June 25, 2009

This week the hardships, the logistical hassles and scarcities that are part of Cuban life have been a big part of our lives. A week ago I flushed the toilet and sewage came up through the shower drain. The septic tank for the building is full, and our bathroom is closest to it--but there's only one sewage removal truck for the entire city of Havana, and it's sent according to the priorities that are decided in some department somewhere-- as my therapist Jorge says “the situation is being analyzed.” First the authorities insist on moving us to a new room-- and do so while I'm in therapy, but the new room is moldy, and so is each of the other available rooms. Eventually we're moved back and we use the bathroom at the other end of the building, in a room that's unoccupied because the air conditioning is broken. Secretly, we use a bucket at night and empty it when no one who cares might be around. We're all praying it takes longer to fix the air conditioning than it does to get the truck to come. If a patient is put into that room, we have no bathroom and will have to be put somewhere else---though no-one knows where. The roughest part was when we both got diarrhea and nausea, a regular summer occurrence around here-- and had to use the bathroom a lot. We were given “sales” an electrolyte mix to prevent dehydration, and my Ukrainian friend slipped me a marvelous anti-diarrheal drug she brought from the Ukraine to Portugal and carries with her everywhere.

The internet access that's on site was closed for ten days, since someone stole $50 CUC in cash in a pre-dawn break-in. This has meant getting a cab to go to the hotel Melia Habana to use the wifi in the lobby, which also costs more than access here. We had an arrangement with a friend of my friend Karen's, Eduardo, known as Vega—who drives us for about half the cost of a regular taxi, but his mother's been in the hospital, so he's been unavailable. She just got sent home because the hospital where she was is clearing out everyone they can in preparation for swine flu cases (there are 34 as of today, double the number of a few days ago.) Telephone access has also been frustrating,. The only phone that works right now is the one inside the gymnasium complex, which is only open 8-6. Therapy is 8:30 -5:30. I try to squeeze in calls at lunch or before therapty, but generally the times I'm free, people are on their way to work or on lunch break, and they get home after 6. If we could get hold of a Moneda Nacional Tarjeta Propia, a national calling card, we could call from a phone across the street that's always accessible, but no one can get the cards. Someone said they don't make them anymore. Someone else said she's been trying to get one from a friend at the phone company, but no luck. Those who already have them can recharge them, but whatever the real situation is, we don't have one and aren't likely to,. The phone in our room could be hooked up—but it would take time, and cost 50 cents a minute for local calls. So we leave messages asking people to call and hope they do when we're in.

Tonight was a bonanza night. My parents called from Boston, and so did Leah's sweetie from California. It's SO amazing to hear the voices of our very own closest people! If anyone else wants to spend a bundle to say hi, you can call us most week nights after 6:30 Eastern Time by dialing the country code for Cuba and the city code for Havana (which I don't have) and then 273-6777 ext 797. Leah's sweetie Alia found an international prepaid card for calling Cuba online which is probably the cheapest way. We'll be here here at least until at least the 3^rd and probably longer.

This morning I walked 1300 meters! People have been congratulating me for the last several days, seeing me walk to therapy in the morning. The man who tends the internet cafe came running out after us calling “senora!” When I turned he said, “You're walking! That's wonderful!” He's beaming all over. But then in weight-lifting something went wrong and I couldn't use my right foot at all-- searing pain on the outside of my heel. We must have pushed it a little too much. This morning in rounds the doctor told the defectologist not to add weights to my arm exercises because I clearly have some sort of autoimmune condition, even if they don't yet know what it is, with allergies and chronic pain, and weights could make the pain worse. I think that's what happened with my foot. Very discouraging going into the final week. I'm trying to figure out how to speed up the process of asking for a little more time here if it turns out to be necessary.

I haven't mentioned my visit to the psychiatrist for evaluation. I loved her! She asked intelligent questions, when I told her I tend to be reactive and anxious she said “yes, most epileptics are,” openly asked the nurse if there were any questions about whether my seizures were psychogenic, asked about major traumas, told me I had good personal resources, that she'd like to help me finish getting over my last breakup and generally reduce anxiety, and prescribed Bach flower remedies!

It's strange contemplating not eating dinner with Robbny and Pajaro every night, not seeing Anna and her mother every day, not spending most of my waking hours working out in the gym with the international crew of people who cheer each other on.

I came back to my room early and put ice on my foot and watched Venezuelan and Cuban tv, which is how I got to watch live as the Honduran people took to the streets to stop an attempted coup today. President Zelaya, yet another good Latin American president, has brought Honduras into ALBA, an organization of progressive Latin American countries aimed at building economic and political independence for the region. Following the examples of Venezuela and Bolivia, the Honduran people have been calling for a constituent assembly so they can make constitutional changes that will allow for full popular participation in reshaping the country's future. Honduras has been a strategic base of operations for the far right in central America, and the oligarchy and parts of the military are freaked. This Sunday there is a plebecite about whether to put the constituent assembly onto the ballot in November. The military was in charge of getting the voting materials distributed to municipalities and refused to do so. Congressional leaders called the vote unconstitutional and tried to block it. Zelaya announced an attempted coup and people hit the streets by the thousands, in pouring rain, demanding that the military comply. As the news was covered live, the Venezuelan channel ran people's text messages across the bottom of the screen-- most of which were telling the Honduran people not to give up, that Venezuela was behind them, that we're all in this together, that they just had to say the word and Venezuelans would show up in Tegucigalpa. By late afternoon the head of the air force had sent word that the ballots would be delivered, and the people in the streets unloaded them, while brigades of volunteers got them tot he municipal centers for distribution. The Minster of Defense has resigned, and the member of government whose title I don't know how to translate has said the armed forces will obey the law. Although the struggles for true democracy and independence from US corporate control in Latin America represent some of the most hopeful news on the planet, the big transnational networks kept their gaze firmly fixed on the death of Michael Jackson. Yesterday we watched a series of programs about the five Cuban political prisoners held in the US—outraged responses to the US supreme Court's refusal to hear their case. It was very powerful and moving. In between which we watch “ads” about the importance of art, the building of energy independence in Latin America and the Caribbean, the importance of education for Latin America's children, and announcements of amazing programs we can't watch because of when they're on. I don't know how I'll stand being cut off from socialist television!

I hope I'm mobile enough to send this on the 26^th. Saturday we head for the countryside with my father's friend (now ours) Leda and her husband Manolo. Sunday we've organized a shopping trip for vegetables in El Vedado with our Ukrainian friend, a delightful new Angolan neighbor and an obnoxious Portuguese man I'm hoping we can ditch, and then in the late afternoon we'll go visit Alexis and Myrtha, and take Alexis some ink cartridges for the pen I gave him.

BREAKING NEWS-- I'm being encouraged to stay another month! Email time's up.