She told me that the officials would bring workers, including many women, to different labor camps every day. One particular day began with the usual slice of bread (often trodden upon by rats before it was finally served), and guava. The rain had been severe and the ground was thick with mud. Their job was to fertilize seedlings. In the background, Maria heard women crying. Their cries were devastating, and through cruel means of control, the officials told the women that their fate was better than turning to prostitution for a living.
Maria, however, was tearless and went about her work with a peculiar attitude of promise. She told the women that she had faith, and faith told her ''never to look down but up.'' ''If I look down,'' she said, ''I hear cries of hopelessness, but when I look up, I take a mental snapshot of what I see, and I carry it with me.'' She then began to describe to me the exquisite view of the Cuban hills with its crescent sun of tropical colors. She knew she would be leaving Cuba for America. The hills that lifted her vision and spirit represented the freedom she had longed for. Their stillness and perfect sacredness stifled even the possibility that her arrival could not happen.***
Despite the cost of doing business with Americans, Cubans are still interested in buying goods from their northern neighbors. They want an end to the embargo, so Americans could do business with Cuba and travel there freely. Cuban officials pointed out that they welcome American business officials and that they have paid for the goods they had purchased. Many critics say Cubans are known for defaulting on their debts to trading partners. ***