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South Africa: Overt Racism
Gives Cuban Ideal a Sinister Hue
Jacob Dlamini. Business
Day (Johannesburg). Posted September
24, 2006.
Johannesburg - I HAVE lived in the US on
and off for the past three years and have
yet to experience racial profiling, or what
people of colour in America know as walking/driving/breathing
while black. I spent three weeks in Cuba
in 2000, and was subjected to racial profiling
five times -- all in one day.
I am sure, then, that the Congress of South
African Trade Unions (Cosatu), the African
National Congress (ANC) and the South African
Communist Party (SACP) -- who swear by Cuba
and all it stands for -- will understand
why a leftist like me is not as enthusiastic
as they are about that socialist island.
I had my love of Cuba mugged out of me by
racism.
Racial profiling, for those who have not
heard of it, is a phenomenon whereby people
get stopped by the police for looking, well,
black and therefore, in the minds of the
police doing the profiling, suspicious.
You could be driving down a busy highway,
walking through a shopping mall, or just
taking a walk through your neighbourhood.
You only have to be or look black to qualify
for racial profiling.
My experience of racial profiling in Cuba
came on the last day of what had been a
wonderful holiday in which my girlfriend
and I had travelled around the south in
Santiago de Cuba, taking in the island's
majestic tobacco fields and pub crawling
through the capital Havana's districts.
We had decided to take it easy for the
last week, and had moved to a small town
just outside Havana called Guanabo. The
town had better beaches than Havana and,
what's more, these were not the property
of some hotel chain, meaning they were open
to everyone, including ordinary Cubans.
My girlfriend was returning directly to
SA and left early, while I was flying back
to school in the US, and had to take a midnight
flight. With nothing to do but eat, read
and do some sightseeing (again) in a town
I had come to know fairly well, I decided
to rather take a long leisurely walk up
and down the beach.
I had been walking for about 10 minutes
when two policemen stationed at the beach
motioned for me to come over to them. Thinking
they were being friendly and wanted to chat
with a tourist, I went over. The one who
looked as though he was in charge said something
in Spanish. The only word I caught out was
documento. "It's at home," I said.
They quickly realised I wasn't local, and
let me go. I continued with my walk.
It happened again about half-an-hour later,
only with a different set of policemen.
Them: "Documento?" Me: a shrug
and a point in the direction of where I
was staying. They let me go. I was bemused
and, being in holiday mode, slow on the
uptake.
I was not amused the third time it happened.
I was not the only tourist on the beach,
and there were enough of us to keep the
cops busy. But I was the only dark-skinned
person there. I asked the third set why
they were stopping me and demanding to see
my documento. One of them just shrugged
his shoulders and rubbed his left index
finger against his right arm as if to say
it was just a colour thing. Nothing personal.
I moved on.
By the fourth time, I was in a foul mood,
said something about fascismo and pointed
at the two Italian men who happened to be
walking past us just then, asking why the
police were not stopping them and demanding
to see their papers.
I did not even stop for the fifth set of
cops and told them to their faces to f**k
off! By the way, the 10 or so policemen
I dealt with that day were either AfroCubans
or Cubans of mixed descent.
Then I started thinking about how all the
prostitutes seemed to be young black women
and men; how all the jobs in the tourism
industry -- from the state-owned taxis to
the hotel receptions -- seemed to be held
by only white or very light-skinned Cubans;
how on the few occasions that I managed
to watch Cuban television, there were no
black Cubans on TV. Except once, and he
was only part of a band.
You might ask why anyone would want to
visit an island that quarantines people
with HIV/AIDS, treats its gay and lesbian
citizens like criminals, and dishes out
passports the same way a parent gives out
candy to an obedient child -- be nice and
you will be handsomely rewarded with a pack
of sweets.
But Cuba is about more than just tourism
for many of us. It helped liberate southern
Africa and offered, for a time, a way of
looking at the current world and imagining
a different one. That is why South Africans
continue to visit it.
I have told this story numerous times over
the past five years and people always ask
the inevitable question: would I recommend
Cuba as a tourist destination? My answer
is always yes. Just don't go there expecting
a socialist haven where solidarity reigns
supreme.
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© 2006 Business Day. All rights reserved.
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