I have been criticized many times in the blogosphere and elsewhere and had Babalu called single-minded because of the focus of this blog. Just last week I was speaking to a reporter over the phone when I was asked:
“You seem to have assimilated into the US perfectly well, speak with no accent and from what Ive read, you appear to love this country. You left cuba as a child and haven’t been back. You were raised here but your blog focuses primarily on Cuba, a place you yourself have stated you dont remember. Can you tell me why?”
I thought about this for a second, took a deep breath and responded.
“Every night,” I said, “I go to sleep in my bedroom in the home that I own after a hard day’s work and with a full stomach, knowing that I have a roof over my head, a good job and cupboards stocked with food.”
“I sleep soundly next to my beautiful and loving wife in my air conditioned bedroom in the home I own with the full cupboards in the suburbs of Miami, Florida, USA and I dream dreams I cant remember.”
“And every morning, next to my beautiful and loving wife in my air conditioned bedroom in the home I own with the full cupboards in the suburbs of Miami, Florida, USA, I open my eyes and awake and my first thought is Fuck! God damn it! I am still Cuban! as if, miraculously, the night’s slumber will have relieved me of the burden.”
It’s not my fault I’m Cuban.
But I am, regardless of where I live and what beautiful and honorable flag flies from the eave of my home or what country I’ve gladly and honestly pledged allegiance to all my life. And just like it’s noone’s fault I’m Cuban, noone can take the Cuban away from me. It is born within and and will live there forever.
Inspired by the wonderfully bittersweet “It’s not Easy, Being Cuban” at Chantel’s.