By CATE MINICHINO
Observer Contributor
Feb. 20, 2008

Havana - From the popularity of the political books at Havana’s annual International Book Fair, Fidel Castro’s announcement of resignation would logically spark the fiery riots found in the streets during Jose Marti’s birthday at the end of January. At the very least, spirited conversation would blaze along the wide avenues that act as the heartbeat of Havana. With a single glance at the city famous for political upheaval, it appeared that the Cubans are the only world citizens who did not have an opinion on their recently-resigned president’s message.

Cuban President Fidel Castro listens to a speaker during the May Day parade on Havana’s Revolution Square, May 1, 2005. REUTERS photo by Claudia Daut

Imagine a similar situation occurring in the United States: college campuses and city coffee shops across the country would be in an uproar, particularly in the capital. Regardless of political affiliation, the majority of people would take pride in flocking to the streets and voicing their particular opinion on the current situation and predictions for upcoming events.

Once the news finally reached the Cuban people, hours after the administration announced it to the international press, American students studying in Havana appeared appalled. When they leaped out the front door, eager to capture the inevitable social reaction to the governmental turmoil, they found that the main avenues were silenced to political discussion. The people had opted instead to continue life as normal.

After studying Cuban history for a month, we knew that Cuban society often allowed for more subtle displays of opinion than American students often witness. The streets were silent of political debate, but only because most Cubans were busy reading Fidel’s “message,” which covered the entire front page of every state-run newspaper.

Those people who wanted to advertise their desire to discuss the headlines held rolled-up copies of “La Granma,” the communist party’s official newspaper. One Cuban man studying education said that many Cubans would not speak about politics along the streets out of fear that the wrong person might overhear.

“It’s a big problem to talk about it, against the government,” he said, after quickly mentioning his hope for change with the new administration. “People are afraid to talk, because in the street there are many people undercover. They are beside you, listening while you talk, maybe they have a micro[phone]. If you are talking about something like that, not against, not bad, not good, but people look at you, you know?”

Only the campus of the University of Havana showed sparks of dialogue on the morning’s announcement, which fits its historical tradition as a bastion of autonomous political thought. Although Cuban students appeared deep in debate about the repercussions on daily life, many were reluctant to speak with students who were so obviously from the United States or Europe. A few professors offered statements, but many were so politically diplomatic that a sincere opinion was often difficult to discern. This appears to be a running theme in a country with a single political party and little room in the country’s daily life for dissidence.

During the prior afternoon, our study abroad group’s class on Cuban International Relations had discussed who could possibly become the new second-in-command if Raul Castro was announced on Sunday, February 24 as the new president. One day later, those names powerful in Cuban politics were also considered candidates for the presidency among student debates within the residence.

We were also having difficulty obtaining information, because internet access is expensive and very tricky to acquire. In the end, many of our discussions were based on only the information we gathered from Fidel Castro’s front-page article and the random CNN webpage that a few people were able to download.

Tuesday night showed little change from the afternoon, as Cuban couples popped into coffee shops blaring disco music and little musical bands of middle-aged men and women played for pesos in front of tourists along the dimly-lit parks lining the intersections. Only the newspapers were absent, and with them, any obvious exhibition of political unrest.

Most guidebooks describe Havana as a city in waiting, but the authors never seem it necessary to explain exactly what the city expects to witness. On Tuesday morning, the papers presented the Cuban people with an event many considered to be inevitable, but the day ended with only more questions. Havana will continue to wait until February 24, when Cuba’s leaders will decide who to trust with their country. For a country without a president, Cuba remains remarkably calm, patiently holding their newspapers until their fate is announced.

Minichino is a junior in international studies at American University studying abroad in Cuba.