Havana, 15 June 2014 -- Ricardo has raised his two daughters alone. One August morning he woke up and his wife had left. Later he learned she'd been intercepted on the high seas and spent months at the Guantanamo Naval Base before arriving in the United States. At the time, the youngest of the girls still slept in a cradle and the oldest was learning her first letters.
They had hard times. The maternal grandmother's aggressiveness didn't respect paternal custody. "These girls need a mother," she shouted angrily, every time she saw him. Nor was it easy for him in the village. A man abandoned can go unnoticed in Havana, but in the provinces it's a constant joke, the talk of all the neighbors.
He had to face it all alone. He had to explain to his daughters what it means to start menstruating, and also the importance of using a condom. He had to stand in long lines at the pharmacy to buy sanitary pads and sell some of his belongings to buy them extra cotton every month. He specialized in ironing uniform skirts, mending stockings, and removing nits from their hair. At first his braids were loose at the top and fell apart in a few minutes, but later he was a total master.
He never went back to sleep in the morning. There was always one of his "women" who had to get up early and he made breakfast and woke them up. One of them says her "papi" makes the best peas in the whole country, while the other still asks him to edit what she writes.
He doesn't speak ill of their mother. He prefers to build up their hopes that somewhere in California there is a sad-looking lady who is waiting to reunite with her daughters. But the letters don't come more than once a decade and the last time she was more worried about her own unemployment problems than the girls she left in Cuba.
Ricardo could have disengaged and done what so many others do. Cuban society never would have blamed him for sending his daughters to their grandmother's house. After all, the popular refrain would justify it, asserting that "a father is nobody." His case, however, is not so rare. It happens that his story is lost among so many of our everyday emergencies.
Today he went out early, without making any noise, wanting to get a haircut and buy a little rum to celebrate Father's Day. It's Sunday, "the girls" will sleep late and the kitchen will already smell of the pot where the beans are cooking.