Matanzas, Cuba
In Cuba heroes are very much memorialized. Monuments and magnificent sculptures of those who fought for the cause of independence certainly dot the city of Havana. My two heroes for the day were in the flesh, two towering black athletes, one who teaches basketball and the other baseball. Although they were slugging down the rum which comes in small fruit-juice-type pakettes they did have a lot to say about their own need for God and their commitment to the Santaria tradition. For them the concept of a monk, no woman as an intimate friend was inconceivable. I appreciated that they tried to understand the idea of a monks mind-set, that all men are brothers, all women are sisters and all children are everyone’s responsibility.
While friendship ignited here I also came upon some anti-hero dynamic. I short -cutted my way to the apartment through university grounds. An over amiable type asked about my country of origin and offered to show me around with his friend. They took me to a dark side path, an area devoid of students, and pressed for help of the monetary kind. I had to coolly weasel my way out of this situation and emphasize my own poverty position. “I’m not a tourist” I declared. When I couldn’t produce what they wanted, they stopped smiling.
Anti-heroes sometimes come in waver. At Matanzas, a mere hour and a half east of Havana (by car) history tells of when Europeans came and gunned down every last indigenous person, leaving not one to stand. Hence the name Matanza, “Killing”. War is the world’s common occurrence. It is remarkable that centuries later descendants of such antagonism had come to partake in the aggressive passivism of chanting with us.
There are some good medals deserved out there. My own personal hero is anyone who responsibly looks after dependants and keeps at the core some spiritual integrity.
10 Km
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