By Michelle Singletary. The Washington Post. Sunday, March 5, 2000; Page H01
Eight-year-old Patricia reminds me of my little girl. She is cocoa brown, with a smile that seems to stretch from ear to ear. She loves butterscotch candy, popcorn and snuggling.
Patricia doesn't have many toys or clothes. The day I met this charming little girl, her tights were well worn with holes and her dress was a little too short. She has no Barbie dolls. (I've lost count of the number of Barbies my daughter has.)
I met Patricia and her mother, Alicia, last month while visiting Cuba under the auspices of an organization of black columnists. We wanted to see for ourselves, among other things, how bad things might be for 6-year-old Elian Gonzalez if he were sent home to his father and communist Cuba.
The Florida relatives who have custody of the boy say Cuba is no place for a child. They want Elian, who was found clinging to an inner tube in the Atlantic last November, to stay in America, where he can enjoy the riches of freedom.
When I think about this controversy over Elian, I now think of the face of Patricia and all the other Cuban children I met or saw while in Havana.
What I see are sweet-faced children--and intangibles that transcend all foolish materialistic arguments about who's better off where.
I could see no reason why Patricia would be happier anywhere else than with her mother, even though her mommy doesn't have many "worldly" possessions.
It is true that the family's television is '50s vintage. They don't have a car or a telephone. Their single-family cement house is so tiny, their living room doubles as a dining room. Mother and child share a bedroom and a bed.
In Cuba there are no shelves full of Barbie dolls. There is no Disney World. The closest I saw to an amusement park was the antiquated merry-go-round in Havana's Parque Central.
Instead of aerodynamic skateboards or sparkling Rollerblades, many Cuban children are forced to fashion their own toys. I watched as three young boys darted around traffic on makeshift scooters made out of old crates. Just down the street, other boys were playing drums on empty cardboard boxes.
I asked Alicia about the accusations that many Cuban children are unhappy and hungry.
"We have problems, like people in any other country," said Alicia, who because of all the controversy surrounding the Gonzalez case asked that her last name not be used. "Maybe we don't have so much food like you in America, but Cuban people in general are not going hungry."
I spent two days visiting Alicia and several of her family members, many of whom earn $15 to $20 a month. I just can't imagine. I can spend that much money in one trip to a fast-food restaurant.
Now, I'm not naive about Cuba. Riding and walking around Havana, with its dilapidated apartment buildings and treacherously pothole-riddled streets, it would be easy to pity the people.
But I'm not naive about poverty either. I've been there.
And I can tell you that it is just as wrong to equate deprivation with misery as it is to equate prosperity with contentment.
So many of us in America live what Cubans would consider very prosperous lives.
Yet we worry that we don't have enough while our homes are filled with gadgets and things paid for with money we don't have.
We shower our children with so much stuff that there is always a perpetual layer of toys in their pricey toy bins that they never play with again.
Here in the United States, so many parents, including myself, stress about providing enough for our children.
Alicia says she doesn't worry about the stuff she can't get her child.
"We don't live as well as you, of course, but we are okay," she said in her halting English. "We can go to university for free. We have free health care. My daughter can study the piano for free. It is not difficult to find little children in Cuba singing or dancing. My Patricia
loves to sing and dance."
What makes a child happy?
As I watched Patricia and her 2-year-old cousin, Anna, hug, kiss and tickle each other, with not a single toy in sight, that question wasn't so hard to answer.
Michelle Singletary welcomes comments and column ideas but cannot offer personal financial advice. Readers can write to her at The Washington Post, 1150 15th St. NW, Washington, D.C. 20071, or by e-mail at singletarym@washpost.com.
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