 Today
was going to be a long journey so I’d asked the Casa proprietor
- known affectionately as ‘Mama,’ to get me up for 7.30
am. Mama lives with her son Rudolpho. He works as a doctor in Havana
and the Casa business helps them pay the bills. Unlike the apartment
I rented off Lazaro, the facilities here were shared and only cost
$15 a night.
I staggered
into the kitchen and chewed on a bit of old pineapple for breakfast.
I washed it down with liberal amounts of coffee and cigarettes.
Before the taxi arrived Mama asked me where I was going, and how
long I was staying in Cuba. I told her my plan was to get to Santiago
in two or three trips. I would stay in Cienfuegos for a while and
maybe take in Trinidad as well. She then gave me a card for a Casa
business in Ciengfuegos and promised to telephone the owners with
my arrival time. That way there would be someone to meet me off
the coach and it saved me the bother of trawling about for somewhere
to stay.
We
hugged each other and I promised to call back when I returned to
Havana in a couple of weeks time. Outside the sun was burning off
a recent downpour. The air smelled sweet and clean, it put me in
good spirits. Downtown at the bus station, now known to me affectionately
as Tension Central I called into the café. The owner recognised
me and joined me at the table. What followed was an intensive history
lesson about Cuban culture, heritage and religion. I managed to
get the name of a few good historical authors to check out when
I return to the UK.
Outside
the Astro Bus driver indicated that he was ready to leave. I got
up and followed him to the bus stop. I made my way to the back seat
and got comfortable. The bus soon filled up and I found myself talking
to Carlos, a Mexican artist on his way to meet his bride. They married
eighteen months ago - I think with the intention of getting her
out of the country but it seems she has struggled to get the appropriate
paperwork sorted out.
Carlos
goes on to tell me that he is actually Cuban by birth; his parents
emigrated to Mexico when he was seven. He’s a very intelligent
and thoughtful person who makes an otherwise boring journey very
interesting.
 |
|
Pete
Keane
|
We
arrive in Cienfuegos some time later and I arrange to meet up with
Carlos for a drink. Meanwhile outside the station I see a man holding
a piece of card that has my name written on it. We introduce ourselves
and head off through the hot and busy streets of Cienfuegos.
The
city is located on the edge of a beautiful expanse of water that
feeds into the Caribbean sea. It was largely unpopulated until the
arrival of French colonists in the 1800’s. Originally known
as Fernandina De Jagua, it was renamed in 1830 after Captain General
Jose Cienfuegos. By 1850, a railway had been laid all the way from
Havana and many of the ferry passengers bound for Santiago in the
south now found themselves having to make connections here. By the
late 1890’s as much as 15% of Cuba’s sugar crops were
being exported from Cienfuegos. Nowadays, the main industries here
are fertilizers, paper mills, oil refining and shipbuilding.
In
1982, the Soviets began construction of a giant nuclear reactor
just south of the city. However, they pulled out of the project
before completion. An estimated US$750 million needs to be found
before the reactor can be operational. Regular maintenance is still
carried out on the facility to stop the plant deteriorating. There
have also been rumours of a
cover up by Cuban officials regarding defective welding on the cooling
system.
The
views expressed on this page are those of the contributor and the
opinions expressed are not necessarily those of the BBC.
|
