PINAR DEL RIO


support babalú


Your donations help fund
our continued operation

do you babalú?

what they’re saying


bestlatinosmall.jpg

quotes.gif

activism


ozt_bilingual


buclbanner

recommended reading





babalú features





recent comments


  • asombra: You know what happens to the few foreign journalists who don’t follow the Castro script? The same that will most likely...

  • asombra: “Che” was ultimately a perverse putz absurdly full of himself. It’s just that, if you give a putz enough gas,...

  • asombra: The Congressional Black Caucus and other black American civil rights “champions” will be sure to keep this in mind....

  • asombra: Rock bottom, you say? Au contraire. Still in denial, apparently.

  • asombra: Hillary looks exactly like Nurse Ratched in that photo. Pelosi, of course, looks lobotomized, as well she should.

search babalu

babalú archives

frequent topics


elsewhere on the net



realclearworld

My Man in Havana

Miriam Abrahams at Tablet Magazine:

My Man in Havana

When we fled Cuba in 1962, my uncle stayed. He died 50 years later, without ever explaining his decision.

http://cdn1.tabletmag.com/wp-content/files_mf/cuba_013113_620px.jpg

My uncle died recently in Havana.

I knew a few things about him: He was an atheist, an idealist, clever, quiet and serious, tall and guapo. But the most important thing, in terms of our family history, is that he was known to us as “the communist.”

I didn’t really know him personally: The stranger holding me in faded black-and-white baby photos taken before my family left Cuba in 1962 was an enigma. My father rarely spoke of him, the brother who stayed behind after the communist revolution. On the few occasions when I met my uncle in person, he revealed little about himself—why he stayed, whether his politics had changed, or how he endured five decades under Castro’s regime, separated from his parents, his brother, his nieces.

I assumed that as a communist, he’d disavowed his Judaism, marrying two gentile women, and raising his children without religion. Yet he hadn’t left his identity behind completely. In his final days, suffering from terminal cancer, he asked to be buried in Havana’s Jewish cemetery.

Nobody in my family attended the funeral. It would have been impossible to get the necessary papers and visas approved immediately. But my dad wouldn’t have gone anyway; he has never returned to Cuba. My dad sat shiva privately, at home in Brooklyn. He didn’t want to rehash his past, or to talk about his brother. He chose silence.

My uncle had long done the same. Now, with his passing, any chance I had of learning more about his side of our family story has vanished forever.

Continue reading HERE.

2 comments to My Man in Havana

  • antonio2009

    The 10,000 Jews who lived in Cuba were mostly gone by 1960. The few that remained were hard-core Marxists, some of whom were Russians who had fled Stalin's purge of Trotskyite Jews. Among them, Samuel Lesnik, Max's father, who arrived in Havana from Moscow fleeing the purge and married a Cuban non-Jew.

  • asombra

    Gee, Antonio, I wonder what that implies about the current "official" Cuban Jews who play footsie with the regime and left Allan Gross hanging out to dry, like the repellent Dworin crone.