Crossing to Castro’s Cuba

I am tempted to say, well, because it is there, and seriously speaking that’s the reason.The thought of crossing to Fidel’s Cuba first crossed my mind when I decided to follow my wife to Miami for the graduation ceremony of our daughter Nabila Rabiu Shehu who had completed her studies from Ross medical school in […]

I am tempted to say, well, because it is there, and seriously speaking that’s the reason.
The thought of crossing to Fidel’s Cuba first crossed my mind when I decided to follow my wife to Miami for the graduation ceremony of our daughter Nabila Rabiu Shehu who had completed her studies from Ross medical school in Miami with honors.  
We had promised my friend’s wife Alawiyya — when she came with her children to my daughter’s graduation in Istanbul last year — that my wife would retaliate by attending her daughter’s this year in Miami, and that if time and finances permitted, I would also join in the trip.
As the Almighty would have it, I had both blessings when the time came.   
Having decided on the trip, I thought to myself; ‘how can we be 90 miles away from Cuba and not cross over?’ my mind quickly raced back to the Kennedy era Cuban missile crises, Bay of Pigs, Guantanamo —, all captured in as many movies I have watched.
As usual, it was to my array of friends in the Foreign Service I turned to for help with logistics.
The first person I contacted was Habibu Baba Habu, the Nigerian Consul General in New York, who in turn fired an e-mail to the Nigerian ambassador in Havana — Amb Labara Bhutto — keeping me in the loop. I subsequently sent our data pages to her and the visa was processed and approval sent to the Cuban embassy in Abuja.
I got a call from Mrs. Miriam Morales of the Cuban embassy —  as if I were a VIP— to come for our visa a few days before leaving our shores.
As is usual again, this is what was done in terms of logistics;
1. Amb. Habibu introduced me to an agency in New York called House of travel whom I requested to pre purchase all our tickets from a combination of American and Delta airlines from Miami — Bahamas — Atlanta and back to New York before even getting the Bahamian visa. Such was the level of my confidence in my friends to work out things for me.
2. House of Travel who couldn’t do our tickets to Havana because of the trade embargo between the United States and Cuba had advised that our best bet was to fly to Nassau in the Bahamas and hop on to the island of Cuba with the Bahamian airline.
3. Having found out that it is the British embassy in Abuja that overseas Bahamian interest as a commonwealth country, I contacted them and was informed it would take about 2 to 3 weeks to process the visa.
 I didn’t have that time, so it was to Habibu I turned again for help.
He said, ‘we can apply for the visa from our office in New York when you arrive’.  
A day after our arrival in New York we applied for a one week multiple entry visas. That was   to enable us go out of arrival into departure on the first leg, and go into town for two days on the way back to Miami.
You know what?  They gave me and my wife a six-year multiple entry visas that would expire in 2020.
My mind quickly put that trip aside — like a gambler putting his win aside, saying ‘naci wannan’ at the same time throwing the dice back onto the table—and started thinking of when next we should go back to Bahamas.
4. My daughter Fatima, on break from school, filled in the space House of Travel couldn’t by getting the Bahamas airline tickets for us online.
With all this merry go round in order to see Castro’s Cuba, we ended spending more time 30,000 feet above the ground level than on the islands.
 
ARRIVAL MIAMI
I, my wife and daughter had arrived Miami from New York about 30 minutes or so after the graduate, Dr. Nabila and two of her friends did from Atlanta. We linked up and waited for her parents who were to arrive from Berlin about an hour after we did.
Now, all this just didn’t happen by accident. It was meticulously arranged to happen that way– way before we even left Nigeria, and they couldn’t have happened that way without the seriousness and efficiency with which their airlines and indeed all their businesses are run — and the Almighty’s stamp of approval of course.
We took two cabs directly to Sunny isles, an area close to Hollywood beach, where two waterfront apartments had been pre-paid for us by Dr Nabila, also long before our arrival. The apartments, all painted and furnished in bright white colors floor to ceiling, are equipped with balconies that present a picturesque view of yachts — belonging to the rich and famous– parked in an artificial lake down below. With the bathrooms equally dressed in white, I began to wonder at exactly where we were — if you catch my drift.
At no time did this thought occupy my mind more than at night when the rain and thunders began.
The thunders in Miami are something else. They are scary. It sounded, to me, like giant positive and negative wires sparking right above our apartment. They make those of Abuja at the beginning of the rainy season sound like child’s play. I honestly thought that was our, or at least my exit point, I couldn’t open my eyes to discuss what was going on in my mind even with my wife. But, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t visit Miami, a beautiful city famous for its beaches, but, pray you never encounter the thunders above the city.
The first thing that came to mind as we drove into the city the following day was ‘Al Barney’. How can I forget Al Barney? That fictional character with an ear to the ground created by James Hardley Chase, who was always hanging around Miami beach, and whom the police always fall back on for information on criminals.
We were scheduled to stay for three days, after which we would proceed to Havana via Nassau, and for three days did we stay, loitering around a few malls, picking a few things.
On the d-day [graduation day], Alawiyya, typical of her, had prepared some snacks and drinks to take along, just in case–and I tell you they came in handy at one point. The graduate, who as expected left earlier, left us with the GPS lady. And believe me; she took us to the venue right on time.
The ceremony, devoid of lengthy protocols, — I mean, the graduates and their teachers probably had to rush to save a life somewhere — was precise and to the point.
People would shout and stump feet on the wooden floor when it got to their graduates turn. We also did, and if ours didn’t come first in terms of pitch, I am sure we wouldn’t be that far down the line.
We had a photo session immediately after the ceremony after which we dashed to a mosque for Friday prayers, eventually ending up for a post graduation lunch at a Lebanese restaurant out of town on the way to Fort Lauderdale.
My goodness, because we were all on the verge of starvation, people had to be calmed down from excitement when eventually the order that was so large and so well dressed arrived on the table.
Upon arrival back to the apartments, the women drove out to Miami Beach for sight seeing whilst I stayed back to enjoy a quiet evening, wondering if those sparks would be repeated at night, mercifully, they weren’t.
We left for the airport early in the morning the following day for our American airline flight to Nassau in the Bahamas. I expected the flight to be bumpy because of the dense clouds, but the eagle fortunately just sliced through them comfortably.

ARRIVAL IN BAHAMAS: Only one word, — don’t know if it’s English though, or maybe it’s just an expression — would describe the airport in Nassau — ‘wow’.
It is unbelievably beautiful and spacious. Visitors are welcomed into the vast immigration hall by elderly old school musicians playing soft Caribbean music that seemed to permeate right into the skin. In fact, visitors are wowed right from the wide corridors leading to immigration by adverts that tell you all about the islands.
The immigration officials are one of; if not the friendliest, I have ever encountered, to date. As soon as we were stamped in, the first thing that came to mind, for some reason, is a dear friend of ours who used to share the same nick name as the islands.  With an hour only in our hands, we quickly went out of arrivals and moved into departure to check-in for our flight to Havana with Bahamas air.
Again, everything went smoothly, just like that — thanks to our meticulous planning way before, and of course the Almighty’s stamp of approval again.
Inside the aircraft, we sat next to a young preacher, author, and motivational speaker/business man called Dr Showalter Johnson.  
In no time, after takeoff, he dropped his book and we got talking. I remember me and him engaged in conversation throughout the duration of that 30 minute or so flight to Havana.  The conversation covered a whole range of subjects, from religion, politics, and culture to business. He became so fascinated with my African stories that he kept fast forwarding himself into the future and right into the continent by asking questions like; ‘o k, I arrive in Nigeria, where and where should I go’?  ‘Who and who should we go see?’ he certainly has ways with English.
On approach into Havana, Dr Johnson drew our attention to Guantanamo bay by pointing at it.
 
ARRIVAL IN HAVANA: Inside the arrival hall, we were processed together, — yes, processed — after which we exchanged contacts and went our separate ways, but not before he offered us accommodation at a place owns by the sea back home in the Bahamas — ‘in case you decide to pay us a visit again’, he had said.
He was a fascinating man indeed. Google the name or global village group please, if you want to know more about him.
Outside immigration we were received by a young lady named Oluwatoyin Alabi, sent by the Ambassador to receive us. We picked our luggage and moved out only to be welcomed by the hot and humid Caribbean weather.
Mark, a Nigerian who has settled in the islands drove us to H10 panorama — a four star hotel by the seaside, and walking distance to the Nigerian ambassadors residence. It was at the reception when I brought out dollars to make payment Oluwatoyin said, ‘you should have come in with British pounds or euro’. They have more value than the dollar — and I obviously don’t have to tell you why.
We checked in, took our stuff upstairs, prayed and came down for lunch at a Spanish or Mexican restaurant — can’t recall — attached to the hotel, after which we took a walk round the block to allow the meal settle.

HAVANA HAIRCUT: Back in the hotel, I went to the reception to ask for a barbers shop. I was given a description of where to find one in Spanglish — a combination of English/Spanish.
So, I just said ‘ci’ and left, contemplating on weather I should wait until we get back to Nassau. But then, the head was already itching, so I went searching on my own, only to find one at the side of the hotel, not too far from the restaurant we ate in.
I was glad I found it; because the cut turned out to be one of the most comfortable I’ve had, to date.  
That kind of cut can’t be forgotten, so easily.
Late evening I received a call from the Ambassador, inviting us to dinner at her residence. Sure it was going to be orishi rishi I wished we hadn’t gone for that lunch.
At exactly 7.30pm a driver from the ambassador came to pick us.
We were received by her very amiable and hospitable sister named Linda, before she came to join us in the living room upstairs. Immediately after exchange of pleasantries we went straight into the business of the day, or should I say night — dinner, and just as I predicted it turned out to be a super supper of our local cuisine. We thereafter retired for tea to complete the diplomatic hospitality after which we were given a tour of the 80 year old grand palatial residence, fortunately owned by us — not me and my wife — but us collectively as Nigerians.  We had a photo session afterwards before taking our leave, trekking back to the hotel to let that super supper sink in.

OLD HAVANA: The following morning, after a not so good — for us, because the menu was full of ham which we don’t eat — buffet breakfast, we took a bus that goes round hotels at intervals to pick up tourists and drop them at the Marina in old Havana for free.
Old Havana is the tourist hub of all visitors to the island, which happens to be the biggest in the Caribbean, with Havana as its largest city.
Old Havana is a very vibrant and fascinating place, full of brightly colored Spanish colonial style buildings.
Everything, everywhere and everybody are donned in bright colors, from the people themselves to their cars and buildings. Fascinating to just sit down and watch.
Dropping off the bus at the marina, we were faced with three options; to either trek, take a taxi or horse drawn carriage to tour the old city.
Trekking was out of the question — not in that h and h Caribbean weather and taxis would be too fast, so we opted for the horse carriage, driven or ridden by a guide named Raphael.
Raphael introduced his horse named ‘tawari’ and as soon as we started moving I knew I had seen and mingled with people from all parts of the globe.
He was a professional.  
Our first stop was a free hotel. Not a hotel as such, but an old prison that Raphael says one can spend the night in for free if one is that adventurous — just for the experience.
A night in jail? I said to him ‘we will pass, besides, we already have accommodation’.
We moved on to the seaside and caught a view of a refinery opposite the port, sent or donated by late Hugo Chavez of Venezuela, and late Che Guevara’s residence atop a hill on a small island.
Moving further into the city we passed by San Francisco square and the Benetton building — now a hotel. Passing by the Jose Marti residence, I asked Raphael for Fidel’s house.  You know what he said to me?   
‘The whole of Cuba is his residence’. That’s the level in which they revere and adore Mr. Castro.
And to think that Castro came to power shortly before my arrival in Kano — if you catch my drift — and obviously long before Raphael and his horse was born got me thinking …
We toured the war museum, where the tank which Castro personally drove during the Bay of Pigs invasion of the island is proudly on display, and went over to Batista’s —whom the revolution deposed.
We passed by a cigar shop to pick a park for a dear friend, after which we dropped by a closed but very airy market and picked a few souvenirs.
We closed the tour in about the best restaurant — for tourists, not celebrities– in town at ‘Buena vista social club’, on Raphael’s recommendation. We were not disappointed.
If you want to eat in a celebrity restaurant, then I will recommend you go to ‘Restaurante Dos Hermanos’ open since 1894.
Some of the celebrities known to have eaten there whose names are proudly displayed on a plaque in front of the restaurant are; Ernest Hemmingway, Errol Flynn, Marlon Brando, Enrique Serpa and Federico Garcia. I hope the names are familiar to you.
With that horse carriage driven free massage on the streets of Havana I slept like a log that night.
One interesting thing I noticed is the attachment of a toilet for tawari on the carriage in order not to litter the streets.
We left Havana on June 16, but not before passing by the Ambassador’s residence to bid farewell. Labara practically showered us with souvenir gifts. O Alabi also chipped in with a music CD of nice Caribbean music at the airport before saying goodbye.
As soon as our flight was called I sent sms to Ambrose, — a Nigerian introduced by the Ambassador, who was to pick and drop us at Best Western Hotel in Paradise Island.
We will take off from here when next we meet on these pages.