A Cuban Mambí for Trump. Español
Once upon a time, Hialeah was fango y factoría -mud and factories- and the Fonomemecos(1) were promoting Metro Piece of Sh*t.
It was a wild era, full of grit and hustle, where the streets echoed with the sounds of industry and the sharp tongues of those who called it home.
One crazy day during that prehistoric era, I met el Mambí(2), as they called him. It was Cheo, a family friend, who made the introduction while I was visiting in the eastern part of The City that Progresses, as Hialeah was known back then. Hialeah’s gritty streets were buzzing, and it was in this unlikely setting that I crossed paths with a character as legendary as the city itself.
El Mambí was your typical Cuban, though he came with a not-so-glamorous miliciano(3) history that he tried—and failed miserably—to keep under wraps. Revolutionarily boastful and scandalous to the extreme, he was the kind of guy who couldn't help but wear his glory days on his sleeve, whether anyone wanted to hear about them or not.
For as long as I stayed at Cheo's, el Mambí never shut his mouth. He ranted endlessly about how he was exploited in Cuba, bragged about his heroics while fighting against communism on the island, and went on and on about his current efforts in Jayalia organizing a campaign to topple Fidel... from the grave..
Cheo, looking somewhat embarrassed, tried to cut him off, but the Mambí wouldn't put away the machete to pick his nose. There was no stopping that guy.
Guerrilla past of the Mambí.
Just as I was about to ask him when the invasion to liberate Cuba was happening, my host got up from the couch and asked me to accompany him to pick up his daughter from school.
On the way to school, Cheo confessed to me that el Mambí, who had been his friend for a long time and lived in an efichenci (shack) across the street, was yet another chiva(4). He had once been a fire-breathing communist dragon, but now he was all over Hialeah loudly hallucinating about bringing down Fidel. In short, el Mambí was a Cuban who, in the very near future, would become a fervent Trump patriot.
Cheo's confession didn’t surprise me at all. So, I shifted the conversation to something else and kept my cool as we navigated through the usual Miami traffic.
An hour later, we were back at Cheo's house.
There was el Mambí, leaning against the fence, ready to pounce on his next victim. But that victim wasn’t going to be me. The second I got out of Cheo’s car, I threw out my best Cuban farewell, said nos vemos, and got the hell out of there.
That wrapped up my trip to Hialeah for the day and, likewise, my short stay in South Florida. A couple of days later, I got the hell out, hoping never to return.
Twenty years later: Life took its turns, and that never never happened.
Here I am, back in carnival-like Miami, where I quickly discovered that Cubans today love Trump even more than the glorious croquetas from the
Versailles
(5).
The Mambí of yore, if he's still alive, is probably lurking today in some corner of Hialeah, proudly fulfilling his loyalist dreams. With his head held high, he’s likely wearing a red cap emblazoned with the magical MAGA ( Make America Goofy Again) letters. Almost certainly, he's repainted his shack in orange and adorned it with colorful, photoshopped images of a sexy Supertrump.
I bet that just stepping into el Mambí's shack feels like arriving at a cardboard Trump Tower. The toilet bowl would be painted orange, and cheap orange wigs—ten for a dollar from the Ño Que Barato(6) store around the corner would be scattered across the floor, the bed, and even in the kitchen. Even his dog would probably be named something like Trumpybaby or Trumpy! Poor doggie!
My old Mambí probably doesn’t even celebrate New Year’s; what he surely cares about are the elections and praying —perhaps with a bit of brujería (7)— for Trump to win and finally rid Cuba and Miami of communism.
Election Day would be like his personal Christmas. He throws a party in the shack, but everyone who attends must wear an orange wig and a red cap that loudly proclaims Make America Goofy Again!
At the party, while the guests eat Trump pizza with forks, the Mambí will undoubtedly dominate the conversation. They’ll debate how to organize elections in Cuba with fourteen parties after Trump goes in with his Superman cape, topples Fidel, and the Cubans in exile elect Otaola as presidente.
Fortunately, I'm convinced that none of that will happen. The Cuban Trump-patriots have their heads full of sh*t, and I don't think they're going to get very far.
- (1)Fonomemecos: Cuban comedy duo that was very famous in Cuba and in Miami.
- (2)Miliciano: Cuban militiaman.
- (3)Mambí: Cuban insurgent who fought against Spain.
- (4)Chiva: snitch, informant, rat.
- (5)Versailles: famous Cuban restaurant where Trump supporters get together.
- (6)Ño Que Barato: famous cheap Cuban store.
- (7)Brujería: Cuban witchcraft.