in Literary HubRebe Huntman writes about the prism of the Cuban experience, as depicted in her own memoirs. My Mother in Havana: Memoirs of Magic and Miracles: “My daughter is searching for her late mother and meets Cuban gods, ghosts and saints.” Read the full article from the author’s commentary on Ruth Behar. The Island Called House: Jewish Return to CubaDaisy Hernandez A glass of water under my bedMaria de los Reyes Castillo Bueno Leita: The lives of black Cuban women in the 20th century (Trans. Anne McLean), Alma Gillermoprieto’s Dance with Cuba: Memoirs of the RevolutionAda Ferrer’s Cuba: American HistoryMirta ojito’s Find the Mananaand Richard Blanco’s The Prince of Loscokuyo.
Writing a memoir is the act of saying I am here. This is what I think is beautiful. It’s troublesome. It is worth paying attention. And this gesture has a democratic invitation that I am interested in. This means writing and reading memoirs is how you can pass through the monolithic understanding of the world and experience it through the prism of multiple perspectives.
Perhaps that wider lens is no longer needed anywhere than the way we see Cuba. Just 90 miles from Miami, it is intricately linked to the United States in many ways of historically and culturally important. I am often amazed at how many of my fellow American citizens know the island, or how deeply entrenched and prejudiced their opinions are. Or the concept of an island “Frozen In Time burns the romantic concept of a single Cuban where the ghosts of Hemingway and classic cars patrol their uninterrupted coasts forever.
In my experience, Cuba is not one, but many. There are indigenous Cuba, where Taino lives, and colonial Cuba, ruled by the Spanish and supported by forced labor in the Atlantic slave trade. Cuba in the early 1950s has a glittering casino, and Cuba in 1959 has mountains filled with revolutionaries.
Cuba, whose revolution filled the heart with hope or fear, and Cuba, who have seen its aftermath, transforms into reality that challenges and complicates both emotions. There are Cuba filled with Catholic saints and Cuba filled with African spirits. There are atheist Cuba and Jewish Cuba. And there is Cuba, which has a spiritual mind sufficient to celebrate miracles in all its manifestations.
It is this Cuba that I embrace the light of my memoirs, My Mother in Havana: A Memoir of Magic and MiraclesA book that tells the story of a daughter of sadness who meets Cuban gods, ghosts and saints, a search to connect with her mother 30 years after her death.
Bringing out years of study in Afro-Cuban dance, folklore, history and religion; Havana’s mother I document my journey to Havana to immerse myself in ritual dances and sacrifices honoring Okun, the beloved goddess of Santeria religion, and follow my pilgrimage to the Catholic counterpart of Okun, the charity charity in the mountain town of Elkoble.
This book is the offering of my version of 19 years ago when I lost my mother, and the 50-year-old version of me who once again found her in the spiritual traditions of Afro-Cuban keeping the dead close.
And if the beauty and power of memoirs are democratic invitations to refer to what we think is beautiful and important, then it can also be said to be unable to hold on everything we have to be said and seen.
Havana’s mother It is one of many bridges to Cuba. There are seven rich memories you’ll want to check out if you want to know more about the island. From exiles to historians, mothers, dancers, anthropologists and poets, they offer their own lens for the people and stories that make up the dynamic, ever-changing landscapes of Cuba. [. . .]
For the complete article, please refer to https://lithub.com/bridges-to-a-misunderstood-world-seven-memoirs-that-show-themany-sides-of-cuba/
Also please refer to https://bookshop.org/p/books/my-mother-havana-a-memoir-of-magic-miracle/21068942?an=9781958972557&next=t&affiliate=132
