January 31, 2025
In the morning, we visited the birthplace of José Marti, which, if we are going to keep up the analogy, is a considerably more modest place than the plantation house where George Washington was born. The sign reads “José Martí was born in this house (on) the day (of) 28th of January 1853. A tribute of the emigration (to) Cayo Hueso –literally, “Island of Bones,” aka Key West. In other words, Cuban emigrants to Key West paid for the refurbishment of Martí’s home. (Those who live there are largely descendants of those who fled the Cuban uprising against the Spanish in the 19th century. Their attitude toward the Cuba is different from that of more recent immigrants. Because of Border Patrol harassment, they seceded from the U.S. in 1983 and became the Conch Republic.
Starting at the top left, are photos of Martí’s mother and father. He had seven younger sisters, two of whom died when he was a child. I’m assuming the middle shows the five who survived. If you look at the genealogy tree, you will see that four of them had a lot of descendants. Martí had one, possibly two, children
Bottom left shows Martí as a schoolboy with his teacher. At the San Acleto school he met Fermín Valdés Domínguez, who would become his colleague in revolutionary enterprises. To its right is a photo of María García Granados y Saborío, known as the “Girl from Guatemala” in Martí’s poem. The two met after Martí was already engaged to Carmen Zayas Bazán, whom he compares unfavorably to the Girl from Guatemala in his poems. María died young of a lung disease—or heartbreak—as some would prefer to believe.
Carmen did not approve of Martí’s political activities, chiefly because they didn’t bring in money. She also did not want to live in New York, where Martí was living in exile, so she took their son back to Cuba, raised him to pledge loyalty to Spain, and to despise his father. In my slapdash research, I did not find whether she knew about Martí’s other mistresses. The frame to the right of the “Girl from Guatemala” has a picture of Martí’s son, José “Pepito” Martí Zayas Bazán and his father, when he came to visit Martí in New York.
The last frame shows Carmen with a grown up Pepito. The document shows that he outgrew any sympathies for Spain and fought for Cuba’s liberation. Note the signature of General Calixto Garcia Íñiguez, who fought in three wars for Cuba’s independence from Spain, promoting him to Second Lieutenant. The last photo on the right show refers to his time serving as Secretary of War and Navy.
I was playing around with the edit feature because I wanted to remove some of the glare on the glass. Trouble is, I removed Pepito’s face in the process: sort of like that woman in Borja, Spain, who wanted to improve the “Ecce Homo” fresco.
All in all, most of the museum was photos relevant to Marti’s life. It reminded me of the small civil rights museums we visited in the southern United States, that kept running solely because they had a staff of dedicated volunteers that kept it running.
From the top left, the first photos show the church where Jose Martí was baptized, his baptismal certificate, and a plaque installed at the church by an organization that brings to mind the Knights of Columbus in the U.S. The information on the plaque reads.
In this church of the Holy Guardian Angel on Saturday, February 12, in the year of our Lord 1853, the priest D. Tomas Sala y Figuerola, Cabellan by His Majesty of the Regiment of the Royal Artillery Corps of this Plaza of Havana, solemnly baptized a child – whom he named Jose Julian – who was born on January 28 of that year, legitimate son of D. Mariano Martí, First Sergeant of the Real Perez, native of Santa Cruz de Tenerife, paternal grandparents: D. Vicente Martí and Mrs. Manuela Navarro maternal: Mr. Antonio Perez and Mrs. Rita Cabrera. His godparents were: Mr. Jose María Vazques, and Mrs. Marcelina Aguirre.
In memory of this Christian ceremony, the Association of Catholic Knights of Cuba, a branch of Cuban Catholic Action, place this bronze plaque on the 96th anniversary of the birth of the Great Apostle of Cuba
La Habana, January 28, 1949
To the right of the church frame, is a frame showing the region around the town of Jagüey, where Martí’s father took him when he was nine. The museum doesn’t say whether the parents were having marital problems. Black and white photos, and photocopies of black and white photos have their limits. Check out the handwriting on the letter MartÍ sent to his mother when he was nine!
Underneath the Jagüey frame are an article and poem that the periodical, La Patria Libre, published when he was 15.
The frames to the right of the Jagüey frame and below the Cathedral frame represent Martí’s 1870 sojourn in prison when he was 16. He had written a letter criticizing a friend for joining the Spanish army. Accused of treason, Martí was sentenced to six years hard labor. His parents appealed to the authorities, and they banished him to Spain instead.
In Spain and Mexico, he studied and wrote. He taught French, English, Italian and German literature and History of Philosophy at the Central School of Guatemala. He married and returned to Cuba in 1879. After the second “Little War” for Cuban Liberation broke out, the Spanish Government deported him again. From Spain, he traveled to Paris and then to New York, where he would live for the next 15 years. The frame to the left of the large picture of Patria and below the picture of Marti as a teenage prisoner, displays pictures of his time in New York. The labels were hard to read and photograph, but the picture of the Catskills is significant. Martí’s health in New York deteriorated the longer he stayed there. A doctor recommended a retreat to the Catskill Mountains. In that beautiful environment, he wrote his poetry collection, Versos Sencillos (Simple Verses), the most famous of which became the song “Guantanamera.” When I looked at the picture, I immediately thought of the line, “The streams of the mountain please me more than the sea.” Below that frame is one of the only pieces of furniture in the museum: his writing desk in New York.
Martí, along, with other Cuban exiles, put out the newspaper Patria while he was living in New York. They printed it there and sent the copies down to Cuba, where it was distributed furtively. Cubans under Spanish colonial rule often did not receive news of the outside world; they often didn’t know what was happening in Cuba. Patria helped fill that vacuum.
The frame below on the right has pictures of places in Tampa, Florida, where Martí and other Cuban leaders developed their strategy for the third and final war of Cuban independence from Spain. Who knew Tampa, FL was an integral part of Cuban history? In the middle are pictures of his trip to Jamaica, where he was gathering support for the Cuban revolution and the writing desk he used in New York. In the same year, 1892, he founded the Cuban Revolutionary Party.
The final frame shows the route Martí took for the final Cuban War of Independence, from his disembarkation at Playitas Cojobabo to Dos Rios where he died.
So to complete my José Martí/George Washington analogy, imagine George Washington, except as an abolitionist, poet, journalist, diplomat, who had never fought in a battle and died in the first one he did.
After Martí’s childhood home, we went to the Artisans market, where I bought two skirts. I could have spent all day there. They had great food places and all sorts of handmade goods. Judy was still sick, and Ken said the market was just the type place she liked to visit, as well.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a teenager with a spray can must add penises to figurative street art.
One mode of transportation you see in tourist areas is the Cocotaxi. As you can see, Ken and I enjoyed our ride a great deal. However, the middle seat is extremely uncomfortable unless you are a small child.
In another Cocotaxi trip our driver was a musician in a group that had toured Europe. Having visited Miami, she told us she strongly preferred Cuba. She confirmed our growing understanding that those who are still in Cuba really want to be in Cuba.
We had lunch at an Italian restaurant, Marechiaro, with Camila’s friend, Laura Segura, the music producer and another Colombian friend. I found the photo of the baby at the entrance disturbing.
“Marechiaro” means “clear sea” in Italian, and as you can see from the view through the window, the name is appropriate, or “adeguato.”
Ken and I walked back to our apartment after lunch. Michael went listen to Myrlla Muniz again at the Cuban music museum in Old Havana. In a conversation following the concert, she told him she was excited that someone had come to see her twice. They talked about why someone had come from U.S. to Cuba, politics, and her music. A Brazilian TV reporter who had come to interview Muniz asked Michael some questions in Spanish.
Then Michael went to the Teatro Nacional to hear Brazilian Gaucho (cowboy) music. He and Camila went to a second performance of Los Van Van, who came on stage at 1:30 a.m.
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