In “Last Dance in Havana: The Final Days of Fidel and the Start of the New Cuban Revolution” (272 pages. Free Press), The Washington Post’s Eugene Robinson poses similar questions. Using music and dance as his window, he illuminates a huge swath of Castro’s Cuba. “Today all of Cuba dances to live; today all of Cuba lives to dance,” writes Robinson. Understanding the rhythms and tensions of Cuban dance is critical to understanding the country. To escape abject poverty, Cubans dance each night as if there is no tomorrow. But dance also serves as a metaphor: ordinary Cubans, desperate for U.S. dollars to buy luxuries like medicine and fresh milk, delicately tip-toe the line between Castroism and capitalism to earn more than their allotted share. Everything in Cuba is a dance–and there is no better dancer than Castro.
For 45 years, El Comandante has held forth on the diplomatic dance floor. He cleverly courted the Soviet Union while breathing fire at the imperialistas to the north. When the Soviet song–and $6 billion in annual aid–came to an end, he found new dance partners among the Latin American and European left-wing elite. He has allowed dissent to twirl relatively freely, but has always reeled it in before it could escape altogether. For a time, he even permitted Cuban hip-hop artists to address Cuban racism–which he insists does not exist. But when rappers began to criticize just a little bit too loudly, Castro pulled the plug on Havana’s regular hip-hop events.
Through interviews with musicians, some necessarily unnamed Cubans, a few too many cabdrivers and even some government officials, Robinson captures the pulse of contemporary Cuba. But despite turning over every stone, he is unable to dig into the dirt that holds the real answers. Indeed, musicians are as torn between local timba and commercially viable Latin pop as average Cubans are between the benefits of socialism and capitalism. The popularity of hip-hop demonstrates that young Cubans who don’t identify with the old revolution may be ready for a new one. Optimism about Cuba’s future exists, as does a fear of what will happen after Castro dies. But what will happen? Robinson can’t really predict. Like tourists left gawking at the dancers who light up Havana’s Casa de la Musica each night, we too must settle for guessing what Cuba’s greatest dancer’s next move will be, and what it will mean for his country.
