Just when we got to the end of the rope and achieved a place to live, the political atmosphere of Cuba totally changed. For eighteen years the Cubans and Cuban-Americans living in the United States were forbidden by both the United States and Cuba from visiting their homeland. Cuban exiles residing in Spain and Mexico were prevented too from returning by the Cuban government. But in 1977, President Jimmy Carter did not renew the sixteen-year-old US ban on travel to Cuba. In a conciliatory gesture, the Cuban government reciprocated by extending an invitation to young Cuban professionals and intellectuals to visit their homeland.
During the months of November and December The Committee of 75, a group of Cubans chosen to negotiate with the Cuban government on behalf of the estimated 1.2 million Cubans outside the island, and Cuban officials held the first of two negotiating sessions in Habana. This marked the beginning of “The Dialogue.” At its second negotiating session, The Dialogue resulted in agreement on three issues: Cuba would release 3,600 political prisoners, Cuba also would help reunite separated families, and Cubans abroad would be able to visit relatives.
In addition, in a matter of months a group of fifty-five young men and women was assembled. Its members called themselves the Antonio Maceo Brigade after a black Cuban military general of the nineteenth century known for his fierce fighting against Spain in defense of his homeland. According to the group’s declaration of principles, the name was chosen, among other reasons, to convey the group’s intention to maintain a historical link to the homeland and to express the members’ rebellion against their involuntary departure as children.
This was a real turning point for the Cuban history. Up to that moment all those who decided to leave Cuba were rejected and punished. They were called names, such as worms. The communication between Cubans living inside Cuba and Cubans living outside Cuba was very poor and difficult. Now, suddenly los gusanos se conviertieron en mariposas (the worms became butterflies), and started to come to Cuba with pieces of luggage filled with all types of goods for every member of the family, with photographic cameras, with different pieces of jewelry, good clothes, perfumes, shoes … This gave live testimony of what it meant to be in places where you can obtain whatever you wanted if you apply yourself: private property, democracy, opportunities for all regardless of your political affiliation, values that no longer existed in Cuba.
A very good friend of mine, who was living in Miami, gave my name, address, and phone number to one of the members of The Committee of 75. That was the way I met Maria Cristina Herrera. We had two meetings. During them I was really impressed with her commitment to a dialogue for the sake of Cubans living both sides of the island. My first meeting was alone with Maria Cristina. At the second meeting, Pepe and I briefly discussed with her the possibility of leaving Cuba with the group of ex-political prisoners. When we left her hotel, deeply inside me I knew that I was approaching another turning point in my life. We walked from Hotel Riviera to Hotel Nacional via Malecón. No doubt that Pepe was very enthusiastic with the possibility of, finally, leaving Cuba. He was already making plans of resigning at the factory in Alquizar, giving back the apartment, and starting to fill out all the requirements for travel to United States. I asked him for time to think and make my part of the decision. I was hesitant to make commitments so quickly. And deep inside me I was afraid of losing everything we had already reached without the certainty that the government had agreed to our leaving. I had mixed feelings about leaving Cuba. At that moment I was forty-one and in my last steps to graduate as Licentiate as a clinical psychologist. I was afraid of moving to another country to start all over again.
Among the people that came to visit Cuba after the negotiation of The Committee of 75 was Julio, Pepe’s older brother. It was a very emotive encounter. His mother and father had not been with him for eighteen years. He didn’t know his brother Willy who was born after he left Cuba. He discussed with Pepe his departure of Cuba. Pepe shared with him my doubts about leaving, which created big chaos within the family—inside and outside Cuba. A few weeks later Maricusa, my dear friend, who gave my name to Maria Cristina Herrera, came to visit Cuba and dedicated a few days to stay with us at the apartment of Alquizar. There she dialogued with both of us, helping us heal the wounds that the misunderstandings created. Two lines of thought were said during the dialogues that I will never forget—they were crucial to bridge the gap and reach a join decision. My friend told me, “At this moment you don’t realize the future that your son will have in United States. Think of that and don’t hold him back. Do it for him.” And my husband told her, “Thank you for helping us. The most important thing is not if we stay or if we left Cuba, but that we are together wherever and whatever happens.” He was prophetic. Months later he had to make a decision to maintain the togetherness of our small family.
The ex-political prisoners who were unable to leave Cuba after finishing their sentences started to go to the Office of Migration to find out their possibilities to be counted among the ones negotiated by the member of the community. When Pepe knew it, immediately he resigned at the textile factory, gave back the apartment in Alquizar, and started the process of leaving Cuba at the Office of Immigration. He submitted the papers of his immediate nucleus: his six-year-old son and me. I got scared and confused. On one side he was—directly or indirectly—suggesting for me to quit the studies and my job. I was not sure if it would be safe to do so. Supposing that everything was going to be fine, we didn’t know when it was going to happen. In the meantime, how we were going to cover our expenses and how we were going to face all the consequences of quitting to leave the country permanently without having the approval in our hands?
Consequently, I continued working in the Institute of Health for the Formation of Medical Technicians where I started to work in September 1977. I was the teacher of psychology to different medical technicians in formation, such as pharmacy, X-ray, and psychology. I continued attending classes at the university where I was in my last semester of Licenciatura on clinical psychology. In June 1979 I presented and discussed my thesis. The topic was “The Effects of Parents Suffering from Alcoholism on Their Children.” My work obtained an excellent degree. As soon as I got my degree I started, slowly, to translate and to notarize the papers that credited me as clinical psychologist as well as all the other studies, research papers, and letters of recognition that I had. Also, I collected other papers for the three of us.
Just a few people knew that I had plans to leave Cuba. Not even my fellow peers of the university or the institute knew our decision. Collecting what we were going to take out of Cuba was a very painful process —we were allowed to take with us just one piece of luggage. What to do with my memories? I started to use the services of all the friends that came to visit Cuba. They brought many pieces of luggage to their families, and after distributing the goods they usually put one piece inside the other to travel back to the United States. Thus, I asked them to bring my photo albums, some of my notes in the career of psychology, some books, and even some protocols and test materials. All of those treasures not only traveled outside Cuba but also were held in Maricusa’s house in Miami until I reached Florida. She was the angel that touched my life and accompanied me in those decisive moments.
Pepe presented our papers in both places: the American Embassy and in the Office of Migration in Cuba. We received the appointment from the American Embassy for January 31, 1980. During the interview, the consul told us that we didn’t qualify for the visa they were giving to the political prisoners. Why? Because Pepe had been living in Cuba nearly ten years after his release from prison and there was no proof that he was persecuted or that his life or the life of his family was in danger. Thus, to travel to the United States he had to wait until the paperwork presented by his older brother was on time to be considered—it is from three to five more years.
We left the office totally distressed, confused, and without any light at the end of the tunnel. We walked again toward the Hotel Nacional, There, we sat down near the pool, and analyzed our situation. Yes, we were at a moment when there was no turning point. From Hotel Nacional we went to the Sanatorio San Juan de Dios to ask Fr. Zenón to intercede for us to the consul of the Spanish Embassy. After a brief phone call, we got an appointment for the next day. On February 1, we had the three visas to travel to Madrid. From the embassy we went to buy the tickets, and from there Pepe went to the Office of Migration. The dream was already in motion.
Two weeks later, we received the telegram asking us to go to the Office of Migration on February 27, with all the documents needed, among them my letter of resignation approved by the director of the center where I was working. The next day I went early to my job, wrote the letter of resignation, and my boss at that moment—with whom I had a friendly relationship—approved and signed the letter and gave me the necessary papers to exit Cuba.
On Friday, February 27, 1980, we went to the Office of Migration in the neighborhood of La Vibora. When our appointment time came the officer reviewed all the papers, looked at Pepe, and told him, “You and your son are allowed to leave but your wife is a psychologist and cannot leave unless she has the letter of release from the Minister of Public Health.” We left the office totally down. My husband repeated what he said to our friend: “If we cannot leave together, we will stay together.”
Traveling back home, I remember a person that could help me to obtain the letter. He was a vice minister of public health. As part of my professional work, I had to meet him and we established a good relationship. Instead of continuing on the bus to Marianao where we were living with the family of Pepe, I got off the bus at Twelfth Street and Twenty-third Avenue, Vedado, and walked toward his home. Thank God he was at home and listened to our story, who my husband was and why he didn’t qualify to leave Cuba as part of the agreement between the Cuban government and The Committee of 75, how we had everything, including tickets to travel to Madrid on that coming Sunday, February 29, but we needed the letter of release from the Minister of Public Health. He listened to me and asked, “Do you realize what you are asking me to do?” I answered, “Yes, and I am asking that to you because you are the only person that I know that can help me.” Then he went to the phone, called the other vice minister, and asked for the release as a personal favor, promising him to explain everything on Monday. The agreement was that I must go to the Office of the Minister the next day, Saturday, February 28, at 9:00 am.
Just for a minute think in this time frame: 9:00 am Office of the Minister in the neighborhood of Vedado and go to the Office of Migration in La Víbora neighborhood, before the time they close which was 12:00 noon. Again we needed a friend, an angel, to help us do everything on time. The angel was Normita, the cousin of one of the ex-Cooperadoras Diocesanas who lives in Las Villas but was in Habana because she came to accompany us in our departure from Cuba. She didn’t hesitate in lending her hand to us. Thus, the car of the Embassy of Portugal where she still worked pick up us in Marianao and brought us to the building of the Minister of Public Health. There I went to the eleventh floor and met the vice minister who gave me the letter. From there we went to the Office of Migration in La Vibora an hour before closing, where the officer could not close his mouth when I arrived with the letter but who didn’t have another option than to give us the letter of approval to leave Cuba. Glory be to God, our emigration/exile is meant to be!
The next day, on Sunday, February 29, 1980, at 11:00 am, Pepe, Pepito, and I left Cuba to Madrid, Spain.