When I was growing up in Guantanamo, we would have people try to swim the shark-gauntlet about 2-3 times a year. Most died in the bay, but the occasional Cuban would make it to the base.
There were a number of Cubans who lived permanently on base. They would be executed if they returned to Castro's Cuba. The most pitiful time was Christmas. They would all get together and cry all night. The were mourning what had happened to their beautiful country.
A number of Cubans came to the base each day to work as laborers. They were paid in US dollars. Castro would confiscate their wages and repay them for pennies on the dollar. Most of them did this so they could eat on the American side and let their families get their rations. They would come to work on Mondays famished because they fasted Saturdays and Sundays and gave the rations to their families.
One Christmas we gave our maid some small toys she could put in her pocket and give to her kids. This was a tradition, and the guards would let them through for Christmas. Nothing great, just something that would fit in the pocket. This year, they chained her and beat her the entire holiday. She came back to work barely able to stand. Mom & Dad let her recuperate, but she had to go back every evening.
My parents had a good friend who had been Castro's personal bodyguard during the revolution. He had become disillusioned when Castro embraced Communism. He escaped Cuba, and spent a fortune trying to get his family out. The black market betrayed him a number of times, but he did eventually manage to get them to freedom.
