A pitch black night, a trip over a feeding trough and a deeply cut hand had whisked us away early from Barbara's, Linda's and Moira's swinging party and taken us to the surgery at lam. At 3 am. the surgery door opened and I put my 1982 edition of the Reader's Digest aside. Nursing his hand, Will announced to the Doctor that the stitiches would have to come out in Havana. She looked horrified that Cubans would be pulling out her handiwork and exclaimed, "But they're not even on our side!". This may be so, but hadn't we read somewhere about the excellent health service there?
Havana came as a shock to Will and I, despite prior warnings. Cuba had entered the "Special Period", a euphemism for the problems that it has been facing since the withdrawal of economic aid by its allies. The fledgling countries of the former Communist bloc can barely support themselves, let alone prop up the ailing economy of Cuba. They used to provide fuel, machinery, fertilisers and aid in return for sugar but this trade has largely dried up and Cuba is left with acute shortages. Cubans have been issed with ration books but even this does not ensure that there is food in the shops. This is what hit us the most, particularly as we were staying with Cubans. Their staple diet is beans and rice and families are rationed to 3kg. of the former and 1/2kg. of the latter per month, with only half a bottle of oil to cook it with. The meals are monotonous; there is virtually nothing in the shops to pad it out with.
This was a culinary nightmare.
Moreover there was the problem of Will's hand. We went to a hospital where one of the many doctors removed the bandage and found a raw wound which had not healed under a sweaty bandage. The cut looked gruesome and had to dry before they took the stitches out. The facilities at the hospital were good, modelled on the best of the West but even essential drugs were scarce. You couldn't help but wonder for how much longer the education, housing and health benefits would last without the money to support them.
Fidel Castro is still a charismatic leader, clad in his fatigues and cap, and keen to be seen as a man of the people. However, Cubans are increasingly questioning the sagacity of his policies and there have been some public protests. The Cuban Revolution and the three decades since have been an inspiration to Socialists the world over. However, perhaps the achievements would not have been possible without the massive backup from the Communist bloc at the expense of the Soviet people.

In an attempt to obtain hard currency Cuba is selling itself as a tourist playground, so long as the tourists don't find out what it is really like or mix with Cubans. It has created a tourist apartheid, restricting foreigners to hotels and services which only accept dollars and thus denying access to the Cubans. We had tried to avoid the tourist artificiality by staying with young Cubans, cycling around on rudimentary Chinese
bikes, dancing to the sounds of the rumba and salsa on the beach front at night and even going on a camping trip sponsored by the Communist Party. However, we always stood out as foreigners and this was made only too apparent when we were threatened with a knife.
It was a bizarre event with a certain Cuban uniqueness. Two men came to our tent demanding dollars whilst twisting a knife into the sand in front of us. Although I was scared it was vaguely comic, for it was conducted in faltering Spanish on our part; I even told them to wait at one point whilst I looked a word up in our phrasebook. Will refused to wake up, later claiming that he thought I was dong a good enough job of it. However, my resilience was weak after five days of diarrheoa and the need for the toilet again, so I started to sob. At this point they backed off, apologised and gave me my dollar note back. They looked so humbled, I suspect they were just trying their luck for a few dollars which could buy them soap or food on the thriving black market.
Despite such incidents we did not regret going. The countryside is beautiful with deep red soils spawning fine cigar tobacco for which Cuba is famous. There were skinny men on horseback taking pigs for a walks on leads, old ladies rocking in their chairs on the verandahs of their low slung houses and oxen hauling carts full of sugar cane. We came away with a great admiration of the Cuban people. Even faced by deprivation and scarcity they are relentlessly good humoured and make the most of what they do have. We saw incredible ingenuity, such as a satellite dish made out of baked bean tins, scrapped ladas welded together to create a working car and household items stretched, squeezed and recycled to last as long as possible. The young of Havana blot out their sorrows at night when they gather around sound systems to dance to pulsating Caribbean and Latin American beats.
The Cubans we met always shared what little they had. We were made welcome to the point of embarrassment by our hosts. As we left, one of them said that whenever we ate a delicious meal we must think of them. And of course, we often do - especially as we tuck into our barbequed chicken wings at the Coll Hotel.