[QUOTE=RedFury]
By that I mean, I grew up under Franco, and there probably wasn’t a safer – or more prudish – country in the western world to live in. Crime was virtually unheard of…just as rare as seeing a naked boob anywhere; getting a hold of a Playboy, through some kids we knew that lived in Torrejon de Ardoz (The Spanish/American Air base) was practically a heroic feat. Censorship of movies was so ridiculous that sometimes (Hollywood stuff) flicks made no sense at all, i.e. The Graduate.
Having said that, as a kid, I didn’t give a hoot about politics – for me it was all about sports and just plain having fun. So, in that sense, it was a great country to grow-up in. Parents had nary a worry about drugs, porn, crime, etc. BUT, and there’s always a but, you best not DARE say anything anti-government, because odds were at least 50/50 that if you were overheard, someone would turn you in. And who the hell knew if you were ever going to get out. As per usual, the biggest problem areas were the large universities, who had a steady share of riots/protests. Lots of broken heads and kids off to jail.
Personal anecdote: my only uncle from my Mom’s side, all of seventeen when the war broke-out, was a loyal member of the Youth Falangists, thus he was obviously recruited to fight for the Nacionalist as soon as hostilities began. Smart kid that he was, he had taught himself morse-code as a hobby, thus he was sent to a communications outpost under a couple of other officers. Turns out one night, he’s alone in the outpost and a message comes in. Being a kid and quite curious, he proceeded to interpret the message prior to calling his superiors. In walks one of them, sees him doing this and he is immediately jailed, charged as an enemy-spy and sentenced to death by firing squad. Only thing that kept him alive was the fact that my Grandmother, who widowed very young, had remarried a politician of some clout on the right. Long story short. spent the better part of his youth in jail – 14 years – upon release, migrated to Canada where he earned a PHD in history and went-on to become a uni professor. But of course, Spain was always in his heart..and armed with his now Canadian passport, he made regular trips to Spain, normally to small towns in Asturias were he was originally from. Once there, he’d go to the local tavern, get loaded on apple-cider, and raise all sorts of hell against the regime. Result: he was deported at least five times before being permanently black-listed from entering Spain. Oh, and I’ll never forget the arguments from hell him and my Dad used to engage in…had to be broken apart by others (myself included) more than once. Both dead long ago. But the memories remain vivid.
And they are not in black and white.
Hope that made some sense.
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You have just described life in Cuba, good post.
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