Isolated Outpost in Cuba
GUANTANAMO BAY NAVAL BASE, Cuba — Most cigars sold here are Jamaican. Spanish is rarely spoken. Small U.S. flags adorn the antennas of Chevrolet pickups. The music blaring has a distinctly American beat.
The Guantanamo Bay naval base is part of Cuba only geographically speaking. Enclosed in 17 miles of fence guarded by U.S. Marines, it is firmly isolated from the land beyond.
Few people come or go under the sign that declares in Spanish, "Republic of Cuba: Free Territory of America," and coils of rusted concertina wire remain as a reminder of political differences that have divided two nations for more than four decades.
Few traces of Cuba remain on the base except for about 70 Cubans who live here--a mix of longtime residents, their descendants, and asylum-seekers who swam or crossed minefields to reach the U.S. outpost.
"We all know each other," said Gloria Martinez, a 69-year-old widow who has lived on the base since 1961, when she and her husband sought refuge after the triumph of Fidel Castro's communist revolution.
Martinez has become a U.S. citizen and speaks English, but she prefers Spanish and enjoys cooking Cuban dishes of pork, black beans and rice for friends. "Here, I have a big family," she said.
But for nearly all the 4,700 military personnel and civilians here, free time means paintball tournaments, yoga classes and dancing to hip-hop tunes at the recreation hall.
"It feels like I'm just in another place in America," said Lance Cpl. Joshua Devore, a 21-year-old Marine from Rochester, N.Y., who helps guard prisoners accused of having links to Afghanistan's fallen Taliban regime or the Al Qaeda terrorist network.
The base has no stoplights, and some say it feels like a small American town of the 1950s. The weekly newsletter announces a military spouse apron sale and each day's school lunch, from fish sticks to fruit gelatin.
The base closed its gates to Cuba in 1961 after the failed CIA-backed invasion by anti-Castro Cubans at the Bay of Pigs. The only people allowed through nowadays are 10 elderly Cuban workers who arrive at the gates by bus each morning--the last among thousands who once commuted to jobs here. The youngest among them is 62.
In many ways, the base is an island within an island, a sort of modern-day Alcatraz, which like the now-closed prison off San Francisco has become useful because of its isolation.
