He was awarded it as a perk based on merit, paying a subsidized price in 1975, the same year as the first Communist Party Congress. He won the chance to buy that brand new Fiat 125, made in Argentina, because he was a vanguard doctor and an unimpeachable Revolutionary. The first time he parked on his provincial street, the neighbors looked on with envy and respect. Behind the wheel he felt like someone just beginning to take the first steps along the promised path to prosperity. But time passed, over his own body and also over the blue bodywork that had begun to get chipped and dented. Now the car is about to be the same age as his oldest daughter, some 37 Decembers of benefits and setbacks.
For decades he held back on making any comprehensive repairs because his pediatrician's salary wasn't even enough to replace the windshield. In the mid-nineties he broke down and rented the Fiat to a neighbor who bought and sold merchandise on the black market. Between leaving it to rust in the garage or renting it to someone with resources, he preferred the latter. Thus, the car awarded as a prize for ideological fidelity, went to someone who had never been chosen by institutions to receive such a privilege. The currency of political loyalty that ended up conquered at the feet of another, more real, convertible hard cash.
When the purchase and sale of cars was authorized, he decided to legalize the transfer. The solvent neighbor who had already invested in new tires, air-conditioning, and even leather-covered seats, delivered some one thousand CUC ($900 USD) to close the deal. He didn't want to pay one cent more, because he'd been paying a monthly rent for several years. Finally, before a notary, the Fiat swelled the list of 8,390 autos sold in the first trimester of 2012. With the money he made the doctor managed to buy the materials to restore the roof of his house and to get rid of the damaged nearly-100-year-old tiles. So he put out of his mind the object that had once been a major source of pride, for the concrete roof he never could have afforded on his salary.
Follow Yoani Sanchez on Twitter: www.twitter.com/yoanifromcuba
For decades, Cuba has "exported" doctors, nurses and health technicians to earn diplomatic influence in poor countries and hard cash for its floundering economy. According to Cuba's official media, an estimated 38,544 Cuban health professionals were serving abroad in 2008, 17,697 of them doctors. (Cuba reports having 70,000 doctors in all.)
These "missionaries of the revolution" are well-received in host countries from Algeria to South Africa to Venezuela. Yet those who hail Cuba's generosity overlook the uglier aspects of Cuba's health diplomacy.
The regime stands accused of violating various international agreements such as the Trafficking in Persons Protocol and ILO Convention on the Protection of Wages because of the way these health-care providers are treated.
Cuban doctors go abroad because at home they earn a scant $22-$25 a month. When they work in other countries, they typically get a small stipend in local currency while their families back home receive their usual salary plus a payment in hard currency—from $50 to $325 per month.
CLICK LINK FOR ENTIRE ARTICLE
http://www.weblogbahamas.com/blog_bahamas/2010/08/cubas-cash-for-doctors-program-a-business-of-modern-slavery.html
Treating diplomats privately cost Dr. Eduardo his hospital job. And soon the government ordered him to cut off all contact with foreigners. Months later he managed to get an exit permit from the Cuban authorities and an immigrant visa for Spain. I hear that he and his family are thriving there; he has grown fat on the glorious abundance of food. The Cuban government sometimes sent provocateurs to “enemy” diplomats’ homes, hoping to catch us in illegal transactions. They would ring the doorbell and offer stolen cigars or rock lobster tails, items controlled under a closely-held government monopoly.
But this was no government trap. My transactions with Pedro were already illicit. Employer-employee relationships were forbidden on the island; the Cuban government was the only permissible employer. Foreigners in need of Cuban labor were required to contract with Cubalse, a government agency. For my maid’s services, for example, I paid Cubalse in dollars. Cubalse then paid her in pesos, thus siphoning off an effective tax rate of some ninety-five percent. Pedro disdained this lopsided scheme and worked, at his own considerable risk, for cash. I had never even known his last name until I read it on his doctor’s prescription.
CLICK LINK FOR ENTIRE ESSAY!
http://www.unc.edu/depts/diplomat/AD_Issues/amdipl_13/linderman_cuba.html
The video tells the story of one Cuban doctor working in Gambia who took nine months to escape and now lives in Florida. His wife and child are still in Cuba and she lost her job at a hospital as a result of being blacklisted for five years because of his defection. Another downside is that, without their medical records and certifications (held by the Cuban government), Cuban doctors in the United States can only work as nurses or surgical assistants. And even though Cuba lets 20,000 people emigrate annually, doctors rarely get permission to leave. Still, almost 1,600 doctors have defected since 2006 as a result of: Cuba has been sending medical "brigades" to foreign countries since 1973, helping it to win friends abroad, to back "revolutionary" regimes in places like Ethiopia, Angola, and Nicaragua, and perhaps most importantly, to earn hard currency. Communist Party newspaper Granma reported in June that Cuba had 37,041 doctors and other health workers in 77 countries. Estimates of what Cuba earns from its medical teams—revenue that Cuba's central bank counts as "exports of services"—vary widely, running to as much as $8 billion a year. Many Cubans complain that the brigades have undermined Cuba's ability to maintain a high standard of health care at home
http://www.good.is/post/video-cuban-doctors-defection-comes-at-a-price/