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"EVER BEEN IN A CUBAN PRISON TIMMY?"Jun 15 '01 (Updated Jul 25 '01) Write an essay on this topic.The Bottom Line SOMETIMES IT'S BETTER TO PLAY BY THE OTHER GUY'S RULES. JUST ASK HARRY. The title of this little tale comes from a comment I left on an earlier epinion. I was exchanging comments with another writer here on one of my cigar reviews and it was starting to turn into one of those ludicrous conversations that oft time do arise here. You know the type where each participant tries to get in the last word and the quips continue to multiply. Well my name's not Timmy, but I have been in a Cuban Jail. That is at least I've seen the inside of one. Fortunately I was not a guest of one of Fidel's more basic "all inclusives." However my brief sojourn was enough to convince me to be a good little boy whenever I visit la Isle Bonita. Or at the very least not to get caught. I was reminded of my earlier experiences during my last trip down there earlier this month. We were driving back to our hotel on the south coast after a day in Havana. That trip in and of itself is probably worthy of a piece here, as soon as the Cuban version of AAA becomes a topic for review. The sun had gone down and we were in the middle of Cienfuegos Province, when I saw a large brightly lit up are off in the distance. I knew there were no towns in the area and the place looked very isolated. I asked the driver what the place was, perhaps some secret military installation. He glanced at it, shrugged and replied, in Spanish, that it was the Woman's Prison,"Carcle por jinteras ." So that was the infamous place I'd heard about. Earlier in the week another guest at the hotel was telling me about it. He'd been driving around the countryside and like us had come across it by accident. Carcle por jinteras, the name translates as the jockey's prison. The common slang for Cuban ladies who earn their living from foreign gentlemen is jintera or jockey. I leave it to your imagination as to why and who the "horse is." It is supposed to be one of the largest prisons in the country. During the crackdown in 1999 thousands of Cubans who made their living off of black market activities were arrested and imprisoned. Included among them were those woman who had been convicted of prostitution. I'd been in the country during and immediately after that period (see my epinion Crackdown in Cuba). I'd always wondered where they'd been sent and now I knew. Here they were guests of the Cuban Government for three years and gainfully employed cutting sugar cane. My own "experience" with the Cuban penal system happened about six or seven years ago. Somehow I doubt much has changed so the tale is still valid. I had landed at Cienfuegos, the smallest airport in Cuba if not the world ( yes there is a review on it here). Back then the place hadn't undergone the renovations I discovered this last trip. Then an entire plane load of fun seekers were herded past a single immigration desk, one at a time, and into a terminal building the size of a small hotel room. Here there was a customs, barrier, two customs agents, and one old x ray machine. This last item was the pride of Bulgarian technology, and invariably broke down after the second or third bag was fed into it. You can easily imagine the delays and confusion this created. The trick I discovered after a couple of trips was to sit at the front of the plane. Then you'd be the first through Immigration and into the terminal. Instead of waiting for your luggage, you waltzed right through Customs and outside. beside the Terminal there, was a nice little bar made from an old helicopter (crashed and abandoned?). This was a pleasant place to wait and enjoy a cold beer or two or six. Eventually the crowds would thin out. They'd come out and get on the buses lined up in the parking lot and depart for the various hotels and resorts. Then I just strolled back into the terminal and retrieved by bag(s) which were usually the only ones still there. Waltzing through the Custom's barrier was a mere formality by this time. After the deluge, they were in no mood to open and examine one more bag. In any case a little present, usually a dollar store bottle of after shave, was enough to speed me on my way. In Cuba Government officials frown on bribes, but little gifts from one hard working companero, to another are accepatable. This was also a good way to meet fellow experienced travellers as opposed to the herds of first timers. Anybody who was first in line at the helio bar was probably not a newbie, and worth hanging around with. That's how I met Harry and eventually got my introduction to the Cuban penal system. Incidentally no names have been changed to protect the innocent, there are none in this tale. Harry was staying at the same place as I was and that would be convenient I though. The hotel was about twenty kilometres from town and cabs at the time were infrequent and expensive. Someone to share the ride into town at night would be nice I thought. The alternative would be to endure the resort's "entertainment." Something that even Fidel wouldn't inflict on the inmates of "Carcle por jinteras ." Harry was about my age, maybe a couple of years younger. He was travelling with a young couple, his best friend and said friend's wife. They were first timers and totally dependant on Harry for advice. Harry was also the biggest prick I had ever met. It took me about two hours to discover this. He considered an all inclusive bar a personal challenge. Despite several trips down there he hadn't even mastered such complicated Spanish phrases as "por favor," or "gracias." To him all the locals, including the staff, were sub humans there for his personal pleasure or needs. To say he was rude to them would be a gross understatement. Harry had one other charming attribute. He was a coward. He really wanted to head into the nearby city the first night, but when he found out that only the two of us would be going he chickened out. It was dark and scary there, and he wanted a mob or at least a cab full before he went. Nope Harry would do most of his partying safe with the hotel's enclosed compound. After we arrived at the hotel and checked in, I bumped into Harry in the lobby. He was trying to find someone to get a small fridge for his room. I asked him why and he said to keep his medicine cool. I actually believed him and interceded on his behalf with a friend of mine at the front desk. Shortly after Harry had his fridge in his room. Later on I bumped into him by the pool and he almost thanked me, for the fact that he had cold beer in his room, some "medicine." The second night there was a party at the beach bar. The hotel band, guests and off duty staff were all there. As an added bonus there were a few extra Cuban guests. Near the hotel was a youth camp for Cuban children and some of the counsellors had come over for the evening. That they were young and female was of course the icing on the cake. I was chatting with one while the band took a break when I noticed she was shivering. A bit of a breeze had come up and it was a surprisingly cool night. I told her I had a sweater in my room and offered to go and get it. She said she'd prefer to come with me which was even better. We were in my room all of two or three minutes when there was a knock on the door. Great I though the same security guards who'd snuck the counsellors in were now playing chaperone. Actually it was another of the counsellors, the one whom, guess who, had been dancing and talking with. A rapid conversation in Spanish which was too fast for me to follow ensued. A second later I got the translation from my "date." The second girl was trying to hide from Harry, who was being his usual charming self. She'd ditched him at the beach bar after his not too subtle suggestion on where the evening should be going next. Then came the request. Could she please, please hide here for a little while until he gave up looking for her, passed out or was hit by a falling satellite. While my own plans honestly had been somewhat similar, if more polite than Harry's, what else could I do. Sometimes I hate being the gentlemen, and especially so as I spent a couple of frustrating hours watching HBO while they chatted away. Eventually the coast was clear and faded off into the night. My reward for being Sir Galahad, two quick little kisses, one on each cheek. The next morning Harry was holding court at a pool side table liberally piled high with beer cans. Here, he was bragging to those few people who couldn't run and hide fast enough, about the little hot Cuban camp counsellor he'd "banged" in his room last night. I was sitting at the next table, and was seriously forcing myself to resist the urge to interject one minor missing detail into his story, the truth. Why bother I thought, he'd already convinced himself that his imagination was what really happened. After that I decided to go to Havana. There was a bus tour laid on and while I knew it would take all day and we'd only get a couple of hours in Havana, it would get me away from the hotel. Harry had managed to alienate almost the other guests and staff by this point with his charming personality. That is aside from his friend, who still trailed behind him in an almost puppy like obedience. Despite this he still thought I liked him. I'd made it as clear as I could that I considered him a jerk, but it went in one ear and out the other. There was no room in that tiny brain for rational thought, what with all the space his ego took up. The Havana trip wasn't too bad, and a day without Harry was like a day with sunshine. I returned tired, but at the same time rested, in time for dinner. In the dining room I got the good news. It seems I'd missed what would be the highlight of the week at the hotel. Harry was in jail. I got the whole story over supper in the dining room. In addition another guest just happened to have his video camera with him and captured the whole thing on tape. When the Cuban police tried to confiscate the tape, he pretended to erase it in front of them. It appears Harry and his running buddy decided to spend the day at the pool. Probably because it was close to two of the hotel's three all inclusive bars. They set up shop at a couple of chairs and began their daily ritual of attempting to drain Cuba of its entire liquor supply. They also brought with them a rather large ghetto blaster. The pool area already had music playing, soft Latin background music. The DJ was more than willing to take requests and/or play guests tapes if asked. Alternatively you could set up at the beach where music wouldn't bother others or use headphones. Harry and company of course declined to use any of these options. They cranked the volume up as loud as they could and sat there revelling in it. Soon people began to complain, but of course they didn't listen. Then a hotel employee came over and politely asked them to turn it down. Like I noted earlier Harry had little or no respect for the people whose country he was visiting, so you can imagine his response. Eventually one of the hotel managers came out and asked them to please turn the music down. Harry's response to this was to loudly verbally abuse the manager. Then they began to throw patio furniture into the pool. At this time the police were called. When the police arrived, they also tried to politely resolve the situation. You have to remember these were Cuban police and they seem to have standing orders not to bother tourists. Harry gave them the same respect he showed the manager and accented it with a couple of playful swipes at them. Then the night sticks came out. A few seconds later Harry and friend were clubbed, cuffed and frog marched to a waiting police car. It sped off to the nearby town where the two of them became guests at a rather different kind of all inclusive. All the rice and roaches you could want. Oh I should point out that both of them were wearing nothing but bathing suits when this happened, Speedos. The wife of the second guy was obviously distraught. Most of the guests didn't know how to deal with her, or even what to say. Like I said by this time the dynamic duo were not about to win a popularity contest at this establishment. To make matters worse, the Canadian tour company rep. wasn't there. It was her day off. A couple of elderly ladies were taking care of the wife when I got there. They asked if I'd kind of help out.What the hell, I'd already played Sir Galahad once, so why not again. With the help of the hotel staff we arranged for her to visit them the next day in the jail cell. She was also allowed to bring them some food and clothes. An important point, in Cuba it appears the responsibility of feeding inmates belongs to the family, not the guards. I also gave her some advice to pass on to her husband. Whether Harry chose to heed it I couldn't have cared less. Basically I told him to be polite and do whatever the guards said. The two of them had sobered up during the night and the reality of the situation was starting to hit home. They, and the wife were advised they were there for the rest of the week. The plane that would be taking everyone back to Canada in a few days was the first one due in. They'd both be deported on it. The fact that all of them had booked two week vacations was irrelevant. Numerous charges were pending, including, destruction of property, disturbing the peace, assault, resisting arrest, and assaulting a police officer. I later found out they were also considering charging Harry with sexual assault for an unrelated incident. I guess he'd left the resort after all, and decided that if a jintera says no she doesn't really mean it. The poor wife spent the rest of the week travelling back and forth in a cab, usually with a hotel staff member to translate. By the time of the flight home she was a complete wreak. That incidentally was a sight. After we'd all cleared Customs and Immigration and boarded the plane we sat on the tarmac waiting. Soon a Lada police car showed up and drove onto the runway. Both of them, still cuffed were taken from the back seat and into the terminal and then eventually onto the plane. I think a lot of people were disappointed they were in jeans and T-shirts. The site of Harry being deported and forced to fly home in his Speedo would have been the highlight of the trip for many, myself included. After we took off I made my way back to the couple for a quick chat. Surprisingly they weren't sitting with Harry anymore. The husband thanked me for trying to help, He also went around and thanked all the others who tried to help out. There was also a subdued apology. I should point out that at dinner the night of the incident the hotel manager came into the dining room and apologised to all of us for what had happened. Several guests stood up and apologised to him. It hadn't been Cubans that caused the trouble, but a couple of Canadians. Yeah, loathe as I am to admit it Harry was a countryman. I got the rest of the story on the way home. The cell was barely big enough for the two of them and there wasn't enough room to lie down. No furniture, blankets or even a window, just a barred door. In the middle of the floor was drain pipe. The smell from it quickly told them what it was for. The husband told me my advice was good and thanked me. He was polite, and scared and the guards left him alone and even seemed sympathetic. Harry after his fear wore off became angry at the situation and reacted with that great sense of self control, decorum, and common sense that put him there in the first place. I had a vision of the guards taking him out for a little "private chat" now and then. I hate to admit it, but I hope that did happen. Hubby was fined $200.00 US and advised he was banned from Cuba for six months. Harry was fined $500.00 US and banned for life. I wondered where he got the money. I doubt they took Visa, or a cheque. I know that if someone had passed the hat around the hotel there would have been few takers. I guess the Canadian Embassy in Havana loaned it to him. There is a point to this story. I've been to Cuba about eighteen times in the last eight or so years. In that time I can count on one hand the number of foreigners who've been in trouble with the law there. This incident and a couple of idiots who decided to use their video camera to make a home made porno movie. They had the film confiscated and got to visit the same suite that Harry occupied for a couple of nights, or so I heard. Some people try to smuggle stuff out, usually cigars above their limit, and some even try and bring stuff in. There was guy stopped on this recent trip. Rumours flew around outside the terminal that one passenger was being detained, and that he'd been caught with drugs. He never did appear, and wasn't on the flight back the next week. I guess they refused him entry and he left on the same plane that brought him there. If it was drugs then I guess he's lucky that he'd have to deal with the RCMP when the plane landed. The alternative would make even old Harry think twice. Basically though tourists and foreigners get away with a lot there. Those ladies of the evening that I mentioned earlier on. They're spending three years of their lives cutting sugar cane, for just trying to support their families. The tourists caught with them, walk away with a stern warning if anything. Guys at the airport smuggling out cigars, if they're caught have the cigars confiscated and that's it. The National Police presence is heavy especially in major cities like Havana. They appear to be blind in regards to tourists though. It's as if we don't exist, until we need their help, either for directions, or for something more urgent. Then they're all helpful smiles, well at least by Latin American standards helpful. Even the Policia Especiale, the feared Grey Berets in their black SWAT fatigues ignore tourists even those engaged in minor illegalities like talking to a pretty Cuban girl. Later when the tourist is out site the poor girl may regret her actions. At the least she'll endure a stern warning. If she's really unlucky she may find herself listed as a known prostitute. Next time she's caught, guess where she goes. There's a good article on here already about the sex tourism industry in Cuba by Charles. There's really nothing more on that subject that I can add, so I urge to take a look at it. As for how the police treat the locals, well if your interested checkout Crackdown in Cuba . There's a double standard there. Old Cuba hands understand it. We may not like it, but we understand it. We also know that there some lines even a tourista can't cross. Just ask Harry.  |
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