‘I never saw them again’: An interview with my father, a Cuban exile

If you were to pass Rolando Larino on the street, you probably wouldn’t think much. He looks just like any average American. Rolando’s been happily married to Donna Terletzky Larino for three decades and is the Father of my brother and I. He’s a graduate of Rutgers University, where he earned a M.B.A degree, and has since made his mark on the business world. The life he leads in Cary, North Carolina may not seem unique—but it was earned; The product of risk and ambition.  Yet, beyond this glimpse into middle class America, there is something else—a story of fear, resilience, and hope for a better life.

Let me be clear, however. My Father’s not an immigrant. No—he’s an exile.

Calle Charuca

Rolando Felipé Lariño was born to Hilda and Roque Lariño in Havana, Cuba on May 1^st, 1959—just five months after Fidel Castro’s Communist regime deposed Fulgencio Batista. He lived in an apartment next to his Aunt and Uncle’s house on Calle Charuca in the El Cerro district of the city with family.

“I was very close to my Aunt Margot and Uncle Guillermo, “ He told me, “They were like a second set of parents to me.”

His aunt and uncle’s house operated as a small subsistence farm. They would let young Rolando feed the goats and chickens. His Uncle loved him so much that he’d even let Rolando destroy his prized eggs, despite the loss to him. “Little did I know, he was building bongo drums for me in the backyard because he knew I wanted to be a part of the neighborhood band.”

While he did end up playing the bongos, he assured me it was a joke. “We couldn’t afford real instruments.”

While these memories elicited a sense of nostalgia in Rolando, they couldn’t overshadow the emotional weight of the events which led to his leaving Cuba. “I never saw them again.”

Damage control

“José Martí was my hero as a kid. He wrote poetry and literature in the United States, criticizing Spanish rule over Cuba. He was the poet who rode into battle against the Spanish because he wanted his country to be free.”

In school they read Martí’s book of children’s poems, La Edad de Oro, many of which Rolando had learned by heart. In his book, Martí wrote about freedom and love for his island, ideas which captured his young imagination.

“As a six year old, he was the guy who you learned about that represented Cuba. But all the feeling and passion of José Martí was being slowly confiscated by Fidel Castro.”

The “damage control” by the Castro regime got to the point that they took students away to a military school to be brainwashed—the Castro equivalent of the Hitler Youth. Kids remained there for around five to six years, oftentimes turning their parents in to the government after coming home.

Rolando had been a candidate.

Terrified, his Mother went to his teacher, pleading with her to act. Although she was a loyal member of the Communist Party, the teacher had a change of heart.  She forged Rolando’s grades so he wouldn’t be sent away.

“I was a kid and even to my 7th birthday I had a kid’s vision of Cuba,” He  said, “As I got older, I saw things that destroyed my vision of ‘Shangri-La.’ I wasn’t allowed to celebrate my birthday on my birthday because it was May Day.”

“May Day,” or International Workers Day is a celebration of the working classes that is often observed in Communist and Socialist countries. In Castro’s Cuba, citizens were forbidden to celebrate anything in addition to May Day on the 1st of May. So, instead of celebrating his birthday he’d travel to La Plaza de Revolución to hear Fidel Castro give his annual speech.

His last birthday in Cuba, however, is the one that still lingers in his memory.

“My Mother and my Aunt would wait a day or two in line to buy me a gift for my birthday. They waited forever to get what I wanted, a kid’s cop uniform, like from the movies, because I liked playing cops and robbers.”

That’s just what happened. He played cops and robbers with all the kids in the neighborhood. Then, the Military Police appeared and went into the apartment to see his Mother and Father. Inside, he found them yelling at his parents because of the uniform they had bought for him. It was then confiscated because it was “subversive to the revolution.”

“That made me realize that something wasn’t right.”

Freedom Flight

After those events, his Father decided that enough was enough and entered the lottery to leave via the United States’ Freedom Flight program in 1966.

“Once we entered the lottery in order to leave the country, my Father was denied employment. When we won, men in military uniforms came in and confiscated everything. We left with nothing but the clothes on our backs.”

But something heroic happened during the confiscation. His Mother stalled the Military Police by telling them she was showering. In reality, she was giving away their belongings to the neighbors out back, knowing she’d be executed if caught.  She risked her life so that their neighbors would be better off.

For a long time after, the United States placed an embargo upon Cuba which lasted until 2014 when diplomatic relations were reestablished.  So, now that the United States and Cuba are interacting again, will he go back?

“I consider myself an American, that’s what your Grandfather wanted.”

This is true. My Grandfather was so disgusted with Cuba because of what it did and what it stood for that he decided he’d adopt his new country. No Cuban flags, only Star Spangled Banners. No celebrating Christmas on January 6th, it was December 25th or bust. Our last name was changed from Lariño to Larino.

But, Rolando didn’t close the door entirely on a return to his birthplace.

“I would only go back to a free Cuba because Cuban blood flows in my veins. I’d help somehow. I feel like I have this need to repay a debt.”