The Legend of Leona
The vicious inner circle within the Cuban government converged in the situation room of the presidential palace. The air was muggy and silent, the only sound: a fluttering buzzing sound from an oscillating copper fan. Dressed in white suits with cigars tucked in their breast pockets, the politicos sat at a long wooden, rectangular table. El Presidente, their leader, sat at the helm, cold and distant. In recent days, he had slipped away from the International spotlight, and his mind escaped to a remote Mediterranean coastline in Spain. The men, his loyal minions, took over domestic and foreign affairs with handlebar mustaches and protruding Cohibas dangling from their mouths. The Cuban president remained silent. The panel discussed the unstable relationship with crucial allies with the latest installment, sent by the American government, a seven billion dollar loan in support of El Presidente. The money would supply the army with the latest military equipment to fight the rebels. And so far, it had been a record year in the sugar crop industry- a good omen for the economy. The rich grew wealthier; the poor survived.
At high noon, El Presidente and his men prepared for the foreign delegation, scheduled to arrive in Havana in the next few days. Security forces tightened the sleeve and monitored the pulse on the streets. The roads paved a fake gold banner of support, as though the country welcomed the upcoming elections and arrival of the foreign motorcade. Uniformed officers roamed day and night, arresting protesters deemed enemies of the State. Students at the universities failed to obey the curfew, some disappeared without a trace, many imprisoned. The media embargoed from reporting news accounts out of line with the government, radio, television, and newspapers became government-controlled broadcasts. A strong undercurrent from the revolutionary movement rose from the cracks of the desolate concrete streets during a military curfew.
El Presidente's efforts to silence revolutionary forces were unsuccessful.
A unified rebel front was alive and well, growing in numbers. They wore green fatigues and hovered over Havana like a stalling hurricane that would soon make landfall. A prominent radio voice perfumed the airwaves, issuing warnings. She broadcasted the storm warnings, La Onda de la Libertad, the voice of liberty, heard by millions echoed throughout the island. Her audience hunkered close to their radios for special reports on the rebel's and Fidel Castro, the group's charismatic leader. Some say the sultry voice that floated out of the radio was La Leona, the mistress of the Great Leader. She was welcomed in living rooms and inside the bedroom of men's wild fantasies. A beautiful mulata with long silky black hair, a genetic mane from an Asian bloodline from China, her family had settled on the Western side of the island. La Leona found her strength as a voice for change. She spoke with fury against El Presidente ,and she rallied support across the island. As a result, La Leona became a hunted woman with a handsome ransom to anyone who could bring her head. A price for liberty, and a thousand more deaths she did not fear and would suffer courageously.
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