Armando Azcona was an old associate and now a Miami businessman who was involved with the Cuban American National Foundation, a politically powerful Cuban exile group that lobbied effectively in D.C., had worked closely with the Reagan and Bush administrations, and was the organization most likely to provide political infrastructure once Castro was out of the picture. Known as CANF, the group had set up a government in exile and, presumably, had knowledge of and perhaps supported anti-Castro ranks living in Cuba. Not that there could be many-anyone Fidel's people suspected of being a dissident was imprisoned or shot.
In Cuba, it was a fact of life not mentioned in Castro's famous "History Will Absolve Me!" speech.
If such a fifth-column group existed in Cuba, I wanted to know about it. If I got into trouble, real trouble, an underground network would be the only place to hide.
So I futzed around the house and the lab, waiting for the phone to ring, waiting for Dewey to return, occasionally hitting the redial button, getting Armando's recording again and again. To leave a message, I'd have to leave a name, and I didn't want my name on tape.
It was nearly dark. Through the west window, I could see that the guides were in, hosing down their skiffs. Watched Felix, from his skiff, toss Jeth a can of beer. Watched Jeth bobble it and drop it off the dock. Smiled at his can't-I-do-anything-right? expression. Watched him jog to get his landing net so he could fish the can out. Saw Mack standing by the bait tanks taking it all in, enjoying it. He was wearing a Santa Claus hat at a jaunty angle. Even so, Mack did not look elfin.
Another day of charters off the calendar… another Christmas Saturday done at Dinkin's Bay.
I sat at the table, thinking about my conversation with Jimmy Gardenas-the what'll-happen-when-Castro-falls? discussion that all Cubans enjoy.
Like most Cuban-Americans, Jimmy knows that it will not go as smoothly as he likes to pretend. By air and boat and inner tube, more than a million Cubans have immigrated to the United States and, when Castro falls, the return migration will not be as peaceful, nor as massive, as some believe. The Cubans are one of the great American success stories. They are a brilliant people: smart, industrious, family-oriented, goal oriented. In the space of less than two generations, they have accumulated extraordinary wealth and power in the wealthiest and most powerful nation on earth. Were they really going to abandon that?
A few years ago, the Miami Herald ran the results of a poll which indicated that, even with Castro gone, only one in five Cuban-Americans would return to their native island. Although the poll did not supply demographics, it is not unreasonable to assume that, of that number, most would go expecting to recover their old properties and resume their old lives.
It's a pipe dream. It will never happen.
Even organizations such as CANF agree that an attempt to regain expropriated properties will result in chaos. If the Cuban-Americans are smart, which they are, they will settle for a compensation program in which properties are sold to the highest bidder and the revenue prorated.
The life they knew, in homes and on the island they loved, is gone forever…
Another fallacy is that, after the fall, Cuban-Americans will receive a warm welcome from their long-suffering countrymen. Despite the lengthy political separation, weren't they still brothers?
Nope. They are not brothers… and never were.
It is a ticklish problem; one seldom discussed, but the fact is that ninety-five percent of the Cubans who fled the island were white. With their exodus, blacks became the racial majority in Cuba… and it was Cuba's black population-historically used as little more than slave labor- who rushed to take over the homes and properties abandoned by the exiles.
On the day that Castro came to power, Havana's Mira-mar and Vedado neighborhoods were made up of tasteful mansions and estates. Now most of those mansions are black tenements and slums.
On the day that Castro took control, Catholicism was the national religion. Today the most widely practiced religion is Santeria, an Afro-Cuban belief very similar to Haiti's voodoo. Santeria plays prominently in Castro's political decisions. The predictions of Santeria priests are even reported in state newspapers.
Is this new Cuban majority eager for the return of the Miami exiles? Absolutely not. Indeed, they are terrified at the prospect. In Castro's essentially all-white puppet government, blacks have very little input. But they had absolutely no influence at all when the people who fled Cuba were in control.
That's why they don't want change. And that's why they will probably fight it when change comes knocking on their door.
The what-will-happen-when-Castro-falls is an enjoyable conversational game, but the reality is much darker. It will be a difficult and painful transition… and it also may be very bloody indeed…
The first words out of my mouth in Spanish when I picked up the phone and heard the voice of Gen. Juan Rivera, prime minister to the sovereign Republic of Masagua, were, "How is your arm, General?"
Meaning his throwing arm. Rivera has lived an interesting and varied life: cane-cutter, guerrilla leader, army general, and now politician, but he has always viewed himself first and foremost as a gifted pitcher who, because of politics, was slighted by the American major leagues.
"My arm-what a coincidence you should ask, Marion. My arm is wonderful! I threw a hundred pitches this morning as a demonstration for the president of Nicaragua who happens to be visiting on state business. Never have I had better control or velocity!"
Sitting at the desk, phone wedged between shoulder and ear, I could picture Rivera-six two, grizzly-sized with black and gray beard, cigar in the mouth, probably still dressing in fatigues-as his voice boomed through the receiver. Could also picture him out on the mound: big leg-kick, loosey-goosey slingshot release, his expression predatory, taking it dead-serious even though he is nearly fifty years old.
Rivera said, "I allowed the president to attempt to hit against me three times-as a kindness. The results were expected: three strikeouts!"
Enjoying the formality of Spanish, I said, "I am not surprised, General. Not at all surprised."
"True, the president of Nicaragua is not a gifted player. Madame President told me that she had never played the game before."
I cleared my throat, took a sip of iced tea before I said, "That's very difficult to believe. In Nicaragua, where everyone plays-"
"Exactly! Perhaps it is what we call 'political dissimulation.' " Gave it a sly touch-we both know she's lying- before he added, "A woman of her age has certainly had a few at-bats. Even so, I did not pitch as I would pitch to a quality player. No breaking pitches; all fastballs. And yet, the results were expected."
"General," I said, "I still believe that you should be pitching in the major leagues."
"As do I!" Said it with conviction and a touch of anger. "When a catcher of your abilities-my very favorite catcher-says this, then I can only wonder why the Dodgers of Los Angeles do not return my calls,"
I had caught Rivera six or seven times when I was living and working in Central America. In those days, collecting information about people like Rivera was part of my job. More than once, I had joined a team or joined in a game to do just that. It was astonishingly effective.
I said, "But Pittsburgh contacted you-"
"Yes, yes, your friend, the Pittsburgh Pirates manager… Mr. Gene Lamont? Mr. Lamont suggested I play a season in a place called… Birmingham. In your minor leagues. A thing he called 'single-A.' A very attractive offer, but I have so many duties as prime minister.,. always some meeting to attend or some dignitary to meet." Said it like he would much prefer to be in Birmingham. "For the good of my people, I decided that I could not run the affairs of our country while pitching in Alabama."