Cárdenas is a part of Cuba that Castro doesn’t want anyone to see

                                                             By Malcolm Beith
                                                        NEWSWEEK WEB EXCLUSIVE
 
                          May 15 —  There’s no doubt that Jimmy Carter’s
                          trip to Cuba is historic. He is the first U.S.
                          president, former or serving, to visit the country
                          since Calvin Coolidge in 1928.
          
                         HE WAS INVITED BY President Fidel Castro to launch
                         his own inspections of Cuban laboratories, in search of
                         bioweapons development. And on Tuesday, in a speech
                         broadcast live on Cuban television, Carter called on Castro
                         to broaden human rights and urged the U.S. Congress to lift
                         the four-decade-old trade embargo on Cuba. But there is
                         one stop Carter will not make on his tour of the island
                         nation. He will not be going to Cárdenas.

                                 If it weren’t for the events of 1999, Cárdenas would
                         be just another dusty Cuban town steeped in history. It
                         boasts the oldest statue of Christopher Columbus in the
                         Western Hemisphere. It is where the Cuban flag was first
                         raised in 1850. But most importantly, it is the home of Elián
                         González, the sole survivor of a refugee ship wrecked off
                         the coast of Florida in 1999. The tug-of-war between the
                         United States and Cuba over the custody of Elián became
                         an international incident. The boy’s return to Cuba was a
                         bitter defeat for Miami’s Cuban community and was
                         portrayed in Cuba as a major victory over the imperialistas
                         to the north.
                                 Everyone in Cárdenas, a town of 75,000, was
                         affected by the story. But today, Cárdenas has more or less
                         returned to normal. The media has left. Few tourists stop by
                         to admire Cárdenas’ quaint streets, lined with glorious
                         murals of Che Guevara and the socialist slogans reading EN
                         CADA BARRIO REVOLUCION (Revolution in every
                         neighborhood) and incredible houses—architectural glories
                         in dire need of repair. Elián’s grandmother sits quietly on her
                         balcony, undisturbed—at least by this reporter.
                                 But the memory of Elián lives on, as the dream of
                         revolution still does, throughout Cuba. And the calm after
                         the storm seems to have given the people of Cárdenas time
                         to contemplate the ugliness of the whole Elián affair. Today,
                         the little boy is 8 years old and, according to Fidel Castro’s
                         government, a normal, happy Cuban boy. The truth,
                         according to those living in Cárdenas, is a little different.
                         “He became a symbol,” says one resident, who wished to
                         remain anonymous. “Cuba pulled and the United States held
                         on. It was a tragedy—two stupid governments, one
                         innocent little boy.”
                                 Today, Elián lives under constant surveillance,
                         bodyguards at the ready. After all, foreign journalists still
                         pop in every few months in search of an update. They’re
                         not the only ones who want a piece of little Elián, either.
                         “Fidel still uses him for his own ends whenever he wants,”
                         says the resident.
 
                                Cárdenas might have been a good stopping point for
                         Carter—not because of Elian, so much, but because it
                         reveals so much about Cuba that Castro doesn’t want
                         anyone to see—the disparity between tourist Cuba and the
                         one that lies beyond its gated walls. Cárdenas is less than
                         15 miles from the major tourist resort of Varadero, but
                         Varadero seems as far away as Florida-and for some, just
                         as difficult to get into.
                                 In Varadero, as in many of Cuba’s major resorts like
                         Cayo Largo and Cayo Coco, Cubans are rarely admitted
                         into the nicer state-owned hotels, even if they are lucky
                         enough to have the money. Some Cubans cannot even visit
                         Varadero. “I am banned from Varadero, entirely,” explains
                         “Juan,” a musician from Cárdenas. Three years ago, he had
                         been making a living playing traditional Cuban Son on his
                         guitar for tourists on the beach. But according to locals, the
                         Cuban government has an unofficial motto: “A hassle-free
                         tourist is a happy tourist.”

                                 Confined to Cárdenas, Juan now looks for any gig that
                         will pay him a few pesos. “I wish I could earn dollars
                         again,” he says. As he gazes from his roof towards
                         Varadero, and further north, the Florida Keys, he says he is
                         excited about Carter’s visit to Cuba. “I would very much
                         like to play him a song,” Juan says. What song? “‘My Way’
                         by Frank Sinatra,” he replies, launching into the opening
                         chords. To Juan, this song is truly appropriate to the
                         circumstances. Lungs extending to full capacity, he sings the
                         first verse in broken English: ‘And now, the end is near, and
                         so I face, the final curtain ...’”
                                 Carter’s visit may not produce more than a few forced
                         smiles and handshakes, But its a symbolism was weighty,
                         his uncensored speech to the Cuban people a milestone.
                         And for the people of Cárdenas, it all signals a little bit of
                         hope.
 
                                © 2002 Newsweek, Inc.