Mission Libertad (2 page)

“Papi, how long till we hit shore?” Luisito asked, finally breaking the silence.

“About two days if everything goes well with this small motor I am about to start,” Miguel said as he ran his fingers through his uncombed light-brown hair. His wide blue eyes, the same color as his son's, were reddened by lack of sleep and worry during the last few days.

“This trip is going to be tough,” Miguel said, glancing first at Luisito and then at his wife, Elena. “But many
others have done it before us and we can do it too. When we get to the United States, we will be free. That is all that matters and all we need to think about right now. Okay?”

Luisito and his mother nodded.

“Sharks are my biggest worry,” Elena said.

“Sharks?” Luisito said with wide-open eyes. “I had forgotten about sharks . . .”

Miguel gave Elena a stern look, shaking his head slightly.

“Hey, let's relax. Pretend we are tourists enjoying the beach at a resort,” Miguel said, trying to lighten the mood. “Remember how we always wanted to go relax on those beaches like the foreign tourists, but we weren't allowed?”

“Papi, please. How did you plan this?” Luisito asked.

“It was not easy,” Miguel said. “I had to wait for the right time and the right people to help us.”

“I never thought it would happen,” Elena said as she worked her brown hair into a ponytail, then wiped the sweat off her forehead. “Since your father is a doctor, I knew the government would make it difficult for us to leave. This is the only way we would ever be able to get off the island.”

Luisito understood. Most people in Cuba were not allowed to travel freely on vacation to other countries because the government feared they would not return. Doctors especially were not allowed to leave because Cuba needed medical doctors.

“We had to make a decision soon since you are almost of military age,” Miguel said. “I knew they would
draft you and who knows, maybe send you to fight in Africa. . . . Oh, let's not even think about that anymore. The worst is over.”

Luisito didn't say a word, but he suspected that the worst wasn't over as the raft carried them forward into unknown waters.

In the silence of the trip thoughts flooded Luisito. He replayed the last few weeks over and over in his mind, now recognizing clues to what his parents had been planning and how oblivious he had been. He remembered a few weeks ago when his neighbor, Ramon, knocked on the door late at night. His father had rushed out of bed to open the door to find Ramon with Johnny, his twenty-year-old nephew, who was visiting from the United States. The young man wore a colorful shirt with words in English, new blue jeans, and big white sneakers.
Those
shoes
are
huge!
Luisito thought. Luisito had only seen these kinds of shoes and clothes at the
diplotienda,
a store where only the diplomats and tourists were allowed to shop. The tourists had access to another Cuba where food was not rationed in the restaurants and there were toiletry products in the hotels—a different world from the scarcity experienced by the rest of the people on the island.

Since most Cubans were barred from outside news, he had never realized how much better other people lived until the government started allowing flights from the United States. Many Cuban families who had fled Cuba before flights were restricted took this opportunity to visit their relatives. That's when Luisito started wondering why his family couldn't have soap or milk like other people.

“This is my nephew Johnny, from
La
Yuma
,” Ramon said that day, using the slang Cubans on the island often used to refer to the United States of America. “He brings things from your family.”

The smiling young man pulled several envelopes out of a backpack that hung from his shoulders. Miguel recognized the handwriting immediately.

“It's from your cousin in Miami!” he said, turning to Elena.

Then Johnny pulled out a plastic grocery bag with a pair of glasses for Abuela, a package of soap, underwear for Luisito, and a bottle of vitamins. As he handed them the items he folded the plastic bag and was shoving it back into his backpack when Abuela stopped him.

“Wait. Can I have the plastic bag?” she asked. “Plastic bags are so hard to find. If things get really bad, I can sell it. I can get about five American dollars for this!”

“Sure,” Johnny said, shrugging his shoulders and smiling. Luisito couldn't help noticing how clean this guy smelled.

Instead of reading the letters out loud, his grandmother hurried Luisito into the bathroom to use the new soap. With all his excitement over the new things, he didn't realize that his parents were reading the letters in their bedroom and speaking quietly to each other.

Luisito remembered that wonderful bath. He sure smelled terrible now! How he wished he could take a bath again. That day he turned the cold-water knob. He didn't bother to check if there was any hot water—there usually wasn't. He picked up the bar of soap and took a deep sniff. It smelled sweet. It had been three weeks since he had last used soap. He had been using water and
lemons because there wasn't any soap left in the stores and his family wasn't able to purchase or barter any in
el
mercado
negro
, the black market. That is where many Cubans illegally bought their supplies when they had used up their allotted ration or when stores didn't have what they needed. Every store and every home was owned by the Cuban government. There was no longer any private ownership. If the stores didn't carry something, citizens had to fend for themselves.

Many more thoughts wandered through Luisito's mind as he drifted in and out of a light sleep on the raft. By now his father had turned the motor on, and they were going at a faster pace. Soon the sky turned from pitch dark to gray, and the sun began to rise. It looked as if it were coming out of the ocean and racing toward the sky. Soon it would be morning. Luisito's stomach began to rumble.

“Is there anything to eat, Papi?” he asked, trying not to sound annoying.

“
Si, hijo
, I brought some bread,” Miguel said, sounding almost cheerful.

“Dip it into the water so it be easier to swallow.” Miguel pointed to a bottle of water tied to the raft.

Bread was no longer made of wheat in Cuba but of yucca, a starch similar to potato. If it wasn't eaten right away the bread was hard as a rock. Luisito ate his wet bread and took a few sips of the water.

“I wonder what Mami is doing,” Elena said

“She is probably at church,” Luisito said, “thinking of us.”

“You are probably right,” Miguel said, smiling.

The hours passed but not as quickly as Luisito expected.
When
there
is
not
much
to
do, an hour feels like an eternity
, he thought. The weather was good and his mood was lighter. He could almost see himself arriving in the United States, the promised land. Despite his good spirits, something nagged at him: it couldn't be this easy.

Around noon, Miguel spotted dark clouds in the sky heading straight for the raft. Luisito felt scared and helpless. There was no place to hide. He couldn't go under a bridge or down below a ship's deck. They were out in the open, just waiting for the storm to hit them.

First, the ocean became agitated. In just a few minutes, the sky grew so dark it looked like night. The wind gusted, rocking the raft like a baby's cradle. The waves came in stronger and higher every minute.

“Be careful!” Miguel repeated over and over as he held on to Luisito with one hand and the raft with the other.

“Amparanos Señor,”
Elena prayed, imploring God to protect them, while she clutched the raft with both hands. Luisito felt so small and weak in the face of an angry Mother Nature. He did the only thing he could think of doing. He tried to repeat the prayers he used to hear Abuela say at night, but he couldn't remember them clearly.

“Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Hail Mary, full of grace. Please help us,
Virgen
de
la
Caridad
!” Luisito shouted over and over the bits of prayers he could remember.

“
¡Cuidado!
Be careful. Hold on!” Miguel shouted every time a wave hit them. The hours seemed endless. Luisito hung on to the raft and tightened the muscles in his stomach to keep from throwing up as the motion made him sick.

The waves were so high that they hit Luisito and his parents in the face. It was like being slapped. Luisito tried to continue to pray. He knew there was a God somewhere. Would Abuela's God help them? Would they survive this voyage, or would they make the newspaper headlines like so many other empty rafts found on the shores without their owners?

Suddenly, as quickly as the storm had come, it began to leave. The wind ceased and the waves calmed down. The sun peeked out again from the clouds. Miguel looked around the raft, taking a quick inventory. They were alive. The raft had not been damaged, and they hadn't lost their water bottles. They did lose their loaves of bread out into the sea, but they could breathe in peace now.

“Luisito, don't worry,” his mother said, reaching out to hug him. “Everything is going to be fine. The worst is over.”

If only he could believe her.

Luisito lay back in the raft and closed his eyes. He thought about the storm they had just been through. What if another storm came again at night and they weren't so lucky? Poor Abuela. She was an agile seventy-two-year-old woman, but she wouldn't have survived a trip like this. Otherwise, Luisito knew, she would have escaped with them. His chest tightened and a lump formed in his throat as he pictured Abuela, who used to stand long hours in line under the hot sun waiting to get food at the grocery store. He called to mind each detail of his grandmother's tanned skin and wrinkled face.

“Do you think Abuela will be okay?” Luisito asked, breaking the silence.

“Oh, your grandmother is a woman of strong character. She will be fine,” Miguel said. “As soon as we get to the United States we can worry about getting Abuela out of Cuba.”

His words frightened Luisito. What would happen to Abuela if they didn't make it to the United States? He pushed those thoughts out of his head and tried to think of his dear grandmother smiling and telling him stories about the good old days. She told him stories of how middle-class Cuban families would gather socially in country clubs. There they would enjoy the beach, rent
cabanas
, and eat lunch by the ocean. Those were happy days for Elena and her parents.

Then things gradually got worse. Lusito's grandfather, Luis Jemot, was a well-known attorney in Havana. One day, two police officers came to his office to question him. They took him to a nearby prison for more questioning. Abuela was able to visit him in jail for the next few days. Then one day when she arrived, she was informed he had died suddenly of a heart attack. But other prisoners told Abuela that he had been beaten to death.

“Mami, do you think Abuela will get angry crowds in front of the house because we left?” Luisito asked. “Remember the
actos
de
repudio
, the group of people recruited by the government to harass those leaving Cuba? They called the
bodeguero's
son, Ivan,
gusano
!”
Gusano,
or worm, was the nickname some used to insult Cubans who wanted to leave the island.

“No, they did that to Nico, the manager of the
bodega
, to set an example since everyone knows him in the
barrio
,” Miguel said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. They all nodded in agreement, falling silent. The sun hid behind the backdrop of the clouds and night fell. The stars twinkled in the most beautiful display they had ever seen. Luisito wished upon the largest one.

“What did Abuela say to you before we left?” Elena asked, interrupting Luisito's thoughts.

“A long good-bye,” Luisito said, hoping his mother would not probe any further. Abuela had entrusted him with a secret. Something he must do as soon as he arrived in Florida.

The raft rode steadily in the morning sun. Luisito couldn't tell where the ocean ended and the sky began. He still couldn't believe this was actually happening to him. He kept thinking that maybe he would wake up soon in his sofa bed. Abuela would joke with him as she prepared his breakfast of water with sugar and some leftover bread. But no . . . even today, his desk at school would be empty. He would be marked absent, and his friends would think he was at home sick. They would never imagine he was floating on a raft in the middle of the ocean!

Luisito wondered if he would ever see his friends again. They had been such an important part of his life until only a few days ago.