CUBA : UP-CLOSE AND IN-DEPTH
“Freedom is when the people can speak; Democracy is when the government listens”.
-Alastair Farrugia
Our fleet had been plying the Caribbean trade route for years. Some of my senior officers on board and the “the old man”, referring to our Captain, had visited numerous ports around the globe in their entire seafaring career. But one country remained unheard on their list: Cuba, a Caribbean island country isolated and deprived of globalization because of the Castro regime.
We sailed from Freeport, Texas, U.S.A. laden with tons of milled rice in bulk bound for Santiago de Cuba, a port city on the island’s southeastern region. The ship’s bulbous bow surging slightly against moderate waves, estimately at scale no.4 in Beaufort wind force*.The third Navigation officer on duty was alarmed when he sighted in a happenstance a group of balsero floating helplessly and aimlessly in the tumultuous waters in the Gulf of Mexico. Leaping and raising their hands with lifted spirits seems awaiting a rescue. As a standard operating routine, the master was informed and alerted all crew members. We maneuvered a Williamson’s turn* and returned to the track. Engine maneuvers were conducted simultaneously at dead slow ahead until the vessel was dead on the water.*All crew especially us, the deck gangs were inclined to exercise extra ordinary vigilance as if the ship had been threatened by a grave and imminent danger. Some of us held steel pipes, sling shots, and flares, on alert and doubtful that those men on board a small craft could be terrorist or might be the pirates of the Caribbean. As their rubberized boat bumped and slammed onto the ship’s steel hull, we rigged a heaving line and secured temporarily in the bulwark. The second officer asked their nationality and their destination.. One of the men told us they were Cubans fleeing their country hoping to be drifted in Mexico or Nicaragua in search for a better future. We noticed their craft was poorly equipped, relying in a handheld compass for navigation and sails as a means of propulsion. Another man in his 50’s begged for food. They had been languid for days, craving for stuffs to ease the pangs in their stomach. We responded to their demands, handed them packs of noodles and loaves of bread, then casted off their lines. We cleared out and backed on track again as the course was planned. When the boatmen faded away behind the stern’s wake, one indelible question remained on my mind. Why those Cubans had left their land, braved the boisterous seas, shark infested waters, and hurricane track zones of the Caribbean sea?
After five and a half days of steaming, we steered towards the approaches of Santiago bay. The sun beamed ahead amidst the clear azure skies. The sea was still like a smooth silk, dumb, speechless. On our starboard side was the El Castillo Morro, a fortress akin to Intramuros. The structure was built by the Spaniards during the colonization era to prevent piratical attacks and raids from rival European conquestadors like British and French. We docked sluggishly in berth no.13, a several hundred meters away from the main gate. No big deals for triskaidekaphobics. There were only three ships berthed in the vicinity. The vessel adjacent to us was loading sugar in bags and the other one, an oil tanker in the oil refinery area. The port of Santiago was very unusual for me. I had been to ports of U.S., Latin American countries and in the Caribbean. In these ports, massive and gigantic shore crane installations were erected. The port facilities utilized for the shipping trade were highly modernized as compared to this Cuban port. When the port authorities boarded, I was ordered by the Captain to accompany Lenny Rodriguez, a customs officer in her late 20’s, of fair complexion, striking looks and a warm smile. I introduced myself to her likewise she did. She inspected the ship’s dry provision store, the bonded store, and the wet provision storage near the galley. When the vessel was finally pratique* granted and business transactions were settled, the port authorities off boarded. Stevedores, crane operators and foremen escalated on board, the unloading operations commenced.
After the day’s work, I went out on my own solitary way. I kept rehearsing the Spanish phrases I had learned when I visited previous Latin American ports and remembered some Hispanic words my uncles Joe Ganan and Mocring Gadon had taught me in a drinking spree a couple of years ago. In the vicinity I noticed the old locomotive train coaches with Russian alphabet inscribed on its side. I doubted that those train coaches were remnants of the former Soviet Union and were used to transport ammunitions and warfare equipments during the Cuban missile crisis of the 1960’s. I registered at the main gate and showed my crew man’s landing permit then asked the security officer about internet services available in the city. He pointed me to plaza Cespedes, a popular tourist park in Santiago. As I walked along the dizzying streets, a man approached me and volunteered to be my tourist guide. I rejected his offer because I used to walk alone, a real adventurous and a total stranger. I recalled what Lenny told me that Santiago is a very tourist- friendly city and no robbers or snatchers in the streets because of police contingents roaming around. Indeed it was true, compared to the streets of countries I had been. The buildings in Santiago were very old Spanish colonial houses. Others were abandoned factories and manufacturing centers of the former communist Russia. In plaza Cespedes, I asked again the Cuban police about the internet services. Finally,he directed me at a café near Cathedral de Santiago, a church built on 1524,three years after Magellan landed on Mactan island. There were only four units of computer in that government-owned café and telecommunications center. Before I started to operate, Señora Regina, the in-charge, reminded me to refrain using the names and words “Fidel Castro”, “communist”, “democracy”, ”America” or “U.S.A.” in sending E-mails. She added that secret police sometimes enter the café and observing client’s movements. Again, it reminded me of security measures of the Cuban government prohibiting the exchange of imperialistic informations. The internet access was very slow, compared to the dsl technology access. After sending e-mails to my loved ones and read updates at sanrokan, I paid six U.S. dollars for an hour and departed.
I went to hotel Casa Granda, a famous tourist hotel in Santiago, then ordered a can of cerveza and a pizza. I enjoyed listening to the beat of Charanga Francesca, a dance music focused on an expanded rhythm consisting of piano, bass, timbales, and percussion, an eclectic synthesis of Afro-Cuban music. The ambience at the ground floor balcony was very comfy and I was relaxed sensing the sights and sounds .There were also foreign tourist present and I was the only one Filipino in the corner which looked like Cuban in complexion. It was past ten in the evening when I saw my four crewmembers, the first gang that had gone out immediately when our ship docked. They were about to return in our ship, so I walked with them. Some streets of Santiago were very dark and obscured. We were very observant of the people around us for possible dangers that might harm us. Our chief cook wanted to answer the call of nature. He suddenly rushed into a post and urinated. A law- breaking citizen, I thought. As we knew, the Filipinos are the best…and the worst. While we escalated the ship’s gangway, our comrades on duty kept on asking what happened outside, the activities, and a lot more of queries. The next day was their turn.
Several days had passed, Lenny invited us for a birthday celebration of her nephew at Nuevo Vista Alegre, a village three kilometers away from the city. We went together with the Captain, 2nd Engineer, Chief cook, and Bosun. The Cubans in Vista Alegre expressed their warm welcome. They were astonished, seemed they had found a band of Hollywood actors. Lenny’s household were very happy for our presence. They served us fried chicken, lettuce, tomatoes with onion sidings, a typical meal in Cuba. Bosun kept himself busy taking video with his handy camcorder .The residents astounded and greatly amazed ,as if they had seen a video camera for the very first time. They danced salsa and merengue*, waving their hands in front of the camera. The occasion was a fusion of cultures- Filipino and Cuban, with something in common, the blend of Spanish heritage. Captain saw a classic Spanish guitar in the corner. He urged me to render a song for the Cubans. Without hesitation, I strummed the guitar and sang “La bamba”, “Besame Mucho”, “Guantanamera”, and other Spanish songs of Marco Antonio Solis, a renowned Latin American balladeer. The audience were very surprised why I knew a lot of Spanish songs. They gladly sang “Guantanamera” with me in unison. I realized that the song was a Cuban patriotic song, emanated from Guantanamo Bay, a U.S. naval base in eastern Cuba where the Afghan Taliban forces were now detained. A younger woman requested to let them hear a Filipino song by Freddie Aguilar, titled “Anak” because it has also a version in Spanish. I sang it in Tagalog but nobody among them could understand. My intermission number was over and the folks resumed their dancing.
We listened to Lenny’s stories about their life in Cuba. She said that life is getting harder in their country that is why lot of her countrymen had left their native land. She even recalled the plight of Cuban boat people in 1994, crossed the straits of Florida and drifted in the Florida Keys chain of islands in the U.S. territorial waters. Others perished and starved to death. In Miami, Florida, there’s a county named Little Havana. It was named after Cuba’s capital and largest city Havana. The populace in that county were mostly Cuban boat men that migrated illegally. They are sometimes called balsero in Spanish. One of the craziest system in Cuba was the food rationing imposed by the government. The citizen has a food ration card and obliged to queue long lines in order to acquire food for daily consumption. Others were very lucky enough because of remittances from their relatives in U.S and Europe. The government also has a law regulating the limited area allocated in house construction. The regulation does not allow area expansion or extension aloft. The prices of goods and commodities were relatively cheap but salaries were at minimal. Lenny told us that her salary was only thirty U.S. dollars per month Other professionals like doctors, engineers, teachers and nurses falls on twenty to twenty five U.S. dollars monthly. In the broadest sense, you have to work but not to enjoy a luxurious lifestyle like having a car, reside in a mansion, travel abroad, or shop ‘til you drop mania. There’s no freedom of the press in the country. Anybody who publishes a publication criticizing against the Castro regime faces arrest or imprisonment, and sometimes, execution. There’s only one recognized official newspaper, the communist party organ, the Granma.Boadcasting companies and television networks are also government-controlled. Frequently, in television channels you would see and hear Fidel Castro’s tirades and harangue orations, enumerating the developments of his programs.
Education has been a government priority in Cuba. It is free at all levels and compulsory between ages 6 and 14.There are more than 2,200 secondary school and 47 tertiary level establishments, including 4 universities. The government also operates a comprehensive system of adult education and literacy programs. The adult literacy is estimated at 100 percent, the highest in Latin America. Cubans have degrees or other tertiary level qualification, and the country has some 180 technical and scientific research centers. Cuba has a particular reputation in medical research and biotechnology including genetic engineering. However, despite the free education, Cubans are not allowed to work or migrate in other countries for a greener pastures. The moment they graduate, they are obliged to stay in the country and serve the welfare of their fellow countrymen for the rest of their lives.
That evening, I learned a lot of things about the Cuban culture, way of life, their hopes and dreams, and even their unforseeable future under the Castro regime. The questions boggling my mind were finally answered through Lenny’s honest confessions. She voluntarily said to tour us around the city to learn more about Cuban rich culture and heritage. That was scheduled Saturday but some of my comrades were unsure because of their respective duties and responsibilities on board. We bid adios to Lenny’s Mom and Dad, their household, relatives, and all the residents of Nuevo Vista Alegre. We thanked them for their warm acceptance and hospitality .I saw the sadness that spelled on their faces as we left.
On that last Saturday in the month of February, Lenny toured me around the city. First we visited the Museo Emilio Bacardi, one of the historical museums in Cuba. Next, we went to the Batista barracks, the stronghold of Fulgencio Batista’s government where Fidel Castro led his revolutionary attack and seized power on January 1, 1959. On the years that followed until today, Fidel Castro remained in control of the state. We also visited the Plaza de Sierra Maestra, a spacious venue where Pope John Paul II, the first Pope to visit Cuba, held his mass during his 1998 visit. A few kilometers away from the city lies the Santiago cemetery, where Lenny led me to the tombstone of Jose Marti, the Cuban national hero who initiated the uprising against the Spanish for Cuban independence. Finally, we proceeded to Centro Urbano de Jose Marti, a tenement housing project of the government for Cuban citizens. I appreciated much Lenny’s initiative on that day, and it made me aware of what’s happening inside Cuba. As we parted our ways, she gestured a goodbye beso.
After almost three and a half weeks of our stay in Cuba, at last the unloading operation was finally over. A lot of factors affected the unloading operations. One of them was the lack of manpower. Bagging machines were sometimes unoperational, and the delayed arrival of sacks which came from Havana, the capital city. Stevedore’s starts at 8 a.m.’til 5 p.m. Mondays to Fridays, half day on Saturday and rest day on Sundays as compared in other port’s round the clock operations. Four hours before the scheduled departure, Lenny walked out of her custom’s office and called me while I was at the ships gangway. She gave me a piece of sculpted and ornamented icon of Nuestra Senora de Buenviaje (Our Lady of Good Voyage) as a keepsake. Though I am not a Roman Catholic, I cordially accepted her token. I told her to wait for a while. I immediately escalated on board and picked an inspiring book, which I read from time to time during long voyages. I got that book from the International Baptist Mission Center for Seafarers in Brunswick,Georgia,U.S.A. I wrote a dedication on its cover and handed it to Lenny. She thanked me for that book, kissed goodbye and returned to her aduana office.
The harbor Pilot boarded. We were on standby for undocking maneuvers. Our vessel responded rapidly to the helm orders because of empty cargo holds. As we left
Santiago bay, I was reminded again of the future of Cuban people, Lenny’s family and relatives, and those boatmen we encountered in the Gulf of Mexico. There’s indeed peace and order in Cuba. However, as what the late Senator Benigno Aquino Sr. had said “Peace and order without freedom is nothing but slavery”.
*Williamson’s turn- a ship maneuver executed to return on reciprocal course and nearly
on track line. This is also a practical maneuver to rescue a person fallen overboard.
*Dead on the water –vessel is at stop and no engine revolution
*Beaufort wind force- a tabulated scale of the state of the sea, wind force, wave height, and general description. It was devised in 1805 by British Admiral Francis Beaufort.
*Pratique-permission or license granted to a ship to carry on commerce with a port after passing quarantine inspection.
*Merengue-a music that blends the rhythmic beat of African drums with Spanish and Latin American elements.
*Salsa- a kind of music in the Hispanic Caribbean, similar to mambo.
-Alastair Farrugia
Our fleet had been plying the Caribbean trade route for years. Some of my senior officers on board and the “the old man”, referring to our Captain, had visited numerous ports around the globe in their entire seafaring career. But one country remained unheard on their list: Cuba, a Caribbean island country isolated and deprived of globalization because of the Castro regime.
We sailed from Freeport, Texas, U.S.A. laden with tons of milled rice in bulk bound for Santiago de Cuba, a port city on the island’s southeastern region. The ship’s bulbous bow surging slightly against moderate waves, estimately at scale no.4 in Beaufort wind force*.The third Navigation officer on duty was alarmed when he sighted in a happenstance a group of balsero floating helplessly and aimlessly in the tumultuous waters in the Gulf of Mexico. Leaping and raising their hands with lifted spirits seems awaiting a rescue. As a standard operating routine, the master was informed and alerted all crew members. We maneuvered a Williamson’s turn* and returned to the track. Engine maneuvers were conducted simultaneously at dead slow ahead until the vessel was dead on the water.*All crew especially us, the deck gangs were inclined to exercise extra ordinary vigilance as if the ship had been threatened by a grave and imminent danger. Some of us held steel pipes, sling shots, and flares, on alert and doubtful that those men on board a small craft could be terrorist or might be the pirates of the Caribbean. As their rubberized boat bumped and slammed onto the ship’s steel hull, we rigged a heaving line and secured temporarily in the bulwark. The second officer asked their nationality and their destination.. One of the men told us they were Cubans fleeing their country hoping to be drifted in Mexico or Nicaragua in search for a better future. We noticed their craft was poorly equipped, relying in a handheld compass for navigation and sails as a means of propulsion. Another man in his 50’s begged for food. They had been languid for days, craving for stuffs to ease the pangs in their stomach. We responded to their demands, handed them packs of noodles and loaves of bread, then casted off their lines. We cleared out and backed on track again as the course was planned. When the boatmen faded away behind the stern’s wake, one indelible question remained on my mind. Why those Cubans had left their land, braved the boisterous seas, shark infested waters, and hurricane track zones of the Caribbean sea?
After five and a half days of steaming, we steered towards the approaches of Santiago bay. The sun beamed ahead amidst the clear azure skies. The sea was still like a smooth silk, dumb, speechless. On our starboard side was the El Castillo Morro, a fortress akin to Intramuros. The structure was built by the Spaniards during the colonization era to prevent piratical attacks and raids from rival European conquestadors like British and French. We docked sluggishly in berth no.13, a several hundred meters away from the main gate. No big deals for triskaidekaphobics. There were only three ships berthed in the vicinity. The vessel adjacent to us was loading sugar in bags and the other one, an oil tanker in the oil refinery area. The port of Santiago was very unusual for me. I had been to ports of U.S., Latin American countries and in the Caribbean. In these ports, massive and gigantic shore crane installations were erected. The port facilities utilized for the shipping trade were highly modernized as compared to this Cuban port. When the port authorities boarded, I was ordered by the Captain to accompany Lenny Rodriguez, a customs officer in her late 20’s, of fair complexion, striking looks and a warm smile. I introduced myself to her likewise she did. She inspected the ship’s dry provision store, the bonded store, and the wet provision storage near the galley. When the vessel was finally pratique* granted and business transactions were settled, the port authorities off boarded. Stevedores, crane operators and foremen escalated on board, the unloading operations commenced.
After the day’s work, I went out on my own solitary way. I kept rehearsing the Spanish phrases I had learned when I visited previous Latin American ports and remembered some Hispanic words my uncles Joe Ganan and Mocring Gadon had taught me in a drinking spree a couple of years ago. In the vicinity I noticed the old locomotive train coaches with Russian alphabet inscribed on its side. I doubted that those train coaches were remnants of the former Soviet Union and were used to transport ammunitions and warfare equipments during the Cuban missile crisis of the 1960’s. I registered at the main gate and showed my crew man’s landing permit then asked the security officer about internet services available in the city. He pointed me to plaza Cespedes, a popular tourist park in Santiago. As I walked along the dizzying streets, a man approached me and volunteered to be my tourist guide. I rejected his offer because I used to walk alone, a real adventurous and a total stranger. I recalled what Lenny told me that Santiago is a very tourist- friendly city and no robbers or snatchers in the streets because of police contingents roaming around. Indeed it was true, compared to the streets of countries I had been. The buildings in Santiago were very old Spanish colonial houses. Others were abandoned factories and manufacturing centers of the former communist Russia. In plaza Cespedes, I asked again the Cuban police about the internet services. Finally,he directed me at a café near Cathedral de Santiago, a church built on 1524,three years after Magellan landed on Mactan island. There were only four units of computer in that government-owned café and telecommunications center. Before I started to operate, Señora Regina, the in-charge, reminded me to refrain using the names and words “Fidel Castro”, “communist”, “democracy”, ”America” or “U.S.A.” in sending E-mails. She added that secret police sometimes enter the café and observing client’s movements. Again, it reminded me of security measures of the Cuban government prohibiting the exchange of imperialistic informations. The internet access was very slow, compared to the dsl technology access. After sending e-mails to my loved ones and read updates at sanrokan, I paid six U.S. dollars for an hour and departed.
I went to hotel Casa Granda, a famous tourist hotel in Santiago, then ordered a can of cerveza and a pizza. I enjoyed listening to the beat of Charanga Francesca, a dance music focused on an expanded rhythm consisting of piano, bass, timbales, and percussion, an eclectic synthesis of Afro-Cuban music. The ambience at the ground floor balcony was very comfy and I was relaxed sensing the sights and sounds .There were also foreign tourist present and I was the only one Filipino in the corner which looked like Cuban in complexion. It was past ten in the evening when I saw my four crewmembers, the first gang that had gone out immediately when our ship docked. They were about to return in our ship, so I walked with them. Some streets of Santiago were very dark and obscured. We were very observant of the people around us for possible dangers that might harm us. Our chief cook wanted to answer the call of nature. He suddenly rushed into a post and urinated. A law- breaking citizen, I thought. As we knew, the Filipinos are the best…and the worst. While we escalated the ship’s gangway, our comrades on duty kept on asking what happened outside, the activities, and a lot more of queries. The next day was their turn.
Several days had passed, Lenny invited us for a birthday celebration of her nephew at Nuevo Vista Alegre, a village three kilometers away from the city. We went together with the Captain, 2nd Engineer, Chief cook, and Bosun. The Cubans in Vista Alegre expressed their warm welcome. They were astonished, seemed they had found a band of Hollywood actors. Lenny’s household were very happy for our presence. They served us fried chicken, lettuce, tomatoes with onion sidings, a typical meal in Cuba. Bosun kept himself busy taking video with his handy camcorder .The residents astounded and greatly amazed ,as if they had seen a video camera for the very first time. They danced salsa and merengue*, waving their hands in front of the camera. The occasion was a fusion of cultures- Filipino and Cuban, with something in common, the blend of Spanish heritage. Captain saw a classic Spanish guitar in the corner. He urged me to render a song for the Cubans. Without hesitation, I strummed the guitar and sang “La bamba”, “Besame Mucho”, “Guantanamera”, and other Spanish songs of Marco Antonio Solis, a renowned Latin American balladeer. The audience were very surprised why I knew a lot of Spanish songs. They gladly sang “Guantanamera” with me in unison. I realized that the song was a Cuban patriotic song, emanated from Guantanamo Bay, a U.S. naval base in eastern Cuba where the Afghan Taliban forces were now detained. A younger woman requested to let them hear a Filipino song by Freddie Aguilar, titled “Anak” because it has also a version in Spanish. I sang it in Tagalog but nobody among them could understand. My intermission number was over and the folks resumed their dancing.
We listened to Lenny’s stories about their life in Cuba. She said that life is getting harder in their country that is why lot of her countrymen had left their native land. She even recalled the plight of Cuban boat people in 1994, crossed the straits of Florida and drifted in the Florida Keys chain of islands in the U.S. territorial waters. Others perished and starved to death. In Miami, Florida, there’s a county named Little Havana. It was named after Cuba’s capital and largest city Havana. The populace in that county were mostly Cuban boat men that migrated illegally. They are sometimes called balsero in Spanish. One of the craziest system in Cuba was the food rationing imposed by the government. The citizen has a food ration card and obliged to queue long lines in order to acquire food for daily consumption. Others were very lucky enough because of remittances from their relatives in U.S and Europe. The government also has a law regulating the limited area allocated in house construction. The regulation does not allow area expansion or extension aloft. The prices of goods and commodities were relatively cheap but salaries were at minimal. Lenny told us that her salary was only thirty U.S. dollars per month Other professionals like doctors, engineers, teachers and nurses falls on twenty to twenty five U.S. dollars monthly. In the broadest sense, you have to work but not to enjoy a luxurious lifestyle like having a car, reside in a mansion, travel abroad, or shop ‘til you drop mania. There’s no freedom of the press in the country. Anybody who publishes a publication criticizing against the Castro regime faces arrest or imprisonment, and sometimes, execution. There’s only one recognized official newspaper, the communist party organ, the Granma.Boadcasting companies and television networks are also government-controlled. Frequently, in television channels you would see and hear Fidel Castro’s tirades and harangue orations, enumerating the developments of his programs.
Education has been a government priority in Cuba. It is free at all levels and compulsory between ages 6 and 14.There are more than 2,200 secondary school and 47 tertiary level establishments, including 4 universities. The government also operates a comprehensive system of adult education and literacy programs. The adult literacy is estimated at 100 percent, the highest in Latin America. Cubans have degrees or other tertiary level qualification, and the country has some 180 technical and scientific research centers. Cuba has a particular reputation in medical research and biotechnology including genetic engineering. However, despite the free education, Cubans are not allowed to work or migrate in other countries for a greener pastures. The moment they graduate, they are obliged to stay in the country and serve the welfare of their fellow countrymen for the rest of their lives.
That evening, I learned a lot of things about the Cuban culture, way of life, their hopes and dreams, and even their unforseeable future under the Castro regime. The questions boggling my mind were finally answered through Lenny’s honest confessions. She voluntarily said to tour us around the city to learn more about Cuban rich culture and heritage. That was scheduled Saturday but some of my comrades were unsure because of their respective duties and responsibilities on board. We bid adios to Lenny’s Mom and Dad, their household, relatives, and all the residents of Nuevo Vista Alegre. We thanked them for their warm acceptance and hospitality .I saw the sadness that spelled on their faces as we left.
On that last Saturday in the month of February, Lenny toured me around the city. First we visited the Museo Emilio Bacardi, one of the historical museums in Cuba. Next, we went to the Batista barracks, the stronghold of Fulgencio Batista’s government where Fidel Castro led his revolutionary attack and seized power on January 1, 1959. On the years that followed until today, Fidel Castro remained in control of the state. We also visited the Plaza de Sierra Maestra, a spacious venue where Pope John Paul II, the first Pope to visit Cuba, held his mass during his 1998 visit. A few kilometers away from the city lies the Santiago cemetery, where Lenny led me to the tombstone of Jose Marti, the Cuban national hero who initiated the uprising against the Spanish for Cuban independence. Finally, we proceeded to Centro Urbano de Jose Marti, a tenement housing project of the government for Cuban citizens. I appreciated much Lenny’s initiative on that day, and it made me aware of what’s happening inside Cuba. As we parted our ways, she gestured a goodbye beso.
After almost three and a half weeks of our stay in Cuba, at last the unloading operation was finally over. A lot of factors affected the unloading operations. One of them was the lack of manpower. Bagging machines were sometimes unoperational, and the delayed arrival of sacks which came from Havana, the capital city. Stevedore’s starts at 8 a.m.’til 5 p.m. Mondays to Fridays, half day on Saturday and rest day on Sundays as compared in other port’s round the clock operations. Four hours before the scheduled departure, Lenny walked out of her custom’s office and called me while I was at the ships gangway. She gave me a piece of sculpted and ornamented icon of Nuestra Senora de Buenviaje (Our Lady of Good Voyage) as a keepsake. Though I am not a Roman Catholic, I cordially accepted her token. I told her to wait for a while. I immediately escalated on board and picked an inspiring book, which I read from time to time during long voyages. I got that book from the International Baptist Mission Center for Seafarers in Brunswick,Georgia,U.S.A. I wrote a dedication on its cover and handed it to Lenny. She thanked me for that book, kissed goodbye and returned to her aduana office.
The harbor Pilot boarded. We were on standby for undocking maneuvers. Our vessel responded rapidly to the helm orders because of empty cargo holds. As we left
Santiago bay, I was reminded again of the future of Cuban people, Lenny’s family and relatives, and those boatmen we encountered in the Gulf of Mexico. There’s indeed peace and order in Cuba. However, as what the late Senator Benigno Aquino Sr. had said “Peace and order without freedom is nothing but slavery”.
*Williamson’s turn- a ship maneuver executed to return on reciprocal course and nearly
on track line. This is also a practical maneuver to rescue a person fallen overboard.
*Dead on the water –vessel is at stop and no engine revolution
*Beaufort wind force- a tabulated scale of the state of the sea, wind force, wave height, and general description. It was devised in 1805 by British Admiral Francis Beaufort.
*Pratique-permission or license granted to a ship to carry on commerce with a port after passing quarantine inspection.
*Merengue-a music that blends the rhythmic beat of African drums with Spanish and Latin American elements.
*Salsa- a kind of music in the Hispanic Caribbean, similar to mambo.
posted by Arez at 12:34 AM
