Almost forty years ago, when I was in Marine Corps basic training, the tantalizing specter held up by our instructor was whether or not we'd have to go down to Cuba and fight the Commies who were, as we spoke (or rather, as he ranted and we listened), threatening to establish a beachhead in our hemisphere. Even at that point a small but committed group of revolutionaries in an island country 90 miles off the Florida coast were giving fits and starts to the powers that be.

Nothing has changed here. Much has changed there.

In the ensuing decades, as we have invaded, inveighed, inveigled, threatened, boycotted, manipulated, attempted to assassinate and nearly triggered a nuclear war in our need to rid the world of the threat of Fidel Castro and his Revolucion, the Cuban Government has gone its sometimes-not-so-merry way, and, in spite of the best efforts of the world's greatest power to squelch it, persevered in its effort to do what it deems best for its people.

Though I've traveled to many points of the globe, I had never been to Cuba, feeling somehow a bit confused by the conflicting reports I had heard, even from those I respected, as to what was going on there. On the one hand were the tales of Che, the romantic revolutionary martyr to the cause, and of the charismatic, if long-winded, Fidel, who with his dashing wit and flaming oratory charmed the socks off groups of American liberals as he touted the fruits of the Triumph of the Revolution. On the other hand there were the reports of high-handed strong arm tactics, repression of dissent, suppression of religious freedom and numerous other human rights violations.

So, wanting to be neither a Solidarity groupie to whom Fidel could do no wrong, nor an agent of right-wing critics to whom he was the devil incarnate, I adopted an "I don't know, I've never been there" posture. Concerned about the reports of human rights violations and suspicious of the apparently closed nature of the political system, I was at the same time strongly opposed to the belligerent posture of the U.S., firm in the belief that the violently anti-Castro Cuban exiles (primarily in Miami) are dangerous proto-Fascists, and fundamentally in the camp of those who feel that an end to the embargo and other such signs of hostility on our part would do more to alleviate the problems within that society than any of the crazy macho exploits we've been associated with in the past could possibly bring about.

Then I got a call from Paul McCleary, executive director of the Christian Children's Fund, asking me if I would agree to be part of a delegation he was putting together to go to Cuba. His intention was to examine the feasibility of setting up some humanitarian efforts to help alleviate certain problems in the country that had been created by the current economic crunch, which was in turn brought about by the collapse of the Soviet Bloc and the continuing (and heightened) U.S. embargo.

Sure, I figured. Why not? I might learn something. Besides, I'd get to spend more time with Paul.

Paul McCleary is something. Not a tall man (I think of him as a little giant), he is quiet, calm, unimposing in the best sense of the word, and, in his own understated way, fiercely committed to acting upon the Christian principles that are his mainstay. A Methodist minister, he has headed the Christian Children's Fund for a number of years, before which he ran the Save The Children Federation. Prior to that he was head of Church World Service, which is, I believe, connected with the National Council of Churches. To say that his history in the area of non-governmental humanitarian relief work is impressive and effective is to understate by a significant degree, a fact I learned when he originally called me a few years ago to go with him on a trip to the Middle East. Not knowing his name and frankly a bit suspicious at the idea of being associated with something known as the Christian Children's Fund on a trip into primarily Muslim territory (some "humanitarian" organizations with religious connections are really more interested in proselytizing and raising money than doing the work), I called a few friends to ask if they knew his name. The response was unanimously positive - in a couple of cases it approached awe. So I went. But that's another story.

Once the dates were cleared and I had worked out the time with my long-suffering and extraordinarily patient partner (my mother called the office a few weeks ago when I was at a press conference in Watts and Marvin said "He's out saving the world again."), I called my agent, Jack Fields, to tell him that I'd be unavailable for a while because I was going to Cuba. His response was, "Cuba! Can I go with you?" (Jack is an old Lefty and proud of it. He first visited Cuba during WWII, has been back a couple of times in the last few years and is an unabashed fan of Castro and the benefits the Revolution has brought to the country.) After ascertaining that he was serious, I said I'd ask Paul, who then had to check out a few things. Before long, it was all set and Jack began working on some friends of his for donations of some hard-to-get medicines that we could take in with us.

Wednesday, October 19, 1994

After a couple of busy weeks, with everything else put off, squeezed in, manipulated or overlooked, I took off for Miami. Routed through Atlanta, for some reason, I got in late, dragged my bags (I was carrying extra clothing because a speaking engagement in Indiana the day I returned meant I would have to go straight there) out to the curb and asked if there was a bus to the Miami International Airport Hotel. The man looked at me as if I was from another planet and pointed back inside. The hotel entrance is in the airport lobby. Oh.

By the time I found the desk it was nearly 11PM Miami time and I knew we had an early morning, so it was nice to see Paul there, watching for me. He had already arranged for a check-in, said he had eaten dinner with Jack, who he liked, and said we had a 10:30AM flight, but because we had to check in four hours early, to be in the lobby at 6:15. Ah. He then introduced me to another of our traveling partners, Frank Kiehne. 

Frank is in his sixties and with full face, white hair and suit, looks like a businessman. (It turned out he's more of an imp in curmudgeon's clothing.) Frank ran the International Committee of the YMCA for many years, was Director of the Immigration and Refugee Program for Church World Service and headed the precursor organization to InterAction, which coordinates and oversees all relief, refugee and development organizations in the U.S. Having traveled all over the world in these pursuits, he now serves as Foreign Affairs Advisor to Congressman Don Payne of New Jersey, a member of the Congressional Black Caucus.

Off to the room and get ready to turn in. A 5:30AM wake-up call is going to sound like a 2:30AM call to my West Coast ears. Before I can get into bed, Jack calls to make sure I'm here safely. He had a direct flight, so had gotten in earlier and was excited about the fact that he was able to arrange for $40,000 worth of medicines to be sent here. (An amazing feat, and I suspect he has personally paid for at least a portion of it, though he won't say so.) Six boxes weighing in at about 200 pounds !  Now our job is to get them allowed on the plane as part of our luggage (or broken up and stashed in our bags). 

The embargo of goods to Cuba has run hot and cold over the years of its existence, and at some points it has been easier to get things into and out of the country than at others. Currently, thanks to the malevolent view of Congressman Bob Torricelli of New Jersey, as expressed in his so-called Cuban Democracy Act (passed in '92, I think), restrictions are tougher than they've ever been. One can take only a limited amount of American dollars into Cuba and one needs some because U.S. credit cards and U.S. traveler's checks can't be used there (by U.S., not Cuban dictate). Our government is trying to strangle the country and has put rigid limitations on the freedom of its own citizens toward that end. It's outrageous, infuriating, and, I would suspect, unconstitutional, but it's the law - at least for now.

So Jack's medicines are a big question mark at this point. Medicine is embargoed, along with all other goods, if they are going to be used by, or be of benefit to, the government. Since it is a Socialist state and the medical system is run by the government (health care is considered a right in Cuba), we're worried.

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