From atop a rock in the harbor, the Prophet looked at the white sail of the ship that was to take him to his land.
A mixture of sadness and joy flooded his soul. For nine years, his wise and loving words had been poured out upon the population.
His love bound him to those people. But duty called him to his homeland: the time had come to leave. He tempered his melancholy by thinking that his enduring advice would fill the void of his absence. Then a politician from Elmira approached him and asked: "Maestro, tell us about the Cubans." The Prophet gathered his alb robe in a fist and said: Cubans are among you, but they are not yours. Do not try to know them because their soul lives in the impenetrable world of dualism. Cubans drink joy and bitterness from the same cup. They make music out of their crying and laugh at their music. Cubans take jokes seriously and make a joke out of everything serious. And they don't know themselves.
Never underestimate Cubans. Saint Peter's right-hand man is Cuban, and the best advisor of the evil one is also Cuban. Cuba has not produced a saint or a heretic. But Cubans sanctify themselves among heretics and hereticize among saints. His spirit is universal and irreverent. Cubans simultaneously believe in the God of Catholicism, in Changó, in the orishas, and in horoscopes. They treat the gods as you and mock religious rites. They say they don't believe in anyone, and they believe in everything. And they do not renounce their illusions, nor do they learn from disappointments. Never argue with them. Cubans are born with immanent wisdom. They don't need to read: they know everything. They don't need to travel: they've seen everything. Cubans are the chosen people... of themselves. And they walk among the other people as the Spirit walks on water.
Cubans intuit the solutions even before they know the problems. Hence, for them, there is never a problem, and they feel so big that they call everyone 'boy'. But they do not shrink before anyone. If they are taken to the studio of a famous painter, they comment, 'I never got to paint.' And they go to the doctors not to ask them, but to tell them what they have. They use diminutives with tenderness, but also with the will to reduce others. They ask for 'a favor', offer 'a cup of coffee', visit 'for a while', and for desserts, they only accept 'a little food'. But also those who buy a mansion are celebrated for 'the little house' they acquired, or 'the cart' that they have from those who bought a luxury car.
When I visited his island, I admired his instantaneous and collective wisdom. Any Cuban considered himself capable of liquidating communism or capitalism, straightening out Latin America, eradicating hunger in Africa, and teaching the United States to be a world power. And they are amazed that other people do not understand how simple and obvious their formulas are. So, they live among you, and they don't quite understand why you don't talk like them." The ship had arrived at the dock. Around the Prophet, the crowd swirled in grief. The Prophet turned to her as if he wanted to speak, but the emotion choked his voice. There was a long minute of emotional silence. Then the imprecation of the ship's helmsman was heard: "Make up your mind, my brother, give yourself a blanket and get on now, for I am going with the schedule delayed!"
The Prophet turned to the crowd, made a gesture of resignation, and slowly boarded the deck. Then, the Cuban helmsman set sail for the horizon.