Life goes on, painfully but surely.
5 years ago today, April 22, 2000, little Elian Gonzalez was seized by US Federal Agents and wrapped in a blanket, delivered to his father, and subsequently returned to Cuba, far from the deep waters where his mother drowned.
I remember watching this on the news when I was in New York. At the time, I was bitter about the long and tortuous process of my Green Card application. Reading about the legal and political wrangle on the fate of this kid, my reaction at the time was of deepest skepticism and barely concealed cynicism. Here is a 5-year-old child getting all the attention in the world, with the pro-asylum camp getting louder day after day, claiming to represent the intentions of a now-deceased woman, more and more convinced that her intention was to let her son have a better life in the Free World. Rhetoric upon rhetoric pointed out the "right" thing to do, while editorials and commentaries debated the prerogatives of the child's father against the deep schism between American and Cuban politics.
The U.S. courts ruled eventually that Elian should return to the custody of his father in Cuba. Then came the storming of Elian's relatives' house in Florida, and the now infamous clip of a US Federal Agent pointing a wicked looking machine gun at a male relative carrying a traumatized and crying Elian.
Photo courtesy of AP
Perhaps 5 years too late, I wonder now how he is doing. I was admittedly ignorant about what poor Elian had to go through on the waters before he was rescued by a fisherman all those years ago. I wonder if he has been able to come to terms with the terrifying flight from Cuba, squeezing on an overcrowded boat tossing around in the harsh waves, U.S. Coast Guards' inaudible warnings to turn back, frantic and desperate adults grasping at their last chance for a better life, a capsized boat and clutching with cold fingers at the inner tube of a tire to not drown in the deep blue sea, mind numb and soul dead from telling yourself to not let go, never let go.
Has he forgiven the insane American media and political pundits, who tossed his name around like a trophy to garner electoral votes and churn the propoganda machine?
Does he remember his Miami relatives, who showered him with gifts and attention and tried to fast-forward what they thought should have been his new life into the space of a few days?
Will he remember the crash course in the American Dream that they put him through while he was surrounded by reporters, supporters, detractors, police, agents, photographers, the incredible cacophony of Breaking News in America?
Does he remember his mother? Is he happy with his father?
Elian Gonzalez' life goes on. Sometimes painfully, but surely. Because politics are a function of the times, and when time passes, politics finds other battles to fight. But the fickleness of popular opinion and political fairweatherness are nothing compared to the bonds of a family, and I hope Elian is well.
Lo que no mata, fuerta.
Buena suerte, Elian.
I remember watching this on the news when I was in New York. At the time, I was bitter about the long and tortuous process of my Green Card application. Reading about the legal and political wrangle on the fate of this kid, my reaction at the time was of deepest skepticism and barely concealed cynicism. Here is a 5-year-old child getting all the attention in the world, with the pro-asylum camp getting louder day after day, claiming to represent the intentions of a now-deceased woman, more and more convinced that her intention was to let her son have a better life in the Free World. Rhetoric upon rhetoric pointed out the "right" thing to do, while editorials and commentaries debated the prerogatives of the child's father against the deep schism between American and Cuban politics.
The U.S. courts ruled eventually that Elian should return to the custody of his father in Cuba. Then came the storming of Elian's relatives' house in Florida, and the now infamous clip of a US Federal Agent pointing a wicked looking machine gun at a male relative carrying a traumatized and crying Elian.
Photo courtesy of AP
Perhaps 5 years too late, I wonder now how he is doing. I was admittedly ignorant about what poor Elian had to go through on the waters before he was rescued by a fisherman all those years ago. I wonder if he has been able to come to terms with the terrifying flight from Cuba, squeezing on an overcrowded boat tossing around in the harsh waves, U.S. Coast Guards' inaudible warnings to turn back, frantic and desperate adults grasping at their last chance for a better life, a capsized boat and clutching with cold fingers at the inner tube of a tire to not drown in the deep blue sea, mind numb and soul dead from telling yourself to not let go, never let go.
Has he forgiven the insane American media and political pundits, who tossed his name around like a trophy to garner electoral votes and churn the propoganda machine?
Does he remember his Miami relatives, who showered him with gifts and attention and tried to fast-forward what they thought should have been his new life into the space of a few days?
Will he remember the crash course in the American Dream that they put him through while he was surrounded by reporters, supporters, detractors, police, agents, photographers, the incredible cacophony of Breaking News in America?
Does he remember his mother? Is he happy with his father?
Elian Gonzalez' life goes on. Sometimes painfully, but surely. Because politics are a function of the times, and when time passes, politics finds other battles to fight. But the fickleness of popular opinion and political fairweatherness are nothing compared to the bonds of a family, and I hope Elian is well.
Lo que no mata, fuerta.
Buena suerte, Elian.
posted by tygertyger at 12:24 AM
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