Cuba: Is it going well?

Cuba has been in the news this morning: lots about the recent visit by President Obama and then, last night, a performance by the Rolling Stones. Everyone was very excited, though possibly more by the latter than the former.

I'm pleased for the Cubans that their isolation appears to be coming to an end. Having visited last month, I have seen for myself the effects of both the embargo and their self-imposed exile from most of the rest of the world. But it is a beautiful country, with willing people who are proud, justifiably so, of what they have achieved in spite of such a lengthy quarantine. I hope their transition to the 21st century goes smoothly, but I worry that they risk losing much of value in the process. This poem, written while I was still in Cuba in February, tries to express a little of my concern, recognise what the revolution achieved, yet acknowledge the existing problems their poverty in a modern world has caused.

Portrait of Che Guevara on the side of the Interior Ministry building in Havana

Hasta la victoria, siempre (A Love Song to Cuba)

¿Vas bien, Cuba?

Homes for all, beggars included

(even the street artist, tourist photo opportunity,

is a government employee)

Children birthed, jabbed, educated at state expense

(yet want an easy life, Coke and Nikes, 

overseas)

Land now loaned, no lien, just dues

(you sell the obligatory 90% back, 

keep the other 20% for your own)

Cigars still drawn from hand-picked leaves

(the double-bent men octagenarians, 

no up-and-coming successors)

Vitamin R permeates 

(a joke? Rum is cheaper 

than clean water)

Is this the victory Che wanted?

And if it's still socialismo o muerte, 

be warned:

The Americans are coming.

© Nikki Fine

February 2016

Being forced offline in Cuba

Last week, having a fantastic holiday in Cuba, on an excellent tour with Explore and part of a lovely group of people, I discovered that once we had left the airport, I was effectively offline. I had posted that we had arrived (though possibly not the suitcases, as they took rather a long time to come through) and then that was it. There was no 3G on Cuba that I ever found and the wifi offered by the hotel was at best erratic (and not free!).

Initially it was almost liberating. There was no need to post photos of the hotel room or to check in at each mojito-stop. There was no point wondering if there had been a reply to any of the numerous emails sent out the previous week, or any fresh issues. No BBC news website to haunt (although, to be fair, we did once accidentally find BBC World news on the TV in the room). No weather forecast to check. We concentrated on the others in the group and the sights and experiences around us - a sort of group mindfulness, I suppose.

But as the week went on, I began to develop a mild anxiety. What if something serious happened and no-one realised that I didn't know about it? (I regularly worry that something serious might happen, so that aspect of it was not unusual.) What if one of the things I had delegated while away was forgotten because I hadn't reminded them nearer the time? What if the lovely people looking after our pussycats had had a catastrophe and the cats were starving, unattended? I had a phone signal so sent a text about one of the issues  - it took a while, as normally it was an imessage number, so the phone had to realise that it couldn't send an imessage before offering me the option of a text. There was no response, and I didn't know if the message hadn't actually been sent after all (despite the phone assuring me to the contrary), hadn't been received, hadn't been replied to, or I just couldn't get the reply. I tried to put it out of my mind; I had done what I could. (I went through the same rigmarole again later in the week. Slow learner, perhaps.)

But beyond my over-actively imagined worries, I did begin to feel a little cut off. I have a few friends. I may not see them every day, or even every week, but I stay in touch with them via Facebook and email and it means that even though my work as a writer is fairly solitary, I still feel part of a global community. Suddenly, that entire community had been torn away from me. I was no longer sharing in my friends' lives, seeing the motivational comments that we often post, or the photos and jokes that have made us all click on the like button. It was a very strange feeling. It has made me wonder how I would have coped as a writer in the days before the internet, amongst other things.

It also makes me wonder how the younger generation, who are even more connected than I am (to generalise splendidly!) will cope in Cuba until access to the internet is improved. And that, of course, along with the imminent arrival of many more American tourists and their expectations, raises a whole load of other issues for the Cuban government to consider.

Meanwhile, I'm just glad to be back in touch with everyone. Though I could do without the wind and the sleet.

New Year Resolutions, or, Redesigning Myself

I'm not generally a big fan of New Year Resolutions. I'm very aware that many of them have been ditched long before the end of January, some even by the first weekend of January. So I'm wary of making them. Far better, I think, to make a resolution (or two) each day, if that's what it takes. One day at a time, to quote a well-known organisation. This year may be different.

What about the most popular resolutions? I gave up smoking years ago, I don't drink much (honest!), and I already eat fairly healthily. I certainly don't bother with 'I'm going to lose weight' New Year resolutions. Too vague, for starters. Plus, if I go down by one kilo but then up by two over the year, does that count as losing weight? I use the Runkeeper app to set weight-loss goals which I regularly miss, though I have managed some of them. Trying to combine optimism with reality is often a problem.... At least with a cumulative total of exercise, there is the possibility nearer the deadline of spending time on the treadmill to get the kilometres covered. I tend to set short-term goals on the app, with two months to achieve them. And then set them again two months later. And so on. Eventually I shall get there.

I have decided this year, however, to go for some other self-improvement stuff as New Year resolutions. Generally, these are things about me that I find annoying (so if I'm annoyed by them, how must the rest of you feel?!). A lot is to do with fear/courage. Courage is, of course, being scared but doing it anyway. I confronted some elements of fears last year, and they seemed to go quite well, so I'm reaching slightly further out of my comfort zone this year, and going public on what I'm doing in the hope that you will all be able to encourage me further (yes, that verb was chosen deliberately).

Firstly - fear of dogs. Lots of my friends seem to have dogs. I'm not a dog enthusiast, being more a mad-cat-lady-in-training, but my wariness/terror of dogs has got worse in recent years. So I'm going to make much more effort to cope when dogs are around, possibly to the extent of patting them on the head or potentially even going for a walk with them (on a lead, and with their owner. Please. There are limits!). This doesn't mean I would like all dog-owners to come round with their bouncy pet to show me how friendly they are. I know they're friendly: that's part of the problem. I need to deal with them on my own terms.

Secondly - fear of rejection, in publication terms. I have a lot of poetry in a possibly over-edited state, and I keep telling myself it's not ready to be sent out yet. Until I send it out, though, I won't know if that's true or not. Last year, I finally plucked up the courage to send four poems to a respected journal; they're publishing one and really liked two others but didn't quite have room for them. So this year, I am resolving to send poems out to at least two other journals. If they don't like them, they don't like them. It doesn't mean they're not good. (Just keep swimming, just keep swimming....)

Thirdly - fear of failure. There's a meme out there somewhere that if you haven't failed in life, it's because you haven't lived, that failing at least means you're trying. I'd prefer not to fail, if it's all the same to everyone else. I formed a company a couple of years ago and so far it has done absolutely nothing. Its only expenses have been paying the accountant to file the annual accounts saying that there has been no trading (and no income!). So this year, even if it all goes horribly pear-shaped, I am going to take action and do something with it.

Finally - fear of public humiliation. Those who know me well know that I would much rather write and direct than perform, even though on occasion I have been persuaded to do the latter. I'm not really really bad at it, I'd just much rather not do it. The fear of going wrong, forgetting lines/moves/timing, ruining things for everyone else or being laughed at when I wasn't intending to be funny - all these fears merge into a massive anxiety attack that can leave me irritable, unable to eat and sleepless for weeks. I did have a go at some singing again last year that unfortunately got a bit out of hand and involved dancing as well in places, and I won't be repeating *that* in a hurry. But if it's possible to leave out the choreography... Who knows. This is a difficult one that also isn't entirely in my hands. Let's just say, I won't rule it out.

Those are my New Year resolutions. Here's hoping for a successful year but not to the point that you all hope for next year's resolutions to be to tone things down a bit!

Something different to read

A little while ago, I started writing what I thought at the time would be a satire. It sometimes feels as though events have overtaken it, but perhaps I can outstrip reality if I make a real effort. Certainly, it would be a break from the editing of a more 'serious' novel that should be available next year. In the meantime, here's the opening section, with the possibility of more being posted if there's any demand. Warning: if you're easily offended, you may be better off heading elsewhere....


(Working title: Mother of Invention)

As deathbed scenes go, it was pretty standard. Elderly patriarch surrounded by those who loved him and a few who were more ambivalent, gradually slips away, fades out of existence so slightly that it is a few moments before everyone realises he's gone. And then, it starts to sink in and while everything has changed, life goes on.

Gabriel was first to break the silence. 'So, what now? A wake? It's not as if there's a will to read.'

The others stood back, deferring to his seniority. There were no tears shed, it was all expected. It had been on the cards for years, after all. A gradual debilitation that led to the inevitable. One small matter, however.

'Who's going to let everyone know?' Asriel began the conversation that the others were too cowardly to open.

'Do they need to know?' Gabriel replied. 'Will it achieve anything, telling them? Aren't they better off not knowing?'

His position again led to a general agreement with his assessment of the situation. They wouldn't say anything, leave everyone happy.

Lucifer disagreed. Being disowned for all that time was bound to lead to some ill-feeling, after all. He grabbed his jacket and headed for his favourite Internet cafe.

Responsibility in the Atomic Age

The commemoration of the seventieth anniversary of the Hiroshima bombing has caused me to reflect on my grandfather. The son of an illiterate carpenter, after surviving duty in the Royal Engineers during the first World War, he was able to go to Cambridge and subsequently became joint Editor of the science journal Nature. In all the years he worked for Nature, he wrote only two editorials - one after Hiroshima, and the other after Nagasaki.

The kind people at Nature allowed me to have pdfs of both editorials for personal use only, so I'm not sure how much I should quote. If I have gone beyond what is acceptable, then I apologise. If you want to read the editorials in full, then you'll have to utilise a subscription to a library service of some sort. However, today at least, I leave you with my grandfather's thoughts at the time.

"...the very successfulness [of the development of an atomic bomb] induces a feeling akin to dismay that science should contribute such an engine of destruction to the world. .... There is another facet of the world situation which this scientific and technical development has brought to the forefront, namely, the immense responsibility now placed in the hands of those with exact knowledge of the steps necessary to release atomic energy. ... ..the United Nations, and especially Great Britain, the United States and Canada, hold in their hands a weapon with which they can dominate the world - a responsibility the discharge of which will require the highest degree of statesmanship. They also hold a potential source of power capable of contributing immensely to the welfare and material progress of mankind - a further and even greater responsibility. How will they use it? Governments are notoriously impersonal and they come and go. It therefore devolves upon the individual, be he man of science or layman, to understand the potentialities of atomic energy, even he understands little of the method of its release; and to ensure that his elected representatives ... are also aware of their responsibilities in the matter. It is not a matter of exact knowledge so much as an appreciation of right and wrong in dealing with our neighbours, who are now every nation of the world. ... There can be no question of halting investigations until mankind is fitter to receive them; if material research has outstripped the progress of knowledge of man, then the tempo of investigation of man as a social being must be increased until both can progress, side by side, carrying man onwards to the higher ideals of life for which the best of each generation are always striving."  from Nature 156 11 August p.154

Support Your Local Arts Groups!

There's a lot in the press generally about supporting local businesses - and quite rightly too - and they even have their own 'day'. But there is nothing specific that I am aware of about supporting local arts groups.

I enjoy going to the theatre and often go to London, to the National Theatre or the West End, and it is a great pleasure to see such skilled performers giving their all. But it is hard to make a living as an actor and there are many who can't afford to restrict themselves to such august venues, holding down 'day jobs' in many cases to pay the bills. And that doesn't even begin to count all the amateur groups who rehearse for weeks and sometimes months on end to provide entertainment for those who don't want, or can't afford, to go to London.

Bicester doesn't have a theatre (yet, she says optimistically) so for professional theatre, we have to go further afield - but we do at least have a choice of Oxford or Aylesbury, or, if you're prepared to trek a little longer, Milton Keynes, Northampton and of course Stratford-upon-Avon. It may be a drive, but there is plenty to choose from - and that's just theatre.

But there are local groups too. Launton Village Players are lucky enough to perform sometimes to a packed audience; their annual pantomime is a highlight for many in the dark days of the February half-term break, but they also perform a Summer Show in July, and there is an Autumn Play at the end of October - and although the venue for these is quite full, it's rarely sold out - and it's only a small venue. They could make much more for the charities they support if more people went to see what they provide. Bicester Choral and Operatic Society put on Gilbert and Sullivan's Iolanthe over the recent half-term, to great critical acclaim, yet achieved less than half the audience it could have done (I confess to a vested interest here as assistant director, but it really was an excellent production and all those who came really enjoyed it). A concert by Akeman Voices as part of the Deddington Music Festival was excellent, beautiful music, singing and poems, yet the church was less than half full. This is just a small selection of the opportunities locally.

As a performer, it is disheartening in the extreme to look out into the audience and see only a handful of people. As part of the organisation of BCOS, I can tell you it is not only disheartening but extremely expensive when so few people make the effort to see what's on offer.

And is it really such an effort? I've been to numerous things over the years to support friends who are taking part or organising something, usually for charity. It's not that expensive, especially as I don't need to pay train-fare to get there. And I have always taken something good out of it. Maybe I haven't always enjoyed the whole thing, but *that doesn't matter*. My friends' months of rehearsal have been rewarded by having someone show up to appreciate them and their effort. And I've done something to deter my evolution into a couch potato.

A few years ago, Dillie Keane, of Fascinating Aida, who lives around here somewhere, wrote in The Stage that this area was a cultural desert. Clearly it isn't at the moment, but unless we support our local arts groups, they may not survive to entertain us for much longer. Then it will become a desert.

When the Muse strikes....

For the last few weeks, I've had trouble sleeping for the expected eight hours, or however long is usual. In essence, I seem to be waking at 5 am and then struggling to get back to sleep for an hour or more, eventually dozing from 6.30 until whatever time I have to get up (fortunately, most days of the week, there isn't a 'have to'). I don't know if there are noisy birds waking at that time, or if the earlier sunrise is disturbing me, but it's pretty consistent. Finally, this morning, I decided it wasn't worth trying to go back to sleep, got up just before 6 and, armed with a cup of coffee, headed out to my office in my dressing gown.

Two hours later and I'd finished the coffee, listened to the whole of the playlist for the Launton Village Players' forthcoming summer show (trying to learn the words of the songs, or at least the tunes) and added over 800 words to the WIP that had languished for a couple of months, pondered but never augmented.

I have always thought I was more productive creatively in the afternoon, once the tedium of chores had been overcome in the morning, so to say I am surprised is putting it mildly. Is this a one-off or a sign of a changing creative process? Only time will tell. Meanwhile, I'm off to have a nap. Because, you know, I was up early.