topic. Mindboggling.

We each had the press notes whiich included bios on the actors and a personal statement. Enrique Murciano was first, his personal statement started with the first verse ofVersos sencillos.

Yo Soy un hombre sincero
De dondecrece la palma,
Y antes de morirme quiero
Echar misversos del alma.

Also in English, followed by a political statement a page and half long. It is like reading our posts on the Blogs. Enrique spent almost his whole 20 minutes talking about real Cuban politics. He's very animated and high energy.

He was followed by Nestor Carbonell. His personal statement is less strident but also political. He talked about his experience working on the film, he answered questions, including a couple of mine. I can't remember which ones. I stopped taking notes because to me, the exact words didn't matter, for me it was like Babalu, family. He talked about the reality in Cuba, using the same words we use everyday.

Next up was the lead actress Inés Sastre. She was much more low key, very pleasant, answered a few questions, spoke of how moving she found the Cuban actors family stories. Her Father was a musician and she grew up listening to Cuban music. Then came Andy.

The reps from the large outlets dominated his time, but I did manage to ask him if he hoped that ¨The Lost City¨ would help to clear up the misconceptions regarding Cuba and its current government. His repsonse was an emotional "I hope so" and he talked about that. I also managed to personally thank him on behalf a few friends making this film, for telling the truth about their experience. He thanked me and told me how much that means to him, he was getting emotional and he talked about the music, about Cachao, the mambo, for all the time he was talking to me about the music, I had the feeling he was fighting for composure.

He talked about what the screening of the film in Miami was like for him, how emotional. He spoke about Infante. He spoke about the scene from the film at the airport and how that was like his own families experience, about his sisters rings (bracelets) that the soldiers cut off becuase she´d grown and they were stuck, how scary it was, he thought they were going to cut off her hand.

As you can see, I'm filled to overflow from this experience. I don't think I'll be able to blog it for a day or two. I need to let the emotions settle.

I waited for my car with Nestor Carbonell and someone who looked familiar but couldn't place. We spoke a little about Cuban politics and I told him about Babalu. He asked me if I was Cuban, I told him no of course, that I had Cuban friends. His car was retrieved first, he leaned over said something and kissed my cheek.

The afternoon felt like a visit with Cuban friends who just happen to be actors. All of them are down to earth, warm, friendly and passionite about their love for Cuba.

Ziva and I ... and unbeknownst to us, famous blogger Roger Simon ... went to the Los Angeles Opening of Andy Garcia's 'The Lost City' last night, a cinematic work that's been close to the great Cuban actor's heart for at least 18 years.

It was a magnificent film.

First, read Val's awesome review of it here.

Based on a novel by G. Cabrera Infante, it's the story of a loving Cuban family, trying to hold together as castro's inhuman 'revolucion' attempts to tear them apart. It destroys some of them. Powerless to change events, they face wrenching decisions as it becomes much bigger than they are. castro's divisive revolution is shown as a consuming quest to create "a new modern man" that would destroy everything authentically Cuban, including families. The film shows how castro's rise to absolute power whittles away freedoms, and how the communist barbudos themselves are an ordinary gang with no compunctions about murder. Through the eyes of the protagonist, these choices - the same choices faced by many Cubans the world over - are to either to hold on to their country or hold on to their souls. In castro's realm of absolute power, there is no middle ground.

Havana is seen in its once-beautiful pre-castro glory, and, because the family owns a nightclub, is mostly viewed through the prism of different kinds of original Cuban music - Afro-Cubano, rhumba, guajiro, son - the different faces of the same national music. Often musical dances - celebrating joy, or expressing fear, agitation, anguish, or love - are performed as metaphors for the momentous events around the main characters. The soft gold light of the cinematography, and the sets and costumes (it's filmed in the Dominican Republic) are extremely beautiful. The 1950s details are very authentic.

Michelle Malkin does a great service for advancing this movie here.

Roger L. Simon has a marvelous movie review here.

Marc has more, including more release dates and locations.

(Spoilers, once again, below the fold.)

Continue reading Go see ‘The Lost City’