Soroa

Hola everybody!
I finally moved to Vedado a safer neighbourhood, a nicer place to go out in the evening and definitely closer to my office. Nevertheless, I’m still “semi legitimate” but as they say here to make it out you have to go through the left side and being a socialist country the left is the best choice!
These week-ends were dedicated to Old Havana (Habana Vieja) a treasure unveiled also thanks to Victor, the colleague in charge of tangible heritage, who led me and Giselle through architectural night tours. Another activity has been a Sunday trip in a guagua (still moving Cuban bus) to Soroa falls and “prehistoric” mountains (please have a look at the picture here below: you’ll understand why I put the semi-comas): an anthropological experience in itself that kept me longer jumping in the bus than walking in the nature.
Something I didn’t expect is racism. Sure, Cuba is a melting pot and everyone has a member of his or her big family that has a different skin colour, but a “negro” remains a “negro” and if they think so they say it loud and clear. So, during the same trip in a multicoloured guagua, I have already been reassured by a pale lady who participated in the alphabetisation campaign in the ‘60s, “that next trip will be better as surely there won’t be so many Negroes”. Some pretend that this issue is only a matter of social class and education, others that this phenomenon is rightly due to the fact that every problem was treated like an income one and there hasn’t been a true public debate on racism. Surely saying this kind of things openly it’s not a taboo like in Europe (where we can be as racist as them if not more) even if it seems that ten years ago it was worse and that now the conscience of the problem is arising.
I also met some expatriates and I still don’t know if the strangest are them or the Cubans. It will be enough to say that for example a Scandinavian arrived the same day as me has visited almost all the discos of Havana but she has never been to Habana Vieja or has never visited anything whatsoever. Anyhow, going to a disco can be a narcissistic experience and you kind of wonder how many “most beautiful girls in the world” may a Cuban have seen in his life. It’s also true that discos are the domain of jineteras/os (girls looking for sugar daddies or gigolos eager to impress some not always young European ladies with their dancing abilities) so it’s not patent prostitution like we know it in Europe, but it’s neither all normal people you see there. There is another event I am waiting for that seems more representative of Cuban people: the book festival, I’ll tell you next time.
Cuban one is not a violent society like many others in Latin America, but everyday life is like a game: if you have to purchase something the aim is to avoid being extra charged for your stranger’s appearance. The difficult, or unfair others would say, part of the game is that sometimes they have the right to overcharge you or make you pay with a different money (and not only in the museums, but in taxis, restaurants, shops…it always depends). But I’m starting to win some games and now I can get a cab like a true Cuban!
Concerning my job, I am now in supporting the regional coordination of the UNESCO offices in the region and soon (I do hope so) I will help in 3 other projects, 2 regional and one Cuban: one on AIDS and Culture (to help SIDA prevention and anti stigma sensitisation through theatre and cinema for ex.), another one on indigenous movies and documentaries (so that indigenous people can be actors and owners of their image), and the third handicraft gender and identity (to help women of Trinidad, a world heritage town, to develop handicraft more modern in design and of a better quality for tourism in order to improve their income and give them a mean to express themselves and the identity of the town).
Keeping on looking for a bottle of olive oil I tell you goodbye and to the next update!
Hugs,
Debora