The children of the revolution

The stillness awoke me this morning.  Where are the sounds of the roosters, the noisy engines, the crashing surf, the animated conversations, and that ubiquitous Latin beat -- the rhythms of Cuba that fill one's consciousness and then take over until quiet becomes strange?

I have spent almost three weeks in Cuba, not as a tourist but as a member of the 21st Ernesto Che Guevara work brigade, and the experience was altogether different.  Our 35 or so members ranged in age from 15 to 82, came from all walks of life and from as far away as Labrador and Vancouver Island.  Here is Yvonne from Vancouver perched atop a light standard for better viewing of Havana's May Day parade (with her permission).  We should all be so vigourous and full of life at 82!

As an international brigade, we worked and lived away from the usual tourist traps and were very privileged to see a side of Cuban life few others see.  Dripping with sweat and caked in red dirt, most mornings we worked in farm fields or urban gardens.  In the afternoons, we met with Cubans from every walk of life.  We were given tours of hospitals, schools and factories.  We heard from teachers, members of the Cuban National Assembly, doctors, social workers, cooperative farm owners and women activists to name but a few.

With the help of a couple of excellent interpreters and our own informal translators, we spoke to many ordinary Cubans unaccustomed to meeting others from abroad.  In the next few posts, I would like to explore some themes around Cuban life and education, dissimilar yet somehow familiar to our own.  While I feel my observations are mostly valid, they lack the detail a Spanish-speaking person might acquire.  By my next visit to Cuba, I will speak Spanish!

***

"Without meaning, learning has no purpose." says Neil Postman in "The End of Education".  A present from a good friend and colleague, this book strangely mirrors my recent Cuban experiences and echoes my thoughts over some years.  It was my prop to find privacy in crowded waiting rooms and a screen against unwanted attention.  Now dusty and dog-eared, it came with me everywhere. 

Postman's book raises fundamental questions about the nature of society and education. Does tool-making really make us human or is it language and the use of the narrative?  If it's the former, chimpanzees, crows and even a type of fish, the green wrasse, are now human.  As an aside, a wonderful video demonstrating the intelligence of crows can be found on CBC's "The Nature of Things".  But I agree with Postman that what sets humans apart from other animals is our use of the narrative -- the stories we say to ourselves and tell to each other. Through our tales in history, science or religion, we create overlays of a world that gradually reveal a multifaceted map of our reality.

The Cuban narrative is compelling.  It's the classic story of David and Goliath told with a modern twist.  It is represented in every town square and appears to give motivation and purpose to Cuban lives and a surprising unity to Cuban society.  At a time when so many of our youth seem to be searching for purpose and floundering, there is something to be learnt here.

I'm never sure where these posts will lead but I do know the questions raised in Postman's book are worthy of further exploration as is the interesting experiment that is Cuba. To paraphrase Neil Postman, in the beginning was the word and in the end too.

And what is that word for Cubans?  Self-determination.

The views expressed in this blog are personal opinions only.