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the Cubans. Almost all of the Cuban-Americans understand the struggle
to master English; many are themselves still struggling to dominate
the language. The following conversation between a Cuban mother and
Cuban-American teachers characterizes struggle for English. "Some
people who came here in 1980 don't try to study English," said a
mother who came by to confer with the bilingual teachers after lunch.
But I study every day. I go to class from 9:00
until 12:00, I get a little lunch, and go to work.
I am trying to learn English and capitalist
accounting. I worked in socialist accounting for
more than 20 years, but that is a completely
different system. I always go to my English
classes, because I am afraid I will miss some
thing very important. Soon, when I learn enough,
I will insist that everyone speak English around
our house. In order to survive, we must speak
English. When I think about my experiences in
leaving Cuba, I feel like a little bird that has
been set free from a cage. It's wonderful to be
free! Then suddenly that little bird realizes in
all this freedom there is danger. The danger is
a big bird attacking the little bird on the head.
That big bird is English. It is our greatest
problem!
Cubans and Cuban-Americans have more in common than some realize.
They have a large treasure of cultural similarities that unite them.
With a very few words exchanged, this same mother and the teachers to
whom she was speaking indicated that they understood something about
which I had no knowledge.
The mother asked, "Have you trimmed your trees yet?"
Seeing my puzzled expression the teacher explained, "We're talking
about a myth from Cuba. Today is the day to do all cutting. On this
day if you cut your plants and shrubs or cut your hair, everything that
you cut will be beautiful. Today is the day of the Virgin del
Candelaria." Of course, almost every Cuban-American knew that.