La Fuente

We meet at la Fuente almost everyday now. I first met Yordi there about three weeks ago, and that has become the group’s hangout spot and favorite location for skating too. For almost a month now I have developed a fraternity with kids five-six years younger than myself. My classmates enjoy hassling me, “where you going Mi-les? Babysitting?” I laugh, because I know our friendship grows thicker with each day, and I have found my click. They have showed me around the Vedado neighborhood, taking me into their homes and other skate spots—we are even attending an Industriales (the New York Yankees of Habana) baseball game this weekend. We have exchanged stories, gotten to know one another’s personality and characteristics on a profound level. Though I’m sure the dynamics of hanging out are different with this Mulatto-looking American around, I don’t feel as though any bit of our friendship or hanging out is artificial.

Anyway, let me get back to our domain. Outside of our Residencia, in front of the Melia Cohiba and Hotel Riviera, la Fuente is an old fountain that barely functions these days. Similar to many other Habana architectural creations, the fountain barely embodies whatever potential it once may have had. Built sometime in the 1970s—according to one of the countless taxi cab drivers outside the hotels—the Fuente contains a colorful display of empty pools surrounding a decrepit stream of water that ungracefully spits out water every few days. However, la Fuente undoubtedly displays the ingenuity and creativity of Habana locals. In the Vedado neighborhood I have met countless skateboarders, or patinadores, and day after day we get together here and pass the time. Accompanied by our various boards, packs of cigarettes, and bottles of rum and coke, we skate, chill, and enjoy the breeze that blows furiously from the Malecón in these winter months. 5PM has become the afternoon time for us to encontramos, and as we depart for dinner or an evening siesta, we debate, “¿A qué hora esta noche?” “Nueve?” “Nueve y media.” “Bien. Nos encontramos a las nueve y media.”

Last Wednesday, we met there to celebrate Reinaldo’s cumpleanos. For his 15th birthday, we got him a cake and some Habana Ron and partied well into the night. (There are endless cultural differences between Cuban and American youth, but one indistinguishable Cuban trait is independence from a young age, and for better or worse they tend to smoke cigarettes and drink alcohol at a younger age. Nonetheless, they are immensely more responsible and in no way junkies, simply more experienced in their adolescent years.) Carlos rapped in Spanish—he loves Cuban Hip-Hop—and Roberto enthusiastically dropped the beat, I was so shocked to hear 14 and 15 year-olds make such beautiful music, from what I could understand, I guess. My Spanish is improving day after day, and learning from these kids has undoubtedly aided me as they know words and slang that often do not appear in the typical Spanish-English dictionary.

Though these niños are indeed years younger than my classmates and me, we have all developed a great rapport and even stronger relationships. On Saturday, our friendship manifested itself as we all met at la Fuente. I planned a photo shoot with the photographers at Casa de las Americas who were interested in taking pictures for their monthly magazine, however, they were unable to attend because of an art fair that was ongoing at the university. Regardless, we had already made plans and built up a good deal of hype, so my classmates joined me and got to know my skater friends for an afternoon of fun, music, photos, skate videos, and conversation—in broken English, Spanish, and of course, Cubañol (the rapid discourse of Spanish slang). There must have been 15 or 20 of us hanging out. Guys, girls, Cubanos, Americanos, Mulattoes, Afro-Americans, Afro-Cubans, Haitians, Caucasians, niños, and an array of tourists who came to watch from their local hotels—one who even came from France and was snapping photos of skaters flying high into the air off of broken concrete walls.

Though this is only our third week in Cuba, I am more than excited to know that I will be hanging out at la Fuente tomorrow, the next day, and most likely seven days out of the week. I am learning more and more Spanish, and more importantly, getting to know kids who share my same interests and portray the happiness that one often thinks about when envisioning a Cuban youth. Although their perspective of the Revolution and figures such as Fidel contrast strongly with mine (simply because they have lived the experience while I have only read or learned about these policies in books or from my father), I am beginning to process what the Revolution has provided for much of the island, but also deprived from much of the youth. These kids, born in the 90s in the middle of the Periodio Especial—a very trying time for the entire country—only want to skate and listen to Hip-Hop, but the Cuban Government often stifles such freedom of expression in public domains. The Gobierno often throws rocks onto the skate parks, the few that exist that is, and knock down any ramps or stair lifts that have been artistically created.

For now, I can only describe in detail what la Fuente represents for these kids, skater punks in the eyes of the government but free-spirited and fun-loving youth in reality. A park that contains opportunity and escape from the repression they feel they suffer within the walls of school, and within the imaginary prison they call home in Cuba. A playground of sorts, la Fuente allows them to enjoy their free time without pressing the nerves of vecinos or Government agents. For me, la Fuente is a magical place where I am able to perform my ethnography, but more importantly, engage in poignant conversation and jovial freedom with these fun-loving kids.