Triunfo de Yemayá from Havana to Florida 
by Conner Gorry
 
 
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They decided to go to Plan B.
Wielding the hammer I’d brought for the purpose, the crate was opened and inspected by the Registry’s transport specialist, the chief cargo officer, a customs agent and a couple other rubberneckers.

“My saint is also Yemayá,” someone said, their proclamation hanging in the tiny, crowded office as a final word of sorts.

Working together, we got her repacked right for the next leg of her trip.

“Now what?” I asked, looking at the clock and wondering if 35 minutes would be enough to complete this part of my mission.

“We’re done here. Now we wheel it on to the tarmac and put it on the plane.”

As I bid my crew adieu with a hug and the customary right cheek kiss, I heard someone say: “now let’s see what happens in Miami.”

Arriving in Miami
Arriving into Miami from Havana is always a bit nerve wracking, even for someone as experienced and legal as me – more so when you’re trailing a huge crate with unknown contents. As always, I chose my immigration line carefully, studiously avoiding women, Latinos, and people of color (who are more likely to harbor Cuba-based bias or carry chips on their shoulder as a result of their lowly status in the US socio-economic food chain). 

I breezed through immigration with three magic words (‘I’m a journalist’) and headed straight to the bay marked oversized baggage. In flawless Cuban Spanish (that always touches officials in Miami, the overwhelming majority of whom hail from the island), I asked after my crate; within minutes it was on a cart and I was on my way towards US Customs.

“What’s that?” they asked.

“A piece of art. Do I need to declare it?”

“How much did it cost?”

“Nothing, it was a gift,” I said, pulling out another magic answer at just the perfect moment.

“You don’t need to declare it or pay duty.”

“But you do need to have it inspected. Proceed to Area 15.”

As I wheeled my way to Area 15 (naturally – or perhaps dyslexically – I was thinking of aliens and top secret shenanigans), my confidence grew that everything was going to work out. Just one more step and I will have fulfilled my obligation.

I entered the large, brightly-lit section known as Area 15; several Customs agents milled about and there was a giant X-ray machine. A strapping Latino officer approached. He circled the crate, asking me what was inside.

“A piece of art. It was my friend’s who died and I’m bringing it to her brother.”

Delivered in my Cuban Spanish, I knew this would tug at the heart strings since every Cuban with family divided has experienced the problem of wills and politically-complicated property transfer.

He nodded non-committally. “It lacks the proper paperwork. It hasn’t been fumigated.”

‘Fumigated?!’ I thought, missing a few beats. Of course fumigation is a logical and necessary factor in this globalized, bug-infested world – but a factor I hadn’t accounted for.

I smiled. “I hadn’t even thought of that.” I didn’t add that had I thought of it, Adam and I would have invented some kind of fumigation markings for the crate, a lo cubano, back in Havana.

The Strapping Agent went to get the jefe.

I started to fret (and sweat).

The jefe arrived, the situation explained. He was short and made me nervous: a pint-sized Latino jefe is ripe combination for a Napoleon complex. I added that Angela’s brother was waiting for me and Yemayá just on the other side of those glass doors. He took a turn around the crate, pried a corner ajar and peeked inside.

He paused, took a step back, and waved me through.

Yemaya, safe and sound in Miami

I wheeled my precious, unwieldy cargo through the doors and out of the terminal. There was Angela’s brother, in a big yellow rental truck, idling at the curb.  

As I write this, Triunfo de Yemayá hangs in David’s house, testament to our collective aché.

(For those wondering, aché means “«the force», not in the sense of violence, but as a vital energy which creates a multiplicity of process and determines everything from physical and moral integrity to luck.”)

Notes
1. In this I have some experience since I lived with an art handler/installer my last four years in the States and precisely how fine art should be transported and handled.

2. To export patrimony +/o art of a certain caliber from cuba requires easy to procure paperwork and 10 CUC; my experience at the Registro Nacional de Bienes Culturales in Vedado was one of the most efficient and friendly I’ve ever experienced here.

3. While compañero and compañera may be waning as preferred terms of address, mi amor never will.

‹‹ Previous The Gift of Ach? : Triunfo de Yemay? from Havana to Florida      ››
The Gift of Ach?: Triunfo de Yemay? from Havana to Florida
November 2011
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