Reyita: The Life of a Black Cuban Woman in the Twentieth Century, as told to her daughter Daisy Rubiera Castillo

Abstract

These considerations do not detract from the immense interest of the book, which at times is hugely entertaining. Although not told in strictly chronological order, most of the book is taken up with [Reyita]'s memories of her childhood and with her difficult relationship with her mother, Isabel, who was keen to "whiten the race" and ashamed of her daughter's African features. In order to explain this racist attitude Reyita relates what she knows of her mother and maternal grandmother's upbringings. The grandmother was brought over to Cuba as a child slave and the story of how she was captured (in today's Angola) has been passed down through the family, so that the collective memory of the book reaches back to the second half of the 19th century, before the abolition of slavery in 1886. In fact, Reyita's mother, Isabel, was the daughter of a slave owner, which no doubt accounts for the aquiline features she so wished to see replicated in her children. Isabel had several children by different men, some of whom died in infancy, but she was always at pains to keep her lighter-skinned children separate from the others. Reyita's father was a Mambi soldier, the only Black man Isabel shared her life with.

Reyita also recounts briefly her early involvement in the Garvey movement in Oreinte province, and testifies to the strong influence of the Jamaicans in that part of Cuba. Her uncle was directly involved in the Independent Party of Color (IPC) which was brutally suppressed in 1912, resulting in the massacre of the Black activists, some of whom Reyita had met. One of her most telling comments is when she asks why no one in post-revolutionary Cuba thought to interview the survivors of that massacre to collect their first-hand information not only about the organization of the IPC, but also the political manoeuvrings of the time -- she herself suggests that the US was involved. (52) Reyita also knew Batista when he was a child, describing him as a cheerful boy who was known by the name of "Venus." She participated in the Popular Socialist Party's activities in the 1940, a life which she describes as "waking up from the blindness caused by my naivete," (84) by which she means that she acquired a feminist consciousness. Further historical value is provided by Reyita's account of her involvement in education in the 1920s. she made her living as a school mistress with her own school for poor children, subsequently closed down when the state school opened. She gives lengthy descriptions of the city of Santiago in the 1920s and 1950s, particularly of the mixed poor quarters, in order to "emphasize the fundamental problem in Cuba was not just being black but poor." (72)

Maria de los Reyes Castillo Bueno, translated by Anne Mclean, (Durham: Duke University Press; London: Latin American Bureau, 2000)

MARIA DE LOS REYES Castillo Bueno (1902-1997), familiarly known as Reyita, was an ordinary working-class Black woman who, like many thousands of Black women, struggled to survive and raise a family in Cuba. Although she was typical, she has been rescued from anonymity on account of her longevity (she was 95 years old when she died) so that her life experiences extend almost the full length of the 20th century. She was also fortunate to have a daughter who studied at university and was sufficiently curious about her mother's life-history to record these experiences and arrange for their publication in the form of a book. The book was originally published in Spanish in Cuba in 1996; three years later an English translation appeared at Duke University Press in the US and the Latin American Bureau in the UK, introduced by Elizabeth Dore, a distinguished Latin American historian currently at the University of Southampton. An obvious question to ask is, why? Why this woman? Why these publishers? Why now?

That the book should have first appeared in Cuba in 1996 requires some further explanation, as Dore points out. It was published at the height of the special period when, due to shortages, the Cuban printing presses came to a virtual standstill. Only the most urgent books (for example, text books for schools) were published in the early to mid-1990s. Reyita, therefore, must have been considered of great significance. Yet it seems not to have been published by the state (by Letras Cubanas for example), but by an entity called "Prolibros" and by the World Data Research Center, Havana. The book was a finalist for a Casa de las Americas prize, yet -- strangely -- was not widely circulated or read on the island. It was available only in dollar shops, which were inaccessible to the majority of Cubans. All this, states Dore, "tells us something, but far from enough, about how public culture was constituted in Cuba, and whose voice counted." (14) The circumstances surrounding the publication of the book is clearly an issue that will need to be further explored.

Even more intriguing is why Duke University Press, a prestigious academic press, should have thought this book worth publishing in the first place, especially as it lacks the usual critical and theoretical apparatus to which specialist readers are accustomed. The historical introduction, brief notes, and short list of items for "further reading" clearly indicate that the book targets a wider public than the academic community. In this respect, for instance, Reyita might be unfavorably compared to Daniel James's Dona Maria's Life Story: Life, History, Memory and Political Identity (2000), an Argentine working-class woman's account of her life, which comes with a rigorous analysis and full contextualization. It is for this reason too, no doubt, that the introduction to Reyita touches only briefly on some of the questions raised by the recent debates in testimonial literature, particularly with reference to the David Stoll controversy regarding Rigoberta Menchu's "testimonio."

Similarly, there is no explanation of how this particular account was obtained; the voice of Daisy Rubiera is never heard, though it is not difficult to imagine the questions asked given the answers provided, particularly near the end of the book where the story-teller seems to be running out of material. Despite these shortcomings, the publication and successful marketing of this book would seem to have more to do with the current priorities in the US (especially Duke's) academic agenda than genuine interest among Cubans. As stated earlier, there must be thousands of Black women whose life experiences are as interesting as Reyita's. But if the book is to have lasting historical value, and if it is to be read for more than anecdotal curiosity, it needs to form part of a much larger scale research project in which the collective memories and oral histories of many Cuban-Black women are collated, contextualized, and analyzed with full regard to the problematic status of fact and fiction, memory and truth.

These considerations do not detract from the immense interest of the book, which at times is hugely entertaining. Although not told in strictly chronological order, most of the book is taken up with Reyita's memories of her childhood and with her difficult relationship with her mother, Isabel, who was keen to "whiten the race" and ashamed of her daughter's African features. In order to explain this racist attitude Reyita relates what she knows of her mother and maternal grandmother's upbringings. The grandmother was brought over to Cuba as a child slave and the story of how she was captured (in today's Angola) has been passed down through the family, so that the collective memory of the book reaches back to the second half of the 19th century, before the abolition of slavery in 1886. In fact, Reyita's mother, Isabel, was the daughter of a slave owner, which no doubt accounts for the aquiline features she so wished to see replicated in her children. Isabel had several children by different men, some of whom died in infancy, but she was always at pains to keep her lighter-skinned children separate from the others. Reyita's father was a Mambi soldier, the only Black man Isabel shared her life with.

Reyita also gives details of her father's parents. Her paternal grandfather, a free Black, was killed in the first wars of independence, and her paternal grandmother, a kindly person who provided love and security for Reyita, later married a White farm owner. Reyita herself married the son of an Austrian (from Gijon) and a White-Cuban woman, Antonio Rubiera, with whom she happily lived for some 50 years despite his family's refusal to accept her both because she was Black and because her marriage ceremony was, apparently, not official (though this curious detail is not fully explained fully). In her view, his main flaw was to lack ambition for the advancement of his children. It is this complex family history, the story of the process of miscegenation and, more importantly, the feelings and attitudes of those involved, that stands out as one of the most intriguing aspects of the book. It would have been easier for the reader to follow the formation of family relationships if a family tree had been included. However, the sixteen pages of photographs of the family speak volumes and are a major asset.

Reyita also recounts briefly her early involvement in the Garvey movement in Oreinte province, and testifies to the strong influence of the Jamaicans in that part of Cuba. Her uncle was directly involved in the Independent Party of Color (IPC) which was brutally suppressed in 1912, resulting in the massacre of the Black activists, some of whom Reyita had met. One of her most telling comments is when she asks why no one in post-revolutionary Cuba thought to interview the survivors of that massacre to collect their first-hand information not only about the organization of the IPC, but also the political manoeuvrings of the time -- she herself suggests that the US was involved. (52) Reyita also knew Batista when he was a child, describing him as a cheerful boy who was known by the name of "Venus." She participated in the Popular Socialist Party's activities in the 1940, a life which she describes as "waking up from the blindness caused by my naivete," (84) by which she means that she acquired a feminist consciousness. Further historical value is provided by Reyita's account of her involvement in education in the 1920s. she made her living as a school mistress with her own school for poor children, subsequently closed down when the state school opened. She gives lengthy descriptions of the city of Santiago in the 1920s and 1950s, particularly of the mixed poor quarters, in order to "emphasize the fundamental problem in Cuba was not just being black but poor." (72)

Although told from the point of view of the mid-1990s, the story stops in 1960, when Reyita is 53, shortly after the death of her son, a member of the July 26th Movement. He was killed in the explosion of the ship La Coubre in 1960. As Dore points out, Reyita is not forthcoming about life after the Revolution, though there is clearly improvements in her living conditions. We know that she endorsed revolutionary policy (while recognizing that racism still exists), but little more. This is a pity, but no doubt might be clarified to some extent in future volumes written by her children. Just before her death she was the head of a family of 118 people; 8 children, 39 grandchildren, 64 great-grandchildren, and 7 great-great-grandchildren. Reyita was an articulate and intelligent woman whose life history, like that of many other working women across the globe, holds the key to a full understanding of our past.

Catherine Davies

University of Manchester