That first year of the revolution soon made me and many others realize the limits of our education. This was, of course, compensated for by our tremendous desire to overcome all obstacles, breaking with the old ways. But it wasn’t easy. On a personal level, Che helped me a great deal. He was a brilliant teacher, leading me by his daily example. But some things I had to figure out for myself, like how to juggle my roles as a wife, mother and worker.
The year 1960 opened with the wonderful, exciting news of another pregnancy. In the first few months I needed special attention from Dr. Celestino Alvarez Lajonchere, who became my gynecologist and subsequently delivered all our children. I also relied on the support of our doctor, Fernández Mell, an old friend and compañero. Celia Sánchez was also extremely helpful in those first few months, as was Che’s mother, who was staying with us at the time. I was supposed to rest; but when my father had a heart attack, I desperately wanted to go to Santa Clara to see him. Che was in the middle of a very important meeting when he heard the news. Concerned about me, he asked Eliseo to take me to Santa Clara by plane.
Che joined us most unexpectedly the next day. I was sitting beside my father as he lay in bed, tending to him as only a daughter can, when I was startled by a voice behind me. Che had dropped everything to be there with me. When we were confident my father was going to recover, we returned to Havana together.
Around this time it was decided to transform the former military Camp Columbia (Ciudad Libertad) into a massive school complex. Most of us who had been living there now had to move. Che and I moved to another home on 18th Street, near 7th and 9th, in Miramar, Havana. We only stayed there relatively briefly from April 1960 to October of 1962, but because of the events on both a personal and historic level that took place while we were living there, that house became very special to us.
During the Bay of Pigs invasion in April 1961, two airports in Havana (Ciudad Libertad and San Antonio de los Banos) were bombed, as was the airport in Santiago de Cuba. The October Missile Crisis occurred the following year (1962). In the midst of these crises, our first two children were born. Our daughter Aleidita arrived on November 24, 1960, and Camilo, the long-awaited son, on May 20, 1962. Che was head of the National Bank and the Department of Industry at INRA, but after all industries were nationalized in August 1960, he assumed responsibility for what became the Ministry of Industry. His political activities intensified, both on a national and international level.
In October 1960, Che led a delegation to China to sign the first trade agreements with a socialist country. Before he left, we discussed names for our first child. Che was convinced the baby was a boy. He wanted to break with tradition and not name his first son Ernesto. So we agreed that the boy would be named Camilo after his dearest friend and comrade-in-arms, Camilo Cienfuegos, who had died the previous year.
We never anticipated the birth of a girl. With his usual dry wit, Che sent me a cheerful telegram from China saying that if, by some chance, the baby was a girl, she should be thrown over the balcony. The baby wasn’t named until Che returned from his trip because neither of us had considered girls’ names.
He was in Shanghai when he heard the news. He sent me a postcard:
In this city I found out about our new acquisition.
You are always making sure that I come out looking bad.
Well, anyway, I send you both a kiss, and remember, don’t cry over spilled milk.
Hugs,
Che
He returned with a beautiful quilt as a gift for the baby, whom he said should be called Aleida. He considered it an unusual name and thought it had a musical ring to it. I didn’t want to challenge him on this, given that I knew he had no ear at all for music. But I appreciated him saying he had always liked the name Aleida after he heard it on the radio before he met me. The Aleida mentioned on the radio was a revolutionary combatant, Aleida Fernández Chardié, killed by the Batista dictatorship.
Che returned from China with a good picture of what was happening in other socialist countries, and he started to question some of the differences that existed between them. He was particularly interested in different approaches to achieving the transition to socialism. He was very enthusiastic about what he had seen in China. He admired the way they worked and how they were meeting the challenge of development. He was acutely aware that China, in only 11 years, had emerged from terrible famine. He was impressed by their approach to work and their dedication to the construction of socialism. He often remarked that China was like a living museum of humanity, where you could see the most ancient work tools and the most modern ones, all used with great efficiency.
His enthusiasm for what he had seen in China earned Che the reputation of being a Maoist and pro-China. But his primary interest was evaluating what lessons could be applied to Cuba in its path to socialism. In contrast to his positive impression of China, Che was critical of what he saw in the Soviet Union, especially the privileges some leaders enjoyed. Nevertheless, he recognized the spirit of the people and of their revolution. This is how he described it to me in a letter:
My darling,
I take a few moments in my hectic tour of Stalingrad to send you this postcard.
Here one truly encounters one of the greatest epics in history.
I will be in China in two days.
Kisses,
Che
He made similar comments about Prague, a city of infinite beauty. He was struck by the splendor of its architecture, but he also remarked the hotels were full of women who appeared to be prostitutes or members of the old class system. Che had always abhorred prostitution.
As the year ended, on New Year’s Eve Fidel and Che discussed many plans and projects at our home. They didn’t regularly have the chance for a relaxed chat, but the empathy and affection between the two men was striking to any observer.
The Federation of Cuban Women (FMC) was organized in 1960. Led by Vilma Espín, it played a very important role in involving women in the tasks and challenges of the revolution. Its goal was the full integration of women into society, eliminating all barriers and restrictions. This was by no means an easy fight because we had to confront persistent male chauvinism that often blocked the incorporation of women into activities outside the home. Moreover, many Cuban women were virtually illiterate or had a very low cultural level.
We saw none of this as insurmountable. We were most proud of our achievements in improving the lives of former maids and prostitutes; we felt this said a lot about the objectives of our organization. I was part of the national executive of the FMC from its inception until the end of 1964, when our son Ernesto was born. My first role was as national treasurer since I had efficiently managed the funds during our trip to Chile in November 1959. We all worked incredibly hard during those first years and learned so much.
As the US government stepped up its support for the counterrevolutionary groups inside Cuba, we called on members of the FMC to join the National Revolutionary Militia. Women showed themselves ready to defend the country and everything we had gained with the revolution. I had to juggle housework, work and four children, who had been born almost within a year of each other. Without day care, care in primary schools and the scholarships and other important educational programs initiated by the revolutionary government, women like me would never have been able to do what we wanted to do.
The results of the FMC’s work were clearly evident. The monthly membership fee helped establish regular and direct contact with every member at a grass roots level. In this way, we formed a movement of cadres on a national level; I was a professional cadre, although I was never paid for my work. The first congress of the FMC was held in 1962, where I was elected general secretary and Vilma Espín was elected president. I was able to fulfill my role as FMC general secretary without neglecting my other work as Che’s personal secretary; I could always count on Vilma’s support and her advice about how to carry out tasks more efficiently and with greater unity. She was particularly helpful to me during difficult times, such as during the internal party fight against sectarianism that was particularly sharp in my province.
Che had a boundless faith in Fidel and was one of his closest collaborators. He was profoundly affected by the way the Cuban people, not caring that he was Argentine, had adopted him as one of their own. This reinforced the Latin Americanism he had embraced as a young medical student on his first travels around the continent.
In Mexico, before arriving in Cuba with the guerrilla expedition, Che had written a poem called “Song for Fidel,” in which he already identified himself as a Cuban.
It begins,
Onward,
burning prophet of the dawn,
down hidden and untouched paths,
to liberate the green caimán1 you love so well.
The last verse begins:
And if our path is blocked by iron,
we ask only a rosary of Cuban tears...
Even when he was most infuriated by something in Cuba, he would always refer to “we Cubans,” never feeling that he didn’t belong, even though he hadn’t been born in our country.
The Ministry of Industry was formed on February 23, 1961, and Che was appointed minister. Much has been written about Che’s work in this role—both favorable and critical. I don’t doubt that he made mistakes and that there were problems others would have experienced. But he did his best in applying all his skill to this role with a passion and commitment to something he saw as essential for the development and advancement of the revolution.
The Ministry of Industry was structured in such a way as to leave no room for schemas or rigidity but to be able to respond to the greatest challenge of the revolution—industrialization. It represented a stage beyond the first experimental phase in the Sierra Maestra, where Che organized small factories to make simple products to meet the needs of the guerrillas’ camps. When Che first arrived at La Cabaña, he immediately organized small local workshops to satisfy the demands of the troops. All this was in accord with the objectives of the revolutionary program Fidel had outlined in 1953.
With this previous experience and a skilled team around him, Che proposed the reactivation of the industrial sector in our country. In particular, this meant ending the sugar monoculture as the way to break out of Cuba’s neocolonial status and underdevelopment. This was a gigantic challenge that only someone like Che could have undertaken, given his willingness to work, his sense of responsibility, his creative spirit, as well as his ability to study and reflect on what he was doing.
In creating the new ministry, there were hundreds of hours of discussions, and Che was always at the center of these debates. The work also involved establishing vice-ministries, directors and branches in the restructure of nationalized businesses and factories. Eventually an integrated system of organization, direction and planning in all industrial activity was created.
Many Latin American consultants assisted in this, a number of whom had already worked with Che on other projects. Some of them belonged to the Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean (CEPALC)2 and others were from the United Nations. Progressive intellectuals and economists from various socialist countries also participated.
In this way Cuba made initial steps toward industrialization. New branches of industry such as automation and electronics were established, as well as research centers. Che’s passion and signature were evident in all these achievements that represented, as he put it, “the purest of our hopes.” In this, he was contributing in a practical way to what he referred to as “the new man.”
Meanwhile, Che also played a role in the foreign policy of the revolutionary government, through which we became familiar with other countries’ efforts to create a socialist system. Specialists came from other socialist countries to assist in the creation of the Ministry of Industry, bringing the scientific and technical expertise Cuba badly needed. Being intimately involved in Che’s work as his secretary with this challenge, I saw how Che grew and learned from the process.
By 1961, the revolution was advancing and the decades of corruption and pillage were coming to an end, as the Cuban people began to shape their own future. Cuba’s enemies felt their most treasured possession slipping from their grasp, and the counterrevolutionary forces prepared to launch a full-scale assault.
Che was assigned as the chief military officer for the western region of the island. When the first attack occurred in April 1961, Che left immediately for Pinar del Río. The entire population was mobilized; I was part of the FMC’s effort.
When I learned Che had been injured, I wanted to go to Pinar del Río immediately to see him. He had asked that I not be told of what had happened, or at least not until the seriousness of his injury was established. But it was impossible to contain the news and, in fact, it was Fidel who told me—he was always understanding and a true friend. I took our daughter Aliucha (that’s what we called Aleidita) to Celia Sánchez’s house at her suggestion, because it was considered to be a safe place. Not knowing in what state I would find Che, I set out on a very anxious trip. There were tanks and mobilized combatants all along the highway, preparing for the invasion.
I arrived at dawn to find Che recovering from an operation. I approached him nervously, but I could see he was OK. When I remarked I was happy his injury wasn’t more serious and that the bullet had not damaged a vital organ, he responded in a joking tone, “Damn luck! Of all the bullets this one had to land on me!” Then he went on to explain what had happened. In a moment of carelessness he had dropped his gun without properly securing it. The bullet hit him in the cheek and exited from behind his ear; if it had been just a few millimeters off course the result would have been very different.
When the Bay of Pigs invasion began on April 17, 1961, Che was still recovering. But the next day, against my advice, he went to meet with Fidel very near where the counterrevolutionaries had landed. It was thought there might be further attacks at Bahía Honda and Cabañas, areas under Che’s command.
Che took me back to Havana at the same breakneck speed that I had traveled to see him. We picked up Aleidita from Celia’s house, and he dropped us back home. I assumed Che would not be able to fight due to his injury. But I was mistaken. After discussing tactics with Fidel, he returned to Pinar del Río. He was there when we learned of the crushing defeat of the enemy. The other attacks did not occur; this had merely been an enemy ploy.
Our daily life resumed and we were more optimistic than before. The gigantic effort of the nationwide literacy campaign continued, reaching the most remote and neglected parts of the island. The literacy campaign was seen as an essential step to making a qualitative leap forward, not only guaranteeing the unconditional support of the masses for the revolution but also fully integrating them into the process and raising the cultural level of the entire country. The workers of the ministry participated in the literacy campaign by teaching classes in poor neighborhoods around Havana.
I taught in the then infamous (and quite dangerous) neighborhood of Las Yaguas. The family I was assigned to teach had suffered many traumas. The mother was only 39 years old but looked as though she was 60. She had a number of children, all from different fathers; they were all illiterate. I was able to teach one of the daughters, who was 14 or 15 years old. I taught her the first few letters of the alphabet with great effort. She was a maid in two houses, where she was only paid two and half pesos per month. Another daughter lived next door; I was not able to teach her. She was married to an alcoholic, and it was virtually impossible for me to even get close to her, as he wouldn’t let me in the door. At the end of the campaign, through the FMC, I sought help for this family. We were able to convince the mother and one of the daughters to work. They went to Ciudad Libertad as part of the special scheme that offered scholarships to maids who had taken part in the literacy campaign so they could continue with their studies. They did learn to read and write, but we were not able to remove them entirely from their environment. That was a greater challenge.
Che backed me up in everything I did, both on a personal level and in family matters. My own family, too, needed help. We became guardians of my niece, Miriam, one of the daughters of my elder sister, who had died when I was a teenager. We contributed to her political and cultural development, and she became part of our family. When Miriam got married in 1965, the wedding was held in March, to fit in with Che’s schedule. He wanted to be there so they waited until he came back from his trip through Africa. He lent the newlyweds his car for their honeymoon.
If I wanted to spend time with Che and carry out my own responsibilities, sometimes I had to leave the care of my children to others and abandon my role as a mother. I was supported in this by my family and the compañeros who lived nearby. Within the ministry, Manresa, who had been the office manager, and I agreed on a division of labor; I took charge of the personal correspondence.
I accompanied Che on the monthly visits he made to the provinces to check on the advances in the industrial sectors of the country. He always wanted to get as close as possible to the workers, in order to get a real sense of their needs as well as being able to contribute to finding solutions to problems. I would use my skills as a secretary to take notes of discussions and share some of the workload. We would enjoy these times together, being able to share an intimacy that we could not have had under other circumstances. Eventually I was able to come to terms with my feelings of jealousy. I came to understand that Che took his work very seriously and did not allow minor distractions to get in the way.
Over time, these visits to the provinces became more frequent and stressful. He wanted to be constantly informed about what was happening and was always alert to complacent or bureaucratic attitudes to administration, which he saw as the greatest danger of other socialist systems. He often referred to the party, the administrative apparatus and the labor movement as the “Holy Trinity.” In his writings, he constantly warned of the serious problems created when the party, especially in the provinces, substituted itself for the administrative apparatus.
He visited important developments in other places such as the southern coast of Santiago de Cuba or El Caney de las Mercedes. If he thought there were problems, he would make a note and pass on the information to the relevant ministry.
He would contact the campesinos in those areas, listening to their problems. There were some interesting cases, like that of Argelio Rosabal, a Baptist from Sierra Maestra. He had approached Che and his group just after they disembarked from the Granma. Argelio later asked for some land on which to build a church, and this was granted at the beginning of 1959. Later on, someone tried to take this land away from him. Che took steps to have the land returned to Argelio. There was also Polo Torres, the “barefoot captain,” who had seen a lot of action in Che’s column. Whenever Che visited the area, he would seek him out to discuss what was happening locally.
Somehow we built our intimate space around Che’s enormous workload and the odd hours that he kept. He would get up at 9:00 or 10:00 in the morning, drink some bitter coffee and gulp down some milk pudding, one of his favorite foods. He would sit at the table in the kitchen while I finished preparing his breakfast. While I made his coffee, he would drink carbonated water from a green glass that he liked to use. He had a special coffee cup that I had given him. When he had to meet a visiting delegation arriving early at the airport or attend a meeting in the early hours of the morning, he would let me know that he would be staying at the ministry so that he could grab a couple of hours sleep; but that did not happen very often.
I usually left the house after 11:00 in the morning and would return at around 10:00 p.m. or even midnight, depending on the amount of work to be done. On a few occasions, we went to the cinema, the drive-in or the theatre. There was a little room at the Cuban Institute of Art and Cinematography (ICAIC) where we could watch movies. The director, Alfredo Guevara, was a highly cultured man and a close friend.
From the first, Che took part in the receptions at the various embassies as part of his role in foreign relations. Depending on my pregnancies, I would usually attend with him. He would call me from the office so that I could get ready, and we would meet at home or at the ministry, depending on how much time we had. There is one amusing story about my attendance at these receptions. Accidentally, on a crossed line, Che heard a comment about my clothes. He came home and asked me if it was true that I had worn the same dress seven times to these receptions. I corrected him, saying it wasn’t seven but eight times. It was the only maternity dress that was more or less suitable for such occasions and I didn’t want to show him up because he always wore his work clothes.
Some of our most enjoyable times together involved sharing books. Throughout his life he was a voracious reader, reading about a book a day, taking advantage of any spare moments he had traveling from one place to another. Among his favorite books were Don Quixote, which he had read more than six times, and Marx’s Capital, which he considered a monument to human knowledge. He always encouraged me to read whatever he thought was important. We would then discuss those books. We read most of the important Latin American literary works, Russian stories and Soviet literature and the best US authors. Because I enjoyed reading historical novels, he suggested I study history. He also urged me to study economics in 1961. I didn’t want to enroll at university at that point because Aliucha3 was just a baby and I didn’t want to spend so much time away from Che.
I have to confess, I didn’t pay much attention to his negligent attitude to personal appearance. He loved a very hot bath to be prepared for him, almost like a ritual. He also liked his breakfast served to him—small things that I accepted about him, maybe because I foresaw what was to come—that our time together would be short.
Che made a return trip to the Soviet Union in 1961, to reinforce the ties between our two countries, while I traveled to China with an FMC delegation. I was pregnant with Camilo and I had to stop and rest a lot during my trip. I was very excited to visit China, perhaps because of what Che had told me about the country. I visited the communes, but I did not have the same reaction to China as Che. The Chinese had certainly achieved a great deal and it was truly astounding to see how socialism was being constructed in such a different way. But I was shocked to see the deprivation and restrictions, everyone dressed in identical uniforms.
Chinese people approached us and showed great warmth, expressing their admiration for Cuba and our revolution. We sang the July 26 Movement anthem together in Spanish; we were amazed at the efforts they made for us. It was quite an emotional experience in an immense country, so totally different from what we read in books and the international media.
In time I came to appreciate the enormous sacrifices the Chinese people had made in order to build a new country, especially when I better understood their long history and ancient culture. I went to the Soviet Union in November that same year, where I saw another level of socialist development. Before I left, I took a Russian language course and thought I had mastered some of the vocabulary. But I was completely humiliated when I tried to speak Russian. Children would surround me every time I opened my mouth, and my compañeros from the delegation made no end of fun of me. Nevertheless, I enjoyed that trip.
Despite the years that have passed since the missile crisis of October (1962), I can still vividly recall the tension of the days when humanity faced an armed conflict of unimaginable proportions. After the Bay of Pigs, facing the constant threat of a US invasion, Cuba decided to accept the Soviet Union’s offer to have nuclear missiles on our territory. We regarded this as a legitimate act in defense of our sovereignty.
The location of these strategic arms was detected by spy planes and denounced by the US government. Unfortunately, when the crisis came to a head, Cuba was not consulted and our revolutionary government was forced to take a principled stand, refusing to succumb to the threats of imperialism. The Soviet missiles were withdrawn, but we did not allow UN inspection.
In his farewell letter to Fidel, reflecting on the heroism demonstrated by the Cuban people at that time, Che wrote: “I have lived through magnificent days and, at your side, I felt the pride of belonging to our people during the brilliant yet sad days of the Caribbean [missile] crisis.”4
In May 1962, there was another addition to our family. Che’s greatest dream was fulfilled, his male ego finally boosted, with the birth of a son, Camilo. There are many anecdotes about what Che did when he heard the news of his son’s arrival: that he smoked his cigar the wrong way, that he went to search for flowers for me but found none. Some of these stories are true, others aren’t. But there was no doubt about the delight reflected in his face when he saw his son for the first time.
The family was becoming quite large. We now had Hildita, Aliucha and Camilo, and two more children would arrive. We had the sense of creating our own little world, admittedly a rather unusual home, but nevertheless, an intimate refuge we shared with friends and family. We established the semblance of a routine that continued when we moved house yet again. But I had a sense of foreboding that this might be our last home together. And so it was.
The new house was in Nuevo Vedado, on 47th Street, between Conill and Tulipan. I chose it, Che agreeing rather reluctantly. I wanted a home separate from the garrison, somewhere I could be a bit more independent and not feel like I was always living in a barracks. We needed more time alone in our own home, when we weren’t meeting our many commitments and responsibilities.
The security garrison moved next to the house, a short distance away. I now assumed the tasks of cooking, cleaning and other domestic duties, with the help of family and friends. Some members of the garrison, always regarded as part of the family, were a wonderful help. Rafael Hernández Calero (Felo) and Misael Fernández were pillars on whom I could lean, especially after Che’s death. They were honest campesinos, a great comfort to the children, especially in the vacuum left by the absence of their father. Sofia Gato joined our household to help me with Aliucha, and she, too, became a member of the family. Of course, in mentioning members of our household,
I can’t leave out the famous Muralla, our loyal dog, about whom many legendary tales are told. He was given to me by a soldier in Che’s column when we lived in Ciudad Libertad. He appears in many of the photos taken at that time.
Other lasting friends from those years are Harry Villegas, Alberto Castellanos, and Leonardo Tamayo. Another dear friend, Hermes Pena, a faithful compañero, was killed in Salta, Argentina, in the effort to extend the liberation of the Americas. There were others, like Carlos Coello (Tuma), who later went with Che on the missions to the Congo and Bolivia (where he was killed in combat); Felipe Hernández (Chino), also killed in Bolivia; and our doctor Oscar Fernández Mell lived with us before he got married.
I think the decision to move into our own home certainly brought us closer together, even though I never entirely liked that new house. From that time, we lived like the rest of the population, eating whatever food was available with the ration booklet that everyone had. I mention this in particular because I have read references to us having two ration booklets or a double ration. This misconception probably arose from something Che once said as a joke.
I managed our domestic affairs myself. I paid the rent, which was 40 pesos per month, out of Che’s salary of 440 pesos. I did not receive a salary at the time. After Che left I received his salary; but as my children grew up and became independent, they gave up the benefit they received from the state. We generally lived according to the spirit of the revolution and Che’s austere lifestyle.
Our next two children were born in the new house. Celia was born on June 14, 1963, hot on the heels of Camilo, then only 13 months old. Ernesto was born on February 24, 1965, when Che was in Algeria, on the last trip he made as a representative of the revolutionary government.
When he heard the news of the birth of his second son, he sent him a telegram, affectionately addressing the baby as “Tete,” the pet name his family had given him when he was a little boy:
Ernesto Guevara March
(to be handed to him at his home or at the clinic)
Havana
Tete,
Tell the old woman I will not be home for dinner. Tell her to be good.
Give your brother and sisters a kiss.
Your old man
Algiers, 24-2-65
In spite of all these separations, our relationship became even stronger. I was in charge of the family and our home, and although they were not perfect, they were mine. I never worried too much about what we lacked. I knew we lived like every other Cuban who knew that sacrifices had to be made. I had a partner who perhaps on the surface did not attend to the details, but he would not stand for any privileges. Che never bothered much about material things, and that is how we lived. We never wanted for friends or family. We combined everyday tasks with the enjoyment of the small informal pleasures. We lived a simple life together, full of love, dreams and hopes.
We even enjoyed our voluntary workdays together. Che made no distinction between his regular, daily work and his extra voluntary labor. On learning of Che’s death, Haydee Santamaria (an old friend and compañera) wrote a highly emotional letter addressed to Che, saying: “everything you created was perfect, but you made a unique creation, you made yourself, you showed how that new man was possible, we all saw how it could be a reality, because he exists, it was you.”5
He participated in evening sessions of voluntary work in various companies over the years, managing to meet the required number of hours of voluntary labor almost magically. To this day, many people are astounded about how he managed to do so much voluntary work, given all the other responsibilities he had. He especially enjoyed working in the sugar cane harvests, where the entire population was mobilized.
Che was often the butt of jokes because of his defective musical ear. Once, at the end of a day of voluntary work, they played the national anthem and we all stood up. A little while later the July 26 Movement anthem was played. Che rose to his feet again, asking why the national anthem was being repeated. He was unable to distinguish between the two tunes.
On Sundays, after voluntary work and an arduous week at the ministry, Che would come home ready to enjoy the company of his children. He would take off his shirt and play with the children on the floor. We would then have lunch, always joined by a guest or two, and we would tell anecdotes around the table. Che would occasionally enjoy a glass of wine mixed with water—an Argentine custom he never lost; this was one of the few pleasures he enjoyed.
During his last period in Cuba, after lunch he would take a bath and then, in the afternoon, would go to the ministry for meetings with the heads of various companies. He was probably already planning for his departure, and he felt the need to leave everything organized. He was establishing his Budgetary Finance System6 as an economic management system very different from how the economies in other socialist countries were run. Che rejected Marxism as a dogma, imbuing it with his own highly creative spirit.
Sometimes on Saturday nights, he liked to watch the boxing on television. Remembering this, I smile, because I could never understand how such a sensitive man enjoyed watching such a brutal sport. He would even pretend he was in the ring by throwing punches into the air while sitting in his chair. I never liked that sport—I hope all boxing fans will forgive me.
Che often worked in his office at home, which was on the more peaceful second floor. He enjoyed organizing that space, where he kept his most treasured books, most of them marked up with his notes or comments. This small room was his refuge. The books on the shelves reflected his wide range of interests, including universal literature and his favorite Latin American poets, like Pablo Neruda and César Vallejo. There are biographies, history, science, economy, general philosophy and, in particular, the classics of Marxist thought. There are also books on military strategy, essays on politics and sociology, chess handbooks and all kinds of other books. His notes in the books offer a fascinating glimpse into his mind.
He held private meetings in that office with compañeros from all over Latin America to discuss common dreams for the redemption of our continent. Its walls are silent witnesses to many plans reflecting the purest longings of a generation.
As Che’s trips became longer, his yearning for home became more acute. During one of his last trips, he made a brief stop in Paris. He sent me a postcard from the Louvre, a portrait of Lucrecia Crivelli painted by Leonardo de Vinci.7 On the back he wrote:
My darling,
I was dreaming of holding your hand in the Louvre, and here you are—a little chubby and serious, with a sad sort of smile (perhaps because no one loves you), waiting for your lover who is far away. (Is it who I’m thinking of, or another?)
I let go of your hand to take a better look at you and to guess what is hidden in the generous breast. A boy? Yes?
Kisses and a huge hug for everyone and a special one for you,
From
Marshal Thu Che
He was in a very creative phase, the product of his years of experience in the revolution and his rigorous personal study program. This is reflected in his speeches and writings from this period, such as his speech in Geneva in March 1964 at the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development and the speech he gave at the UN General Assembly in December of that same year:
As an underdeveloped Latin American country, [Cuba] will support the main demands of its fraternal countries, and as a country under attack it will denounce from the very outset all the machinations set in train by the coercive apparatus of that imperial power, the United States of America.8
At the United Nations, he spoke plainly:
Cuba comes here to state its position on the most important points of controversy and will do so with the full sense of responsibility that the use of this rostrum implies, while at the same time fulfilling the unavoidable duty of speaking clearly and frankly.
We would like to see this assembly shake itself out of its complacency and move forward. We would like to see the committees begin their work and not stop at the first confrontation. Imperialism wants to turn this meeting into a pointless oratorical tournament, instead of solving the serious problems of the world. We must prevent it from doing so. This session of the assembly should not be remembered in the future solely by the number 19 that identifies it. Our efforts are directed to that end.9
Che was renowned for his strict adherence to revolutionary ethics. In his many trips abroad, his hosts would often give him gifts, sometimes very valuable gifts. He would always give these gifts away to others. This never bothered me, even when the gifts were supposed to be for me as his wife. Instead, he would bring me some exotic piece of fabric or some other object or handicraft from the countries he visited. I still have many of those simple treasures.
Once he gave away a color television that I was sent, at the time when they were almost unattainable. He gave it to a worker within his ministry. At other times, he would share what he received. After a visit to Algeria, for example, he received a barrel of excellent wine. When he got home he told me he was going to distribute it among the soldiers of the garrison next door to our house. I didn’t always obey his orders, and I didn’t on that occasion. Wine was one of his few pleasures in life, so I put away a few liters of that wine for our household. I don’t regret this.
I remember he once sent Fidel some peaches and dates that he had been given because he knew that Fidel had a weakness for them. On the few occasions when he bought me a modest gift, he argued that one should never use the state’s money for personal things. But he never failed to send us postcards from the various countries he visited. On one of his last trips, before he left for the Congo in 1965, he wrote to me telling me that, from whatever country he found himself in, he would buy me something, but it wouldn’t be the ring with a precious stone he had promised on a previous occasion:
My darling,
This might be my last letter for some time. I am thinking of you and of the little parts of my flesh I’ve left behind. This job gives me a lot of time for reflection, in spite of everything.
I won’t send you the ring because I don’t think it’s appropriate to spend money on that, especially now that we need the money. But I will send you something from my destination.
For the moment, I send you passionate kisses capable of melting your cold heart, and you can divide one kiss into little pieces for the children. Give the in-laws my regards, as well as the rest of the family. To the newlyweds [my niece] I send hugs, and the recommendation that they name the first child Ramón.10
In the tropical nights I will be returning to my old and badly executed trade as a poet (not so much in composition but at least in my mind), and you will be the only protagonist.
Don’t give up your studies. Work hard and remember me now and then.
A final one, passionate, with no rhetoric, from your
Ramón
When he returned he told me he had thought about buying the ring, but couldn’t bring himself to spend money that was not his to spend. Instead, when he left for the Congo, he left me his watch, which had a great sentimental value.
As previously explained, from early on Che resisted all suggestions (even from Fidel) that I join him on his trips. He always argued it was a privilege he would not accept. Sometimes I would have to go to Fidel’s office on 11th street to speak to Che on the phone when he was overseas. He only accepted this arrangement because it was Fidel’s suggestion.
These two men had a truly unique relationship. There were times when they did not share the same opinion about something. On those occasions they would argue for hours (or days), finally coming to some kind of agreement. They were like two parts of a whole. A boundless trust existed between them, something Che expressed in his farewell letter to Fidel when he left for the Congo. He said he had felt proud at being part of the Cuban people and to be led by a man of Fidel’s stature.
I knew Che had big plans, part of a bigger objective, that had taken root in his mind many years before—from the time when, as an adolescent, he had set out on a motorbike with his friend Alberto Granado to see and experience the misery and injustice of our continent.11 In Cuba, he said, he had found his true vocation. On leaving, he wrote: “I leave here [in Cuba] the purest of my hopes as a builder and the dearest of my loved ones.”
Che was aware that Cuba had managed to build an authentic revolution with great effort and much perseverance; moreover, he saw that in Fidel, the Cuban people had a leader who was loved and admired. Che decided to become part of the revolutionary movement that was emerging in the Third World fighting to create a more just and equal world. This decision matured in him as he became more familiar with the liberation movements in different parts of the world. Those movements knew they had Cuba’s unconditional support and in Che they found an enthusiastic collaborator.
He saw many valuable leaders being killed in combat, and believed that only with the effective participation of experienced combatants could those liberation movements be victorious. He also believed direct example was crucial and he was prepared to “risk his own skin,” as he put it. Those of us who knew him well understood he would not be diverted from this course, although we argued he should wait until conditions were better prepared.
He focused on this broader objective of the liberation of the Third World in his speech in Algeria in February 1965:
It is not by accident that our [Cuban] delegation is permitted to give its opinion here, in the circle of the peoples of Asia and Africa. A common aspiration unites us in our march toward the future: the defeat of imperialism. A common past of struggle against the same enemy has united us along the road...
It is imperative to take political power and to get rid of the oppressor classes. But then the second stage of the struggle, which may be even more difficult than the first, must be faced...
We must fight against imperialism. Each time a country is torn away from the imperialist tree, it is not only a partial battle won against the main enemy but it also contributes to the real weakening of that enemy, and is one more step toward the final victory.12
He decided to go to the Congo, Africa, first.13 He had closely followed political developments in Africa, and planned to stay there as long as necessary. He would then return to Latin America to fulfill his long-held dream of achieving the liberation of that continent.
I knew and accepted the enormous risks involved in this, motivated as he was by his sense of duty and also his desire to progress toward his ultimate goal. On a personal level, however, I realized nothing would ever be the same again for us. We spoke about how I could join him when the children would not be so affected by our absence. I held onto the idea that I would follow him as soon as possible. But he argued I had to stay with the children to provide the love, care and guidance that only I could offer them. I had to acknowledge that he was right.
Despite his attempts to calm my fears, I was still shocked when Che told me of his decision to go to the Congo. One Sunday morning, he didn’t go to his voluntary work as he usually did. Instead he stayed at home and we took photographs with the children on the balcony of our house. I didn’t think anything of this, because we didn’t yet have any photos of our baby son Ernesto, who had been born while Che was in Algeria.
Then he told me he had booked a house at the beach, something he had never done before. But our beach holiday at Bocaciega became a sad memory for me. When the children were in bed and we were alone, he told me he would be leaving soon. I felt as if the world was about to end.
After he left, I’m not entirely sure when, but it might have been the day Fidel publicly announced Che’s farewell letter,14 Vilma came to the house to give me some letters he had written to the children and to his parents. There was another envelope simply addressed, “Only for you,” containing tape recordings of him reading some of the poems we had shared in our intimate moments.
By leaving me those tapes, he wrote, he was leaving the best part of himself, assuring me I was part of his world forever. I just can’t describe my feelings when I heard his voice reciting “our poems,” poems such as Pablo Neruda’s “Adios: Veinte poemas del amor;” “La sangre numerosa,” “El abuelo” by Nicolás Guillén; and “La pupila insomne” by Rubén Martínez Villena. I cried uncontrollably, unable to stop. They were tears of joy, but at the same time I was conscious of a gigantic abyss opening inside me.
I have listened to those tapes many times over the years and they always distress me. I always ask myself the same question: Should I have gone with him? As it was, there was nothing I could do but wait, try to maintain my optimism and watch our children grow and thrive. They were truly the fruits of a great love, of our love.
1. Alligator: a reference to the island of Cuba, whose shape resembles that animal.
2. The Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean was one of the five UN regional commissions created on February 28, 1948, by the Economic and Social Council and the Economic Commission for Latin America (CEPAL).
3. Aleidita was called Aliucha within the family.
4. Che’s farewell letter to Fidel is included in Che Guevara Reader (Ocean Press, 2003).
5. See Betsy Maclean (ed.): Haydee Santamaría (Rebel Lives series, Ocean Press, 2003).
6. “On the Budgetary Finance System” in Che Guevara Reader (Ocean Press, 2003).
7. This postcard is reproduced in the photo section of this book.
8. This speech is included in Che Guevara Reader (Ocean Press, 2003)..
9. This speech is included in Che Guevara Reader (Ocean Press, 2003).
10. Ramón was Che’s nom de guerre.
11. Ernesto Che Guevara: The Motorcycle Diaries. Notes on a Latin American Journey (Ocean Press, 2003).
12. This speech is included in Che Guevara Reader (Ocean Press, 2003).
13. The Congo won independence from Belgium in 1960, but almost immediately was torn apart by secessionist and imperialist forces. In 1965, Che Guevara left Cuba to lead a group of Cubans assisting the Congolese revolutionary movement.
14. Che’s farewell letter was addressed to Fidel, who read it to the first meeting of the newly founded Cuban Communist Party’s central committee meeting on October 3, 1965. See Che Guevara Reader (Ocean Press, 2003).