Remembering Che

by Aleida March

  I developed a great admiration for anyone who knew more than me. I became a diligent student and, even though I was quite reserved, I had a great interest in mathematics, poetry and literature. I developed a curiosity to learn about other worlds and continually set myself new challenges. Even though we had few resources at our disposal, the teachers instilled in us a great sense of patriotism and ethics. On weekends we enjoyed public events honoring José Martí and the patriots in our wars of independence. In this way I developed a love of learning, nature and school, along with the ethical principles encouraged in my home, all elements that have influenced my personality and behavior.

  Quite unexpectedly, my mother announced that I was to be sent to live in the town to continue my studies. I confess this was probably the first big challenge of my life. Up to that point, I had lived a life of freedom, in what I thought was the best possible world. I was quite shaken by the sudden possibility of having to leave home. I tried to change my parents’ minds; I succeeded in convincing my father, but my mother’s will was stronger.

  The family had already dispersed to some extent by that time. My older siblings Lidia and Estela had their own homes. Both lived in the town of Santa Clara, which is why my parents were able to send me and my brother Orlando (six years older than me) to study there. So off we went to Santa Clara to live with our sisters and study in town.

  Living away from home made me realize how much I needed my parents. I was so happy when my mother came for a visit. Santa Clara was a strange place for me. Although it was very much a provincial town, it expanded my limited horizons. I lived with my older sister, who had a different way of doing things. She worked, so I had to help out with the chores and look after her three children. I felt like a housewife, for which I had little vocation, and at the same time I had to keep up with my studies.

  The biggest change for me was at school. I was used to my teacher María and her method of teaching. I was not yet aware of the limitations of my knowledge. I found it difficult to adjust to having homework, with which I struggled, especially English, a language strange and foreign to me. I just couldn’t relate to it and I must admit that I still find English hard. Nevertheless, eventually I became acclimatized to my new situation. Because I was young, I soon learned to appreciate the advantages of life in town.

  I began upper primary school quite confused. Besides English, we learned music. I had no idea music could be a subject one studied at school. Eventually I was able to adjust with the help of some wonderful, supportive teachers, who introduced me to all kinds of new things.

  Often school could be a place of prejudice and other barriers. There was discrimination based on gender, and the school had a militaristic atmosphere and authoritarian approach to discipline. For example, they would close the windows to stop the girls making contact with the boys. That is how schools were in those days.

  Over time I became keenly aware of my limited education. I wasn’t used to going to the library, and I didn’t know how to search for new information that would help fill the gaps in my knowledge. Sometimes the teachers would ask me to write essays about historical figures I was supposed to know something about, but often I had never heard of them. I remember one such person was the Argentine writer, President Domingo Faustino Sarmiento.

  Then an event occurred that made me realize how tentative life can be. My sister Lidia, who had taken me in, suddenly became very ill and died within a short period of time. My parents decided to move to Santa Clara, which meant our family was reunited and we had our first home in town. My mother took charge of Lidia’s children—her grandchildren—and my brother Orlando also came to live with us. My mother put aside her pain at the loss of her daughter, and through determination and hard work convinced my father to establish a new home. Our financial difficulties, however, did not end there, but we dealt with them more effectively.

  Feeling the love and closeness of my parents helped me focus on my studies with greater enthusiasm. In my new role as “big sister” to my nieces and nephew, I would attend their school meetings. I helped them with their homework until, against our wishes, the boy went to live with his father, who had remarried. One of the twins went to live with my grandmother, and so we were left with only one of the girls.

  Once I finished high school, I decided to study education, not because it was the easier option—I wanted to study medicine—but because of money. My family simply lacked the financial resources. Education was a quicker career that could be completed in four years and you could also start working immediately after you graduated—at least that is what I thought at the time.

  I sat the very demanding entrance exam. Unfortunately, the gaps in my knowledge were very evident. The best result I got was in mathematics, but my bad grammar meant I failed Spanish. So again supported by my teacher María, I returned to study at a preparatory school in Santa Clara, in order to sit the exams a second time.

  While I prepared for my exams I enrolled in the Institute of Secondary Education without taking into account the financial difficulties I might have. I needed books, which I had to buy, and once I finished I would still not be a qualified professional. But I was young and full of hope. I studied without allowing myself to think of failure, aware that if I failed, everything would fall apart. I also played volleyball and softball. I was pitcher of the softball team and I wasn’t too bad, drawing on my experience growing up in the countryside. I gave up sports when I became ill and my mother insisted I stop.

  I finally passed my exams and began my teacher training at 15; I finished that course successfully in 1953. My brother Orlando supported me and I am very grateful to him for that. One of my uncles paid for my graduation. I was satisfied to have finished my studies and in time I grew to love my career as a teacher. In that same year I went to study pedagogy at the Central University of Las Villas, and this proved to be a very important decision.

  Until 1956 my life was centered on study, sport being my only form of recreation, along with reading novels (especially romantic ones), going to the cinema whenever I could and to the park, which in a small town is a type of outing. There were a few young men who courted me, but I never felt in love, although sometimes I made a fool of myself by pretending to be in love. Having romantic dreams about imaginary princes was typical behavior for a young woman living in the provinces, especially one of my social class.

  Fulgencio Batista’s coup d’etat in March 1952 was the first political event to have an impact on me. My parents favored neither political side, although my father, like the majority of Cuban people at the time, had placed his hopes in the Authentics,2 particularly in the man who came after the fraudulent government of Ramón Grau San Martín. Later, he supported the Cuban Revolutionary Party (Orthodox) under the leadership of Eduardo Chibás. Its slogan was, “Honor against money.”3

  I remember everyone’s shock on March 10 when General Batista seized power. Everyone expected another corrupt regime, one even more subservient to the United States. When I left school that day, I went to the Institute of Secondary Education, near my home, to see what was happening. I expected it to be the center of protests against Batista. But everything there was quiet.

  The following year, 1953, was the year of my political awakening. I heard stories about the July 26 attack led by Fidel Castro on the Moncada military barracks in Santiago de Cuba and its tragic aftermath when so many young people were rounded up and murdered in cold blood. The name of Fidel Castro now became familiar to some Cubans, who learned about his role in the student movement at the University of Havana and his affiliation to the Orthodox Party.

  Most people, however, remained cynical after decades of politicking and empty promises. When I found out what had happened in Santiago de Cuba I became curious to know more about this Fidel Castro, the man who was reviving the ideas of our 19th century national hero José Martí with clarity and political vision.

  After the joy of my graduation had subsided, I also learned pretty quickly abo
ut government corruption. It was impossible to gain a teaching position without handing over a large bribe. And even then, the post would be in some tiny school with multiple grades in a remote area.

  My political education really began during my time at university. As I wasn’t yet a fully qualified teacher, I enrolled in the pedagogy faculty at the Central University of Las Villas. The university was reopening after a period of closure following Batista’s coup, and was trying to establish itself as one of the few elite universities that existed in Cuba in those days. The others were the University of Havana and the recently founded University of Oriente in Santiago de Cuba. This was a noble effort by the professors of the Central University, who tried to set the same educational standards as their counterparts at other institutions.

  I took advantage of the free enrolment offered to students with good grades. I overcame the weaknesses of my academic development and tried to broaden my horizons, exploring all kinds of new things. I studied subjects like psychology, which I found most stimulating, and I spent more time reading serious books, although I did still enjoy reading romantic novels.

  At university I formed close friendships, some through the Presbyterian Church. I had adopted that faith before going to university, because it was closer to my world and seemed very different from the Catholic religion. I thought the Catholic Church was full of pomp and hypocrisy, representing only the rich and powerful.

  The Presbyterian Church seemed to allow more freedom of thought and was more in keeping with the times. Its members, ideas and interests were closer to mine. I still have friends from that time such as Sergio Arce and Orestes González, who are Presbyterian pastors and who have always been kind and understanding.

  My studies remained the main focus of my attention for another three years. I was always walking a financial tightrope because I had not come from a well-off family. I kept searching for a teaching position, but jobs were scarce or nonexistent for women not prepared to offer up their bodies or honor in exchange for employment. The most one could aspire to was a poorly paid job in a private school or teaching private classes.

  Meanwhile the political climate heated up and discontent spread among the population, at the same time as the repression increased. There were rumors that Fidel Castro, who had been convicted and imprisoned, had been granted an amnesty and freed from prison on the Isle of Pines. We heard that the July 26 Movement had been formed to honor the date of the audacious attack on the Moncada barracks. There was talk that Fidel had gone into exile in Mexico and that he made speeches there, promising to return to Cuba to liberate the country.

  1956 was a decisive year for me. I carefully studied an underground copy of History will Absolve Me, Fidel’s defense speech at his trial for the Moncada attack. I was excited to read a document I felt expressed my ideas about how Cuba could attain its dignity as a nation.

  The atmosphere at university became tense; the situation deteriorated to the point where, like other universities, it was closed again the following year. This unrest was reflected throughout the nation. Even though the Central University of Las Villas did not have the same radical tradition as the University of Havana, our students opposed the dictatorship and began to organize in response to the continued repression.

  By that time, I had completed three of my four years of the pedagogy course, but we were unable to complete our courses after the university closed.

  One September afternoon in 1956, I met Faustino Pérez outside my house. He was a fellow Presbyterian, a good, kind man, who inspired such confidence in me that despite my usual timidity, without explaining myself very well, I asked him if I could join the July 26 Movement. Faustino had just come back from Mexico and he eagerly accepted my offer. That was how simple things were back then. I knew Faustino through my Presbyterian friends, Esther and Gladys González. Esther had been my classmate at teacher’s college, and Gladys and I became friends at university. We studied together and they shared their books with me; I was always welcomed warmly at their home and felt the affection of their family.

  Everything came together around me. Margot Machado, head of the school where I worked in the morning, was an active militant of the July 26 Movement and later we carried out a number of assignments together as clandestine combatants of the movement.

  That was the way I became involved in the struggle. Another world then opened to me, and I have always regarded that as the real moment of my birth. From that point, I gave myself to the movement with complete dedication and sacrifice. This was probably one of the happiest times in my life.

  1. The use of the term campesinos includes small farmers, tenant farmers (or peasants) and rural workers.

  2. The Cuban Revolutionary Party (Authentic) was formed after the failed revolution of 1933, when revolutionary elements united to win the election. The party held power between 1944 and 1948, under Ramón Grau San Martín, the party’s main figurehead. He did not fulfill his electoral promises and was succeeded by Carlos Prío Socarrás in 1948. His government was characterized by corruption and inefficiency, which eroded support for the Authentics. Fulgencio Batista took advantage of the political discontent and organized a coup on March 10, 1952.

  3. The Orthodox Party was formed in reaction to corruption of the Cuban Revolutionary Party (Authentic). The left wing of the Authentic party split away and called themselves “authentic-orthodox.” Led by Eduardo Chibás, in 1947 they opposed President Grau, and formed a new party, the Cuban Revolutionary Party (Orthodox), based primarily on the creole (national) bourgeoisie. The majority of the Cuban people supported this new party. Their slogan, “Honor against money,” struck a chord with the nation. Fidel Castro became a member of this party’s radical wing.

  3

  Why did I describe myself as a “combatant”? That word summed up our commitment to changing the status quo. We had complete confidence and faith in Fidel and were willing to fight in order to end once and for all the shame and moral degradation that Cubans had suffered.

  There was no doubt or fear in my mind when, one day not long afterwards, on Faustino’s instructions, I approached the pharmacy on the San Pedro bridge. I was going to see Santiago Riera, who was the coordinator of the movement in the province at that time, to tell him I had joined. This was before the arrival of the Granma on December 2, 1956, bringing Fidel back from exile in Mexico, along with his intrepid followers.1

  Although there wasn’t much information about how or when the guerrilla expedition would arrive, the leaders of the July 26 Movement in the province took some measures to support the action, while Santiago Riera returned to Santiago de Cuba to meet with Frank País to find out what was happening. Our group of women, led by Margot Machado, prepared to help by providing first aid to the combatants if there was a clash or wherever else we were needed for other tasks.

  Aleida at the age of five, the only photo of her as a child.

  Aleida’s parents, Juan March and Eudoxia de la Torre, in front of their house in the country.

  Aleida as a teenager.

  At her parents’ house in the country.

  Aleida’s student cards from teacher training college.

  Aleida playing softball at high school, 1948.

  Aleida (left) with classmates at teacher training college, 1953.

  On graduating from teacher training college, in 1953.Aleida (front row, second from the right)was elected Queen of the santa Clara Carnivals.

  Graduation ceremony, 1953.

  Central University of Las Villas (1955), where Aleida furthered her pedagogical studies (back row, second from the left).

  At her friend Mercedes López’s home in Rancho Veloz.

  Santa Clara aqueduct.

  Aleida with her parents and siblings in Santa Clara.

  Cabaiguán, after the town of Fomento was captured during the revolutionary war in 1958.

  Cabaiguán during the campaign in Las Villas (1958).

  Che Aleida on the way to Caibarien during the campaign
in Las Villas (1958).

  Che and Camilo Cienfuegos during the capture of El Pedrero.

  Aleida and Teresita Orizondo at the command headquarters during the battle of Santa Clara (1958).

  Aleida with Che at the National Radio station in Placetas.

  Che, after troops from his Column 8 blew up Falcon Bridge.

  In the barracks during the capture of Remedios.

  Above Buena Nueva shop in a break during the battle of Santa Clara (1958).

  In front of the armored train that was derailed in Santa Clara on December 29, 1958. (Photo taken by Che.)

  Entering the city of Santa Clara in December 1958. “A very young Chinese photographer appeared, camera in hand. Thanks to him, this moment was preserved for posterity.”

  The surrender of the Leoncio Vidal Regiment’s barracks.

  We waited anxiously. We heard the initial reports about the events in Santiago de Cuba. On November 30,2 in that town on the east coast of the island, young people led by Frank País initiated actions to support the arrival of the Granma and to distract the troops of the Batista dictatorship. Our leading compañeros, Santiago Riera and Guillermo Rodríguez, who had been a part of the National Revolutionary Movement along with Armando Hart and Professor Rafael García Bárcena, arrived to coordinate the actions of our group in Santa Clara. But they only got as far as Camagüey and had to return. We could not contact them and didn’t know what to do. In the end nothing happened in Santa Clara. There were no precise instructions for how we could support the landing of the Granma, even though Haydee Leal had received instructions from Mexico. The movement had a national structure, but was far from being cohesive. We lacked—and here I include myself—the necessary political education and experience to meet the challenges required by the struggle.