By Laurie Goering. Chicago Tribune . The Seattle Times. Tuesday, March 28, 2000, 07:19 p.m. Pacific
HAVANA - Cuba has two state-run television channels, sometimes wryly referred to as Politics One and Politics Two.
Lately, though, their normal mix of political news, dry talk shows, comedy, music and family-oriented movies has been replaced by a format that might be called "All Elian All the Time."
Day after day, the stations broadcast hour after hour of live rallies demanding the return of Elian Gonzalez.
Under giant placards reading "Return Our Boy," young Communist Pioneers in red neckerchiefs sing about Elian and pint-sized colleagues give impassioned speeches. College students play guitar pieces written for the child. Ballet troupes leap, classical ensembles pour out hours of
chamber music, artists paint murals on live television and mothers scream out fiery manifestos.
"Liberate Elian!" yell nearly all of the speakers in closing, as television cameras pan over throngs of listeners before them frantically waving tiny blue, white and red Cuban flags. "Homeland or Death! We will triumph!"
In truth, however, most Cubans are about as tired of Elian's heart-rending soap-opera saga as their neighbors to the north.
Disruption of daily life
Months of near-daily protests have disrupted Cuba's public bus system, leaving workers struggling to get to their jobs as buses are commandeered to carry protesters to rallies. Constant marches have worn out protesters.
Because it is politically advantageous to show up in support of a cause that has become the government's patriotic passion, the crowds are still there, by the thousands. Most Cubans clearly want Elian returned.
But behind the front ranks of frantic flag-wavers, protesters in their now-fading identical white Save Elian T-shirts flirt and chat, ignoring the repetitious speakers at least until the cameras again turn their way.
"Protests are even greater," Granma, Cuba's Communist Party newspaper, insisted hopefully in a recent headline. Fidel Castro has sworn to keep up the rallies for "at least 10 years" if necessary.
Clearly, though, enthusiasm is wearing thin.
Jokes about Elian are everywhere. There's the one about how a woman asked a fellow Cuban if he'd seen her son, who had momentarily vanished.
"Oh no!" replied the man. "Don't tell me we've lost another one!"
Observers say disenchanted kids occasionally turned a popular march chant - "Elian, friend, we are with you!" - into "Elian, friend, take us with you!"
A few joke that in the spirit of revolutionary sacrifice, they'd be willing to take on the harsh responsibility of going to Miami and trading places with the child. They say this grinning.
'We hear about nothing else'
"It seems like Elian is the only person in the world," complained one disaffected young man in Havana. "We hear about nothing else."
Cuba's government, analysts believe, hopes to use Elian's plight to build support among disaffected young Cubans, many of whom see Castro's 1959 revolution as history and are more intent on achieving material than political goals.
Cuba shows no sign of giving up. In front of the U.S. Interests Section building, a favorite spot for anti-U.S. demonstrations, the government is constructing a permanent stadium for protests, already being called the "Protestodromo."
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