Mission Libertad

by Lizette M. Lantigua

  There was silence in the room. Everyone was shocked by what they were watching taking place in Cuba and by the reaction in Miami. Tommy and Sonia had wide-open mouths. Miguel was hugging Elena as she bit her nails.

  “What does this mean? Will they let them stay in the embassy?” Luisito wanted to know.

  “I suppose so,” José said. “This is just incredible.”

  “The desperation of these people … it’s overwhelming!” Rosie said. “They just dropped what they were doing and ran right in through the gate, without a change of clothes or anything.”

  “This flotilla may be only the beginning of a massive exodus,” the TV reporter announced.

  “That’s it!” Luisito said, jumping up from his seat. “This is what Abuela meant us to prepare for all along. This is the beginning of something big!”

  He rushed to the phone to call Father René de Jesús, who was also watching the television reports and had come to the same conclusion. Father had just called Catholic Charities and asked them to start preparing to help all the refugees that were arriving.

  For days, the whole family was glued to the television. The Cuban government, humiliated by the events, said in a statement that anyone who wanted to leave the island could. They saw this as a great opportunity to get rid of all the “problem-causing” citizens: frustrated young people, prisoners, and mental hospital patients. Boats arriving in Cuba from Florida to pick up relatives were forced to take whomever else the government put on their boats. Ninety thousand Cubans arrived in the United States in the month of May alone.

  The Cuban government began to discredit the people leaving so they would have a hard time being accepted in the United States. They labeled everyone “la escoria,” slang meaning “the scum.” Now with all the unrest on the island, there was no way of communicating with Abuela. Although no one said it, everyone feared the worst.

  Hours after boarding the boat, Abuela started recognizing some familiar faces. In the front of the boat was a family of four. She had seen them before in line at the doctor’s office. She saw a female doctor from the hospital, along with some fishermen and several farmers she didn’t know by name.

  For the next few hours, the weather complied, but the waves were very choppy. She closed her eyes. It was cloudy, so the heat was bearable for now.

  “Here, grandmother, take some,” the boat’s owner said, handing her a water bottle.

  They passed out bottles of water for everyone. Abuela took small sips. The water refreshed her dry lips and throat.

  The boat was so crowded she wasn’t sure if the sweat on her arms was hers or the man’s beside her. The spray from the waves gently splashed her face and she felt some relief. Her white-laced blouse was covered with black grease stains. It must have happened when the men helped her onboard. The lace on her collar was torn, and the hemline of her pants was ripped on one side. She held on tightly to her purse. Afraid to lose her rosary, she placed it around her neck.

  She held onto the cross with her hand and prayed during the whole trip. It wasn’t just a prayer. It was more of a desperate plea to God and his Mother to protect them all from any storms and from capsizing with so many people on board. She fervently prayed for everyone to keep calm and be at peace. Her thoughts drifted from prayer to worries. She thought about her poor family not knowing about her all this time. If the boat capsized and she died, no one would know she was on board. She hadn’t told anyone she was going to the embassy, and no one except those on the boat knew she was there. Would she ever get to see her family again? She preferred to focus on how happy their faces would be when they found out about her arrival. That thought kept her strong.

  43 CUARENTA Y TRES

  It was heart-wrenching to have no news from Abuela. It became harder and harder to get any calls through to Cuba now because everyone was trying to call their relatives. Elena finally got a call through to the neighbors. They confirmed that they hadn’t seen Abuela and that she hadn’t responded to the knocks on her door. Finally, one neighbor pried the door open and found no Abuela and no sign of a struggle. Miguel and Elena knew that when someone disappeared unexpectedly it often meant that the government had kidnapped them.

  It was unbearable to think that Abuela may have been tortured and put to death. Luisito and his parents tried finding comfort at church.

  It was difficult for Miguel and Elena because they still couldn’t communicate well enough in English to speak to the priest. Elena felt empty every time she went to Mass because she couldn’t understand English well enough.

  One day after Mass, Elena was standing to the side as Rosie and José chatted with the priest. An older priest, Father Carlini, stopped to say hello.

  “Where are you from, Elena?” he asked after they had introduced themselves.

  “Cuba, Father,” she replied.

  “Cuba? Ah, there is so much going on there right now. Do you still have family there? Have you heard from them?”

  Elena paused. There was so much she wanted to tell the priest, so much to ask his advice about, but she couldn’t say it in English. “I’m sorry … my English …”

  “It’s okay. I understand,” Father Carlini said. He took out a piece of paper and wrote down the name of a priest from another parish who spoke Spanish.

  “He can help you,” the priest said slowly so she could understand him. “I am sorry I don’t speak Spanish, but soon we will have a Spanish priest at our parish. There are a lot of Spanish-speaking people coming, and we want to help them with a Mass in their language.”

  “Gracias,” Elena said happily.

  “Miguel, look,” Elena said excitedly on the way home. “I have the name and phone number of a priest who speaks Spanish!”

  Several times in the next few weeks, Elena and Miguel visited Father José Perez. He was from Honduras, and he spoke English and Spanish. They were able to go to confession in Spanish, and Father Perez counseled them and provided much support for them in this difficult time.

  “Never lose hope, never!” he repeated to them.

  The weeks passed, and still no word of Abuela. In the midst of their worry, everyone was preparing for Easter. On Holy Saturday evening, they were all getting ready for the Easter Vigil Mass. It was a very important day for Luisito and a group of five other people who had been preparing for months. At this Mass, they would be receiving the sacraments and becoming members of the Church. Luisito had been secretly baptized in Cuba, but he had not received his first Communion or Confirmation. During his preparation, he not only learned about the sacraments and why it was important to receive them, but he also studied the faith and asked many questions. This was only the beginning of his journey in the faith. He felt a strong desire to continue to learn as much as he could. It was in learning about God that Luisito felt closer to him. It made him want to pray and learn more about being a Christian.

  Luisito looked at himself in the mirror and thought about the past several months. He had learned so much about God and how different his life was with God in it now. He gelled his blond hair with his fingers and ran a comb through it.

  Just then, the doorbell rang. Then it rang again, more urgently. It was probably Maricusa and Manuel, Luisito thought. They had said they were coming to see Luisito receive first Communion and Confirmation. Everyone was still getting dressed, so Luisito ran downstairs and opened the door.

  “Hola, Maricusa,” he said. “I am so glad you made it to my special day!”

  Maricusa and Manuel came in and closed the door behind them.

  “Everyone, Maricusa and Manuel are here!” Luisito yelled.

  Everyone flocked to the door to hug Maricusa and Manuel.

  “Mami, you should have let us pick you up at the airport,” Rosie said. “Why did you want to take a taxi?”

  “My dear, you pick me up all the time. I knew you would be busy today with preparations for Luisito’s big day,” Maricusa said. Then, looking around, she asked, “Where is your mother, Luisito?”
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br />   “Mami, come on! We are waiting for you,” Luisito yelled.

  Elena came downstairs, straightening her new coral-pink dress. She looked at everyone in amazement.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. Then she saw Maricusa, her mother’s sister, who reminded her so much of her mother. She gave her a big hug.

  “We still haven’t heard from Mother,” Elena whispered to her sadly.

  The doorbell rang again and Luisito went to open the door.

  He gasped. He stood there, dumbfounded. Was he dreaming? Right in front of his eyes stood Abuela! A much thinner and frailer Abuela, but his dear Abuela all the same!

  The silence in the room erupted into shrieks of crying and laughing.

  “Abuela! Abuela!” was all Luisito could say as he hugged her tighter and tighter.

  Elena and Miguel, teary eyed, embraced her.

  “How did this happen?” Elena asked her mother, still embracing her.

  “It’s a long story,” Abuela said, looking up with teary eyes from hugging Luisito.

  “Come in, sit down,” Rosie said pointing to the sofa.

  “You can’t imagine,” Abuela said. “You remember Mati, our former housekeeper? She took me to the Peruvian embassy a few days before the bus crashed there. The horrible things I saw there … the people were desperate. It is difficult to speak about.”

  “Well, tell us, how did you get here?” Miguel wanted to know.

  “I was thrown into a boat, all with the help of Mati, who had heard that the Communists were after me. I owe it all to her.”

  “Where is she now?” Luisito asked.

  “She stayed in Miami with a relative. Maricusa is going to help her settle in and find work,” Abuela said. “Oh, my Luisito, you look so different, a grownup man now.”

  “When did you arrive?” Elena asked.

  “Just yesterday, I received a call,” Maricusa said. “We picked her up at a hangar filled with thousands of refugees.”

  “Over one hundred thousand!” Manuel chimed in.

  “But Tía, why didn’t you call us?” Elena said.

  “It was my idea. I wanted to come up here to see you in person,” Abuela said. “Besides, I looked like a wreck when I arrived!”

  “Al fin, Abuela. We are finally together!” Luisito said.

  “My dear little one, who is not so little anymore,” Abuela said smiling. “You accomplished the mission for me. Maricusa told me all about it. I knew you could do it!”

  “Oh, Abuela, that’s another story,” Luisito said. “I have so many things to tell you.”

  “Well, we have to be going or else you will not be able to receive the sacraments!” Miguel said.

  Abuela listened to Luisito’s story about the Cuban spies on the way to church.

  “I’m very proud of you, Luisito!” Abuela said. “You were so clever and brave!”

  “Just like my grandmother!” Luisito said, and he gave her a big kiss.

  They could hear bells ringing from the church tower as they approached the Sacred Heart Church parking lot. The altar was filled with baskets of white calla lilies and other spring flowers. The mood was as joyous inside the building as it was in Luisito’s heart. Pews were crowded with parishioners greeting one another. Little girls wore festive spring hats with pastel dresses and matching white purses. The younger boys restlessly turned around in the pews and waved at people coming in. The choir stood tall in the section by the altar, wearing long white and purple robes. Some people were passing out small candles for the entrance procession.

  Luisito scanned the space and located his Maryland relatives sitting all together in the front. He saw them whispering to one another as he walked in with his grandmother, probably asking themselves, Is it really her? Then Maricusa, who was walking in with them, pointed at Abuela and nodded her head. Luisito had to let go of Abuela’s arm as his cousins came rushing down the aisle to hug her. Tears started running down his cheeks. When he had first arrived in this country he had been so happy to have made the journey alive that there was no room for any other emotion. It was different with his grandmother. He had thought she was dead. And now here they were in church, the place that reminded him so much of Abuela, that gave him strength and peace. It was so meaningful that this was the day he was reunited with Abuela. It was like God’s present to him.

  Someone came to bring Luisito to the church entry way so he could walk in with the group of people receiving the sacraments that night. Luisito kissed Abuela and walked back. He waved at Sherry, who was sitting with her parents.

  The pastor of Sacred Heart Church, the Reverend Ed Stack, began the ceremony by lighting the Easter fire. Led by the paschal candle, the procession moved from the entrance into the church. It looked more beautiful than ever. The lights were dimmed and everyone’s candles glowed in the dark.

  Back in the pew, Abuela took a handkerchief from her purse.

  “I would have never imagined seeing all my family in church with me,” she whispered to Elena.

  “I know, mother,” Elena said. “We were in so much fear in Cuba, we just couldn’t think straight. Miguel and I are now attending Mass regularly. The sacraments and prayer have truly strengthened us. Rosie and José have also helped us in so many ways.”

  “Ay, mi hija, I’m so glad to hear that,” Abuela said. “I have so much to be thankful for. Look at my Luisito walking in with the pastor to receive his first Communion and Confirmation. I never thought I would see this. It’s a new beginning for all of us!”

  Near the stained-glass window in the back of the church, someone spotted Abuela. How could this be? He focused closer with his lens. It was she, all right. Her face was right on target. The man’s trembling finger pressed the button and … click, click, click. The sound was muffled by the music and the growing whisper of the people speaking to one another in the pews. The man’s camera captured Abuela’s smiling face. He took out his white handkerchief and cleaned the sweat from his forehead. Back on the island this would not come as good news, he thought. Abuela and her grandson, together in the United States, could only mean double trouble!

  EPILOGUE

  Fact and Fiction in Mission Libertad

  This story is a work of fiction, but the experiences of Luisito and his family are based on real historical events. Their story is full of true anecdotes from other Cubans interviewed who arrived in this country by sea during the 1980s, when the author was a newspaper reporter in South Florida.

  The statue of our Lady of Charity was commissioned by Monsignor Armando Jiménez Rebollar in 1947 in Cuba. It is a copy of the original found floating at sea. The statue was smuggled out of Cuba by the Archdiocese of Havana through the Italian embassy, which then passed it to Panama’s embassy in Cuba. It finally arrived in the United States not in 1979, when the story takes place, but in 1961.

  The man who actually brought the statue was not named Humberto Gutierrez but Luis Gutiérrez Areces.

  The Mass by Bishop Coleman Carroll took place as mentioned in the book, but not in 1979. The Mass was celebrated in Miami Stadium on September 8, 1961.

  In reality, there were no spies—that we know of— trying to capture the statue.

  There have been several notorious cases confirmed and reported in U.S. newspapers of Cuban spies in the United States who have been arrested and tried. Some fled to Cuba. Those events are what inspired the spy story in this book.

  It is true that this statue of our Blessed Mother is now displayed in La Ermita de la Caridad, the shrine of Our Lady of Charity, in Miami, Florida, for anyone who wishes to visit.

  In the time this story takes place, Cuban children and their families arrived in Florida by homemade rafts and were allowed to stay in this country if they feared persecution in the island. This was allowed under the 1966 Cuban Adjustment Act, but during the administration of President Bill Clinton the act was reinterpreted to mean only the Cuban rafters who reached dry U.S. soil could stay. This new policy is still enforced and is known i
nformally as the wet foot/dry foot policy. Cubans found at sea are now sent back to Cuba or to a third country, while those Cubans who reach U.S. soil are allowed to remain in the United States.

  In some cases, if a person found at sea has a valid case for political asylum, they may be sent to Guantanamo base in Cuba for further review.

  It is true that thousands of Cubans fleeing communism by rafts have perished in the ocean during the dangerous journey. There have been cases of others drowning at sea trying to swim away from the U.S. Coast Guard, which would send them back to Cuba.

  Most Cubans are forbidden to leave the island, even to travel on vacation, unless the Cuban government approves. Their food is rationed, everything is owned by the government, and they do not have some basic human rights such as freedom to express their opinions.

  Just like Abuela in the story, Cubans entered the Peruvian embassy in 1980. In just twenty-four hours, thousands of Cubans—men, women, and children— packed the embassy, trying to flee Cuba. This prompted the Mariel Boatlift, in which more than 125,000 Cubans, from April to October 1980, sailed from Cuba’s Mariel Harbor to the straits of Florida.

  Millions of Cubans have arrived to the United States during the years in various exoduses: the Camarioca Boatlift, Freedom Flights, Pedro Pan, the Mariel Boatlift, and in rafts by sea.

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