How do you risk everything on a boat escape from Cuba? I am Balsero.
As the Covid 19 crisis began and Cuban economics severely deteriorated a lot of Cubans risk their lives in an attempt to escape their country on a raft or self-made boats. According to the USA Coast Guard statistics from the beginning of 2021 at least 20-30 Cubans per day try to float the distance of 120 km and come ashore along Key West or Miami. Although the “wet feet/dry feet policy” was ended, Cubans hoped that a relative of theirs /mother, father, brother, sister, son, or a daughter/ could provide them with refugee status. Read more on the topic here. Nearly 450 Cubans have been deported to Cuba since the beginning of 2021.
Human trafficking is a big problem for the US and especially for the most Cuban state Miami. The official “price” for the candidate emigrants varies between 6 000 and 10 000 USD for a person depending on the number of “clients”. The smugglers are mostly Cubans living in the USA and owning fast boats. Special navigators might also come to Cuba and drive the boats to America. It is a rare occasion for Cubans to try and overtake the distance to the States on their own and it usually has a fatal ending.
As a precaution in this interview from the 19th of May 2021, I have not called the main hero by his real name.
Suein goes through a lot to fulfill his dream and reach heaven – Miami.
How are you, Suein?
Do you see my feet sunburned?
What? I asked in astonishment.
Suein lifted his jeans and I saw his brutal sunburn down his ankles. It seems they weren’t allowed to wear shoes or socks on the self-made boat for Miami. They also couldn’t take any mobile phones, laptops or computers. The only thing the balseros /rafters/ could take with them is little water, some food, and a lot of hope.
What happened, Suein?
Like many others, I couldn’t bear living in Cuba anymore. The Covid crisis just started a new “special period” for us. So I decided to get away. I didn’t want to risk my life in attempts to pass the Mexican border, it was too complicated. So I decided to float the way to Miami on a self-made boat. I called the smuggler from Miami. who wanted 10 000 dollars to transfer me. My father was already in Miami and recommended me.
President Obama eliminated “the dry feet, wet feet policy”, which allowed any Cuban immigrant who reached American territory with dry feet to be a legal American citizen. Nowadays, this is a very hard task – you need to have a direct relative in America – a sibling or a parent, who should reccomend you.
We departed from the eastern Havanа around 4 o’clock am on a raft made from polystyrene, wood, and two Yamaha motor engines. We took some biscuits and two bottles of water for 12 people.
When departing everything went smoothly – there was no wind, guards, or even no uneasiness on our side. I somehow felt the freedom in my hair. The old engines rumbled behind us and part of the gasses blackened my left foot with smoke. “Everything has its price,” I told myself and especially freedom.
Was it worth it?
After the first day of euphoria on the second day after the slow sunrise, the adrenaline suddenly dropped. The noble values that were leading us started to sink in the Gulf of Mexico along with the need for food and water. The sharks must have awaited the outcome of the situation, which happened to many other Cubans. At a certain point, one of the engines started to make weird sounds and stopped working. We had no idea how many kilometres we had left until the end. “End of what?” I started to ask myself.
Day three
We were slowly moving in an unknown direction. My lips were dry. There was a 9-year-old kid with us entitled to some 500 ml of water, and the rest of us had to do away with the 3 l. Every now and then I glanced at the kid sipping water under the vigilant watch of his mother Yaneisu. We were now bored and serious – even the optimists convincing us about the bright future awaiting us in Miami. Truth is born in hardships. I was yet to see some dodgers.
Day Four
Ai de puta madre! We are almost stuck. My foot and half of my backside are almost fried by the only working engine. It was a very bad idea to stand in the rear. now the ocean seems like a desert to me – although I am surrounded by water I am sooo thirsty. I would have killed for water at that moment. Give me water, or I will kill you. Jose drank all the water. Yes, he was 9 years old but what did I care… I wanted water. I wanted the dew-drops at night… There were 200 ml left in the last bottle. Alejandro wouldn’t let it go. It was not his first transfer. We will get there.
Day Five
I don’t care where we lay aboard and I really can’t understand how come we haven’t passed damned 120 km with one engine. Alejandro will buy himself a house with the money from this transfer, but the rest of us was screwed. Take us there for God’s sake! The second engine was also malfunctioning. I want water. I was thinking about drinking from the ocean soon. I was going crazy. There was no water left on the boat. I didn’t care whether someone saved us or we reached land. I didn’t!
Day Six
If someone had told me that 6 days wouldn’t be enough to pass 120 km, I would have become Jesus so that I could run this distance and not pay 10 000 USD, which is worth two apartments in Cuba. I started to become rather skeptical. What if they caught me? What if I am Covid 19 positive? But what is Covid and will I survive? I am fed up. I cannot bear this anymore. Can I drink someone’s blood? We won’t take it much longer. The kid is crying. I will kill him and drink him! I am sure Pedro is thinking the same, and Sarah, too. The mother will be the only grieved. The boast is as slow as an ant. We are saving fuel since we have little. Without it, the current would take us God knows where. It is better if they found us. There is no point in this.
Day Seven
I wake up with a killing headache. I want to kill the world. Let them find us, I don’t care, I just want out! And then… I can’t believe my eyes – land! We are floating towards a shore – like the big noisy helicopter above us… Just as our boat was touching the damned golden sand several police cars gathered around with armed policemen. But why are you armed – can’t you see we are naked, you fools?
Day Eight
We were taken to some ship 1 mile offshore – a sea prison… They explained to us that according to the procedure we are denied access to the USA and we will be taken back to Cuba in 7 days. Meanwhile, we had to shower under supervision. These Americans are crazy… everyone was entitled to a bowl of rice, some beans, and water. And of course, a lot of water around us…
Day Nine
I felt relief and horror at the same time. Can you imagine? They asked us general questions and took our fingerprints. I can’t believe they were watching while we were showering. How come they thought we were as stupid as to jump into the sea from 20 m height to swim 400 m to the shore. I mean, we travelled 120 km and still got caught. Was it worth it?
After seven wonderful days on the ship with a view of the Miami beaches, it was time to go back to Cuba. The ship departed to Pinar del Rio /the guars knew Spanish/ and in around 5 hours we were home… In Cuba, we were met by State Security. We were far calmer the next 24 hours in the Cuban jail. They let us go without any sanctions. It was quite interesting, though, while in America one of the officers told us that the more the attempts the better the chances to succeed. So it is lottery-based – either you win or the sharks…
Story to be continued…
Find out more about Miami and the life of Cubans there. Check out Key West and the Balseros Museum here.
