1/1/1994, Charlie Trainor/Miami Herald Staff: Cuban rafters
During the 1990’s, there were the most amount of rafters trying to escape Cuba’s brutal regime during the cruelest ruling years of Fidel Castro. After a young boy was found dead floating on a raft apparently trying to escape, the dangerous plight of the Cuban people became widely publicized. Their willingness to risk everything to float on flimsy assembled rubber tubes and wood planks over 90 miles of the most treacherous ocean waters was beyond my comprehension while I was growing up.
During this time, in Miami, a group of Cuban exiles banned together to create a rescue organization called Brothers-to-the-Rescue. This was a group of Americans created to search for Cuban refugees mostly by air. These were highly skilled pilots, some even flew for the Cuban Air Force, that were determined to save as many Cuban refugees as possible. They were motivated to save their countrymen, their brothers, and willing to challenge American foreign policy regarding Cuba.
Using small private Cessna-type planes, the Brothers-to-the-Rescue would fly together over the Atlantic waters in search of and to assist deserted rafters. These very dangerous aerial missions were highly controversial since the planes would often enter Cuban air space. These were very brave men supporting a humanitarian cause and supporting human rights.
This group did this for many years saving many lives until one day I clearly remember my father very emotional. He was holding back his tears when he told me our friend, Armando, had been one of the planes shot down by Cuban jets. Armando was big man. Hee was a very happy man. He always gave me candy. The news reported these planes were known to be flying humanitarian missions over international airspace and that the small planes were clearly unarmed. They were shot down by Cuban Mig fighters. The radar path showed both planes in American airspace. It was an international incident.
I remember that day so vividly. My father was the most humble man. We are not Cuban or from Spanish origins. Our family heritage is European and we are Jewish. Nevertheless, my father and his partner had been financing this humanitarian group and their missions. My dad and his partner were risking their business and safety. They both told me that we needed to help these people … people we did not know … strangers in life threatening circumstance. I remember that day we cried for strangers and for those people we cared for so dearly.
It was the lesson that taught me to speak up for those I would never meet. That day taught me to help those who need help especially if you are in the blessed position to be able.
The lesson of helping if you can help will change your life. My father taught me to help … but not, just, to help. I miss you dad.
