Separated By A Revolution, Reunited On Facebook

My cousin Felipe and me on my mule at the rice plantation, early 50's

In the mid 1950's my father bought some land in the southern part of the province of Camaguey, Cuba and started a  rice plantation.  It was more a way of gaining independence from the family than anything else, for we had plenty to live on from the sugar business that belonged to my paternal grandmother's family. Also, rice presented a good opportunity to diversify from a sugar intensive economy and many planters were already doing so as early as the 1950's.  The land that he bought was near the coast, still virgin and uncultivated, and  in the middle of nowhere. It was, though, the perfect soil for the cultivation of rice.

X marks the spot!

The first two years of this endeavor were spent in the city of Camaguey were I attended a catholic girls' school and led a fairly normal life.   Later on my mother decided her place was with her husband and packed up her family and moved to the plantation to be with him.  Now, I have to use the word plantation here in a very lose way,  for the house left a lot to be desired having been erected primarily for my father and my grandfather when he came to visit.  Nobody ever thought my mother would transfer her family from Havana to live full time in a place so far away from civilization.  Little did they know her. The one luxury we did have was air condition, without which my father would not do without, but the rest was pretty rudimentary

My mother, my brother and me circa 1956

The trip from the city of Camaguey to the main house took 4 1/2 hours by jeep on bumpy and extremely dusty and unpaved roads that had recently been added to get from the nearest town to the plantation.  Luckily, my father later purchased a small Cessna plane and an airstrip was built so we could make the trip by air in an hour or less.

Together with the family and our nanny came a young girl that my mother had hired in Havana to live with us and keep me up to speed with my studies.  This was my third grade, I was 9 and she must have been in her early 20's.   She had a masters degree from the University of Havana.

J. at the rice plantation circa 1956

Those two years that we spent in the rice plantation were the basis of what makes me who I am today.  My parents both loved structure, (he was the product of an American boarding school education and my mother was just born that way), and life ran on a strict schedule day in and day out.  We rose at 7, breakfasted at 8 and by 9 o clock teacher and student were in the school room (the guest house) having our lessons that ran like clockwork, just like at school.  At noon my father came in from the fields and we met in the big house for lunch, followed by a nap or siesta until 2:00 pm. Afternoon lessons lasted until 4 when the horses would be brought around and we all went for a  ride.  The family would then gather to play croquet in the garden until the mosquitoes became insufferable and after dinner, homework and a little reading  lights went out at 10.00.  After that time the whole place went dark and whatever happened afterwards was done with a flashlight.  Weekends were the most fun, for we were near the coast and had a small boat to go fishing, swimming and alligator hunting!

J. with my brother at the plantation

J with my brother at our house in Varadero

I don't know where the food came from, for there wasn't a store for miles, but my mother had a big vegetable garden with everything you could ever need.   We had cows and chickens, so fresh eggs and milk were abundant.  Once a month my father would fly to the city and bring back groceries including bread. I can tell you the food was pretty good and no one ever starved.

We both adapted quickly to the schedule and she became a part of our little family.  I have never asked her what ever possessed her to go on such an adventure, but she took to it like a duck to water. I have never seen her since then.  As a matter of fact, I have never thought about her except in the context of remembering those times. I was, after all, only 9 and it was all so long ago.

Four years later, in 1960,  my family left Cuba never to return again.

Photo of me in my uniform, dedicated to "Miss Jane".  She has kept it all these years.

About a month ago, a lady contacted me on Facebook and asked me if I was the daughter of so and so and had I lived in a rice plantation in Camaguey, Cuba.  I answered back in the affirmative and she wrote back that she was the daughter of a girl who had been my teacher, who was still in Cuba, and would very much like to get in touch with me.  Heavens! A couple of days later, she called and we spoke after 55 years.

 I have to say that the conversation was one of the hardest, emotionally, that I have had in a long time for it never left the context of those years.  All she wanted to tell me was how fondly she remembered those times and how she had never forgotten us.  She had pictures, she had letters, recipes, there was nothing she didn't remember.  If you think that she now must be in her 70's and her student the grandmother of two, you will find this quite endearing and a little hard to believe. Later on, I did some research and found she had been quite successful in the Cuba I left behind, holding senior posts in the departments of Education and Culture, as well as being an accomplished and recognized poet and the winner of several prizes in Literature and Poetry.

The student with her granddaughter

It is obvious that our political ideologies are at opposite ends, and I am only mentioning this because I realize now how big a role human emotions play in the big scheme of things.... that when all is said and done, love does conquer all.  She is the only person I  know in Cuba today and one I would love to sit with and talk to someday.   I want to hear the other side, the side that stayed behind and lived under the present regime and endured.     Perhaps a teacher and her student can lay the foundations for a better dialogue.  God knows no one else has been able to.
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The photos above, except the last two and the one on top, are ones she had kept all these years and were sent to me after we spoke on the telephone. 

On Valentine's Day I received a link to her blog with a note and this poem.   It is called The Girl From The Rice Plantation.  To my readers who do not speak English I apologize but it would be too hard to translate.

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A veces la vida, es un misterio igual que la poesía.

¿Quién me iba a decir, Julietica, que después de cincuenta años, iba a volver a encontrar a aquella criatura rubia de ojos azules, de inquieta inteligencia, a quién llegué a querer de manera muy especial y que además, se acordara de mí?

Tanto deseaba que esto sucediera, tantas veces pensé en ti, que la vida me ha dado la alegría de este reencuentro maravilloso.

Para Julieta, son estos versos:

La niña de la Arrocera

Pequeña niña rubia de los ojos azules

aquella que reía con su risa de sueños

la que cantaba alegre como sinsonte puro

la que giraba en danzas sobre la verde hierba.

Pequeña niña rubia de los ojos azules

niña de pecho tierno con las manos de espumas
dueña de los cielos despertaba caricias

en la llanura inmensa que la abrazaba toda.

Pequeña niña rubia de los ojos azules

que le nacen retoños y crecen como frutos

ahora te estremecen tus cálidos enojos

cuando aquellos caprichos dejaron de ser tuyos

para ser de tus flores que sembraste en racimos

para ganarle al tiempo para escalar la aurora

para probar futuro para mezclar lo bueno.

Pequeña niña rubia de los ojos azules

a escondidas te fuiste de mis antiguas fotos

¡y te encontré en el mundo!

Febrero del 2011