by Aleida March
1. Alligator: a reference to the island of Cuba, whose shape resembles that animal.
2. The Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean was one of the five UN regional commissions created on February 28, 1948, by the Economic and Social Council and the Economic Commission for Latin America (CEPAL).
3. Aleidita was called Aliucha within the family.
4. Che’s farewell letter to Fidel is included in Che Guevara Reader (Ocean Press, 2003).
5. See Betsy Maclean (ed.): Haydee Santamaría (Rebel Lives series, Ocean Press, 2003).
6. “On the Budgetary Finance System” in Che Guevara Reader (Ocean Press, 2003).
7. This postcard is reproduced in the photo section of this book.
8. This speech is included in Che Guevara Reader (Ocean Press, 2003)..
9. This speech is included in Che Guevara Reader (Ocean Press, 2003).
10. Ramón was Che’s nom de guerre.
11. Ernesto Che Guevara: The Motorcycle Diaries. Notes on a Latin American Journey (Ocean Press, 2003).
12. This speech is included in Che Guevara Reader (Ocean Press, 2003).
13. The Congo won independence from Belgium in 1960, but almost immediately was torn apart by secessionist and imperialist forces. In 1965, Che Guevara left Cuba to lead a group of Cubans assisting the Congolese revolutionary movement.
14. Che’s farewell letter was addressed to Fidel, who read it to the first meeting of the newly founded Cuban Communist Party’s central committee meeting on October 3, 1965. See Che Guevara Reader (Ocean Press, 2003).
8
There are times when words are totally inadequate. It is almost impossible for me now to recall what happened, how Che left and my feelings at the time, partly because I always told myself I would never, ever talk about these things.
I do remember feeling that not only would our relationship change but also that I would never be the same again. When we parted, we assumed that communication would be slow and irregular, but thankfully this was not the case. In the first few months Che was in the Congo, we wrote to each other regularly, and that helped dissipate the uncertainty I felt. There were many compañeros who acted as emissaries, taking and delivering our letters. Osmany Cienfuegos, José Ramón Machado Ventura, Ulíses Estrada, Fernández Mell and Emilio Aragonés were some of those who traveled back and forth from Cuba to the Congo, or who were part of Che’s unit.
These letters remain among my most precious possessions, and reading them shows I wasn’t the only one being tested by our separation. Che, too, experienced great pain. I, at least, had the company of our children, and gained some consolation from them as the testimony of our love.
When I reread these letters now, so many years after they arrived from that distant land of the Congo, I can see the enormous sacrifice it was for Che to leave us behind.
His first letter sent from the Congo began:
To my only one in the world,
(I’ve borrowed this phrase from old Hickmet)1
What miracles you have performed with my poor old shell. I no longer want a real hug and I dream of the concave space in which you comfort me, your smell and your rough rural caresses.
This is another Sierra Maestra, but without the same sense of constructing something or the satisfaction of making it my own. Everything happens very slowly here, as if war was something to be done the day after next. For now, your fear of me being killed is as unfounded as your feelings of jealousy.
My work involves teaching several classes of French every day, learning Swahili and providing medical care. Within a few days I will begin the serious work of training. A sort of Minas del Frio from the war, not the one we visited together.
Give a tender kiss to each child (including Hildita).
Take a photo with all of them and send it to me. Not too big and another little one. Study French in preference to nursing and love me.
A long kiss, like our kiss when we are reunited.
I love you,
Tatu
He used the pseudonym Tatu, meaning “three” in Swahili, during his time in Africa. While I waited for him, I focused on the children, who were all very little, as well as my work in the FMC. I resisted taking any long-term responsibility in the FMC in order to be free to join Che when circumstances permitted.
He constantly expressed his pain at our separation, but asked me not to despair. He urged me to study French so that I could function more effectively if I went to the Congo. Although I tried to fill the void as best I could, I never really came to terms with life without Che.
While he was in the Congo, Che learned of the death of his mother, which affected him deeply, as they had been very close. In a sorrowful letter, he expressed the hope “she had not suffered physically and hopefully she hadn’t had time to think about me.”
He wrote one his most moving stories (“The Stone”) in memory of his mother. In it, he poured out his sense of loss, feeling “a physical need for my mother to be here so that I can rest my head in her bony lap. I need to hear her call me her ‘dear old fella’ with such tenderness, to feel her clumsy hand in my hair, caressing me in strokes, like a rag doll, the tenderness streaming from her eyes and voice, the broken channels no longer bearing it to the extremities. Her hands tremble and touch rather than caress, but the tenderness still flows from them. I feel so good, so small, so strong. There is no need to ask her for forgiveness. She understands everything. This is evident in her words ‘my dear old fella’...”2
This was the man whom some people thought severe. I knew him more intimately. Sometimes he had to show he was firm, although at the same time he could be tender and affectionate.
When I pleaded with him to let me come and join him, he replied:
Don’t try to blackmail me. You can’t come now or in three months’ time. Maybe in a year it will be different and then we’ll see. This has to be properly analyzed. The most important thing is that when you come you aren’t “the little wife” but rather a combatant. You must be prepared for that, at least in French...
A good part of my life has been like that: having to hold back the love I feel for other considerations. That’s why I might be regarded as a mechanical monster. Help me now Aleida, be strong, and don’t create problems that can’t be resolved. When we married, you knew who I was. You must do your part so that the road is easier; there is still a long road ahead.
Love me passionately, but with understanding; my path is laid out and nothing but death will stop me. Don’t feel sad for me; grab hold of life and make the best of it. Some journeys we will be able to take together. What drives me has nothing to do with a casual thirst for adventure and what that entails. I know that, and so should you.[...]
Educate the children. Don’t spoil them or pamper them too much, especially Camilo. Don’t think of abandoning them because it isn’t fair. They are part of us.
I give you a long and sweet embrace,
Your Tatu
Was I as strong as Che wanted me to be? I didn’t know for sure. Sometimes I felt like Dulcinea and at other times like Sancho Panza in my desire to follow the Quixote of modern times, with whom I had chosen to share my life. Like the fictional Quixote, Che was full of tenderness but he never hesitated in challenging new windmills.
I resigned myself to the wait. Events in the Congo, however, took an unexpected turn.3 Despite this, Che tried his best to keep the revolutionary forces intact. He maintained his personal discipline in his application to his intensive study program. He increased the number of books he requested, broadening his reading list. It is extraordinary how, in the midst of all the problems and hardships he experienced in the Congo, and the growing sense of disaster, he continued to study philosophy and other subjects he thought would help him understand better how the Third World could achieve socialism. He constantly asked me for more books; the list speaks for itself. Along with the titles that he requested, he often added comments in brackets:
Hymns Triumphant b
y Pindar
Tragedies by Aeschylus
Dramas and Tragedies by Sophocles
Dramas and Tragedies by Euripides
Complete Comedies by Aristophanes
The Histories by Herodotus
Greek History by Xenophon
Political Speeches by Demosthenes
Dialogues by Plato
The Republic by Plato
Politics by Aristotle (especially this one)
Parallel Lives by Plutarch
Don Quixote of La Mancha
Complete Works by Racine
The Divine Comedy by Dante
Orlando Furious by Ariosto
Faust by Goethe
Complete Works by Shakespeare
Exercises in Analytical Geometry (from my sanctuary)
Despite his best efforts, the struggle in the Congo came to an unsuccessful conclusion. I received a letter from Che written in Tanzania on November 28, 1965, in which he explained what had happened, how he felt about it and his future plans. He tried to make me see a reunion would be very difficult at that time:
My darling,
Your last letter arrived. Everything turned out differently from what we had expected. Osmany can tell you about the sequence of events. I can only say that my troop made me proud; almost immediately, it became diluted, or rather, melted like lard in a fry pan, escaping from my grasp. I am returning, along the road of defeat, with an army of shadows. Now everything is over and the time has come for the last stage of my journey—the definitive one. Only a handful of select men will come with me—those with stars on their foreheads (the stars of Martí, not military ones).
Our separation was always going to be a long one. I had hoped to be able to see you during what I thought would be a long war, but it wasn’t possible. Now there will be a lot of hostile territory between us, and communication will be less frequent. I can’t see you before I leave because I must avoid all possibility of being detected. In the mountains I felt secure, with my weapon in my hand, but I don’t feel in my element in clandestinity. I have to be extra cautious.
Now comes the truly difficult time for everyone, and we must be prepared to bear it. I hope you know how. You must bear your cross with revolutionary fervor. If I reach my destination, and when they realize it, they will do everything to destroy us. Our security measures will then need to be even more rigid, and we will have to accept a greater isolation. I will always find ways to get a few lines to you; but if I can’t, please don’t imagine the worst. I will regain my spirits once I reach my destination, even though there will be problems at first.
It is hard for me to write this. The technical details are of no interest and memories of a past life will take time to recover. You know I’m a combination of adventurer and bourgeois, with a terrible yearning to come home, while at the same time, anxious to realize my dreams. When I was in my bureaucratic cave, I dreamed of doing what I have begun to do. Now, and for the rest of my journey, I will dream of you, while the children inevitably grow up. They must have such a strange vision of me. How difficult it will be for them one day to love me like a father and not regard me as some distant monster they are obliged to love.
When I leave, I will leave you some books and notes, please keep them. I have become so accustomed to reading and studying, it is now second nature to me—a great contrast to my adventurous spirit. As always, I wrote you a little verse and, as always, I tore it up. I am a better critic and I don’t want accidents like the last time. Now that I am a prisoner, with no enemies nearby, or injustices in my sights, my need for you is virulent and physiological, and cannot always be calmed by Karl Marx or Vladimir Ilyich.
Give the birthday girl a special kiss. I haven’t sent her anything because it is better for me to disappear altogether. I saw you standing on a platform; you looked really great, almost like in the good old days of Santa Clara. I, too, was almost restored to my former self, but now I am once again the insignificant Bald Samson.
Educate the children. I always worry about the boys, in particular. Tell the old man to visit them. Give a big hug to the good old folks you have there and receive an embrace yourself—not the last one, but with all my love and the desperation as if it was our last embrace.
A kiss,
Ramón
At this time, Fidel, who was always checking on our family, invited me to participate at the first graduation ceremony of doctors after the revolution. This was held at Turquino, the highest mountain in Cuba, situated in the Sierra Maestra.
The symbolism of the place was very strong, and many important events were held there. On arrival, we saw Sergio del Valle, an aide-de-camp and doctor in Camilo Cienfuegos’s Second Column, who was then chief of staff of the armed forces. He had come to tell Fidel about the withdrawal of Che’s troop from the Congo, which Che explained in greater detail in his letter to Fidel. Che wrote a comprehensive analysis of the experience in the Congo while he was in Tanzania, based on the diary he had kept. This has now been published as Congo Diary: Episodes of the Revolutionary War in the Congo. As soon as we knew the Cubans had withdrawn from the Congo, Fidel gave me permission to go and see Che. He acted as mediator between us as he had done in the past. I fervently hoped Che wouldn’t resist, and to my delight, this time he didn’t. My trip to Tanzania was confirmed in December 1965, making me extraordinarily happy. As I prepared for my departure, I decided this was the most eagerly awaited New Year celebration of my life.
Sometime around January 15, 1966, I landed in Prague. I stayed in an apartment that would later be used by Che and other compañeros while they prepared for their Latin America mission. I had traveled with Juan Carretero (Ariel), a compañero from the department of the Cuban Communist Party, headed by the legendary “Red Beard” (Manual Piñeiro), one of the key coordinators of Cuba’s links with the revolutionary movements in Latin America. From Prague, we traveled to Cairo and then on to Tanzania.
Che was waiting for me there, transformed into another character I almost didn’t recognize. He was clean shaven, not wearing the olive green uniform he always wore in Cuba. I, too, was incognito, extremely nervous, full of doubts. But all that vanished as soon as I recognized him and we were together again.
In order to travel, I had disguised myself with a black wig and glasses that made me look much older than I was. So two apparent strangers met in Tanzania, but our feelings for each other could not be disguised.
For a short time, we were able to be completely alone. Our solitary confinement was necessary for security reasons, but we couldn’t have been happier. I had a chance to look around the city briefly when I arrived and again when I left. Our accommodation was not particularly comfortable, but that hardly mattered. We had a single room in which we slept, ate and studied, and a bathroom, where Che developed some of the photographs he had taken with his professional quality camera. We also returned to our regular routine. After breakfast, I would read, always with Che’s guidance, and he would read or write. He also gave me French lessons, and I made some progress.
During this time in Tanzania he recorded himself reading stories for the children. These recordings became some of their most valued possessions. He also wrote Fidel a letter, asking me to deliver it. This was an analysis of the liberation movement in Guatemala.
We discussed many things. I remember his comments about his farewell letter to Fidel, and how important it was to him. He was clear, wherever he went to fight after the Congo, that he would always regard himself as representing the Cuban revolution, symbolized in the battle-cry: “Hasta la victoria siempre! Patria o muerte!” [Until victory, always! Homeland or death!]
Not everything was serious, of course. We reminisced about happy times and things we had experienced in our lives together. We also cleared up a few past misunderstandings, including the incident in the INRA office with the disappearing secretary. He said he had always thought I had asked her to leave because her role was superfluous, as I took care of all his personal affairs. Every time we
had discussed this before, I denied my role. But now, after six years, I finally confessed. I explained it was not because I was jealous, or that I had a bad opinion of the young woman, but because, from a political point of view, I didn’t believe she was up to the task of being Che’s secretary. Che was satisfied with this explanation.
We discussed our friends, for example what had happened to my friend Lolita Rosell, to whom I had been close during our time in the underground struggle. After the revolution, Lolita became president of the FMC in Las Villas. She had some difficulties in her province with the sectarian faction in the party, led by Aníbal Escalante. She requested a meeting with Che to discuss this. He agreed on the condition that a number of others also attend the meeting. These were: Emilio Aragones, a member of the PURS4 and the head of the army in Las Villas; William Gálvez and a leader of the former PSP, compañero Luzardo, who was then Minister of Interior Commerce. I never heard about what had happened at that meeting, but Lolita told me she was happy with the outcome. In Tanzania, Che told me how Lolita had shown great integrity and courage. After that meeting, Che asked her to come to Havana to work in the newly created Ministry of the Sugar Industry.
Che’s next plans were becoming urgent. In spite of what had happened in the Congo, he still intended to proceed with his plan to extend the struggle for the liberation of Latin America, following in the footsteps of Simón Bolívar and José Martí.
I don’t quite remember when he left for Prague—maybe my mind refused to register it—but I think it was in the first few weeks of March. I found myself alone in the little room that had been our refuge. I was devastated, and not even reading distracted me. I hardly understood what I was reading.