A Bit of Perspective

Given the economic environment, it's pretty easy these days to feel like life is treating you unfairly. In fact, recession or not, all of us find ourselves on the unhappy side of Lady Luck's favor every once in a while, and we often feel angry or cheated. But, from time to time, you have an experience that makes you realized just how lucky you really are. I just had one of these, so let me tell you about it.

A mild-mannered young gentleman just left my house; he was here installing my internet. He had a 786 cell phone number (Miami), and a thick latin accent. So I thought: maybe he's from Cuba? Turns out he is, and after a bit I ask him if he is an interesting story of how he got here. Well.

"Yes," he says. "18 days at sea."

"18 days?"

"We go by boat. We buy the boat from a man, but he charge us very big price, but he tell us we have to pay before. We go to the address where the boat is, and the boat is fourteen feet, for nine people, and the motor has no oil."

The route, apparently, is to go to the Caymans and get some provisions, and from there to Honduras. The trip is supposed to take only a few hours, so they thought. But, soon after leaving the Caymans, the motor (with no oil) dies, and there is no choice but to throw it overboard. They use their clothes to make a sail, but "nobody know how to do it," so "where the wind go, phhht, we go!"

After 11 days or so, they run out of food, and the last week it is no food, only two cups of water a day, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. Once, sharks circle the boat for several hours. (Apparently, it is not uncommon for asylum seekers to be scared by this and choose to throw someone to sharks in the belief that the sharks will attack the boat if not. Fortunately that did not happen in this case.)

Finally, on the 17th day, they can see the Honduran coastline in the distance. But there is no wind, and they have not moved in 14 hours, according to their GPS. Running out of water, it is now or never. They break apart their water tank into 4 pieces, and use the pieces to row, from 10PM to 4PM the next day, to the coast.

From there, it is up the peninsula to the United States. On the way, they are intercepted by the Mexican authorities, where he spends a month in a Mexican prison. If you are Cuban, they were supposed to give you asylum, but it takes a while sometimes, and in the meantime, you are stuck, "with real criminals," he says. "Mexico is so corrupt. If you have any money, they take it all."

"So then what?" I ask. "Through the desert?"

"Oh, then you just cross the border," he says, like it's nothing.

And that is how the polite gentleman from Cuba came to be installing my internet connection.