People regularly tell me useful things here, such as ways to make life easier, or to think more like a Cuban. I am stunned, and a bit flattered, one day at the market when my cousin berates me in jest, ‘are you a Cuban or a tourist!’ She’s joking as we both hop of the … More A Bit of Advice
I spend the long hot days chatting to the women, helping to clean the house, washing and feeding my youngest as she crawls around the floor whilst my eldest Eleanor is playing in streets. Eleanor disappears after her breakfast – a hastily consumed egg and a roll – running down the street to call on … More The ability to dream
Robertico is always making things. Crafting something out of nothing. He joins me building jungle scenes out of paper, cutting and rolling the paper into grass, drawing eyes onto elephants and sticking beads onto his snake. His talent is obvious. As he works his face is serious, completely consumed by the task. One night he … More About Robertico (part 3)
You really can’t grasp how difficult staying connected is in Cuba until you’ve been. In Camaguey there are two places I can go to use the internet. By use the internet I mean use a computer with access to my email and a few web pages for one hour for 5 cucs. Internet that is … More Disconnected
‘The poor wash disposable nappies’, she tells me sadly as we sit on her sofa in the afternoon. The chairs are sticky with years and years of grime. They are waxy to the touch, the soft patterned fabric worn smooth and stained brown in colour. Every time I sit on them I feel the need … More Poor perspective
One of the things I love about this country is it’s ability to fix things. Not a visit goes by without someone fixing something for me and it never ceases to amaze me. The first time we were in Trindad, which is a beautiful small town in Sancti Spiritu. There is a walk you can … More What’s broken can always be fixed
A friend and I go swimming with our kids. She doesn’t have a costume so she borrows the one I used when I was pregnant, which no longer fits me. On return I tell her she can keep it. It doesn’t fit me anymore, I have no use for it. I am strolling the street … More A gift given is a weapon in hand
It took me almost a week in Camaguey to really see Robertico. This may sound strange but so many people pass through the house – tios, primos, friends and neighbours of all ages – that his presence has seemed passing like all the others. It’s only one morning as I am up early with baby … More About Robertico (part 1)
My suegra arrives early evening at the door of our house. She takes a blanket, wraps my youngest Maia in it and pops her on her shoulder. Maia starts to cry. ‘I’m taking her to see the neighbour,’ she says. I think she means her neighbour who is a paediatric nurse. We step out into … More The towel trick
There is a headstone, so they say, in the cemetery in Camaguey that reads: Por un peot Estoy aqui Because of a fart I am here I’m told his family wrote this on his head stone because he was trying not to fart and the internal gases killed him. Everyone in Camaguey says it exists … More Because of a fart, I am here
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