Category: Travel | Weatherlawyer

This is a chaper from the book Oatcakes and Caviar by Roy Smith.

If he has any objections to me posting it I will remove it immediately.

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Cuba

The phone rang: ‘Hello, Smith speaking,’ I said. ‘Hi Roy, Demag here, said a voice, just letting you know everything is arranged, so on Monday you are to go to Manchester Airport for 8.00am as your plane takes off 10.00am to Madrid where you will have approximately four hours to wait for the Cuban flight. At Manchester go to the K.L.M. Airways desk, identify yourself and they will hand over an envelope in which are your tickets, expenses and information, plus a letter for Alan Walsh and technicians, who will meet you in Havana. ‘Well Roy all the best. I hope everything goes alright for you,’

‘Thank you Demag,’ I said and I’ll see you in twelve weeks time at the Christmas party, cheers.’

Demag was the Office Manager for the company, I had been working for three months in Amsterdam, Holland as a building and civil engineer, travelling from Manchester, every Monday morning arriving Amsterdam at 8.00am there being picked up and driven to the office, returning to Manchester, Friday around 6.30pm.

Monday morning and my wife Joyce drove me to the airport with our four year old twins, which she had done for the last three months, only this time I was not going to Holland, but to Cuba for twelve weeks. My yearly contract was twelve

weeks then four weeks leave (paid), so we were hoping it would soon go.

The flight to Madrid was good, there were no problems going into the transit area, I booked in at the Cuba flight desk, noticing that there was no time given on the above board, so I asked when it was due, the lady who took my ticket replied it was not known, but she said to keep my eye on the board. It was now 1:30; one hour in front of British Summer Time, four hours waiting, no sign of my flight, so I went to the desk, I noticed it had changed to K.L.M. I told the lady about my situation she told me that they had no information regarding this flight and that in her experience it arrived when it arrived, as Cuba was in conflict with Angola and impossible to keep to a timetable, but as soon as it arrived I would be sent for.

Feeling pretty tired and miserable, realising there was nothing I could do but wait, I kept on looking at the check-in counter but all the lady could do was to shake her head in sympathy.

The airport was very quiet, so I lay down on one of the many sofas and went fast asleep, waking at 6:30am in a panic. When I looked at the check-in counters, they were all closed. I decided to go to the restaurant and have a coffee, buying an English paper to read while keeping my eye on the flight board. There was no movement and at 8:00am the check-in

counter opened. I saw the first lady I’d met when I arrived so I went to her, I could see that she was embarrassed, she said that she would see to it straight away, offering me a breakfast and lunch voucher and apologising that no one had offered me a night at the local hotel.

I had breakfast, then waited, had lunch and then waited, until my patience finally gave out. I told the lady that I wanted to take the next plane out whether it was Cuba or U.K. There was a flight to London at 5:00am and I said that I would take that. One hour later the lady on the K.L.M. desk started to wave at me. Telling me my Cuban flight was on its way and would arrive at four thirty. She asked me what I wanted to do. I told her I would take the Cuba flight, but could she tell me where the other passengers are. ‘AAH, she said ‘there is only one besides you and he has not arrived but has been notified so I am expecting him any time.’ This was very strange, a plane coming just for two passengers, the other person must have been very important because I wasn’t.

Two armed airport police came to the check-in desk and the lady pointed to me.

‘Senor, are you for the Cuba flight?’ they asked.

‘Yes’ I said,

‘Follow us we will escort you to the plane which is at the end of the runway, your luggage has been sent ahead.’

We went across to the plane, me thinking I’ve never known anything like this before. Walking to the end of the runway, I noticed a man in front of me in a smart black suit, this must be the important passenger I thought. At the bottom of the moveable stairs were two men, one in a smart uniform, he was a senior pilot and two other men, one carrying my suitcases.

‘Senor, are these your cases?’ If so, will you check inside that everything is correct.’

Undoing my cases and looking in I found everything looked okay and said so, the other man had gone up to the door of the plane so I followed, noticing the handlers carrying my suitcases behind me. Entering the plane my cases went left to the flight deck and I turned to my right, talk about being surprised I froze in a state of shock. Never in my life had I seen such a sight, there must have been one hundred and sixty wounded soldiers all with bandaged heads, shoulders, arms, chest and legs and where there should have been overhead racks there was a row on both sides of men laying in makeshift hammocks, all their bandages were blood stained.

They all had weapons of one sort and another and now of course everything was beginning to click. The secrecy of the

flight, surely this was not allowed? Worse was to come as my hostess took me to near the back of the plane, where there was one seat in between two soldiers. With difficulty, I managed to get up the gangway, the gangway being in the middle with three seats each side.

The soldier on my left looked very ill with a head wound, he never spoke a word. I think he was Cuban.

The soldier on my right was a black, he was pleasant and spoke a little English, he liked English football. I told him I came from Stoke, where Stanley Matthews came from, his eyes lit up.

‘Stanley Matthews’ he kept on saying until everybody on the plane knew.

The flight was eight hours of agony, with only one glass of water, one glass of orange and a sort of fish sandwich with a piece of something in between that resembled a cross between pastry and sponge. Was I glad to land in Havana, the plane seemed to take hours to unload.

The passport hall was practically empty, but I did notice Liberian hostages sitting at the far side. I had filled my questionnaire form in and handed it to an official with my passport.

‘Englease’ he said fiercely, looking sarcastically at my passport and then said, ‘What’s this religion?’ (Church of England) shouting ‘I suppose Jesus was an Englishman in your English Church’ and threw them back at me they landed on the floor.

The anger was rising in me, my fists became closed and my arms began to rise. One of the Liberian hostages must have seen I was having difficulty and came to me picking up my passport and form.

‘Let me help you’ she said.

Telling her what had happened, she pointed out where it said religion and told me to put Christian giving me another form, I filled it in as she had shown, handed it back to the Official with an angry look on my face that matched his. Though there were only a few people in the hall, the noise at times was deafening.

Collecting my suitcases, I made my way to the exit doors, as they opened the noise was coming from outside as there were crowds of people shaking hands, hugging and kissing all the wounded soldiers who had come out a different way. Again I froze, for only about four yards from me was Fidel Castro with his arms around the soldiers and hugging them. His eyes met mine and I could see in his, were sorrow and

tears. I had been brought up to look into someone’s eyes to feel the truth.

So this was the horrible Dictator, the evil communist who our politicians, media and the Americans had told me about.

He was dressed in cheap Khaki, with no bodyguards. I thought how easy it would be to kill him, but after looking around at all these people I realised that they loved him and it would be impossible to find anyone to do the deed.

‘Roy, Roy’ someone was on top of a VW mini bus shouting, it was Alan Walsh, a man came up to me, took my cases and said. ‘Come Senor Roy’. I followed and eventually shook hands with Alan saying ‘Thank God, at last’.

‘Sorry about all this’ Alan said, ‘But when I heard they had booked you Cuba Airways I went mad, they know you should come by Liberia Airways, it is cheaper by half than Cuba so next time refuse’ ‘this is Raphael our driver and translator’ said Alan, pointing to the chap who had carried my cases.

Later Raphael became my closest friend and helped me many times and I would like to think I helped him. The airport was about 15 minutes run from the house I was to live in, with three Dutch technicians, Ben, an electrical engineer, Sip a refrigerator engineer and Cip who was a monorail technician, all four of us having a bedroom each. There was a

lady cook, who was also a cleaner, as there was very little to cook with. Across the road was another house with three technicians, Moutan, Ronn and John who were responsible for all materials and automatic machines. The contract was to supervise six slaughter factories this was called a Turn-Key project as it involved setting out a site and construction of the many buildings. To do this we had to drill for water; build a generator house for electricity; build a tower to pump water into to give water pressure around the site; build and render a house to make use of waste such as feathers, feet, heads and innards of poultry and any other animals they would slaughter.

We also had to build the main factory that housed the monorail carrying the animals around to the machines, the first would give them an electric shock, the second would kill them by cutting their throats and then cutting their heads off. Many machines had to be used, depending on the kind of animal. The only one that involved human help was taking the innards out and waste. At the end of this process was a building attached, in which was the refrigeration plant, freezing and packaging. Finally a water treatment plant where all waste water was piped to and chemically treated, bringing it up to a standard eighty nine degrees pure water before being released into irrigation troughs on the fields. This was a constant thorn in my side, getting that eight nine degrees and supervising all this. Unknown to me, these factories

had started two years before, Sip and Cip had been here all that time. By now we were speaking good Spanish. Alan the project manager had been here for one month and I could tell that Sip and Cip were calling the shots and I realised why Alan had insisted on an English engineer as his authority was in trouble with these two guys.

Alan lived in the next avenue with his wife Yola and four year old son. This area was a special area for foreign people, being patrolled by the army keeping away women and undesirables. The estate had been built by very wealthy and famous people, the house we lived in had belonged to Clark Cable; the British Ambassador was in Frank Sinatra’s house and the other houses had belonged to Ava Gardner, George Raft and many more famous people, but the most famous was Al Capone’s, where the Dutch Ambassador lived. That night the lads invited me to go out to have a drink and a meal, but I declined as I was tired. I went to bed and slept like a log, woken up at 5:00am by a knock on the door, it was Ben telling me they were going to work, but Alan had told them not to take me as he had plans for me that day.

I had breakfast prepared by Ellana, of new bread, cheese and jam, ‘funny jam this’ I thought.

At 10:00am Alan walked in.

‘Morning Roy feeling better?’ he said.

‘Yes much better, thank you’, I replied.

‘Would you like a coffee?’

‘No I’ve had my breakfast,’ he said ‘but be careful with that jam, do you know what it is?’

‘No’ I said, ‘but it isn’t very nice’.

‘It’s bloody Caviar Roy, it’s the nearest to jam we can get’ he said laughing.

‘It’s plentiful and cheap, it comes from Russia.’

‘We are going around some of the sites today’ said Alan, the first is Los Benos, which is to be completed in three weeks time. This is most important to the Head Office in Holland, in order to get the final payment’.

It was about fifteen minutes drive, with Raphael driving. We arrived at two large wired double gates, one soldier opened them and waved us through.

‘They know us’ said Alan.

I could see that all the construction was finished, roads were completed and the men were all inside but for a few, over at the offices. They were all dressed in the same dark denims,

but some had a white stripe down the side of their trousers and others white rings around their tops, the rest were plain and of course the soldiers were in light khaki uniforms, this was to identify crimes, the stripes were the dangerous ones, murderers etc, the rings are for Politicians and people who were involved with Batista and carried out his wishes.

They had an option of being shot or twenty years imprisonment, but it was common knowledge the top ones were shot. The others were what they called “Minors”, jailed for one to five years for stealing, or not working, fighting and small offences.

‘Well what are they doing here and where are the workers?’ I said.

Alan laughed and said,

‘They are your workers, in Cuba there are no prisons, that’s what building sites are, that’s why the perimeters are all wired and in each corner if you look up are towers with soldiers holding automatic weapons, there’s very little trouble here’.

All the sites were the same, so one set of drawings did all of them, each site had a brigade, these were like our building companies: Wimpey, Laings, Barratts, etc. They had nineteen brigades, numbered twenty to twenty nine for

construction only. They were all over the island building schools, colleges and hospitals, it was a massive building programme. The officer in charge greeted Alan and he introduced me, taking us inside. He said everything was okay and will be ready for commissioning in three weeks. Ben, Moutan and Cip joined us and spent a couple of hours looking around, avoiding the white stripes.

‘See you later lads, I said,’ I’m going over to Los Vegas, is anyone there?’

They said Sip was there in the mini-van, he was to pick us up around 5:00 am. A half hour ride and we were there in Los Vegas. We came to the exact same looking gates, saw the workers in the same uniforms, an officer greeted us and took us inside, this was about halfway completed. Cip was there with a soldier near by, he said it was his body-guard. Ronn and John joined us, saying they had to re-fit some machines as they had been fixed straight onto concrete bases and should have had rubber pads under them, to take the vibration, this was important and became useful to us to know, later on.

This site was supposed to have been the first, but problems which they blamed on us and we then blamed on them, made us two months behind schedule. Cip said it would be commissioned in six weeks. Ronn and John thought it could

be less if Los Banos went well and all of us would be able to concentrate there.

Alan was pleased but Cip had a frown on his face.

‘Right Roy, is there anything you wish to see, if not I would like to introduce you to the Minister of Construction in Havana before he goes home’.

I said “Okay.” and off we went. It was about an hour’s run and we were at our destination, Twenty Seven Avenue. All roads in the town were numbered, not named. I believe it was the American way, Fidel had not changed it. Inside, Alan spoke to a lady at the desk who smiled and waved at us to follow. Strange, as this was just an ordinary house like one at home. Opening the door the room was very sparse with a long desk and four chairs. No carpet on the floors, not what you would think of an office for a Minister. But there at the desk was the man who joined me on the plane in Madrid.

‘This is Mr. Roy Smith, the new Building Engineer, Mr Lopez’ Alan said.

Lopez stood up with a smile and said, ‘I believe we have already met, how did you like your flight?’

I was so surprised, words were difficult and somehow I managed to mutter ‘Okay’. His eyes looked at the ceiling in disbelief, I thought quick Roy, say something to put this

right, as he knows I’m not telling the truth.

‘But you could have taken the seat at the back and allowed me the front one’ I said smiling. His eyes sparkled and he seemed satisfied that I was being diplomatic. Sitting down, we started to talk to Alan, going over things, ending with Senor Lopez saying he wanted me to concentrate on the other four sites as they were behind with the construction.

‘I realise travel will be a problem’, said Senor Lopez, ‘a vehicle will be arranged to take you to Ciemfago and Matenos. You can manage Colon, as your mini bus already goes there with the other engineers. Santiago De Cuba; I will have to arrange for tickets to fly you there.’

After a little chat I left and returned to our house, Alan telling me that Santiago was the old capital of Cuba and quiet a distance, a two hour flight and ten hours by road to the other end of the island. That night we all went out for a drink and a meal, my first and I was surprised how very smart the Yacht Club was, us sitting there like film stars. There were only two drinks available, Carvonor (beer) and Diacara, a rum with ice. With it being very hot, I had a Diacara and being hungry, I began looking for a menu but there wasn’t one, after about half an hour the head waiter, immaculately dressed came to the table saying he was very sorry but there was no food available, Cip translated, but the lads already knew. This happened very often in all the restaurants.

I was told that why they stay open was because everybody has to work whether there is any to do or not and at the end of the week, payment is a voucher entitling them to go to certain warehouses for food. No voucher: no food, clothes etc.,

‘Blimey do we get one’ I said.

‘Oh yes, Alan gives us all one each and then we go to the end of the avenue where our warehouse is. We give everything to Ellena and she does her best to feed us.’

To help, we went out every night trying to find a meal. The White House was one restaurant, the other was Dirty Harry’s, famous for belonging to Al Capone, these were only for foreigners as you have to pay in hard currency, they would not accept their money (peso’s). Sometimes you were lucky to have a meal of chicken, fish, frog’s legs or snails.

When the Embassy had their barbecues, which we were invited to, there was always roast pig. That night ended with cheese and hard biscuits. I went to bed ready for the journey to Colan. Cip drove, after one and a half hours we arrived at the same locked gates looking for the workforce, exactly the same construction but not quite finished. This is where I could be of use. Speaking to the officer in charge he said a problem had occurred, two panels were wrong, one space in between was 4.500 mm and the other 3.500, what had

happened was that the concrete column was 500mm out of position. Someone had set it out on the wrong side of the mark, but what was the best way to correct it?

By now a number of workers were standing around by us looking very sheepish, the Cubans are a very proud people and were upset that this had happened, one said one panel needed to be cut out of it and then welded to the other, yes, but we had welded the panels with massive plastic coated sheets riveted on angle iron straps. We thought about propping up the roof and taking it down and doing a rebuild, yes it would work but it would be a messy job. My solution was to shutter the long side to an extra 500mm and concrete it. That made 4 metres, the panel on the other side cut off at the bottom of flange, giving 500mm that would allow it to fit in line and cover the extra width of the concrete pillar. They all looked puzzled and said they would decide later. I spent the rest of the day on the water treatment plant where they were concreting. To my surprise there were about thirty workers mixing with shovels as they had no mixer.

I said ‘no it’s probably broken down’ pointing to a machine that looked like it had not been used for years. In the afternoon a lorry arrived and tipped a load of fruit boxes of bread and other things. The workers all went to it saying it was eating time, pointing to their mouths. God I thought, nothing surprises me now.

Cip came over with a cob of bread filled with something fishy and a very hot sauce with a bottle of water. I thanked him but did not ask where he got them from as this man was a law unto himself.

‘Right Roy, its 5:00pm better make tracks’ he said.

As we were leaving, the officer came running to us waving and he asked me if he could show me something, it would only take a few minutes, Cip was not very happy, but I went with him to the problem columns. There, to my surprise, it was completed. I looked around and they had taken my advice, the workers were all standing there, eyes fixed on me and with a stern look on their faces.

They must have worked very hard and were exhausted, looking at them I gave a big smile and told them it was ‘mucho’ very good, excellent. Their faces lit up and they all wanted to shake my hand even the stripes with their glazed eyes. I thought it was time to go. The officer asked if I was making a report for the minister. ’Yes,’ I said ‘and it will be good.’ He thanked me and Cip roared off.

“I have made friends there.” I thought.

On our way back I was beginning to notice more people living in wooden shacks with a tin sheet roof, very brightly painted

and everywhere there were large pictures of Castro and another man.

Cip told me it was Che Guevara, a much loved hero of the Cubans.

Receiving my voucher off Alan, we all went for our rations, one loaf of bread, a packet of butter wrapped in brown paper, a jar of jam (caviar) a one pound bag of sugar, coffee, a tin of Russian pilchards, a packet of plain biscuits (home made), a carton of milk and one pound of cheese. This was to last for one week.

As a new worker I was allowed one pair of shoes, one pair of jeans and a tee shirt, I told the lady they were not required as I had my own from England and could she give them to a person who needed them.

She gave me an embarrassing hug and I hastily followed the lads up the avenue. We all gave the food to Ellana to perform her miracles for the coming week. I noticed Alan was getting worried and drinking heavily. Youlan told me she knew he was drinking a bottle of Vodka every night.

Monday was the commissioning day or opening day as we called it. Castro was opening it and Alan wanted us all to be there on Sunday making sure everything was ready.

There was an unwritten law in Cuba you work six days for your vouchers and one day for Cuba.

Arriving at Los Banos, there were hundreds of people cleaning, polishing, brushing and cleaning the shacks where the prisoners lived. They had all moved to another site. Alan was pleased and we left at lunch time calling at a lovely sandy beach to have a swim.

Monday morning and at 6:00am we were all at Los Banos, getting the machines ready, electricity on, water flowing. The refrigeration plant was very cold. Cip had left it on all night.

The animals for the test were chickens, the quantity was 4,000 chickens an hour, from taking out of the gates, hooked up by the legs onto the monorail and coming out the other side frozen. Eight hour shifts – thirty two thousand. “Were there that many chickens on the island?”. At approximately 8:00am Castro arrived, I saw him from the rendering plant, for if there was going to be a problem for me, it would be there. The belt carrying all the waste up into the boiler may have been too steep and sometimes waste would drop off.

Alan “gave the okay” and a man I later knew as Menizes, -he was to be the manager of the plant, started pressing the buttons.

Castro and the Ministers were walking along the monorail into the building. Alan looked worried, he probably wanted a drink. Outside the compound there were lots of vehicles, lorries, vans and pick-ups all with chickens. I thought: “Roy, you were wrong, it looks as though they have the numbers, I hope nothing breaks down.” At 12:00 am I was told that food and drink were available in the main area, there were chairs for the officials and forms for the rest. I had a piece of pastry and a lovely fruit drink with ice from Cip’s refrigerator. I noticed Castro was very interested in the flaked-ice machines. As the flakes came falling down into a container, he kept grabbing a handful.

The machines were all working throughout lunch, at about 3:45 the machines suddenly ground to a halt. Alan had shouted that they had run out of chickens, 30,000 had been slaughtered. It had been a success, thank goodness. Lopez had asked Alan to line us up with the Brigade and all other people who had been part of the project as Castro wanted to thank everyone.

He came along shaking hands and when he came to us, Lopez introduced us as the Hollanders, but when he came to me, Lopez said to him very quietly ‘Englishman, just arrived’ Castro looked, smiled and shook my hand and said ‘Ha, English how you find Cuba?’ by this time sweat was pouring out of me and I said instantly ‘it’s very hot sir’ he roared with

laughter and touched his head, I took him to mean I ought to put a hat on. Later an officer came to me and gave me a Castro cap, one with a large beck just like a baseball cap. I liked to think Castro had sent it. Alan was very pleased and we all went to The White House and had plenty to drink and had a good meal: frogs legs.

Things went well for a few weeks, more time at Los Vegas and that brought things up to schedule. Castro came again and the process was the same as Los Banos. Alan and the company were very pleased, another load of tobacco, sugar and coffee were on its way. The barbecues at the embassy being the highlight of the week, there were some very interesting people, sometimes enjoyable, others not so. The Dutch Embassy and Swedes were the best unfortunately the English were the worst.

The ambassador and family, Wynn Jones were rather tongue in cheek with their eight “consultants”.

I wondered what they all did, as there were only two other English people on the island, Alan and myself.

The food was embarrassing, a little sausage, cheese and pineapple on a stick and triangle sandwiches of fish paste, but plenty of Chevas, Regal whiskey and Gordon’s gin. I noticed people had difficulty talking to Wynn Jones and family. They had a plum in their mouths. Alistair was one of

the consultants that I could converse with. He said that we should have reported to the embassy on arrival as Cuba was a dangerous place for U.K. citizens. I laughed and said they seemed to be alright to me. All the embassies had joined together in a project that Castro had okayed that was to hire a large warehouse to which they all supplied food, clothing and other commodities, the only restriction was that only people with a Diplomatic Pass could enter and it all must be paid for in hard currency.

Our rations were not enough, so the Dutch lads all got passes, although I always paid my share. I was a little annoyed that myself and Alan were never allowed in, so I told Alan I was going to apply for a pass from the embassy.

‘You, want a diplomatic pass?’ Wynn Jones said, in his familiar plum voice.

Whatever next, I was ready to give him a mouth full of broken teeth but Alan pushed me away and told me: ‘We will have to apply somewhere else.’

Alan wrote to his M.P. in Westminster a Mr. Davies who was secretary to Wilson and Callaghan and within a couple of weeks we had a message to go to the embassy to pick up our passes, we had pleasure in putting two fingers up to them.

Things were going very well until Ellena, who was very upset, told me she was leaving. I asked why, she said: “Talk to the others.”

I asked and was told some of the boys were bringing prostitutes into the rooms at night, this was dangerous as there was a law that no fraternising was allowed, that’s why the army were supposed to patrol the area. The penalty if caught was one year jail for the male and two years for the female. There were already two Swedes in jail so they knew about it being forbidden. I told them they were in trouble because Ellena, Raphael and another translator named Martha were army officers. Alan warned the men and the Dutch embassy people came to talk to them. Lopez had also heard and was worried, but the men kept saying that what they did in their private lives was up to them.

By this time twelve weeks was up and I was ready to fly home. Alan asked me to wait a couple of days as they were all going home for Christmas.

I thought yes, we will have a good time flying home together. The day we flew out Raphael and Martha drove the two mini-vans taking us to the airport, when we arrived Raphael took me to one side.

‘Senor Roy’ as he always called me.

‘Be careful, some of the lads are going to be arrested, creep away, stay by Alan, his wife and son’.

Sure enough as we were weighing in at the Liberian airway the army arrived, rifles waving, they asked for our passports arresting Cip, Ceep and Ben, the girls were already in jail.

Alan asked what the problem was, but got no answer and he was pushed away. On the plane the other Dutch lads looked very worried. Moutan, I think, knew what was going on because he said there will be trouble at home as they were all married and Cip had two children. I was glad I was going on the Manchester flight from Madrid, Alan was going to report to Head Office which was good for him until the three lads had been arrested.

I was greeted by my wife at Manchester with our four children, there were lots of hugs and kisses, as I had missed them all.

I had had four wonderful weeks, giving my excuses to Head Office that I was unable to attend the Christmas party, but would meet the others in Cuba. Alan phoned me with Christmas wishes and told me there was hell to pay regarding the lads, their wives had found out and blamed the company and Alan, the Cuban’s had requested three more technicians to replace Ben, Cip and Sip.

I had a better flight returning to Havana on Liberian Airways and was met by Raphael and Alan at the airport. Los Banos had been commissioned. Castro and Lopez were very happy but not willing to release the three lads as there were two Swedes serving the same sentence of one year and they had already served six months.

The new lads Alan had bought with him were two Dutchmen and an Englishman, thank goodness.

At last there was someone I could have a conversation with, his name was John Butterworth, a biology-engineer for the treatment of the water effluent, he came from Bideford, Devon.

The two Dutch lads seemed okay, Max and Van. Moutan was looking after all the Dutch lads, keeping his eye on them, things were much better now. Moutan became a close friend to me, I accepted him for being in charge and seeing everything was kept above board.

I noticed Alan was drinking a lot and the lads began calling him the alcoholic. This was getting serious, even Lopez was beginning to use me for reports. This I played down because Alan seemed to be alright with me and so was Moutan. My work was way in front of the other lads on construction, the only time I was on their sites was by request and when John was having trouble in the water treatment plant.

One morning Martha, a driver and translator in the same position as Raphael, came to John saying there was trouble at Los Vegas and you and Smith were to go there. Off we went and on arrival saw a number of people on the water treatment plant. Going over and looking down, to our surprise it was full of chicken heads, feet and feathers, all mixed in the waste water. ‘Blimey what’s happened’ said John.

‘I think something’s gone wrong in the rendering plant. Let’s see. First uncover the last manhole’

It was full of feathers, carrying onto the plant I noticed the conveyor belt was clean and working, the boiler was empty and clean, the floor tidy, but some of the floor grills were off, the men were nervously watching me, but saying nothing. In one corner was a mattress, I guess it was where they had a few hours sleep when things were quiet.

‘I know what’s happened John’ I said. ‘The belt was running at top speed instead of medium or slow and when this happens the waste falls off the belt, this is why a man should be here to slow it down or shovel it back onto the belt, but I guess this man fell asleep pointing to the mattress and what he has done is taken the grills off the drains and brushed them down.’ What had to be done was to rod the drains and clean out the manholes right up to the treatment plant, to

see if we could get some kind of net and fish out the rest in the holding pens.

By now there were quite a number of people around and Martha carried out my orders to them, they worked all day sweating in the heat and the smell was horrible, but they did it. Now came a problem making out a report, I told John the man responsible would go to prison or even worse, so could we just say it was a problem that happens from time to time and they would know what to do when it happens again and leave it at that. ‘Yes’ said John. Martha looked puzzled staring at me I just looked at her and said,

‘Please, no trouble.’

The weeks went by, about the same time Colon was nearly ready for commissioning. John was still trying to get the water to eighty nine degrees clean but sometimes there was too much chlorine or not enough, or when he got that right the blowers vibrated out of line, this needed attention and adjusting, as John explained to the maintenance man, when you hear it getting louder this is when you adjust it. If you don’t, it will break the belts. Alan came to me to say that I was going to Santiago de Cuba with Lopez, We were flying and staying at one of the best hotels for two nights and he would give me the money in hard currency, to pay for all hotel bills, drink and food for both of us.

‘Don’t let Lopez pay for anything’ he said.

Being at the airport with Lopez was making me feel uncomfortable, as I had not realised how well known and liked he was, people were shaking his hand and some hugging him. I think he felt the same as me.

Lopez, I found out later, was third in command when Castro and Che Guervara landed with twenty seven men to fight Batista, all the original men had high positions in the government.

As we were walking to the plane I noticed on the tail, faintly painted over, a lady in a chair holding a staff it was the Brittania Airways emblem, this was the first plane my wife, two children and myself flew in, it was called the Whispering Giant, I told Lopez this.

When we boarded the plane I noticed the man sitting next to me was very familiar.

‘He’s a gold medal runner’ said Lopez, it was Quantarina the ‘Flying Tiger’ who won the 400 metres in the Olympics. I turned, smiled and offered my hand, which he shook and speaking in Spanish wanted to know if I had been there. Lopez was interpreting for me. “No” I said but I have watched you on television many times and my C.O. in the army was Roger

Bannister’.

‘Oh the four minute miler, a little too far for me.’ He said laughing.

‘I didn’t know you were in the army’ said Lopez.

‘Yes, two years National Service’ I replied.

When we took off, the noise and vibration was horrific, I thought it was just while we got airborne but all through the journey it was the same, in fact it got worse. There was little conversation only sign language and to my surprise when we landed everybody clapped and when the pilot came out of the flight deck everybody clapped again. Seeing Lopez he went to him, offering his hand.

‘I have flown many times and never witnessed so much applause,’ he said. Lopez was greeted at the airport by what I would imagine were important people, one being a large hipped lady, short dark hair with a miserable looking face, I thought I would not like to cross that lady. After going through all the pandemonium, Lopez came over to me with, of all people the lady in question.

‘Smith, this is Claudia Menzies, Chief Building Engineer’ he said. Glad to meet you’ I said shaking her hand.

‘Are you the English engineer who’s going to show us where we are going wrong?’ she said.

‘Oh no. From what I’ve seen the sites are very good’ I said, she thanked me and turned away, kissing Lopez, saying she would see him later.

Driving to the Hilton Hotel, the name was again painted over, I thought it must be the same poor paint as on the Brittania.

‘How did you find Claudia?’ he said. ‘She’s very blunt and personal, she must be very good at her job’ I replied.

‘She is’, said Lopez.

I was taken around the site by a young engineer, there was nothing amiss apart from the water treatment unit. That was not positioned at the lowest part of the site. This was always recommended and I thought tomorrow I will investigate it as it was too late in the day.

I didn’t know where Lopez was, but at the evening meal he joined me asking how the afternoon had gone.

‘Were there any problems?’ he asked.

‘No things seem to be going well’ I said.

‘I don’t think this will be the last to be commissioned the way things are going, this will be a problem for the other engineers, especially the refrigeration plant, what do you recommend? he asked.

‘I think you should bring some of your engineers down here as they are operating the Los Vegas and Los Banos plants and they should have their understudies ready to carry on alone by now. Lopez Nodded, ‘what are you eating?’ he said

‘ Swordfish, I replied and it’s beautiful.’

‘I’ll have the same’ he said to the waiter.

After a good meal, the best I had eaten in all the time I’d been in Cuba, we went to the bar and I had Diacara, Lopez had rum. After breakfast I went with the engineer to the site.

‘Claudia was asking me all about the afternoon with you’ he said.

‘I bet she was’ I thought.

Back on site I first investigated the last manhole chamber, it had a larger more powerful pump, to pump the waste to the higher beds, this was okay, no problem, but I could not see why. Next I went over to where the plans show it to be, I knew the plans by heart after being in the drawing office for three months in Amsterdam. After a while I noticed a large mound of rocky land and this, if they had followed our drawings would be the entrance, yes I thought, they don’t have the machines to remove that. I had been talking to some of the prisoners who remembered me from the other

sites, one I had remembered well was a man in his thirties, he was slim with receding hair, he was always singing and had a beautiful voice, when I asked someone who he was, I was told he was Frank Sinatra’s understudy and while Frank was away he used to stand in for him especially on the radio. He was well looked after, but he did not look after his own family, hence his twenty year sentence. The young engineer arrived to say I was to go to head office and see Claudia. Off we went, Claudia met us but there was no hand shake or greeting.

‘How do you think the site is going?’ she said.

‘Very good I said, so far, so good.’

I was puzzled at first why it was different to the other five sites, it had been moved around and I could see why, I would have done the same.

‘Yes I had to overcome the rocky mound as the machines are all busy on more important projects’ she said.

I noticed her desk was stacked high with drawings of schools, hospitals and universities. ‘God, are you in charge of all these?’ I said sarcastically,

‘Yes’ she said smiling. I thought blimey, she’s smiled, it’s marvellous what a bit of bullshit can do.

I was dropped off at my hotel, had a shower, packed my little holdall and went down to the desk and asked for my bill. Senor Lopez asked what currency I was paying in. I answered Guilders (Dutch), he came back to me with a note saying two rooms, meals and bar tariff was 400 guilders. Alan had given me 500 so I was in pocket. Lopez joined me at the airport thanking me for settling the hotel bill. I said I was instructed by Alan to do so. ‘Smith, I would like to see you in my office one day, I’ll inform you when and thank you, you’ve made a good impression on a lot of people.’ He said.

The flight back was just the same, what an experience but I was used to being surprised by now.

I left with Raphael, he drove me home and I noticed he was very quiet, I asked him if he was okay, ‘problems Senor, but Moutan will tell you.’ he said

Entering the house everybody was sitting around with glum faces. ’What’s the matter?’ I said.

‘Alan’s gone home with his wife and son as the baby is unwell.’ Moutan said.

‘Well that’s no problem as long as they are alright, we will carry on as before.’ I said.

The men seemed to be more at ease and they decided to go out for a meal, as they were going out, John gave me a letter

from Yola, Alan’s wife. On the front of the envelope was written To Roy. I opened it and it said that Alan was very ill, but they had said it was the baby so they could fly out immediately, they would be more understanding at the airport as its very difficult without the exit visas. Raphael had a letter for Lopez saying the same.

The next day Raphael was to take me to the office, the other lads went with Martha to the sites. ‘Roy I suppose you know what’s happened to Alan and family?’ he said.

‘Yes’ I said. ‘Well He’s left you in charge and we agreed, what do you say?’

‘I don’t think this will go down very well with the Dutch lads or Amsterdam, I would recommend us carrying on as before, Moutan looking after the Dutch, with me in front looking after construction and Butterworth on the treatment plant’ I said.

‘But who will report to me and carry out my requests?’ he said.

‘I think I can do that but let me have a word with Moutan I’m sure he will agree.

‘Okay but I would like to see you to-morrow at 2.00 pm. It’s very important you are there.’ he said.

That night I spoke to Moutan, I told him the position and asked if he would agree between ourselves any requests from Lopez to be passed on to me.

‘Yes, I’ve never told anyone, but one day John mentioned some of the lads objected to Moutan ‘checking on them’ he said. ‘Well Moutan is really in charge he’s been here the longest,

‘Ah’ I said. But Moutan is a Maluccan only half Dutch and I think racism is creeping in.

‘Bloody hell John! Haven’t we got enough problems without this.’

So for the next few days I was watching Moutan’s back, if there was any back chat, I pulled them up straight away, making it clear I was backing Moutan.

The meeting at 2.00 pm at 27^th street was very worrying for me as Fidel Castro was there just sitting around the table smoking a cigar with the other officers, some in uniform. Lopez began the meeting by saying. ’Smith, we were wondering if you are able to help us, as we know you have a diplomatic pass, much to the annoyance of your Embassy, so you have some influence.

‘Bloody hell’ I thought, I’m only a hairy arsed bricklayer.“

‘I’m sure you have noticed that our planes will not last very long, continued Lopez, we are desperate for spares, if you remember meeting me in Madrid, that is what I was trying to

order but had no help, the planes were all bought from’, looking at Castro, who read out, British Airways, Basingstoke, Hampshire in a peculiar Spanish accent.

‘Have you also noticed that our public transport is becoming smaller, as one bus breaks down it is cannibalised to repair others, we need spares for them also, as we thought of looking to Castro again’, who said ‘British Leyland, Lancastershire’ in his broken Spanish. ‘We are willing to trade, but as you know the sanctions put on our people are making it very difficult, a lot of countries are helping us you know, for instance The Hollanders. I will do my best’ he said, looking at Castro again, but I’m not as important like you are sir’

‘Bullshit’ I thought, I could be in a lot of trouble, the responsibility on my shoulders was getting pretty heavy. They all thanked me and asked me to leave as they had a lot of business to discuss.

Going to all the Embassy’s parties and barbecues, I tried to ask for help in getting the spares but every time I mentioned British the answer was the same, no chance, it was well known Cuba had bought the planes and buses from the U.K. before sanctions came into force, they agreed it was wrong but the U.K. was a puppet of U.S.A. which I did not like but held my tongue. I was waiting for the British Embassy party, feeling that I was going to say a few things that other people were

thinking but not saying. When the time came I was ready, John felt the same, we were going to have words.

“Why can’t we help these people with spares?” I asked the ambassador, forcefully, which startled him. The reply was ‘because they have men fighting in Angola and they should not fight in other people’s wars.

‘You must be joking aren’t you?’ I said. ‘I’ve been in our army, we fought in Korea, Malaysia, Cypress, Aden and now in Northern Ireland and you disagree with 500 Cuban soldiers fighting in Angola, is it worth all the suffering these people are going through?

‘Hear, hear!’ shouted John.

‘I must ask you to leave’ said the Consulate, he could see the Ambassador and his family were getting upset, so we were kicked out. To be fair, a number of other people left too. I was told later everyone had left by 9.00 pm. Which was unusual as those things usually went on until the early hours of the morning.

Weeks later I was told they had been recalled to the U.K. after poor reports from the other Embassies. Before leaving Cuba I went down with Dengue, a tropical fever, although I had taken an anti- malaria tablet each morning.

This was a kind of malaria that, had I not taken them, then I would have caught the full blown infection which is similar to our flu, I was three

days in bed taking aspirins. John also had it but became worse, so we took him to the Diplomat hospital, saying he was Dutch. He was in for a week in an oxygen tent I think we caught it from the mosquito’s in the water treatment plant, that is where they bred.

The lad’s had booked a table at The Cocobanor Night Club, hoping to cheer me and John up after our illness. It was a most enjoyable evening the show was out of this world, beautiful girls coming down from the trees singing and Carmen Miranda with her hat full of fruit. Castro was there, all smiles and looking at us from time to time. I think he wanted us to show him that we were enjoying ourselves, because Lopez asked if we had enjoyed the show.

On our way to Cienfagos I stopped, as I had seen some people who I had seen at the Embassy. They asked what I was doing here. They were building a clinic for Lepers, I was surprised, I didn’t know there were Lepers in Cuba.

‘Yes’ they said. ‘A lot of Caribbean islands have a few, but only mild cases as they are being treated now.

Would you like to see them?’ they asked.

‘Yes’ I replied and I followed them through a tobacco plantation. There on the other side were a few huts, one with half a roof on. The people had some sort of disfiguration but not as bad as I have seen on films and television.

‘We are short of timber, tin sheets and nails’ they said.

‘I am at the slaughter plant about a mile away, if you call I will see what I can do’ I said.

What’s that place? I asked, it was a large concrete area like an aircraft runway with long round tubes about 60 feet long. ‘Don’t ask’, they said, ‘but where there’s a leper clinic you will see one of those, it is supposed to keep people away, as you already know, prisons are building sites, but there is one that’s along the coast line about ten miles from Havana, half under the sea, it is where foreigners are taken’, I know that two Swiss lads, three Dutch lads and seven Americans from the Bay of Pigs were on an attachment that went wrong, it was supposed to have been instigated by the Americans, these eleven Americans were supposed to have been there’ I said.

‘How do you know?’ I was asked.

‘Because I’ve been there and there are only seven.’ I replied.

Alistar looked at me waiting for some more information but I thought, that’s enough Roy, he’ll get you into trouble, the embassies never helped John and so I thought ‘sod you mate’.

I’d never seen a hurricane before, only on film, it’s a horrific sight, the wind and waves about sixty feet high, were

pounding the promenade and road along the front of Havana, ripping the roads up and slamming into the other side, hitting the building such as the hotel I had stopped in for a drink. The building was shaking as though it was in an earthquake, up to 1000 people lost their lives so I was told. They called it ‘Hurricane Hugo’, the damage it did set the Cubans back years, but not one western country came to their aid. I never looked on the Caribbean Sea the same again. When I see the beautiful, calm sea, clear as tap water with all kinds of colourful fish, I think ‘yes’ I’ve seen you when you’ve been angry, taking people’s lives, showing no mercy at all.

This reminds me of the time I joined Moutan, he was a scuba diver, borrowing the air tanks from the Dutch Embassy. We went to the Valderama beach, as Ben said that the coral reef was full of life. We never spent more than twenty minutes at a time under water. After Moutan had finished, he fixed me up and, I being a good swimmer, he started me with mollusc, which are a delicate shell that are found in the area.

As he ran out of air, he gave the thumbs up to me and left, pointing to my watch which meant I had twenty minutes left. I kept to the coral reef, looking for conch, another elaborate shell found in the area which was what I was diving for. I would have liked a large one and I thought with the air tanks

I could swim further down than the locals and sure enough I found a beauty.

As I was cleaning it I felt my hairs on the back of my head raise, it’s funny, but we all have a sense of danger and I felt this when looking down searching. Danger was there, four or five sharks about twelve feet long, circling below me, gliding so beautifully as though they had not seen me. Then I caught sight of a silver shape over my shoulder gliding over me about six feet away, then about four feet away was another shark with a black eye like a bead, swimming one way then another. I had frozen by this time. I had the sense to keep as close to the reef as possible but not enough to cut myself as the coral was sharp.

My legs felt paralysed, I could not move them, my knees were shaking out of control. I had felt this sensation before when I was boxing in the army, I thought this is shock. The sharks kept on coming towards me trying to knock me away from the coral, as if they were afraid of cutting themselves. Little by little I inched my way along the coral, my watch told me another five minutes and my time would be up. I thought I have got to swim along the edge of the coral as Moutan would be keeping his eye on the time. This bloody shark kept brushing me closer and closer, but the others never came up to look, they must have been quite a distance away, it’s difficult to measure that they were still there. Inch by inch I

made my way, dragging my legs as I had no feelings, till at last I looked up and saw the sunlight shining down, I thought it can’t be far now.

Then there was a loud bang, the shark dived down by my side and it had gone, then I saw Moutan with a machete, banging on the coral, he had seen the shark and had frightened it away. Moutan dragged me up onto the sandy beach, with an anxious look on his face,

‘Are you alright?’ he said.

‘No, I replied, my legs are frozen and my knees are knocking can you rub them for me? this has happened to me before, they will be alright in a few minutes.’ I said.

‘I have been coming here for about twelve months and have never seen a shark here before, it’s a good job you had the sense to keep close to the reef.’ he said.

‘And I kept hold of my Conch, I was going to hit the shark with it’ I joked.

We both laughed, I never did any more diving again and I don’t think Moutan did.

I was going along the sea front in Havana watching people cleaning up the mess Hugo had made, then a couple of lorries arrived with men inside, I was told they were going to

Miami. The Americans had said Castro would not allow Cubans to leave, so he was sending 50 men who wanted to go there. But he neglected to say they were all convicted homosexuals.

John got me into trouble with the Germans at the embassy party. A couple of Germans, who had had a few drinks too many, started to take the piss out of us ‘Hollanders’ as they called us, saying we were taking all this time to open one factory. They had heard we were better workers in bed.

John got angry and before I could stop him he had told them some of us were British and said

‘We have beaten you twice, how many more times do you want a beating?’

We were asked politely to leave.

‘Kicked out again Smithy?’ said Alistair, who was outside the Embassy.

He then introduced me to someone called Mark, a man in his fifties.

‘He is the third Englishman on the island and has lived here before the revolution working for Tate and Lyle, they ran the sugar plantations, Mark was the only one that

didn’t run, so he was made manager and lived in George Raft’s old house.’

‘I’ve seen a lot of films with him in, what’s it like? I said.

Mark told me it was not as glamorous as you might think, as all these beautiful houses were ransacked after the Revolution and everything that could be moved was stolen and the only thing left in his place was the beautiful staircase which was 10 feet wide in the centre of the vast hall and at the top was divided to the left and right just like on the films. He went on to tell me that every mansion was the same, it must have had the same contractor.

‘You can see where Frank Sinatra lived, his is the one with the grand piano shaped swimming pool.’ Mark said.

‘Yes, I’ve seen that, the Ambassador lives there’ I replied.

Mark said that Al Capone’s house was turned into Council Offices in one half and Public Toilets the other. ‘It’s true’ Mark said laughing.

‘One of your chaps is always playing my favourite music in that mini V.W. bus.’

‘That’s me’ I said. I have Neil Diamond tapes, all his songs, would you like to borrow them?’

‘Yes’ he said.

‘But better still I’d like to buy them they are like gold dust here.’

‘When I go on my break to the U.K. you can have them, I will buy new ones to bring back.’ I said.

Martha was waiting outside to take us home.

‘In trouble again Butterworth?’ she said.

‘Yes darling’ he said kissing her on the forehead.

Martha and Raphael missed nothing as I later found out, there were times when soldiers would salute them or clip their heels so this told me they were officers, I preferred them to drive because the Dutch lads caused trouble in Cuba because of the shortage of public transport, it was against the law to drive past people waiting for a bus if you had a seat empty in your vehicle. Sometimes the police (army) would stop us pointing to the empty seat

‘Capitalist’ The Dutch lads would shout and no one would enter the van, where the police would kick the sliding door shut. This I found embarrassing and where ever possible told Martha and Raphael they must stop if they have empty seats which was much to the annoyance of some of the Dutch lads. They all looked very sheepish, no acknowledgement or

handshake. Time was racing very fast, work was good and soon my twelve weeks were up. I was really looking forward to seeing my wife and children. Meeting Joyce at Manchester was wonderful, but she began to cry, I asked what the problem was and she said I had lost a lot of weight. I didn’t realise but I had lost 2 stone in 13 weeks. I enjoyed my four weeks leave and I started to regain my weight. Later I received a phone call from Yola saying Alan was in re-hab and did I know he had been sacked.

‘No’ I said.

‘I’ve heard nothing but I’ll find out and let you know.’

A few days later I received a letter asking me to come to a meeting at Head Office on the 12^th April, all the technicians had been requested to attend and no way was I to go to Cuba before this. This suited me, a few days more at home.

The day arrived, everyone was there at Head Office, John and Moutan came towards me saying,

‘The bastards have got Alan the sack because of his drinking.’

‘Yes I know is there anything we can do?’ I said.

‘No there are too many against us’.

The meeting was called to order, all of us sitting around a large table. Rikham, the head of Alfa Engineering who I worked for, began to speak.

The meeting was called by five other companies who had technicians in Cuba, although Alfa was the main contractor, we were all members of the Stock Duke group and the other companies had requested Alan Walsh to be dismissed due to his alcohol addiction and for not controlling the situation correctly regarding the three technicians that were in prison. We, meaning Alfa, Rikham said, had done this, but another complaint made by the five was the appointment of Mr. Roy Smith an Englishman in charge of a Dutch project. It should be a Dutchman and not to be dictated to us by Cuban Authorities.

After Rikham had spoke, the others in turn had their say, but they spoke in Dutch so I could not comment, but I guessed they didn’t like the English or the Cubans, this went on for hours.

After which they said we would have lunch and resume at 2.00 pm. That gave me a chance to think of what to say when it came to my turn. I asked John his opinion.

‘Tell them to get stuffed, he said, it wasn’t Alan’s fault or yours that they were frigging about with prostitutes. They

were spineless; make them say what’s on their minds not their bosses.’

‘Right Mouton, what about you? I asked, I would like to speak after you because I would like to back you up this time no matter what you say.’

We had a good lunch and conversation with Demag then we all took our seats. Rikham started by asking if I would I like to say anything?

‘Yes’ I said.

‘But first I would like the five lads to tell me what I’ve done wrong.’

‘Right, we will go round and ask them,’ not one said a word. The manager had said it all, was their answer.

‘What’s wrong with being English? have you forgotten my father and my relations got the Germans out of your country?’ I said.

‘When they walked, let me say again walked in, I continued. Their faces were a picture to behold, they were stunned. Your three technicians are in prison because they were not properly interviewed by yourselves’ I said.

‘Picking men who were more interested in picking up prostitutes than doing their work.

Since they have been away, the projects have come on in leaps and bounds, making up for lost time, the Cubans are very pleased, trade is moving more quickly so Head Office surely has seen the difference.’ I went on.

They began talking in Dutch, shouting at Rikham, when Moutan stood up and in a loud voice gave a speech spoken in Dutch for about five minutes. I don’t know what he said, but it seemed to quieten everyone down and they looked rather sheepish. I thought Rikham had asked all the technicians to leave the room as he wanted to talk to the Companies. We went into an adjoining room John telling the other five to piss off, or they would have their F—– faces smashed. They disappeared.

After about one hour the door opened and they came out. Demag told me they had been outvoted and the Cuban project was stopped forthwith. We would all be offered other contracts. Demag said Rikham wanted a word, so I went into the other room where he and Mr. Prins were talking. Seeing me he said.

‘Sorry Roy but my hands are tied and we are not big enough to carry the load ourselves we don’t want to lose you, we will pay your salary, don’t worry about your money, but we would like you to accept another contract in Libya to finish

your present contract and see how you like it. If favourable we would like to offer another contract, we all think a lot about you, though your speech was very hurtful, we are not all like that you know, my father was killed in the war.’

‘Sorry’ I said.

‘I would like to think things over with my wife, thank you.’ I said.

We shook hands then I made my way to the airport and home.

Libya

After the Cuba contract was cancelled I was seconded to the German company: Empro, for three months to finish my contract. They offered me the position of Site Engineer-Manager in Libya with a ten per cent raise in salary; so began my life with Arabs, Sahara Desert and Colonel Gaddafi.