You’ll never really leave

During a recent visit to Havana, I saw, on one of the social networking sites that half the world now uses, a beautiful photo that moved me to the point of sweat in my eyes, so as not to say tears.

The photo was taken by chance by photographer Gabriel Dávalos. It tells us the story of a farewell get-together for a young woman who is leaving the country and who decides to walk through Havana for one last time with her friends. Her four girlfriends climb up onto the Malecón seawall, standing with their backs facing north, and surprise her by unfurling a white sheet with blue letters spelling out “You’ll never really leave” followed by a Cuban flag (view the photo on

Days later, on this side of the pond (Miami), where I have put down roots and sowed seeds, a person suddenly asks me, with no forewarning, why I always write about Cuba, and why I always describe it as the most wonderful place on the planet, the only colorful rose on an otherwise bare rosebush: “That’s right, wonderful,” this person said, “as if nothing bad existed. So why do people leave? Didn’t you leave?” the person asked in a rude, reproachful tone.

Despite my ample experience in responding to these “almost”-justified bursts of anger that sometimes ambush me, this time I remained silent. The “didn’t you leave” had sounded like a clap of thunder in my ear…. Did I leave? I asked myself uneasily. You went, we went? I began contemplating the matter….

It is possible that we have left, or at least, that is how we felt when we decided to emigrate — for whatever reason — and were involuntarily stripped of our rights. This was intensified for those of us who moved to the United States. There are many of us who are unfortunate in that way (I think that not being able to go back and live in your country is not a sign of good fortune, although we may have found good fortune elsewhere); for us, the “you left” is definitive, an irrevocable and permanent decision. You don’t belong anymore, you don’t count, you leave and all of your rights are left behind in a box marked “You have been notified.”

For those of us who have “left,” leaving is not an option, in my opinion; it has always been more of a provocation. Nevertheless, I think that those of us who make the sad, painful decision to emigrate — no matter what the reason or motivation for doing so — never go away from Cuba, we never really leave.

Because it does not matter what the final destination is, the tortuous procedure of starting from scratch far away from our native land, family and friends and adapting to a new language, a new culture and different climate; Cuba emigrates with us. Cuba is always present, like the most colorful rose on the rosebush.

Today is not like yesterday, but it is not the way I wish it were, either. Nevertheless, I wait, stoically and without any ill will, for a sign that I can return, not to be bothersome or imposing, but simply because it is where I want to be, work, contribute, rest, live and possibly die.



3 September, 2012

tu te vas de Cuba,,pero Cuba no te vas de ti…espero muy pronto volver en donde yo naci en my linda patria my linda Cuba


4 September, 2012

Que bello
I was there for the art festival, I have traveled lots of the world and I felt
Like the oxygen was different. The people, landscape… Everything so not what I expected. But between the smiles, la Tierra is fed up with the system.
There is nothing if there is repression of any kind.
I would love to return soon, even with the I conveniences.
I enjoyed this narrative.


9 September, 2012

With all the friends you have made, all across the United States, Hugo, I hope that you remember to invite some of us for a visit, once you return. I have always been intriqued by your beautiful Country…
Joe in New York


4 January, 2013

His vanity was hurt by their talking so frankly.I owe you for my dinner.I’m your lucky fellow then.The enormous increase of population will create many problems.I’m very proud of you.It looks very niceIt looks very niceHe covered himself with a quilt.You are just in time.The doctor began to operate on the boy.
Wom UK


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