Cigars and Misunderstandings

by Melanie Tweddell (Australia)

A leap into the unknown Cuba

I was sitting on the balcony of our apartment in Cuba, smoking a cigar that I had just purchased at a random market. The name of the market escapes me as we were taken by a “personal tour guide” (this was actually a man who drove us to our accommodation from the airport and decided to show us around, insisting he was our best bet to get around). It was a balmy night and there’s no internet in Cuba so you spend most of your time outside. It’s like you’re in a time warp. Suddenly you’re in 1950 (I actually wouldn’t really know what this is like as I didn’t get to experience it the first time around). While I was taking in the night I decided to walk around the corner of the balcony and suddenly an older voluptuous Cuban woman comes out of her room onto her balcony which was the same as mine just separated by a little wall. She began chatting to me but we both didn’t speak the same language, she didn’t know much English and I didn’t know much Spanish. My understanding of the conversation was that her son was in a band which was playing tomorrow night and she would like my friends and I to attend. “Sure!” I replied as she wrote down the address and was very enthusiastic about the music. Alas, tomorrow night comes and we go to the venue. All of a sudden we are at a hotel poolside and men start playing instruments. My friends and I are drinking and trying to work out which one her son is. They play their instruments for a solid hour and we are getting a bit bored when suddenly the same woman from the balcony appears with a microphone. As she starts to sing we are all taken by the hand by random men and forced to dance. Cuban music hits the soul hard. We danced for hours that night and at the end I ask her which one her son is. She tells me “this one!” And kisses him passionately on the lips. I was very taken aback and try and drunkenly relay this to my friends. Turns out she doesn’t have a son. Cuban cigars, hey.