As loyal as a faithful dog, I’d never consider betraying my Cuban husband. So it irks me sometimes when he likes to give his input on how I dress when we leave the house. Here we are in the middle of a stifling hot Havana summer, and on Saturday I put on a sundress, the hem of which ended about mid-thigh. Hardly indecent considering the shockingly short hemlines of some Cuban damsels I know. When my husband caught an eyeful of me walking out of the closet he demanded, “Is THAT how you’re planning on leaving the house?” I retorted, “Well, yes, it was exactly how I was planning on leaving he house since we’re traveling by car and not motorcycle today, and it’s freaking hot out there!” He reminded me that there was a fair wind blowing and I would surely be showing my bloomers to half of Havana’s Carnival-goers at the Piragua where we were heading to meet friends. Without another word he headed outside to talk to the bricklayers in the back yard. And I turned on my heel, back to the closet to put on a pair of trusty lycra shorts under my outfit. Once outside I made sure noone else was in sight and I flashed my husband so he could see that I’d compromised just to make him happy. As I laughed up a storm, sadly he didn’t think it was as funny as I did. He didn’t even smile. Undeterred, I took up my post sitting on a cinderblock in the garage to watch the work progress, carefully tucking my skirt between my legs before I sat down. As I caught a dirty look from my ever-watchful husband I incredulously asked, “What now??? I have on shorts under this dress you know!” He pretended not to know what I was talking about, apparently not wanting the workers to know about the intimacies of our little spat. But I definitely knew I had seen the evil eye.
Once we left the house I took up the issue once again. His position was that 99.99% of Cuban men are cave men and if you give them an opportunity to catch a glance of a thigh, a piece of your rear end, or anything else in that general vicinity of a woman’s anatomy they will seize it. And talk about it later amongst themselves. And he doesn’t want me to be the object of anyone else’s lusty conversations. If a Cuban man is not looking at a woman, then he’s most likely gay. It’s not the first time I’d had to learn a lesson like this by embarrassment. Many years ago a neighbor commented to my husband that I was sitting with my knees too far apart while wearing shorts. Cripes, I’d never had to deal with this before in my Canadian circle of friends. We’re a pretty relaxed bunch and if you’re a girl and you sit down with your knees apart it just doesn’t have the same connotation in Canada as it does here in Cuba. We had a couple of friends visit for the weekend, and I asked their opinion, and discovered that they pretty much concurred 100%. The man’s opinion so perfectly matched that of my husband, it was as if it were a recording. The woman said it’s not attractive to sit with your knees apart. And that Cuban men tend to be overly jealous, but it’s because they know how other Cuban men think all too well. She says sometimes when she’s riding on the back of her husband’s motorcycle and they stop at a red light, she’ll catch him looking all around just to ensure noone’s staring at her. But she also reports having been subjected to bold Cuban males sticking their lascivious tongues out at her while he’s not looking. To maintain your dignity here as a woman you’re just supposed to ignore them, pretend you can’t hear the catcalls, and basically act like you’re deaf and/or blind when presented with acts of lewdness by a Cuban man.
My sister has been flashed here a couple of times. The first time she was shocked, but the second time she was prepared for it and did a banshee scream and ran at the man who promptly disappeared. She’s also had some Cuban man actually touch her butt as she bicycled across a bridge in Guanabacoa. Scared the bejeezus out of her, actually. I remember flying up to Toronto to meet her right after 9/11. We ended up getting stuck there together for several days since Cuban planes were temporarily restricted from flying over U.S. airspace. We took advantage of the extra time in the big city and went shopping. I remember as we walked past a group of construction workers who were buying snacks from a truck, noone said a word. They looked, but didn’t dare comment. After we passed them I burst out laughing because it was such a contrast to the behavior of the men I’d mostly become accustomed to in Cuba. Civilized Canadian construction workers. What a refreshing change.
The other day as we were walking on the beach I made my way up close to a dune to collect some beach glass that had caught my eye. As my eyes were mostly downcast as I searched for treasures in the sand, I didn’t notice the Cuban man lurking in the sand dunes. When I caught up to my husband who had his eagle eyes focused on the guy, he told me I’d almost bumped into a tirador/pervertido, a guy who gets his thrills from watching women and will publically masturbate. Gross.
I once had a client who was indignant about a lifeguard at the Ancon beach who she perceived had been coming on to her. She reported that he repeatedly manhandled his package right in front of her. While I didn’t want to tell her that I doubted her version of the events, in reality I figure he was just adjusting it. The Canadian woman was not used to seeing a man so unabashedly and unashamedly scratching or moving his male parts around in public. Kind of like the nose-picking thing here. The first time I saw a Cuban woman happily picking boogers out of her nose in my office, my jaw dropped. When she noted my reaction she apologized, but this was clearly a cultural misunderstanding. What’s acceptable and “normal” here may be a totally different story in another country. It’s taken me a long time to learn this, but the best thing you can do is bite your tongue and just roll with it.