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A 1968 film diary with Fidel – Part 2
By Saul Landau
In the late afternoon of July
5, 1968, Fidel’s jeep headed a caravan of five Soviet-made vehicles. We drove
south along back roads toward the Sierra Maestra. The paved roads gave way to
dirt trails and I began to get some exercise while sitting: my kidneys not only
experienced unusual up, down and sideways patterns, but as the jeep bounced I
got jabbed by the holstered pistol of Comandante Faustino Perez, who sat next to
me or by the cartridge of Comandante Leyte, my other neighbor in the back seat.
Perez, a doctor and Minister of Health, had joined Castro’s rebels in 1955, in
Mexico.
Faustino became a leader of
the 26th of July Movement, named after the day in 1953 when Castro
and 158 comrades attacked Fort Moncada to start the insurrection. He met with
Fidel in Mexico, helping to prepare the guerrillas for their December 1956
invasion of Cuba on the yacht Granma. After Batista’s forces ambushed the
arriving expedition, Faustino stayed with Fidel for two weeks before they met up
with Raul and other warriors at Cinco Palmas. Faustino became a captain and a
member of Fidel’s high command. Fidel then sent him to Habana to lead the urban
underground in carrying out acts of sabotage against the Batista dictatorship
and to support the guerrillas in the Sierra.
After organizing the failed
general strike of April 1958, Faustino rejoined the guerrillas. After the
victory he headed the Ministry of Recovery of Ill Gotten Gains. In 1961, he
fought at the Bay of Pigs and subsequently in the fight to combat the
“Counterrevolutionary Bandits” in the Escambray Moutains of central Cuba. He
also was Cuba’s first Minister of Hydraulic resources and a Member of the
Central Committee of the Communist Party. He served in a variety of leadership
positions before he died in 1992 at age 72.
Comandante Guillermo Garcia
drove. The 28-year-old was the first campesino [rural worker/farm worker]
to join Fidel’s guerrillas in the Sierra. He became their guide and quickly rose
to become second in command to Juan Almeida in the Third Front (Guantanamo) in
Oriente. He became a Party Central Committee Member and Vice President of the
State Council. He also served as Minister of Transportation.
Fidel rode shotgun. He smoked
cohibas, one after another, and resumed his commentary on the Soviet perfidy in
Bolivia. I tried to allow the lush scenery and the bucolic atmosphere to etch
itself into my mind along with the harsh words Fidel spoke about the “cowards in
the Kremlin.”
Flourishing mango trees and
spindly papayas, broad yucca leaves and deep green corn stalks amid acres of
recently cut sugar cane land – the setting of Central Oriente Province. I
asked Fidel to elaborate on his remark made on January 13 in his speech closing
the cultural Congress, where he alluded to ecclesiastical thinking in Marxist
circles.
“What kind of revolutionaries
refuse to support revolution?” he asked rhetorically. Irving and Stanley rode
behind us in another jeep, damn it! We were missing Fidel on revolution and the
USSR. So, I tried to tape record in my mind. “We do not think for a minute that
the Bolivian Party betrayed Che and the other compañeros [comrades] on
their own volition. We know who dictates to Monje (Party chief). They will say
that “now is not the moment for revolution.” Or they will justify their
treachery on the grounds of not wanting to “upset the delicate strategic balance
with the imperialists.” So, why call themselves Marxists? Some of the religious
people who have associated themselves with Liberation Theology have taken
courageous positions. I don’t mean only Camilo Torres (the Colombian priest who
joined the guerrillas and died in action.).”
The cigar smoke filled the
jeep as we pulled into a rustic area where tents had been erected – presumably
the place we would spend the night. The neighbors, an elderly couple, their
children and grandchildren leaned against the fence, staring at the entourage of
Cuban leaders. An ancient woman said: “Now, I can say I have seen him in the
flesh.” She let out a long sigh.
“Papito,” getting out of his
jeep laughed sympathetically. Jorge “Papito” Serguera, who ran Cuban radio and
TV, and in 1963 was Cuba’s Ambassador to revolutionary Algeria and major contact
for Che Guevara’s Congo mission in 1964. He was a lawyer and had just received
his doctorate in Philosophy when he joined the guerrillas. As director of TV and
Radio, Papito established a “hardline” reputation, in contrast with his
gregarious personality and lifestyle. In 1965-66, debates emerged among Cuban
leaders about proper behavior and what music to broadcast. In these years, a
campaign put idlers and homosexuals in work camps (UMAP). Silvio Rodriguez
(Cuba’s Bob Dylan) could not appear on radio. Papito was said to have even
favored banning the Beatles. I had a few elliptical conversations with him
before meeting with Fidel and he gave me a friendly smile as we approached the
waiting neighbors.
“They’re islanders,” Vallejo
explained to Fidel.
“Naturally, they’re
islanders,” he replied. They live in Cuba, an island.”
“No,” Vallejo laughed.
“They’re from the Canary Islands.”
“So that makes them double
islanders,” quipped Fidel as he extended his hand to an ancient woman leaning
across the fence. He joked with the “islanders” for a few minutes,
congratulating the older woman on being a great grandmother. “My mother didn’t
even want to become a grandmother,” he laughed. We filmed in the low light, but
had to quit when Fidel accepted the family’s invitation to have coffee.
About thirty people piled into
a dark bohio (the straw roofed, dirt floor hut that Cuban peasants have lived in
for centuries) only by a kerosene lantern. Remarkably, the peasant women
remained composed, at least outwardly, as they served the unexpected guests. The
women must have run to their neighbors to borrow demi tasse size cups, from
which we drank the strong, sweet and aromatic brew.
Bodyguards showed us to our
tent, with primitive cots with a sheet to cover us. For dinner, Fidel had
promised mule meat. But, luckily, Pedro, the cook, had prepared a more
traditional roast, tough but tasty. In the center of each of the three tables
under the mess tent, sat large bowls of beans and rice. The table setters had
placed bottles of water beside each place.
Fidel spoke about the
importance of hydraulic resources and the genetics of cattle breeding, a theme
he would elaborate over the next days. His knowledge of both subjects impressed
me. He said he had begun immersing himself in books about animal husbandry and
genetics so that Cuban cattle could produce efficiently, both for meat and milk.
He talked about the need for
proper nourishment as part of a development strategy. “Milk,” he explained, “is
an excellent source of protein and contains other important nutriments. We must
not only expand dairy production, but think about exporting dairy products. We
also must produce huge quantities of meat, which will require an accelerated
growth of good cattle breeding.”
He talked about how the Cuban
Brahmans and Zebu cows (from Africa) produced little quantity and poor quality
of milk and meat and compared them the Hosteins, whose milk production ran up to
nine times more than the local cattle.
By 1970, he said, “we’ll need
to produce some 4 million liters a day.” And by 1972, 12 million. We can do this
by not eating the females.”
We finished our meat, drank
another little cup of Cuban coffee and retired to our tents. Irving filmed
Fidel’s tent, where the lantern burned when all the others had gone out. He had
taken a text to bed on the genetics of cattle breeding and Waldo Frank’s
biography of Simon Bolivar. The books would become conversational food for
tomorrow’s breakfast.
Saul Landau is an Institute
for Policy Studies fellow. His FIDEL film is available on DVD.
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