my wikipedia that my wife, Yuliet, and I were separated or something. Well, yes, we are separated by the evil tyranny of the Castro regime in Cuba and the inefficient system in place by the US to grant visa's to the foreign spouses of US citizens. I haven't seen Yuliet for nearly three years, our last reunion being in late-2006. Emigration plans were in place, and she might have been in the US that spring - but for the fact that she became pregnant.
If the Cuban and US bureaucracies would have gotten off their collective asses and considered this situation for what it really was, maybe they would have showed a bit of humanity to get Yuliet out then and there, but they didn't. By the time the US papers were ready (and I commend the staff of the USIS in Havana for their self-less efforts on behalf of my wife), the Cuban papers weren't, and probably never will be. Eventually, too pregnant to travel, Yuliet gave birth to a boy in Cuba in July 2007. Two years and around two months have passed, and yet I've never held him in my arms. But he kept calling me "Papa, Papa!" during one of these rare phone calls we can make work. There might be internet in hotels and state offices in Cuba, but the normal, average Cuban is lucky to find food on a daily basis - let alone have access to email and broadband.
If you're ignorant of the horror of the modern Cuba, visit The Real Cuba. I competed (doped and clean ) in the Vuelta a Cuba five times, and with my own eyes I saw the deprivations that Castro claims don't exist there.Yet Cuba has the potential to be the most beautiful country in the world. If my shit was together, and there was a foreign multi-national hiring MBA students to work in Cuba, I'd be there in a second. Three years without my wife and the son Ive never seen, who called me "Papa! Papa!" tonight , have left me a tormented man. Trying to be correct and proper we did our best to follow the legal process for securing Yuliet's departure from Cuba. If I came from a family of means, I would have paid a team of mercenaries to extract her and our child from a remote beach somewhere so we could be reunited... Powerball loterry anyone?
Cuba anymore here at Pappillon.
The reason I don't write about my family here is because to do so forces me to confront the terrible, horrible pain that accompanies the impotency of not being able to free your wife and a little two-year old boy from the clutches of a tyranny only 90 miles south of Miami.