Maybe that is the Havana’ smile

by Eliza Martinelli (Brazil)

Making a local connection Cuba

With light in my eyes, I can see the special chromatism of Havana. At daylight, you follow the vivid colors and the confusion of the streets, and at moonlight, you only follow the music. While walking on a sidewalk of Old Havana, I was one of many tourists but I was one Latino soul and my heart beat together with the salsa mix. I anticipated the strike between my body and the quick sea breeze thanks to the saltiness in my mouth, and it felt just like swimming in the sky. -What a beautiful glaze! – An old man said to me. In my sudden lapse, I thought he was talking to the breeze. I did not stop. I guess I said ‘thanks’ in my mind or in my soul. All colors bubbled. I continued walking or dancing, or both, through the colorful streets of Old Havana and these words came to my mental image “Maybe we are the greatest smile of the souls”. [There we are again on the strong jumps of self-analysis.] The old man looked like my grandpa, my old one in a Spanish accent. My grandfather was an expert in discussing the world. When I was a little girl, we talked about life and growing up stuff. -Grandpa, what does it mean to be alive? I asked him when I was a curious little girl seeking answers about the natural and social reality. -I believe it is a “maybe”. He replied while looking at the silver moon. -What is “maybe”? In that moment, I thought this “maybe thing” could be the answer to all my questions. - It is a word that does mean neither ‘yes’ nor ‘no’; neither ‘everything’ nor ‘nothing’. - So, what does it mean? He always overestimated me in intellectual matters - It will be our secret, ok? - He said. - Yes. I answered quickly. -For me, to be alive is a “maybe” be at this exact moment again. Half satisfied, I asked: - But how could you and I be at this moment again? - Alive in some way ! Then, he smiled. That smile still lives, right now, in me. I was arriving at Malecón, along the Havana’s coast. I saw the people walking and the ocean dancing. In the roadway, the old cars added a vintage picture in my past/present dialogue with my grandfather. It was almost dark but my feelings were bright. I cried saltiness and smiled blessed. Maybe it was the very possibility of being in the right place at the right time that made my temporal line collapsed. Maybe it was only the Havana’ smile, the largest one: between the coast and the buildings and between the feasible and the impossible. My mind and my soul reflected the sea waves and I felt alive.