“Made in Cuba”, and “Born in the U.S.A.”

The wind blew in from the veranda windows that were open. You could smell the ocean air from the bay. It was a clear summer day in Miami, and she waited to see her newborn. This is my mother’s early experience here in the United States, having migrated from Cuba only four months prior. She left her country, her family and friends to seek freedom in a nation full of strangers, speaking a foreign language. How frightened this young woman must have been. If not for the kind faces of the nuns that took care of her, she feared not only the future, but her life. With only one other pregnancy to remember, it was a difficult one, that almost cost her life. She hemorrhaged due to a torn placenta, and her life had been in danger and in need of blood transfusion. This time she was in an American hospital, and at least that was comforting. She knew little of this nation, but if the rumors were right, she was in the best hands to receive medical attention. She waited to see her new baby girl. She was healthy, fair skinned and beautiful. Although the joy of a new life is overwhelming, a parent wondering how to provide for this new life, can be even more overwhelming.

The Catholic hospital opened its doors and kindness to the immigrating Cubans. The Catholic Church also offered support and assistance. This help was not in vain, for the Cuban community ended up being one of the most prosperous immigrant groups in the country, and giving back to the Catholic Church was definitely their priority. So many immigrants who were willing to work hard to be able to achieve the American Dream, and although many in this country's history have ventured through this path to freedom, the Cubans were different. Many came to stay “for a while.” They were to take advantage of the opportunity, to learn the American way, the language, and continue to try to achieve their goals for prosperity; but eventually return to their homeland.

As life would have it, that wait turned into months, the months turned into years, and before long many Cubans decided it was time to become Cuban-Americans. Through time more and more of them applied for American citizenship. Their children were born American and spoke better English than Spanish. In time, the idea of going back to Cuba was just that, an idea. They realized the world they knew was now gone. Cuban literally froze in the year 1959. It progressed no more. The lively streets, nightclubs and casinos were gone. Cuba’s charm turned into broken down unpainted buildings, and streets with bicycles and antique cars. Food is scarce, and so are most domestic products. The country is poor.

Those that came are now Americans. The Cuban community has flourished; exceeding  national averages in college graduating rates and surpassing other immigrant groups in financial prosperity. Many still live in their hometown of Miami.  From this Cuban exodus, there have many individual stories of hardship, hope and struggle. The Cuban people are a proud people, and I am happy to write further about us, and introduce you to a flavor (sabor) you may never have tasted before.