A book is not produced from the work of just one individual writer. So many
people in many locations in two countries that are dear to me, but that are
long at odds with one another, took steps (and sometimes assumed risks)
and gave of their time to welcome, support, and guide me. Over the years,
I have mourned the deaths (+) of some teachers and friends who helped
me. E.P.D.
In El Cobre, I would like to express gratitude to María de los Angeles Gar-
rido Pájaro, Ariel Sr., Joelito, and their family for taking me in, feeding me
papas fritas, teaching me, having conversations over the years, and watching
my children; Felicita (+) for teaching me about her century of life, about the
Virgin and my own compatriots’ shameful role in the 1906 destruction of her
shrine; the “vendepiedras” for the copper and life lessons; Mario (+) y Victo-
ria (+) for conversations over much coffee and cigarettes; security officials
who unwittingly taught me about surveillance; José “Chino” Seoane for the
many meals when food was scarce, showers when water was scarce, con-
versation when clarity was scarce, and for his beautiful art; Carlito “Chino”
Fong Novelles (+) for his willingness to talk about his religious experiences
and expertise; the Hermanas Sociales Maria Paísan (+), Rita Llanes, and
Marta Lee for their openness; the staff of the Hospedaria for their hospital-
ity; Adita (E.P.D.) for opening my eyes to the prob lem of food insecurity;
historian Julio Corbea Calzado, mi hermano, a true organic intellectual, col-
league, and friend, who introduced me to all the viejitas here unnamed (no
escribo sus nombres— Ustedes ya saben como son las cosas— pero estan en mi corazón)
who taught me so much, and of course, Cachita.
In Santiago de Cuba, a sincere thanks to Olga Portuondo Zúñiga for her
generous collegiality; Manuel (E.P.D.) for all his delicious comida, conversa-
tions over café y ron, taking me to carnival and on pilgrimage, and his insights;
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