A place for tears and hope

  by Arianna Kemis 

 

HAVANA, Cuba—It begins at 5 o’clock every morning. Hundreds of Cuban citizens gather at a public square known as the Weeping Park awaiting their final interview that will grant them entry visas to the United States.

Instead, he bought a pig.

by Arianna Kemis

Havana, Cuba

“I was four years old,” he had said. “I listened to music, and I felt it.”

 

I never knew that amidst the waving jungle trees and clucks of Cuba’s national bird, the tocororo, I would find a story of music and a lifestyle that epitomizes the struggle of life and love in Cuba.

There, listening to his performing group, I met Junior Santana, a 30-year-old saxophone player and lifelong citizen of Cuba. He was intrigued by why I came to Cuba, and I videoed him as he played enthusiastically for our group.

Two little surprises and a mango

by Arianna Kemis 

Las Terrazas, Cuba 

I had been taking pictures of chickens. I could not resist; the chicks were huddled under their mother for bed after pecking around on a tiny, winding staircase next to a hibiscus hedge.

I thought the tech lead had motioned across the miniature valley to beckon the rest of the group over from the coffee shop to where a portion of us had gone to see a local artist.

So, I continued to take pictures. 

When the chicks had all settled underneath the feathers of their mother in the grass, I looked up to see an older man in an old green baseball cap picking the hibiscus flowers off of the bush.

It was María.

by Arianna Kemis
Las Terrazas, Cuba

We were at Las Terrazas, a settlement high in the jungles of Cuba’s highest mountain range. There, nestled away in Cuba’s sunny, mountainous countryside on the shores of a quiet, green mountain lake, pale homes with clay-colored roofs and open windows lay tucked into the hillsides among the mango trees, bromeliads, and hibiscus hedges.

The group had stopped to visit a tiny coffee shop that was decades old. Our guide, Julio, told us that Café de María had started as support for a servant, María, in the 1940’s when she lost her husband. A business man came and had a cup of her coffee, which she worked daily to make locally for plantation owners and neighbors.

“This must be hard for you,” the business man had said. María had nodded.

Life on the edge

by Arianna Kemis

Havana, Cuba

I have never been so comfortable to walk in a city. Furthermore, I have never seen a balcony lifestyle anything like that which is in Havana.

Life is a highway

The view of the capitol amidst the bustling city streets and early haze of the morning traffic. 

A bicitaxi driver haggles with riders for a price. 

by Arianna Kemis

Havana, Cuba

Sometimes, all it takes is a mile to see a difference.

While we rode the winding streets and highways still within the borders of the city, I saw a vast array of vehicles by which the citizens traveled. There were bicitaxis, all owned by private riders who decked out their bikes to make one more appealing than the competitors’.