Graying Cubans Turn to Church
By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
HAVANA (AP) --
The elderly men and women applauded when the
saxophonist
showed up and some of the more audacious got up to dance
to an old Cuban
classic, ``The Peanut Seller.''
Earlier, they
enjoyed a lunch of steaming vegetable soup, a generous
portion of chicken
and rice, and bananas for dessert. Before their meal,
some played
dominoes, other watched movies -- all for free.
``It is marvelous
here, I never want to go home,'' Aida Del Valle, 74,
said as she
clapped to the music.
As Cuba struggles
to overcome an economic crisis triggered by the
collapse of
the former Soviet Union and exacerbated by the U.S. trade
embargo, Miraculous
Medallion Roman Catholic Church in south
Havana is trying
to fill gaps in the nation's social safety net.
Cuba's older
citizens -- one out of every four Cubans will be over 60 by
the year 2025
-- have been particularly hard hit by economic need.
While most citizens
don't pay rent and receive much of their food at
heavily subsidized
prices, elderly Cubans often live alone on pensions of
about 80 Cuban
pesos , or less than $4 -- not enough to cover other
necessities.
The need to attend
to the nation's elderly will only grow with time. Cuba
has the longest
life expectancy in Latin America -- 68.4 years, according
to the World
Health Organization.
At Miraculous
Medallion Church, more than 100 elderly people every
weekday visit
the center established for them in Santos Suarez, a once
fashionable
neighborhood now characterized by pothole-marked streets
and once splendorous
homes crumbling in disrepair.
The government
had operated similar centers for decades, but many
were shut down
during the worst years of economic crisis. Some are
now reopening.
Miraculous Medallion's
priest, the Rev. Jose Maria Lusarreta, saw the
need for some
kind of help for the neighborhood's elderly when he
arrived from
Spain six years ago. Many older people lived by themselves
in extreme loneliness
and poverty.
Lusarreta established
the center in a two-story building next to the
church.
Here, volunteers
try to ``create an environment of hope,'' ensure that
people are not
alone and that they are enjoying themselves, while
improving their
diet, said Lusarreta, himself now 62.
The center opened
in 1997 with just 12 participants and now serves 175.
People eat breakfast
and lunch, socialize with their peers, take part in
activities and
receive medical attention.
Along with the
meals and the socializing, the center offers twice-weekly
haircuts and
pedicures for both men and women, a library, a video room
for up to 28
viewers, and a workout area. There is even a laundry
service.
To be eligible,
participants must live alone and have small incomes and no
economic assistance
from their families.
Lusarreta and
a dozen volunteers seem to do magic with donations of
cash and clothing
from private individuals, churches, and local
governments
in Spain. The Cuban government helps by selling the center
food for the
breakfasts and lunches at heavily subsidized prices.
The participants,
too, help keep the center going, assisting in preparation
and serving
of meals. When one of their companions falls ill, they visit him
or her at home,
bringing food and medicine.
``We owe our
well-being to Father'' Lusarreta, said Nicolasa Ordonez,
97.
With a cigarette
dangling from her mouth, near eyes that no longer see,
Ordonez leaned
in close to the priest.
``Do you remember,
Father?'' she asked. ``You gave me my first
breakfast here.
You, yourself. Bread with cheese and a glass of hot
chocolate.''