At 86, my great aunt’s energy shocked me. She walked on painfully swollen feet, determined to give us the “grand” tour of her humble home in Santiago de Cuba.
By U.S. standards, she lived in poverty. Her kitchen sink was filled with bottled water; she only has running water twice a week. Her pantry shelves sat nearly empty.
In the middle of our interview, she quickly darted to the window – forgetting for a moment she even had guests. It was her daily bread ration being delivered.
The ration was just a small piece that she immediately wrapped in a plastic bag. “This is for tomorrow,” she stressed to us.
She, like most every other Cuban, lives off ration cards, which allow her to get a very limited amount of food and ingredients each month. She’s learned to live without.
We invited her to join us for all of our meals during our visit. I remember staring at her walking into the hotel restaurant – an “all you can eat” buffet. She looked overwhelmed by the selection, the abundance.
Yet despite her needs and wants, our Tia Luz Maria had the most pleasant, positive personality. It’s a trait shared with most every Cuban we met.
