Chapter Three: Interlude in Cuba

Music in the streets, mango on a stick and Eretz Israel songs

David Halpern didn’t want to live through another war. In 1941 World War II was raging in Europe and Europe was burning. Poland, France, Holland, Belgium and Luxembourg – all these countries had been conquered by the Nazis. Fascist Italy, Bulgaria and Romania had joined the countries of the Axis. Although Spain, under Generalissimo Francisco Franco, and Portugal under the dictator Antonio de Oliveira Salazar, had both signed the Neutral Iberian Alliance, no one – and Jews even less so – trusted these two dictators, nor could they feel sure of what they would do.

Refugees who, escaping from the conquerors’ terror arrived in Portugal, talked about the war horrors; the steady flow of Jews fleeing from European countries to Portugal joined the Lisbon synagogue, enlarging the small community. They all had tales to tell. Many of these Jews settled down in villages outside the capital, especially in Caldas da Rainha.  Another source of disquiet was Julius Dreiblatt (Jo) who had left Germany after being released from one of the first concentration camps.  He came to Lisbon thanks to his sister Thea, who lived in Portugal and was a good friend of Aunt Brania, David’s sister. Sometime later, Aunt Brania married him and they came to live in our home. 

Listening to these refugees’ stories as well as to the daily radio reports on the war’s progress – together created in David a sense of disquiet. He decided to ensure his family was safe from a danger which then seemed imminent.

His efforts to obtain a visa to the United States failed because Esther’s older sister Pascha lived in Nogent-le -Rotrou, a town in the French conquered zone.  Fearing they would spy for Germany, the American government refused entry to citizens of the conquered lands and to their relatives. Even more important, David’s partner, Prof. Costanzo, was Italian and as such was perceived as a fascist and an enemy.  So, Father decided the family would instead go to Cuba, a country which had granted them visas. He hoped that from there they would be able to go on to the States.    

Their household and personal belongings were quickly packed, filling up several big trunks, all together about 20 pieces of luggage. Their neighbors, the Ramos ladies, helped Esther pack. On a Saturday afternoon, the girls came home tired from a long school day, to find their home topsy turvy, curtains off the windows, carpets rolled up, half-filled trunks and boxes everywhere.

It was then that they were told that they would leave in two or three days. A ship had arrived with 2 unoccupied cabins, and their parents had decided on the spot to go. It would be one of the last ships taking lucky refugees to Cuba.

David entrusted his flourishing business to his two partners. 12-year old Sonia and 10-year old Ana said goodbye to their friends and especially to their good neighbors, their playmates Miguel and Pedro.  Red-headed Miriam, only 4 years-old, did not really grasp what was happening. “We knew vaguely that there was a world war,” Sonia remembers. “Father explained to us that the Nazis were conquering Europe and that they might also conquer Portugal. He told us that we would travel to Cuba and return when the war was over. Clearly, we would not stay there. We saw it all as an adventure.”

In May 1941, they boarded the ship that was to take them far away from Lisbon – the only place they knew – to an unknown future. 

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During two weeks, the ship sailed over 7,000 kms on its way to Cuba on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. Sonia and Ana shared a cabin, while Miriam slept with their parents in another one.  During the day, Sonia sat on deck, hypnotized by the sight of the sea and the waves, and immersed herself in book after book.

“When we finally reached Cuba, we were taken to a Camp, Tiscornia, beyond the port, probably to make sure we had not brought diseases on our long journey.” The Halpern family, used to a comfortable and spacious home, with servants who provided them with all they needed, now found themselves queuing up to wash in public showers.  Friends told them later how lucky they were to have spent only a few days in this camp; many other refugees had been quarantined for two or three weeks. From this camp they moved on to a pension, where they enjoyed their first tropical garden with leafy bushes and many butterflies, and also cucarachas (cockroaches), and then to their first home in Cuba.         

The 2-story house in Almendares , a suburb outside Havana close to the sea, had a small garden with mango trees. Sonia was now entrusted with Miriam for an hour or two; in the afternoon after school, together with Ana, she took her 4-year-old sister to a small park with swings just across the street, and received her first babysitting pay. 

On Saturdays, all the family went swimming in a small “private” pool with sea water, dug out from rocks on the seaside; strong nets protected them from the sharks in the sea outside. Quite daunting. A year later, they moved to a flat in a four-story building in Vedado. Sonia parted sadly from the tortoise she had raised, after thinking that it would be a good idea to allow him to get a sunbath on the terrace ledge. They all adapted quickly to Cuba, the heat, and the music which could be heard all day on the street below. For the 2 older children it was like a “luna park”, full of surprises. For the first time in their lives, they were allowed to move around outside home on their own. They discovered the cinema, corn-on a-cob, mango, and ice-cream.

“Cuba was completely different from life as we had known it till then. The atmosphere was much freer, open and joyful. It was odd to be able to move around alone in the streets, and to travel alone in the old buses, called “guagua.” In Portugal we never went out alone, except to school, on bicycles and only around Carcavelos. Every day, a Chinese man with a cart walked past our Cuban flat, selling vegetables and fruit. We used to go down to find out what he had brought on that morning. I remember especially the mango he skillfully peeled for us around a stick and then gave us. He also sold fresh corn on the cob which was briefly dipped in boiling water. At every corner, there was, I was pleased to see, an ice cream parlour.”

We learnt Spanish easily, thanks to private lessons. Auntie Brania arrived with her husband Jo in Cuba a short time after them, and lived in their neighbourhood. She came every week to teach the two girls German and French. “We refused to study German, the “hated” language.” David and Esther thought that what was taught at school was not enough, although Sonia and Ana went to a private school – Phillips School – where most of the pupils were American, with some refugees, and the studies were in English.

“The atmosphere at school in Cuba was also freer and not tense. It was very different from the severe British school in Portugal. I liked to study at school here. There were also good teachers, who knew how to explain, so that I began to like even maths, a subject I had never excelled at before. I was attracted to History, especially History of the United States, and I liked to read as always – Emil and the Detectives, The Three Mosqueteers, and Little Women etc. I also liked the studies in the second school in Vedado, Columbus High School, where teachers knew how to make everything interesting. Studies were not a burden for me. In High School studies were in English, and also in Spanish. Most of the pupils were foreign, many of them Jewish, just as we were.”

Their good economic situation allowed them to live comfortably. David continued to keep his business in Portugal with the help of his partners who remained there. An added “luxury” was now the fridge, something they had not known in Portugal. Only the heavy heat was very difficult for the sickly Esther, and she never got used to it.

Cuba was to be only a shelter, not a place to settle down. We did not explore the island much, nor take many long trips. Once or twice, we went to thermal baths, such as S. Miguel de los Baños, to relieve Mother’s pains.  All our friends were Jews like us, people who had fled Europe. With their parents, our parents played bridge and rummy.  Across the chessboard, David argued with his brother-in-law Jo. They also tried to teach us card games, especially after lunch on Saturdays.” But Sonia did not like them, her thoughts were elsewhere.

Suddenly, in 1944 a cyclone, an event usual in this part of the world, but new for us, interrupted our daily routine. Sonia, who was planning to be either a journalist or a surgeon, wrote in her diary about it. “On the radio, they announced the coming storm, and every day warned everyone to prepare for it. I remember winds were expected to be more than 220 Kms per hour. People stocked up on food. Our parents came to school and took us home. At home, my Father decided to use the heavy piano and the sofa to protect us. We pushed them against the terrace glass door, to keep out rain and wind. But by night the flat was full of water, which came in from every opening. We spent all night filling pails of water, and emptying them, to the terrifying sound all around us of shrieking winds. It was very frightening. The next day, when the storm quietened down and we went out, we were surprised at the scene of destruction it had left in its wake. All the tall royal palm trees along Presidents’ Avenue had been uprooted, many buildings were destroyed after the roof and the top floors were blown off.  Many people remained without water or electricity for several days, and in the shops hardly any food was left.”

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More than anything else, distant Cuba was the place where Sonia and Ana discovered their Jewish identity and became Zionists. About 11,000 Jews, from various European countries—mainly Belgium, Holland and France – arrived in Cuba during WWII and built up a warm and closely-knit community.  Family Halpern attended synagogue more often, but especially during the Hagim, and received their Jewish friends for meals at home. “This was really the first time that we, the children, were among Jews, and the first time that we heard Yiddish spoken. While I knew German from home, I didn’t know Yiddish at all. After hearing it for some time, I learnt and understood it, but never spoke it.”

In the meetings of the Shomer Hatsair, which they attended and where they made many friends, they absorbed the stories the “madrichim” (leaders) told them about Eretz Israel, learnt to sing “Anu banu Artza” (“We came to Israel), and went camping, where they rode horseback and set up tents as preparations for a Jewish life in Israel. After some time, their leaders decided to shift to Shomer Hadati; they continued talking about love of Israel, but now focused more on Jewishness and religious Festivals.

Our Shomer Hatsair leaders knew well how to arouse our love for Israel through songs, talks or mini-lectures, and trips. When we set up tents in camp, along a river not far from Havana, they said that maybe we would live like that for some time in Israel. In Israel, we heard, the climate was similar to Cuba’s—hot and dry—but there was much less rain; one must work the land and build kibbutsim. That idea excited me, I wanted to go to Eretz Israel. I felt I would feel well in that land, that I would like it. The hard work which, as our leaders described it, expected us—this did not frighten me, on the contrary. I hoped that I would also be able to study art in Bezalel in Jerusalem.

During the various activities, Sonia was close to her Belgian friends Lea, Thea, and especially Lili Birenbaum, her best friend. “We were like sisters, together all the time. When we weren’t at school or at the movement, we were at each other’s homes, talking all the time. We kept up with each other for many years after that, when I returned to Portugal, and Lili to Belgium. In Israel I met her twin brother Shlomo. From those days, I also remember Paul Morgenstein and Josh Shapira.”

“Life in Cuba was relatively good, but we knew we would be there only for a limited time. We never thought we would spend the rest of our lives there. My Father who was a Zionist, kept saying that one day we would go to Eretz Israel. Father followed on the radio the war’s progress.  He would tell us what was happening, the Germans’ tactics and those of the Allies. He worried a lot about his sisters Recha and Berthe, who were in Europe. Among our friends, we also talked about the war, especially about what was happening to Jews. We heard while in Cuba about what was happening in the extermination camps. I remembered we saw in the cinema a documentary film showing American soldiers entering an extermination camp; that film upset me very much. Even today I find it very hard to see films about the Shoah, and I do it as little as possible.”

The romance with Cuba ended very soon after the end of the Second World War, in May 1945. Although she always knew they were only temporarily there, and that one day they would return to the life they had left behind, her Father’s sudden decision to leave, was a strong blow for Sonia.

“I was very angry with him and I was really depressed. I had only one or two exams left to do, before finishing High School. I knew that in Portugal I would have to complete in Portuguese all the study material I had missed during the years we were away and hadn’t studied there. But I also knew that it would not be worthwhile to argue with my Father and to ask him to stay on at least till the end of school year. He was very self-centered and did only what was convenient for him, without thinking about those around him. When he decided to do something, it was impossible to discuss him out of it. With the help of people he knew in Lisbon, he obtained a return visa to Portugal, and after that wanted to return as soon as possible.

“In Cuba, I became a Zionist. There I learned to love Eretz Israel, and here I decided that this would be my country, and there I would live. Wherever else we lived in, I had always felt we were strangers, that we did not belong there. Even because of the fact that our hagim were different from those of our neighbors. When we came to Israel, I immediately felt that none of the other places we had lived in had ever been my country, and that at last I had arrived home. I am not sure that people who were born here in Israel have ever experienced the same feeling – the feeling that this is our real home.”