A Chance at Freedom

They stood quietly in front of their apartment door - Faustina holding their 5-month-old son, Luis, in her arms while Antonio read the document he held in his hands. Their 5-year-old daughter, Gladys, watched intently from the other room, while the military official stood at the doorway; satisfied with his delivery and more than delighted to rid those who didn’t care to support the communist island and its ideologies. 

Faustina looked at her husband as he turned to face her, nodding approval. Finally! After four years of applying for exile, they were granted permission to leave the only country they’ve known and loved. The Cuban regime had been in power for nearly ten years and the future of the country was still questionable. Hope, however, still ignited the flame within the souls of those who stayed behind. One day, our country would be free again. 

It just didn’t appear to be on the horizon.

The officer broke the silence, and in their native language said, “You need to gather your children and you must evacuate from the promises at once. You are not allowed to take anything but the clothing you have on. Your daughter can take one toy while you await your departure in the next few days. Everything else must stay.” 

They both nodded in agreement.

To the officer’s lack of knowledge, they had long prepared for their departure. They had been informed on how tedious the process was. When they applied, they were given a random number and were told they would be contacted when their turn arrived; if it ever would. All they could do was be patient while their application was being reviewed. Antonio was obligated to cut sugarcane in the fields of Pinar del Rio fifteen consecutive days out of each month; more of a punishment rather than a job that was given to those who had applied to leave the communist country. Faustina would stay home, caring for their daughter. The birth of a second child - a son - would soon follow.

During that time, they began to relinquish many of their valuables; handing them over to family members, friends, and close neighbors, who did not have the same fate of leaving the country. Paintings, small furniture, money they had saved, even non-perishable foods, were dispersed as they knew they would not be allowed to take it with them. They would have to start a new life - in a new country - with nothing of value.

If approval was granted, they knew that a man wearing a military uniform would come knocking on their door, making them evacuate from their home. This concept made Faustina’s blood boil. How can anyone just waltz in and drag us out of our own home, without allowing us to take any of the belongings we worked so hard for? How can they not allow us to take our children’s necessities with us? How heartless can a person be?

“Quickly, gather the children. I will get my wallet and your purse. Have Gladys choose a doll to take with her,” Antonio said to his wife while heading to their bedroom. 

Faustina turned to her daughter and grabbed her tiny hand. “Come,” she said as she led her to her room. “Let’s get your doll, cookie,” a term of endearment that she would call her little girl. Gladys hopped over to her favorite doll - an old and ragged doll - that from time to time, her eyeballs would be pushed inside her head by two very small, eager fingers. She looked down at Gladys. “No cookie, not that one. Let’s take the new one with us.” Faustina had an agenda prepared as she knew that they would not be allowed to board the plane with it. She decided she wasn’t going to leave the new doll behind so that the regime would re-gift it to one of their own. She had planned to leave it with her mother, so that her niece could take ownership of it. She would buy Gladys a new one as soon as they settled in the states. As expected, Gladys fussed as it was not her first pick. She adored her old doll.

As they collected themselves, they were escorted out of their apartment. Faustina turned around quickly, before the officer shut the door to seal it, so that she can take one last glance of the world she was leaving behind. The ache she felt in her heart was indescribable. She wanted to cry and she was very anxious about the new life they would set for in three days. Though, she did not falter. She maintained strength for her family - for her children.

That evening, and just for the night, they stayed at Teresa’s apartment. She was Faustina’s friend and neighbor who lived down the road at another complex.

The days that followed, they stayed at Antonio’s mother’s apartment, while they prepared to leave for the United States. They would land in Miami, Florida before departing to Chicago, Illinois the very next evening. Antonio’s sister, Maria, resided in the windy city and was claiming full responsibility for their arrival. They were to stay with her until Antonio found a job and was able to provide for his wife and two small children. In the meantime, for the one day they would be scheduled to stay in Miami, they would stay with Faustina’s friend, Norma. 

Norma, too, had lived in Cuba and had left the island when the revolution began. They had kept in touch. She was more than eager and delighted to help after learning they were granted approval.

The day arrived when they would say their good-byes to their loved ones and to the country they called home. It was particularly warm that early December morning. The weather was inviting and very common for that time of year. Little did they know, a shift in climate lurked around the corner. 

In the scheme of things, all they wanted for their children was freedom from tyranny, so they boarded onto a Freedom Flight and left the world they knew behind.

When the plane landed in Miami, Norma drove them to The Freedom Tower - better known as “El Refugio” - so that they could be provided with the tools and resources they needed. These services were provided to refugees at no cost. They quickly picked clothing of their size - shoes, pants, shirts. They had nothing of their own, so this was welcoming for them. Antonio was handed a long black trench coat, while Faustina and the children each received thick jackets to keep warm in anticipation of their arrival in Chicago. They were also given infant formula, non-perishable foods, and medical assistance. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get by until they settled in.

The following evening, Norma dropped them off at Miami International Airport. They were herded into a single line and given a sticker to place on their shirt collar that read, “Refugee.” They communicated with hand gestures, since the staff only spoke English. They were then directed to the terminals. Faustina held her children very close. She felt a tinge of anger toward how they were being labeled. She had already felt conscientious about going to a new country and not knowing how to speak their native language. 

“What is this for?” Faustina asked Antonio.

“They must be required to hand these labels out, so they can keep ordinance at this airport,” Antonio whispered under his breath so that she could only hear.

As they passed through the gate and reached the terminal, they slowly boarded and found their way to their seats. The flight was tolerable all the way to Chicago’s airport. When they reached their final destination, they exited the plane. They felt the very cold wind that seeped through the jet bridge. Thank goodness for these jackets, Antonio thought.

When they walked through the exit doors, they immediately paused in disbelief. They have never seen snow before, let alone so much of it. The temperature was bitterly cold and it grazed the bare skin on their faces and hands. The sky was gray and gloomy; nothing compared to the climate in Cuba nor Miami. Antonio and Faustina held their children closer, to maintain body heat while they awaited transportation.

They both were aware, at that very moment, that their lives would be different. This new land will bring them plenty of opportunities - the freedom they longed for. Yet, they couldn’t help but to feel a sense of melancholy as they were beginning to miss their country, the warm climate, and their culture. This was all new to them and it would take time to acclimate under these conditions.

Antonio looked at his wife with hopeful eyes. “Cuba will be free again. I can feel it. Next Christmas, we’ll be back home.”