Don't Start the Revolution Without Me! - Jesse Ventura [51]
It was a full house at the university. I just talked from my heart. About what I had seen in Cuba, things that had been made known to me about their advancements in education and medicine, and what they should be proud of. Also, I spoke of how the boycott should end, and our two countries should become friends rather than adversaries. The students went wild.
Maybe some people reading this book will think I’m a traitor to the United States. But I don’t think I am. I always felt, in looking at this situation, that it was wrong. And I now know why. It came to me one night in Mexico. China is communist, the same as Cuba, and yet we have no problem trading with China. In fact, today we can’t get over there quick enough. The difference is simple: China welcomes our corporations. Cuba threw them out. It’s a basic decision of corporate America: We will punish Cuba because Castro stuck it to us by nationalizing everything after he came to power. What other reason could there be? China is far more powerful but we now welcome them into global trade with open arms—as we should—while we continue this bitter, hostile policy towards Cuba. It must be because there are still people alive in the corporate world who got hammered by Fidel’s revolution.
We spent two days in a row at the big trade fair, and that’s where I was introduced to Fidel. It’s amazing, but the common people on the street all call him Fidel. When I met him, I called him Mr. President. He’s not really an elected president, but I didn’t know what else to say. You can’t really call him Mr. Dictator.
I’ve never known a handshake like Castro’s. He comes up to me, winds up, pulls back his hand all the way to his shoulder, and thrusts it out with great excitement. I’d never seen anyone shake hands so enthusiastically—and I’ve shaken hands with a lot of people. That’s what I’ll always remember. And, of course, our conversation.
Our meeting was set up in a room at the trade fair. It was on a Friday, our last day, around noon. Fidel was there waiting for me. We sat in two chairs right across from each other. He had his interpreter along, and some of his security people. My chief of staff and my security were in the room, too. The entire time we were in Cuba, my security was allowed to stay armed, except for those roughly two hours with Castro. About a half hour beforehand, they had to turn their weapons in to Castro’s people. Then a half hour after Fidel was out of the room, the weapons were returned to them. I understood.
The first words out of his mouth were, “You are a man of great courage.”
I was puzzled by this and said, “Well, Mr. President, how can you say that? You don’t know me.”
He looked back at me and said, “Because you defied your president to come here.” I guess he has pretty good “intel.”
And I looked right back at him and said, “Well, Mr. President, you’ll find that I defy most everything.”
Castro laughed. Who knows, maybe he felt this was something we had in common.
The whole conversation, on my part, was in English and was interpreted for him in Spanish by a lady. But I don’t think he really needs her. Because now and then, I’d say something that was funny and he’d laugh before the interpretation happened. As good as Castro is at masking the fact, I think he understands English very well. Let’s put it this way: I’m sure he does English far, far better than I do Spanish.
Our conversation consisted of a great deal of Castro—for lack of a better phrase—bragging about his country. I don’t use the term bragging negatively; I don’t think it’s any different from what I would do. Just as I have great pride in Minnesota, he has the same for Cuba. He was