Communism Face to Face

So I'm reading this book: Dancing with Cuba: A Memoir of the Revolution, by Alma Guillermoprieto. It's caused a revolution in my brain. The thoughts won't stop bubbling like boiling water. Trapped between the sword and the wall, I must relearn myself. I always considered myself to be rather leftist, all up for community, communion and communism, sharing, socialist priorities for the government's responsibilities (free - and good - health care and education for everybody, state-sponsored arts and scientific research, etc.) Now I know that I might just very well be that which I despise and never want to be - a hypocrite. Because this is the simple fact: if I had to eat rice with spam and a fried egg for lunch every day, and have a ration card that didn't include the smallest piece of chocolate so that every body could eat and every child could have milk - would I do it? Well, theoretically, of course I would! But in practice, I don't know. In practice, how long would I last without going into despair, without giving up for a bag of gummies or apple pie or cheesecake?

I thought that the other night, while I devoured my very-gourmet-sandwich made with bakery-bread, basil instead of lettuce, prosciutto instead of ham, Havarti cheese instead of a plastic-wrapped-slice of American cheese, and very good imported olive oil. The sandwich was taking me to heaven ... and then, there was the guilt. And I blame the damn book! Then, the wondering, then the questioning myself: Would I? Would I give it up? If I was, like the author of this book was, living in Cuba for a semester teaching dance and was as amazed and won-over by the revolution as she was (and I bet I would, because just reading about it has had such an effect on me,) would I decide to embody the principles of the revolution and stay in Cuba? Would I choose to leave the luxuries out of my life and live out the theories that I so whole-heartedly agree with? And just as it happened to the author, all that then made me realize, like a slap that makes you look down to the floor in shame, that, although a radical liberal, I am no revolutionary, and no martyr - just a petite bourgeoisie girl, a middle-class young woman who was brought up eating ice-cream, riding in cars, and was always expected to go to college. And the point of all that is that if I came from a poor family with really low resources, choosing to stay wouldn't be a sacrifice. I would be truly thankful that I can go to the university, and go to the doctor if I feel sick - and have a meal everyday! But that is not the situation, I am used to some luxuries (and, boy! some things make you realize that the glass is indeed half full and not half empty, and that we just fucking complain a lot: "I want a new car, this piece of shit's going to break down again any moment. I need a new laptop computer to work on my thesis. I wan to travel for spring break." Shut up, Nadia! Don't be such a self-indulgent wuz!) and would I give them up? Would I give them up?

The book is not a propaganda pamphlet (although it talks about the revolution in such admiring passionate words sometimes that I am actually surprised it got published in the U.S.), it also denounces the revolution's under-appreciation of art, the horrors committed against homosexuals, the control the government has over everybody's lives, the strict censorship, the bloody persecution of all that "antirrevolucionario," and the poor conditions in which many farming families still live. But it does not denounce with a pointed finger being shaken all over the place, it explains the situation from within. I don't agree with much of the bullshit I just listed, but I do, somehow, understand. It's admirable that they have survived this long, that Castro's still in power, that their social security, health and education systems are still running so effectively, after decades of economic embargo and deceptive non-declared war! Of course they are not able to provide ration cards that include chocolate and whipped cream for everybody. Of course they can't produce shoes so that everybody could get a new pair a year - maybe if the U.S. bought their sugar, or if the embargo allowed them to trade with or buy medicines from other countries, then maybe the situation wouldn't be so desperate, and less people would try their luck in a balsa across the ocean, and the government wouldn't have to worry so much about "antirrevolucionarios".

Because the fact is that the situation is precarious, an eternal crisis, and the revolutionaries that "coupd'etated" Batista must live wary of their shadows afraid it will stab them in the back. And yet, it goes on, it survives, it thrives, it flicks its finger at the world and proudly proves us all wrong. All of us, bunch of bourgeois cowards that hide behind the perfect excuse: socialism is perfect in theory, but it cannot be put into practice. Bullshit! - I had to tell myself, and hit myself in the head. Bullshit! - I stand up, and yell at you now - Look at them! They're doing it, against all odds, and against the whole might of the capitalistic empire of the U.S. (really, what the hell is this embargo still on for? and why in the world isn't anybody, what am I not doing something?) Blessed be all and each one of the Cubans that chose, that have the courage that I still haven't found even when talking of a theoretical situation, the courage to chose everyday to show humanity, to write history, to make of socialism a livable, real option for the rest of us - poor suckers hooked on opportunities that leave us waiting, materialism that keeps us wanting, and capitalism that encourage us to keep accumulating crap.