Intense Silence

By Deandria Covington

Before I embarked on my pilgrimage to Cuba, I only had a small amount of knowledge regarding the country.  Some of what I learned was from a Spanish Literature class that I previously took, where I fell in love with the works of the renowned Cuban poet, Nancy Morejón; the other information was based on what I had learned within the two months of Professor Cuesta’s class, and the vast amount of negativity from my fellow, Patriots. I must admit that the alienation between our countries fed my curiosity, and increased my craving for this pilgrimage.  As an English/Spanish Literature Major, you yearn for creativity! I wanted to know about their art, poetry, music, dance, culture, and how does could a country brought to life in a classroom with such beautiful artwork and great writers be forbidden from young artist, people like me?

                  As I embraced the Cuban people and its country, I knew that my experience was going to be more than professional, but personal as well. This trip was a life-changing experience, because I went in thinking I knew who I was, but came out a completely different person.   The first changing experience occurred because of my silent spirit.   I am neither a native nor a fluent Spanish speaker, but my silence made me a strong listener.  Many were concerned that my silence was due to unhappiness, but the silence was intertwining my soul with that of the Cuban country, because I listened with not only my ears, but my heart and soul. 

Secondly, I was enchanted with how their country embraces the Afro-Cubanos, and how knowledgeable the Cuban people were of the African culture.  I, belonging to the African culture, learned that I was lost until my week in Cuba.  Cuba taught me about the life of a slave realistically, and not just from a picture in the book.  I held the iron chain, weakly with two hands, that captivated one leg of the enslaved beings, which forced me into a realization of how the African Diaspora was not just a vocabulary word from class, but a reality in life that connects me to be people all over the world despite the name of their country and language. Additionally, I discovered that I did not know the true beauty of my culture, until I experienced my own culture from the Cuban perspective.  The kings and queens that we seldom hear about, were brought to life in Cuba, along with cultural traditions that I believed began with my family were not from my family, but from my lost identity. 

Furthermore, the people of Cuba were not the aggressive people we were all taught about, but the most giving ones, who gave us the best of what they did not have.  I have been to other countries, and have made life-long friends.  However, I did not make friends in Cuba; I inherited family.  Before Cuba, I believed in helping others, but I used to believe that we must help those in our own country first.  Unfortunately, I did not realize my ignorant ways until my experience in Cuba helped me understand that my country offer different resources and transitional homes to help people rebuild their lives, but the people in Cuba do not have that option.  A young man, who is now my brother, only makes $12 a month when people here make that an hour.  Children, who are now my children, only receiving a teaspoon of rice as meal, because the mother has to make sure that there will be food for the end of the week, pained me into reality of how we throw away and devour food like ungrateful beasts.  We take things for granted, but my pilgrimage in Cuba has taught me otherwise, and has made me want to live the life of St. Francis of Assisi, and give away all of what I have, because I have been taught that I can live simple.     

Like in Cuba, I’ve pondered the words to describe my experience.  In this case, it is not because of the language, but because there are no words to describe the feelings that I developed from my Cuban experience.  If my life depended on me describing my trip to Cuba in one word, I would only be able to utter the word, “intense”.  Every feeling encountered, moment lived, interaction, thought, prayer, and breath were just as described:  INTENSE!