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Naty
Revuelta: Socialite whose love affair with Castro
produced a daughter prefers not to linger on her
past
Naty Revuelta: Socialite whose love affair
with Castro produced a daughter prefers not to
linger on her past
By Melissa Lee. Posted on Sun,
Sep. 28, 2003 in The
Miami Herald.
If it's true that all Cubans can find humor
in anything, then Naty Revuelta and I, on that
warm Havana afternoon, may simply have run out
of time to say all that could have been said.
We met in the lobby of the bustling Habana Libre
Hotel, and after brief introductions, she requested
our interview not be taped: "You understand,
I have just had surgery, and I don't like my voice
now. I don't want my voice to be remembered this
way.
It is easy to forget, when you are talking with
Naty in a spacious, quiet, pre-mojito-hour ballroom
cooled by breezes from the Malecón, that
she has achieved near-celebrity status in Cuba.
That she has climbed higher on the social ladder
than she probably ever thought possible when she
was a 19-year-old, blonde, green-eyed socialite.
That unlike most Cubans, she is allowed to enter
Havana's tourist hotels -- and she does so without
a glance at the security guards, although their
eyes discreetly linger on the woman a bit longer
than you'd expect. And that unlike most Cubans,
Naty can travel abroad -- and she does so frequently,
even to the United States, where a 47-year-old
daughter born of her affair with Fidel Castro
waits for occasional visits, for news of her birthplace,
for the end of the regime she hates.
Unlike most Cubans, too, Naty is stylishly dressed,
heavily bejeweled. The blonde hair is gone, the
green eyes faded, but she remains gracefully beautiful,
striking. She uses a gold cigarette holder and
holds her coffee cup with her thumb and index
finger.
"It is a very nice and kind life, she says
simply.
And why not -- it's a life granted in part by
her half-century link to El Máximo. They
met one day in 1952, the same day he was first
arrested as the leader of a secret movement against
the hated dictator Batista. Without that day,
Naty would have remained a rich, stunning woman
with revolutionary sympathies, a woman who enjoyed
yacht parties and weekly tournaments at the Vedado
Tennis Club provided by a wealthy husband. But
now she would became a woman in love -- and secretly
involved with -- a man whose growing army of supporters
was moving ever-closer to spreading Fidelismo
to all corners of the island.
The attraction was instant. It was the beginning
of the end of both of their marriages. It was
the beginning of a love affair that would result
in the birth of Fidel Castro's only known daughter.
Naty, as Castro biographer Tad Szulc writes,
was ''one of an extraordinary contingent of beautiful
and/or highly intelligent women who, in effect,
dedicated their lives to him and his cause --
and without whom he might not have succeeded.''
She took the first step by lending him a key to
the Vedado mansion she shared with her husband
in case he needed a safe haven.
In turn, Castro eventually selected her to type
and hand-deliver to leading politicians and newspapers
copies of the manifesto he was planning to issue
following what he thought would be a successful
attack on the Moncada Barracks on July 26, 1953.
Despite the chaos Castro brought to Cuba, he
continued the affair. It was during a brief period
in 1956, between prison terms, that Alina Fernández
was born.
Today, in the deserted ballroom, faint shadows
start to appear as talk shifts to Naty's daughter.
Alina escaped Cuba in 1993, disguised as a Spanish
tourist, and now regularly blasts her father's
communist regime on Miami radio. The mother, however,
is steadfast in her loyalty to the cause.
"I knew she had a life of her own, she says
of her daughter. "She had her choices. A
pause. "Now, I try to live my life. I try
not to be an economic or moral burden. Another
pause, this time a long one: "I couldn't
be a mother to her. She became a woman too soon.
DAUGHTER'S MEMORIES
Ninety miles north, a daughter struggles to describe
what was, too often, a life without food, without
Christmas, without security.
Alina Fernández remembers the beard towering
over her, the rough hand stroking her baby fine
hair. "I wanted to bite his hand, she says.
She recalls little else of her father. But the
nicks his military actions caused in her young
life were sharp: No presents on holidays. No TV.
No salt with the dry red beans at dinner. "Everything
was turned upside down.''
The poverty eventually became too much, although
she did not share any plans with her mother. The
worry, Alina says, would have been too heavy a
burden. Besides, Naty already knew her daughter
was speaking with political dissidents on the
island.
Naty heard of Alina's escape from Cuban radio.
Weeks later, mother and daughter spoke by telephone.
"She's a very strong person, Alina says.
"You will never see her failing. Or cry,
you know? You could never guess if she was suffering.
The daughter -- a slender beauty with dark hair
instead of blonde -- pauses for some time. 'I
used to call her 'the sprite' because she was
so beautiful and so happy. So well groomed. Such
a great smile, you know?
'I'VE HAD A HARD LIFE'
Natalia Revuelta is an only child who was born
in December 1925 just across the street from the
University of Havana. Her parents divorced when
she was very young; she moved in with grandparents.
"I was brought up with the idea that you
have to be good, because life plays terrible tricks
on you, Naty says. "I've had a hard life.
Early on, she learned the value of good people
and good books. Her favorite childhood adventure
was Heidi. Now, having recently finished Kahlil
Gibran's The Prophet, she plans to tackle a Castro
biography, then the memoirs of her friend Gabriel
García Marquéz. She reads history,
fiction, biographies, poems -- in French, English
and Italian, learned when she attended high school
in Philadelphia at age 13.
Back in Cuba, she entered the labor force at
19 and hasn't looked back. "To me, she says,
"work is work. Naty's work in administrative
and commercial positions continued through her
1948 marriage to heart surgeon Orlando Fernández
and to Castro's revolution. She worked endless
hours sewing uniforms from cheap department store
fabric and making military caps -- each exactly
to Castro's liking. And she turned over her 6,000-peso
savings and pawned her sapphires, emeralds and
diamonds to finance the revolutionary army's cause.
She doesn't say outright that Castro has failed
to follow through on promises of democracy. Instead,
she names his successes and commends his bravery
in facing both Cuban and U.S. opposition. Castro,
she says, will be remembered as " a man who
tried very hard. Then she adds, "Some love
him more, some love him less.
It's clear where Naty falls.
In 1953, Castro and a handful of his troops found
themselves in an Isle of Pines prison after a
failed assault on the Batista government. While
confined, he received letters of encouragement
from all over Cuba -- including many from Naty,
as well as his wife at the time, Mirta.
Naty sent him sand in an envelope to remind him
of the beach. From a concert, she sent a program
with the director's signature scrawled across
it. She sent him books -- Dostoevsky, Freud, Hugo
-- and then follow-up letters to discuss the readings.
Castro wrote back with passion. Wendy Gimbel's
1998 novel Havana Dreams quotes one love letter
to Naty: "I am on fire. Write to me, for
I cannot be without your letters. I love you very
much.
Naty, though, never wanted the affair to become
public, and she prefers not to linger on it. The
past, she says, should remain exactly that: "I
don't like to talk too much. I like things to
stay as they are.
MEMORY OF GUEVARA
Still, the past cannot be silenced completely.
It was during a 1964 trip to Paris that she first
came across a dashing young soldier who had been
a key player in Batista's ousting. Both had begun
to distance themselves from Castro. In a year,
Che Guevara would resign from all his posts and
give up his Cuban nationality in front of Castro.
In three years, he would be executed in Bolivia.
That afternoon, the pair discussed politics and
their youth and the need to motivate the new generation.
Che spoke forcefully, intensely, but with a self-discipline
she admired. "He was very austere. He demanded
a lot of himself, she says. "And he had very
penetrating eyes. He could look right through
you.
This is what Naty remembers: a somber, grim Che
and a dark, quiet Paris. "There, she says,
"all the lights turn off by 9 or 10.
Her tone carries regret, as if Paris is simply
ill-fated, as if it would be such a wonderful
place if only the lights were never switched off.
LIFE'S LESSONS
In some ways, she is now very alone in Havana
-- she has no family left there, and many of her
friends have gone. She and Fernández divorced
in 1959 after he discovered the affair, and she
has never remarried. She learned to face life
with only a few friends. And over time, she has
learned that she must take care of herself: "If
you are too sensitive, life itself will trample
over you. I'm not a psychologist. I'm not a philosopher.
I just know what life has taught me.
One lesson: Family is what you have when you
have nothing else. Alina is not her only daughter
living in the United States. It was in 1992 that
Naty reconciled with Nina, her older child from
her marriage, after decades of silence; they now
maintain regular correspondence.
But the mother will never leave the island, I
think as I listen to her. The United States intrigues
her, but it could never be her home -- it is too
impersonal, too crass, she says. In America, you
never know your neighbor's name. In Cuba, that
people will be warm and open is a given. Everything
in Cuba is familiar; that is comforting.
"I love the people, I love the climate,
I love the light -- the transparency of light,
she says, gesturing, as she often does. "And
the people are so very nice. Here, I feel very
Cuban.
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