The boat guy.

Bahia Tortugas, fresh, sunny, small fishermen town, cooler Pacific waters, absolutely non turistic. 200 km of dusty road across the Biscayno desert. I thought I knew the desert, but this is a nothingness full of sand and salt.
At the small motel I meet Charly. He is part of a group of yankees who come here to spear fish. It is his first time to try a sport, free diving fishing with spear, which I do not dare to try still. He speaks both English and Spanish, but his Spanish is clearly Cuban. He is white, calm, seems in his late forties, good looking and very good vibes.

"I was born in Cuba in 1957. One night, when I was 6 years old, my father came and told us we were going. He didn't say where. We went to the river, where he had a small boat hidden. We stepped into it. My pregnant mother, my brother, my mother's sister and her husband, their children, my father and me. We were told to keep quiet. No moonlight, dark as hell. We rowed all night to the sea. Once far enough from the coast, my father turned on the little engine. By then, we all new: we were betting our lives to get to the States.
As time passed by, we became increasingly aware of the danger. We could loose our way, we could easily capsize, we could be found by the Cuban Navy and killed on spot. Suddenly a big cargo ship showed up. To our signals, the ship changed course and came towards us. We were shouting and crying of joy: we were saved!
At a point close enough, the ship changed course, and away it went. It was gone. My aunt's husband freaked out and started to scream that we all were going to die. My father, calmly and firmly told him to cool down or he would through him into the sea. We all realized he meant it. We all realized that we were in deep trouble too.
After a while, and literally out of the blue, a submarine came to the surface. It took us a few seconds and a lifetime to realize that the sub was American. Out of it an American-Filipino sailor who spoke Spanish came and told us that the cargo boat was a Soviet ship, that the Americans had caught their message to the Cubans about us, and that the Cubans were heading this way to kill us.
We got ready to jump onto the submarine, but the sailor said it was not possible, the submarine was not fit to rescue and have people in board. This time it was my father who lost his temper. He started screaming and begging for mercy. "We are going to be massacred! You can't leave us like this!"
The sailor just smiled. He then pointed behind us. And American destroyer was coming full steam to us. The year was 1963, just after the missile crisis. I still get the bumps every time I tell this story".

Charly and I became instant friends. He knows my story too, and as he said, "I may forget your name, but I will never forget you".