Cuba Day 6: Final Reflection

Hola Familias y Amigos!

 

We are about to board the plane in Miami, and I am elated to share with you all our final blog post of the trip covering Friday night to Saturday night. Thank you again for your patience in getting this last update out to you. It’s long, but I promise it’s worth the read!

 

FRIDAY EVENING:

 

We opened Shabbat on Friday evening with a student-led ceremony for the Daffodil Project, watched by several Cuban Jews of the Beth Shalom synagogue. When you can, please take twelve minutes to watch this beautiful dedication. You will experience grief, joy, pride, and most importantly, hope.

 

Shabbat services in Havana are unique for several reasons. Even though some of the melodies of the liturgy are dated, the leaders aren’t: teenage and young adult women lead the services, not older men as we are sometimes accustomed to. Services are a mix of Hebrew, Spanish, and English (when tourists visit). “I love how I can go anywhere in the world and join a service and know what’s going on,” Daniella said. And this was clearly seen, especially during the singing of “Aleinu,” in which our kids ran on the stage, linked arms, and choreographed an alternating bobbing up and down—clearly infusing some summer camp vibes. For the first time in four Weber missions to Cuba, we brought a rabbi who could give a sermon (and in Spanish, on top of it). Cuba has no rabbi on the island, so this was a rare occasion for the community. Rabbi Mayer spoke of hope and how freedom didn’t begin for the Jews when they were liberated from Egypt, but earlier—as soon as they anticipated their freedom, as soon as they began to hope. I could not help but think of the Cuban people, who spend most of their life anticipating a change. For even just a splash of democracy on a sea wall of total control. They, like the locals at the Malecon, dangle their legs and wait. May they have the strength to see this period as the internal push-pull of bondage and the initial footprints of freedom, and may their outward liberation come soon.

 

Weber sponsored Shabbat dinner for the entire community and even provided some entertainment as Juanito played the piano and Dawson and Daniella sang, belting as loud as they could since they didn’t have a microphone for them. After dinner, we went out for ice cream with the Jewish teens with which we danced during Rikudim. This was a special event for the teens because they can neither afford the ice cream nor the transportation to get back to their houses, and Rabbi Harwitz personally sponsored both the dessert and the transportation. “I loved hanging out with the Jewish teens and wished we had more time with them,” Miriam told me afterward. Agreed. We spent hours with these kids on two different days, and it still wasn’t enough.

 

SATURDAY:

 

Our last day in Cuba widened our already open eyes and pushed our aching arms and legs to dance for what was likely the twentieth time this week. This is Cuba—to dance and to witness beaten down people find a beat to dance to. We began the morning with one of my favorite community projects on the island: “Muraleando”—the muraling project. Almost twenty years ago, a group of Cubans from a poor, dilapidated neighborhood on the outskirts of Havana began an impossible dream: they turned the mountains of trash smothering their streets and sidewalks into a community gathering place and artistic oasis. Wading through discarded material sometimes up to their necks, they bagged and drove the garbage and their pessimism away, slowly challenging the community to begin to see its own worth. Today, Muraleando is full of murals, mosaic tiles, breathtaking sculptures & monuments made out of trash, music, an old water tower housing original art for sale, and the most prized beauty of all: children. At least twenty kids were engaged in free drawing classes while we were there and three kids played guitar with the salsa band that performed with us. Muraleando also provides free ceramics, dance, theatre, and video production classes.

 

In the United States, when we are economically squeezed, art and music are often the first programs and organizations to be cut and shut down. To say Cuba is “economically squeezed” is not strong enough language. And yet Cubans’ commitment to art is literally unconditional: their bellies may be empty and their clothes faded from countless use, but they keep singing, dancing, drawing, shaping, and creating. To live is to create art.

 

There are three (out of probably ten) important moments from Muraleando I want to share. One is that we got to dance salsa in one of the happiest environments we have experienced to date on the island. The lead singer told us, “We are going to dance. And it doesn’t matter if you don’t think it’s good. Just dance.” There were young children and there were elderly and everything in between, and we went for it. A highlight was watching this 83-year-old woman break it down with our guide Frank, including him spinning her in his arms. I cannot imagine how arthritic her bones likely are, and at that moment she just didn’t care. Our Muraleando guide Victor spoke at length of happiness and how it is always a choice.

 

A second special moment of the trip was getting to meet a few of Weber Coach Anthony Baker’s family, who live close to Muraleando. Anthony has not (yet) gotten the chance to meet these cousins, but we got to know them, we gave them a polaroid picture of our photo with them, and we gave them a huge bag of food and hygiene items virtually impossible to find and afford on the island. Any kid will tell you that Coach Baker is one of the happiest people at Weber. His smile is huge and his heart even bigger. When he told me a few weeks ago he was ¾ Cuban, it all made sense. He may not have walked the streets of his ancestors, but it’s in his blood, in his smile, and in the sincere kindness he extends to all of his players. G-d willing, Anthony can go with us one day and temporarily cross this stubborn ocean of politics that has painfully separated families for decades.

 

A final moment from Muraleando I want to quickly mention is that this is the community project my artist friend Miguel Martin helped begin. And I was incredibly moved when I arrived to find both a photo of Martin hanging on the wall and some of his pieces of art still for sale. I bought a piece of his that is a butterfly in flight, grateful that I do get to add to my collection after all. With tremendous support from back in the States, in Miguel’s memory, we donated two guitars, hundreds of dollars in painting supplies, art supplies for kids, a computer, two iPads, and additional Tzedakah. Victor was overwhelmed---“You have no idea what you’ve done for us.” He doesn’t know the extent of what he’s done for us either. You can’t fully track the ripple effect of inspiration and empowerment.

 

After an incredible lunch at a nice restaurant in Havana called Cha-Cha-Cha, in which our placemats were old records and our handcrafted mojitos were shot back in no time, we made a short stop at the iconic Hotel Nacional, Havana’s oldest hotel famous for its visits from infamous individuals and groups, including the Italian mafia. With peacocks walking around us, we walked around the property with pina coladas in our hands and stared out into the ocean both with bliss and sadness that our trip was coming to a close.

 

We spent our last afternoon in Havana in the poorest part of the city: Pocitos. If you Google this neighborhood, you’ll find videos with titles translated to “the forgotten neighborhood.” Pocitos is not unsafe, but it’s uncomfortable. Kids are often barefoot. Their clothes are more tattered and are too big or too small. There is little shade for the unrelenting sun. I adamantly believe it’s in this space—in the discomfort—that G-d, the Divine, Truth (insert your preferred phrase here) meets us. He/She/It met us through bats, gloves, and baseball and soccer balls. Through holding small hands shaking with excitement as nails were painted. Through teetering Jenga towers. Through the stringing of bracelets with beads that spelled out the children’s names. One boy couldn’t stop jumping up and down when we asked him if he wanted to make a bracelet.

 

For a day, the forgotten were remembered.

 

By this point in the trip, our students were so used to talking to Cubans, that they immediately integrated with the Pocitos kids. Speaking Spanish wasn’t a chore, but a joy. My favorite example of this was overhearing Nathi and Aaron during the soccer game:

 

Nathi yelling across the field, trying to pass the ball to Aaron: “Aaron! Bro! What are you doing?!”

 

Aaron, next to a boy from the neighborhood: “I’M SOCIALIZING!”

 

After two hours of sports and activities in which we also delivered eight bags of donations to the Pocitos program teachers, who through stinging eyes, thanked us for unprecedented aid, the party was just beginning. We paid for private transportation to bring the kids and some of their parents to dinner in the city. We rented out a restaurant and a private DJ, and we danced the night away. The Pocitos program teachers told us that most of the kids had never left their neighborhood before and it was their first time eating in a restaurant. I’ll let the photos and videos do the rest of the describing, but I’ll end with this: we wiped out most of our Polaroid film, we were drenched in sweat, and we surprised the kids at the end with goodie bags of cups, candy, chapstick, and a hand-written note, a project inspired and organized by Leeya.

 

After the dinner dance party, we hopped into classic cars, driving loops around the city to take in this mysterious country one last time. The ride was followed by the Gordon Ramsey run-in (see previous reflection), so you can imagine how absolutely ecstatic kids were by the end of the night. Perfect for Havdalah. We started outside by the Malecon, but within thirty seconds, buckets of rain came out of nowhere, and we had to comically run and move the ceremony inside. Soaked and loud and full of both exhaustion and energy, we draped our arms over each other. Rabbi Mayer reminded us of the importance of the fire from the Havdalah candle to symbolize the light in our week to come. We need this reminder of illumination; we don’t want to leave Cuba, and we anticipate frustration as we integrate back to school with make-up work, a fast pace, and our inability to fully articulate to our families and peers what we feel in these bones which are both drained and rejuvenated. The wine of Havdalah holds the blessings, both of the past (delivered to Cubans in duffels and through broken Spanish and delivered to us in ways we will likely never stop discovering) and G-d willing, the future (through our conversations and actions with all communities we encounter). The spices of Havdalah (fittingly for us, it was mint) reinvigorate. Every photo and video documents this awakening.  

 

I’d like to end the blog with a few quotes from our last voices of the trip:

 

Leah: "I can't even describe how influential this trip was. It broadened my outlook on the world and on community. I will never forget this trip and all the connections I have made."

 

Elga: "It's hard to explain how wonderful this experience was in a few words. In just 6 days I saw these students grow in awareness, compassion, and confidence. They took care of each other and held each other accountable. Seeing them have so much fun dancing with other teens and enjoying playing games with the elderly warmed my heart. I can already see the purpose of the trip start to take effect in them and it fills me with so much hope for the future. I am so grateful to have been a part of such an impactful experience and will cherish the memories we made together for a long time."

 

Daniella: "Going to Cuba with Weber was truly a once in a lifetime experience. I learned so much and gained so much perspective from this trip. Growing up so privileged, I took advantage of all the simple things: toilet paper, medication, new clothes, food, etc. However, in preparing for the trip, we were told to bring anything and everything we could. Every single student brought things--toothbrushes, powdered milk, art supplies-- and we packed bags to bring to every place we went and to give to any person in need. This trip gave me the opportunity to see how other people live and how I, and others in my position, can make an impact.My biggest take away from this trip is the following: give whatever you can-- your money, your attention, and most valuable of all, your time."

 

Lilly: "My favorite moment in Cuba that I will always hold close to my heart is meeting Danicha. She is a fierce 11-year-old girl who dreams of becoming a model one day. We took a picture of us posing like models and I told her that I would save it forever so when she is famous I could say I met her. She had the biggest grin when I told her. We ate oreos and milk and she looked at me wide-eyed and said, "Esta es muy muy rica!" She then asked to see photos of my family so I pulled out a family picture. We had such a connection that she told me she is not close to her mom because she lives in Miami. It hurt hearing this little girl does not have a mom to come home to everyday but it made me more grateful for my family. Her smile was illuminating and her laugh was infectious. Leaving her I got super emotional saying goodbye as she hugged me so tight and told me she loved me. This hour with Danchia taught me so much about joy. Despite the obstacles she has to face at such a young age, she still finds happiness in what she has; her family, friends, and dreams."

 

Leeya: "Going to Cuba has been one of the most life changing experiences ever. The trip has been filled with such amazing and eye-opening adventures that I will truly never ever forget. I sincerely can't explain a specific moment but something that just stood out to me was the generosity and kindness of the people. It was even the simplest things such as having a smile and "Buenos Diaz '' every morning and the ongoing love, generosity, and patience that was given to us in return. With every smile that was gifted to us came tons of warmth and amazing lessons that I personally will be taking with me forever. When being with Los Positos, it was the littlest things of a small bracelet with a name or family member name that really could light up their day and see their smiles coming into the restaurant as truly priceless and valuable. Their joy from the simplest things is something that really stood out and I will never forget."

 

I am so grateful for these students and for the support to carry out the program I have been dreaming of and working toward for years. Buenas noches a todos and see you all at baggage claim!