CUBA
NEWS
The
Miami Herald
Colombian cocaine suspect in Cuba,
out of U.S. reach
Charged in Cuba with
using a false passport, a reputed Colombian
drug trafficker is beyond the clutches of
Colombian and U.S. authorities.
By Steven Dudley, sdudley@herald.com.
Posted on Mon, Dec. 27, 2004.
BOGOTA - Even as Colombia extradites a
record number of drug traffickers to the
United States, one reputed capo is eluding
capture and extradition in an unusual way:
He is being held in Cuba on a charge of
using a false passport.
Havana has been slow to move on the charge
against Hernando Gómez, and Colombian
authorities say they have no news on their
request for his extradition to Bogotá
to face charges here.
Now, some of Gómez's associates
have told The Herald that they suspect that
Gómez may have bribed his way into
an extended stay in Cuba so he could avoid
a Colombian prison and later possible extradition
to the United States.
''There's a long history of the Cuban government
taking money . . . to give criminals refuge,''
said a State Department official, speaking
on the condition of anonymity. "We
hope the Cubans do the right thing in this
case.''
Gómez is said to be part of Colombia's
Norte del Valle drug cartel, which allegedly
accounts for 60 percent of the cocaine reaching
U.S. streets. The U.S. Justice Department
has indicted Gómez and eight other
alleged cartel members, and many of its
leaders were extradited to the United States
in recent years.
Some of those extradited have cooperated
with U.S. prosecutors, sowing fear and chaos
among those remaining and triggering an
intra-cartel squabble that has left close
to 1,000 dead in the last year and forced
many capos to flee Colombia.
EXTRADITION SOUGHT
Colombian and U.S. authorities would not
discuss the Gómez case on the record.
But Colombia, which has an extradition treaty
with Cuba, has officially requested his
immediate return to Bogotá.
Gómez would most likely be sent
on to the United States. Colombian President
Alvaro Uribe has extradited nearly 200 drug
trafficking suspects to the United States
in two years, far surpassing his predecessors.
Cuba's top anti-drug official, Gen. Jesús
Becerra, told reporters in October that
Gómez was ''in transit'' when he
was captured there in early July and did
not intend to use Cuba to ship drugs. Gómez
is charged with carrying false documents,
a relatively minor crime. There has been
no official word on what jail he is being
held in, or even whether he has been brought
to trial and sentenced.
Associates of Gómez say that his
wife and top lieutenants have been allowed
to visit him in Cuba, and that he is believed
to be managing his drug trafficking operations
from the island.
Cuba has a mixed record on its handling
of foreigners wanted for crimes abroad,
at times deporting them immediately, at
times keeping them for extended periods.
In 1999, Cuba signed an agreement with
Bogotá to extradite 50 Colombians
suspected of drug trafficking who were jailed
in Cuba. It has extradited others to Mexico,
most notably Mario Villanueva, a former
governor of Quintana Roo wanted for drug
trafficking in Mexico, and Carlos Ahumada,
who was sought on corruption charges.
But Cuba has also sheltered suspected criminals.
At last look, more than 70 fugitives wanted
in the United States for charges ranging
from murder to hijacking to grand theft
were thought to be living in Cuba.
Washington and Havana do not have an extradition
agreement.
HELD IN CUBA
The U.S. fugitives in Cuba include financier
Robert Vesco -- now in a Cuban jail after
being convicted of defrauding the Cuban
government -- and suspected cop-killer Joanne
Chesimard.
Now, U.S. officials say, it is beginning
to look as if another one has slipped under
Cuba's protection.
Fewer traveling to Cuba
A new U.S. policy has
reduced the number of trips being taken
to Cuba. Some who have relatives on the
island resent the change. Others say it
will help bring about democracy.
By Lisa Orkin Emmanuel,
Associated Press. Posted on Sat, Dec. 25,
2004.
Luisa Rimblas is worried about her mother.
The elderly woman lives on a meager teacher's
pension in Cuba. When Rimblas visits she
buys rice, meat and other food to help her
mother survive.
But because of new, more stringent U.S.
government restrictions on visiting Cuba,
Rimblas and many other Cuban Americans do
not know when they will see their relatives
again.
According to the U.S. State Department,
airplane seat reservations for Cuba have
significantly decreased this year compared
to last. From July -- when the policy was
put into effect -- to December there were
50,558 reservations, less than half of last
year's 118,938 bookings for the same period.
FAMILY LICENSE
The new policy requires that Americans
apply for a family license to visit only
immediate relatives, such as mother, father,
siblings and children. They can visit once
every three years. Other licenses are available
for religions or commercial reasons.
At Miami International Airport, three to
five flights leave daily for several destinations
in Cuba.
Just days before Christmas, dozens of people
lined up to check in for their morning flight
to Cuba. Most passengers have their luggage
wrapped in blue plastic to guard against
rain damage. One woman, who refused to give
her name, would described how it took her
two months to get a license to visit her
sister in Havana, who is ill with cancer
and diabetes.
''They don't want anybody to go. Maybe
some people go for pleasure, but it's not
always the case,'' the 66-year-old Miami
resident said.
U.S.-Cuba relations, which have never been
good during more than four decades of communist
rule on the island, have deteriorated during
President Bush's administration, which has
toughened economic sanctions and publicized
its plan for a democratic Cuba after Fidel
Castro.
''It hurts both of us because here we have
family and we want to see them and they
are in Cuba and they want to see us,'' said
Rimblas, who has applied for a license.
She has not received any reply from the
Treasury Department's Office of Foreign
Assets Control, which processes the requests.
OFAC said that from Aug. 10 to Nov. 10
there have been about 6,300 applications
for family licenses. Of those, 2,600 were
accepted and 3,600 were rejected.
A State Department official, speaking on
condition of anonymity, said the travel
restrictions were put in place to limit
revenue to Cuba. Officials estimated that
during 2003 money generated from relatives
coming in on charter flights amounted to
about $96.3 million for the government.
But the restrictions have also affected
U.S. businesses. Travel agents and charter
companies, which specialized in flights
to Cuba, have been devastated.
BUSINESS WOES
Armando Garcia, vice president the Marazul
travel company, said he has fired about
25 employees, two-thirds of his work force.
''It is very hard,'' Garcia said. "We
have been surviving.''
Dania-based Gulfstream Air Charter, a company
that operates flights to Cuba, had profits
drop 30 percent since the summer, said Thomas
Cooper, the company's president
''How do you complain against the president
of the United States?'' Cooper said. "We
are just punishing the Cuban people.''
Mavis Anderson, a senior associate with
the Washington-based Latin America Working
Group, a coalition of nongovernmental agencies,
said people will find other ways to get
to Cuba, by traveling via a third country
that does not have restrictions on the island.
''What they are being forced into is breaking
the law to be with their families,'' Anderson
said. "The government has redefined
for Cubans who their family is. You can
no longer visit aunts, uncles, cousins,
nieces, nephews.''
Critics said the measures are pointless.
''It is affecting more the Cuban Americans
than the Cuban government. It's just a way
to show the world how mean we are. It gives
propaganda triumph. I just don't see exactly
what is the aim. I don't think it's having
a weakening effect on the Cuban government,''
said Delvis Fernandez, president of the
national Cuban American Alliance which,
according to its website, is opposed to
U.S. policy toward Cuba.
Supporters claim the sanctions will help
bring about democracy in Cuba.
''It's not about a few people who are allowed
to travel to Cuba -- it's about 12 million
people. It's about putting an end to a 46
year-old dictatorship,'' said Ninoska Perez,
spokeswoman for the Miami-based Cuban Liberty
Council. "Basically cutting down the
funds that a dictatorship needs to survive.''
Photographs recall Cuba's sugar industry
By Fabiola Santiago. fsantiago@herald.com.
Posted on Mon, Dec. 27, 2004.
Browsing through a Paris flea market, Cuban
architect and artist Juan Luis Morales found
an old book that led him to the work of
French painter and lithographer Eduardo
Laplante, who moved to Cuba in 1849.
Laplante made 38 lithographs of the island's
sugar mills. His colorful landscapes of
smoke stacks towering higher than royal
palms and his romanticized view of life
on the plantations inspired Morales and
his partner Teresa Ayuso to return to Cuba
and photograph the sugar mills as they are
today.
The work of Atelier Morales, as the husband-and-wife
call their artistic alliance, is a tale
of loss and an ode to poetic memory.
CAPTURING THE PAST
In their series Los Ingenios: Patrimonio
a la deriva (Adrift Patrimony: Sugar Refineries,
2004), the couple captures with a bitterly
beautiful technique of digital photography
and gouache the ruinous remnants of what
was once a thriving industry.
Steel carcasses of defunct sugar mills
rise amid vividly green but sadly empty
landscapes. An overturned wooden boat sits
at what was once the royal-palm lined entrance
of a grand plantation. A rusted locomotive
peers from the overgrown brush overtaking
a no-longer bustling sugar cane train route.
''An entire industry destroyed, a way of
life lost and no one thought to at least
preserve some of these historical relics
and turn them into museums for the generations,''
says Morales, who has been living in Paris
since 1996 and was in Miami to exhibit his
work at Art Basel Miami Beach.
He'll also be at the palmbeach3 contemporary
art and photography show Jan. 13-17 at the
Palm Beach County Convention Center.
SWEET DEALS
Taking up a wall at the Nina Menocal Gallery
booth at Basel, Los Ingenios attracted scores
of South Florida's Cuban-American collectors,
including Florida sugar mogul Alfonso Fanjul,
whose family also owned sugar refineries
in Cuba. He bought one of the limited edition
25-piece sets.
Of the 10 sets, presented in a wooden box
that looks like a cigar case with the Laplante
story illustrated by two of his drawings,
only five remain post-Basel, now priced
at $25,000. Smaller prints sell for $2,000;
a special poster-sized print goes for $10,000.
The prints are painted with traces of gouache,
which highlight and romanticize the natural
beauty surrounding the ruins. In some, Morales
kept as titles the poetic names of the sugar
mills -- Flor de Cuba, Buena vista, Narciso,
Tinguaro, Constancia. He titled one piece
Cimarrones because the pieces of steel are
''like slaves running away'' through the
thick landscape. Acana shows the regal entrance
of a plantation and Vereda the exit route
for the train.
TO THE RESCUE
''We wanted to rescue the romantic charge
that Laplante brought to his lithographs
in the 19th century with illumination, composition
and color,'' Morales says. "You don't
see the cruel world of slavery in the plantations,
and we wanted to recuperate that beautiful
part. It's not a negation of the bad part
of history. We wanted to show that history,
good and bad, being erased, disappearing.''
Morales hopes people will want to collect
his sugar mill prints, as Cubans did a century
ago with Laplante's lithographs, which became
popular collector's items.
Commissioned by magnate Justo Cantero,
Laplante's lithographs are considered a
relic as is Cantero's book, where the drawings
were first published in 1857, Vistas de
los principales ingenios de Cuba (Views
From The Most Important Sugar Refineries
in Cuba).
LAPLANTE'S TRAIL
In his trips to the island, Morales followed
Laplante's trail through southern Havana,
Matanzas and Las Villas, sometimes riding
on the same train routes that used to take
the sugar to the ports of Havana and Cárdenas,
to be shipped to the United States and Europe.
In his research, Morales discovered that
the original Laplante drawings, and two
of the original editions of Cantero's book
''mysteriously disappeared'' from Palacio
de Junco in the Museum of Matanzas in 1993.
LOST WORLDS
''That is part of the lost patrimony, all
the valuable treasures that are disappearing
from Cuba, stolen and sold,'' Morales says.
"Works of art, books, and archival
documents have disappeared from all of the
national Cuban museums, that's why I call
my work Patrimony Adrift.''
Loss has been the running theme of Atelier
Morales' work since Morales, 44, and Ayuso,
43, formed Atelier Morales in 1993.
The former graduates of the University
of Havana's School of Architecture have
exhibited in Paris, Spain and New York and
are represented by Mexico City-based Menocal,
one of the leading dealers of top emerging
Cuban artists inside the island and in exile.
Last year's series, Bohíos, a mix
of photography, painting and collage, also
shown at Art Basel Miami Beach, portrayed
eerie images of bohíos, the typical
homes in the Cuban countryside, some run-down
and stacked up over each other, others at
the seashore, as if they too, were leaving
the island.
Also touching is their three-part series
No es más que la vida (It's Only
Life, 2004), in which Atelier Morales tackles
water, smoke and wind as metaphoric elements
of loss.
WATER COLORS
The water series, Agua, shows a china cabinet
as if it were slowly drowning. On the top
shelf, one can clearly see a set of dainty,
antique demitasse cups. But with each shelf,
items get murkier, more difficult to recognize,
until water completely clouds over the cabinet.
''Water represents the loss of memory,
which doesn't just happen in one sweep,
but becomes muddled, little by little,''
Morales says. "You know the kind of
thing where you remember the great party,
but you don't remember whether it was at
your grandmother's house or your aunt's
house.''
The smoke series, Humo features three public
sculptures in Spain and Paris, clouds of
smoke bellowing near them, as in the images
of the terrorist attack on New York's Twin
Towers.
'The smoke represents the European attitude
toward terrorism of 'It doesn't touch us,'
but the smoke does reach everyone,'' Morales
says.
The wind series, Viento features household
objects flying disjointedly as if uprooted
by ''the tornado of social elements,'' Morales
says. "Like a revolution, which changes
things forever.''
Cuban flair lights up Hialeah
By Elizabeth Bonet, ebonet@elizabethbonet.com.
Posted on Sat, Dec. 25, 2004.
When my friends in northern states shudder
at the idea of spending Christmas in Florida,
all I can tell them is that they have never
seen Hialeah during the holiday season.
The predominantly Cuban city puts on such
an extravagant show that any thoughts of
snow melt right out of your mind.
Hialeah is home to my Cuban mother-in-law.
Celebrating Christmas in Cuba was officially
banned in 1969. No trees, no lights, no
nativity scenes, no parties. Although the
holiday was again made legal after Pope
John Paul II's visit to the island in 1998,
most Cubans who came to the United States
during the blackout period still enjoy expressing
their Christmas spirit with a phenomenal
brightness.
As our car enters Hialeah, you can hear
the wonderment in my 3-year-old's voice.
"Look Mommy, lights!''
"Uh-huh.''
"More lights!''
"Yep.''
"Look, more lights . . . And a reindeer!''
The decor gets more fascinating as we get
closer to Abuela's house -- reindeer on
roofs, Santa's sleigh, house-size snowmen,
the Madonna and Child. House after house
has entire life-size replicas of the nativity
scene -- cows, horses, camels and goats
included.
Palm trees look like landing pads for alien
spacecraft. Entire roofs are covered with
lights that extend to surround everything
in their path -- TV antennas, fences, flowers
and lawn decorations.
Red, white and blue displays of the American
flag flash from windows while Christmas
music blares from loud speakers. The neighbors
would never complain. Like Cuban conversations
that just get louder and louder, the neighbors
just crank their own music higher so that
no one will miss the candy cane forest on
their rooftop.
Nothing from my childhood in Texas compares
to the sights in Hialeah. All we had was
one street in our town where all the neighbors
got together and decorated their houses.
The line of cars driving past would extend
for miles, all creeping along with the headlights
turned off. My sisters and I would roll
down the windows, huddle together in our
winter coats, and stare out in awe.
We would spend the next week begging my
father to drive more than an hour to see
one fantastic cottage. Once he gave in,
we would don our coats, scarves and hats
and sing Christmas carols in the car until
we arrived.
Lights covered every surface. Fake snow
and icicles dripped from windowsills. Fawns,
squirrels and elves all moved, looking side
to side with a jerk of their heads. Santa
waved from his rooftop sleigh while huge
red and white packages spilled out of his
sack. Strings of real candy canes and gingerbread
men surrounded the perimeter, protecting
the house from fascinated children. Every
year, it was the highlight of our Christmas.
After returning home, we would attempt
to decorate two of the trees in our front
yard. My father would trudge outside with
us as assistants, our arms laden with lights.
But even our best efforts could not hold
a candle to the cottage.
Someday my daughter may want to see a snowy
Christmas that matches most of the picture
books, cartoons and songs. But she will
never have to beg to see a wonderland cottage.
Thanks to the Cubans expressing their feeling
of freedom, all of her Christmases have
been filled with wonderland cottages that
she sees on the way to Abuela's Hialeah
home.
Elizabeth Bonet is a freelance writer who
lives in Sunrise. She can be contacted through
www.elizabethbonet.com.
Browsing through a Paris flea market,
Cuban architect and artist Juan...
By Fabiola Santiago. fsantiago@herald.com.
Posted on Mon, Dec. 27, 2004.
Browsing through a Paris flea market, Cuban
architect and artist Juan Luis Morales found
an old book that led him to the work of
French painter and lithographer Eduardo
Laplante, who moved to Cuba in 1849.
Laplante made 38 lithographs of the island's
sugar mills. His colorful landscapes of
smoke stacks towering higher than royal
palms and his romanticized view of life
on the plantations inspired Morales and
his partner Teresa Ayuso to return to Cuba
and photograph the sugar mills as they are
today.
The work of Atelier Morales, as the husband-and-wife
call their artistic alliance, is a tale
of loss and an ode to poetic memory.
CAPTURING THE PAST
In their series Los Ingenios: Patrimonio
a la deriva (Adrift Patrimony: Sugar Refineries,
2004), the couple captures with a bitterly
beautiful technique of digital photography
and gouache the ruinous remnants of what
was once a thriving industry.
Steel carcasses of defunct sugar mills
rise amid vividly green but sadly empty
landscapes. An overturned wooden boat sits
at what was once the royal-palm lined entrance
of a grand plantation. A rusted locomotive
peers from the overgrown brush overtaking
a no-longer bustling sugar cane train route.
''An entire industry destroyed, a way of
life lost and no one thought to at least
preserve some of these historical relics
and turn them into museums for the generations,''
says Morales, who has been living in Paris
since 1996 and was in Miami to exhibit his
work at Art Basel Miami Beach.
He'll also be at the palmbeach3 contemporary
art and photography show Jan. 13-17 at the
Palm Beach County Convention Center.
SWEET DEALS
Taking up a wall at the Nina Menocal Gallery
booth at Basel, Los Ingenios attracted scores
of South Florida's Cuban-American collectors,
including Florida sugar mogul Alfonso Fanjul,
whose family also owned sugar refineries
in Cuba. He bought one of the limited edition
25-piece sets.
Of the 10 sets, presented in a wooden box
that looks like a cigar case with the Laplante
story illustrated by two of his drawings,
only five remain post-Basel, now priced
at $25,000. Smaller prints sell for $2,000;
a special poster-sized print goes for $10,000.
The prints are painted with traces of gouache,
which highlight and romanticize the natural
beauty surrounding the ruins. In some, Morales
kept as titles the poetic names of the sugar
mills -- Flor de Cuba, Buena vista, Narciso,
Tinguaro, Constancia. He titled one piece
Cimarrones because the pieces of steel are
''like slaves running away'' through the
thick landscape. Acana shows the regal entrance
of a plantation and Vereda the exit route
for the train.
TO THE RESCUE
''We wanted to rescue the romantic charge
that Laplante brought to his lithographs
in the 19th century with illumination, composition
and color,'' Morales says. "You don't
see the cruel world of slavery in the plantations,
and we wanted to recuperate that beautiful
part. It's not a negation of the bad part
of history. We wanted to show that history,
good and bad, being erased, disappearing.''
Morales hopes people will want to collect
his sugar mill prints, as Cubans did a century
ago with Laplante's lithographs, which became
popular collector's items.
Commissioned by magnate Justo Cantero,
Laplante's lithographs are considered a
relic as is Cantero's book, where the drawings
were first published in 1857, Vistas de
los principales ingenios de Cuba (Views
From The Most Important Sugar Refineries
in Cuba).
LAPLANTE'S TRAIL
In his trips to the island, Morales followed
Laplante's trail through southern Havana,
Matanzas and Las Villas, sometimes riding
on the same train routes that used to take
the sugar to the ports of Havana and Cárdenas,
to be shipped to the United States and Europe.
In his research, Morales discovered that
the original Laplante drawings, and two
of the original editions of Cantero's book
''mysteriously disappeared'' from Palacio
de Junco in the Museum of Matanzas in 1993.
LOST WORLDS
''That is part of the lost patrimony, all
the valuable treasures that are disappearing
from Cuba, stolen and sold,'' Morales says.
"Works of art, books, and archival
documents have disappeared from all of the
national Cuban museums, that's why I call
my work Patrimony Adrift.''
Loss has been the running theme of Atelier
Morales' work since Morales, 44, and Ayuso,
43, formed Atelier Morales in 1993.
The former graduates of the University
of Havana's School of Architecture have
exhibited in Paris, Spain and New York and
are represented by Mexico City-based Menocal,
one of the leading dealers of top emerging
Cuban artists inside the island and in exile.
Last year's series, Bohíos, a mix
of photography, painting and collage, also
shown at Art Basel Miami Beach, portrayed
eerie images of bohíos, the typical
homes in the Cuban countryside, some run-down
and stacked up over each other, others at
the seashore, as if they too, were leaving
the island.
Also touching is their three-part series
No es más que la vida (It's Only
Life, 2004), in which Atelier Morales tackles
water, smoke and wind as metaphoric elements
of loss.
WATER COLORS
The water series, Agua, shows a china cabinet
as if it were slowly drowning. On the top
shelf, one can clearly see a set of dainty,
antique demitasse cups. But with each shelf,
items get murkier, more difficult to recognize,
until water completely clouds over the cabinet.
''Water represents the loss of memory,
which doesn't just happen in one sweep,
but becomes muddled, little by little,''
Morales says. "You know the kind of
thing where you remember the great party,
but you don't remember whether it was at
your grandmother's house or your aunt's
house.''
The smoke series, Humo features three public
sculptures in Spain and Paris, clouds of
smoke bellowing near them, as in the images
of the terrorist attack on New York's Twin
Towers.
'The smoke represents the European attitude
toward terrorism of 'It doesn't touch us,'
but the smoke does reach everyone,'' Morales
says.
The wind series, Viento features household
objects flying disjointedly as if uprooted
by ''the tornado of social elements,'' Morales
says. "Like a revolution, which changes
things forever.''
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