E-mails and Sugar Mills

 This morning an email came in from a dear friend… actually we (including her sister) go back to the days of Richland, WA., where we were part of the small band of Cuban teens who came to terrorize the unsuspecting town… not!.

She wrote to me referring to the last posting, about small Ciego Montero, the mineral water baths and about my experiences with my granddad, telling me about her own childhood in a small sugar mill town and her memories of her own granddad and her father, growing up in what was, per today’s standards, a truly bucolic setting. I was very happy to hear from her this morning, thanking me for bringing her own memories to the fore and a smile to her face. Needless to say, this brought a smile to my own face and some memories of my own…

As a return note went to her, the mention was made that part of several summers of my childhood were spent in a sugar mill town, not unlike the one in which she had her childhood, and not far from it, to boot. About a month ago I received another email, this time from the son of a friend of my uncle; the uncle and cousins sometimes mentioned in these posts and who, as it turns out, also lived in a sugar mill town, called Tuinucu. That email also opened a floodgate of memories about that little town, almost a village I guess, since we could bike from one end to the other in probably less than 15 minutes.

Early Days

Sugar was then Cuba’s primary currency; it accounted for a majority of the international income received and Cuba was, for several decades, the premier producer and provider of cane sugar in the world. Sugar mills dotted the countryside and sugar plantations were everywhere. Some were smaller, and some bigger but, there was a uniformity about the little towns/villages which sprung around the mills, populated by those who worked there and who made of these centers a veritable beehive of work during the weeks in which the canes were cut and brought in. We called the “zafra”, the harvest time. In fact, within Cuba’s jargon, anytime someone would come up with an economic boon, he/she would be said to have had a personal “zafra”.

Later Picture; Tuinucu

Early during summer vacation, it was for me a great incentive to be able to go to Tuinucu and stay at the home of my cousins until that time in which my uncle, who was the corporate comptroller, was able to leave for his one month summer vacation. We would all then pile in his car and come back to Cienfuegos, to my grandfather’s house, where my cousins would stay through most of the rest of the summer. My love of Tuinucu had grown over the years, since the first time my granddad took me there (I was about 5 years old then) to visit my uncle and aunt (my mother’s sister and my godmother) and the cousins, as they were being born.  As I got older, there was another incentive for these trips; as I learned how to drive, my granddad would allow me to exercise that privilege for a while, as we went off the main roads during the last leg of the trip. This was WOW!! incredible to me.

In our trips, we would approach the mill town from the back side, since we were coming through a shortcut off the main road, from the west; the main road came in from the east and the closest city, Sancti Spiritus. This approach meant a dirt road which In the rainy season was really not passable with our car; then good for 4 wheel drives, horses and the oxen pulled carts. This was indeed the countryside and it was to be enjoyed totally!! As we arrived at my aunt’s home, the cousins would spill out (there were four, although one was the baby girl, still in the crib… she didn’t spill out with the rest), yelling their welcomes and seeing what it was that granddad brought for them (I know… we learn to be selfish early on…).

Sugar Cane train

After the initial round of welcomes, kisses (ugh! that was not a child’s favorite moment) we would get lost. The bikes were ready and off we were… visit friends not seen since last summer (one of those is the person who contacted me about a month ago…) and feel the absolute freedom that being in a place like this afforded. In the city, there were some restrictions; although a great place to live, Cienfuegos was still a city, with some of the side effects that size would bring. Whenever I was at the mill town, these restrictions were off. Most everyone knew everyone else, families were simply friends and all had kids our age, with whom we were free to roam the place. And Boy!! did we… Forays into the countryside, in zafra time waiting for the sugar cane laden carts to come by, sneaking up to them and stealing a couple of canes; peeling them (not an easy task, believe me) with a hidden knife one of us would have brought anticipating just this moment, then cutting them in pieces we could chew, suck all the juice (Ahhh, pure sugar nectar… literally) and then spit out… afterwards, we would go to the small stream nearby to jump in and clean our faces and hands from the sticky syrup…

A Cane laden Cart

The loaded trucks, the beehive like activity at the mill, the smoke belching up through the stacks, the refining of the sugar, the people who were always ready with a smile, to explain to us what was going on… the stolen bits of sugar and the sugar candies… Yes, I know… we should have no teeth after all this, but our elders made sure we scrubbed our teeth totally, every day. Probably saved our collective smiles by getting us to do so. 

These were times for a child to be just that: a child. Feeling secure, doing mischief, having fun and enjoying a very simple and, sadly, long gone way of life. We all have some of these memories stuck way back there and it is to our betterment to be able to bring them forward once in a while; it is not living in the past… it is just having and keeping this wonderful past alive in us.

Thanks Stella, for bringing this back for me.

Tuinucu… Cuba, circa 1950’s.

Be Well… Be Back!!