By David Gonzalez, The New York Times. January 28, 2000
HAVANA, Jan. 27 -- Toting bags bulging with everything from slick brochures for sophisticated surgical equipment to packets of Pepto-Bismol, crowds of Cuban doctors, nurses and technicians strolled along the red-carpeted aisles of the first American trade show here since the United States
imposed an economic embargo four decades ago.
Sure, the whole affair could have been limited to the handful of Cuban officials actually responsible for purchasing medical products. But many of the 8,000 medical professionals expected to attend the United States Health Care Exhibition were eager to participate in a curious encounter that was
part seminar on modern medical knowledge, part window-shopping for American medical devices and part political opening.
In some ways the scene at the Pabexpo Convention Center -- with Cuban doctors calmly talking shop with American sales representatives -- was oddly juxtaposed with the Cuban government's recent clamor for the return of the 6-year-old refugee Elián González. The American executives,
in turn, expected few quick deals, if any, because of the intricate regulations governing the embargo.
The exhibition is the latest small gesture, like last year's visit of the governor of Illinois to explore agricultural exports, where politicians and businesspeople seek to raise awareness of opportunities with the ultimate goal of lifting the embargo that has yet to topple President Fidel
Castro.
"Why should we lose out?" said Tony DeLio, the president of ADM Nutraceutical, a division of Archer Daniels Midland, a sponsor of the exhibition.
"The economic embargo has not worked. It has not accomplished its political objectives. Opening up trade and normalizing relations with Cuba would be in the best interests of America economically and politically. We trade openly with Vietnam, with whom we had a war."
Working for the Cuban health care system, which is an often-invoked accomplishment of the very revolution that eventually provoked the embargo, the Cubans crowded around demonstrations of optical equipment, tried on leg braces and chatted about the latest technologies and techniques that remain
tantalizingly beyond their reach.
"Now we only need two things," concluded one Cuban as he left the exhibition hall. "More equipment. And the money to buy it."
Both things are in short supply here, ever since the collapse of the Soviet Union pushed Cuba into an economic slide from which it has yet to recover fully. Replacement parts for medical equipment can be scarce, as are some medicines at pharmacies. Cubans with relatives in the United States
treasure their regular shipments of vitamins and aspirin, poring over bottle labels as if they were deciphering scriptures.
Medical goods and food are eligible for sale despite the embargo because they are considered humanitarian aid. American officials said that in the last 18 months they had licensed $45 million in medical sales to Cuba, although that only means companies were approved to begin negotiations. They
said they did not know how many sales had taken place, but Cuban officials insisted none had because the deals fell through after delays or because financing or transport could not be obtained.
Cuban officials chafe at other American regulations, like the requirement to document that medicines and equipment supplies have not been used to treat foreigners and hence earn hard currency from hospital charges.
"How can I ensure that every patient is a Cuban?" said Rodrigo Álvarez Cambras, the director of the Frank Pais International Orthopedic Complex, where almost a third of the patients are indeed foreigners. "They want a clinical history. That is crazy. If we pay for it, what
does it matter if we give it to a Cuban or a foreigner? If you get hurt and come here, do I have to say to you I cannot help you and let you die?"
Most of the American products the executives brought here with them -- bandages, vitamins and, in one case, a $365,000 radiation therapy device -- will be donated as a gesture of good will, not to mention brand awareness and a first step toward the day when business and diplomatic relations
between the two countries are normalized. Befitting a medical show, several executives said that would come only through "the biological solution," a thinly veiled allusion to the aging Cuban leader, Fidel Castro.
"This is a learning experience," said Jeff Dziura, the director of international sales for the Ferris Mfg. Corporation, a wound-care products company in suburban Chicago. "You have to test the water whether you make a deal or not. Things change politically. That's the beauty of
international trade. A lot of people in the States are afraid of it. But if you have action in many countries, when one country is suffering problems you can enjoy prosperity in another part of the world. You spread your risks."
Although some people noted that the companies at the show did not send any high-powered delegations, it mattered little to the Cubans. A half-dozen people waited patiently to have their vision tested, while others gingerly tasted free samples of chile without carne, made from soybeans. And while
the exhibition was devoted to health, cigarette smoke wafted through the air, a reminder that American medical attitudes against smoking have yet to filter down here.
"What I have yet to see are any little pills to help me stop smoking," said Xiomara Rodríguez, as she sheepishly crushed out her cigarette in a potted plant. She said that while Cuba had made its own medical advances, in the field of natural medicines in which she works, for
instance, the displays of new equipment reminded her of the gap that remained in both technology and politics.
"We hope they remove the blockade so we can get ahead," she said. "Nobody has the right to take away our right to develop. We have been trying to advance, but they do not let us."
Intent on at least advancing her own knowledge, Dr. Vilma Lisnar spent hours instead of dollars learning about physical therapy equipment, disposable syringes and nutritional supplements. At a booth sponsored by Pfizer, she discussed with a sales representative the side effects of some new
antibiotics.
"This is marvelous, because in the clinic where I work we need these a lot," said Dr. Lisnar, a family doctor. "Another company had a product to improve your memory. How wonderful that would be."
Of course, in some quarters, memories of the last four decades of revolution and embargo have persisted perfectly well without it.
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