Our adventures in Cuba began with hubby's two brothers. They first traveled there for vacation about 20 years ago. They were staying in a resort in Playa Santa Lucia, in Camaguey province of Cuba. One day, bored with sitting around the resort, they ventured out in a car...I can't remember if it was a taxi or if they rented a car. Anyway, they took the car way off the paved roads, along an old dirt road that led them along the coastline and eventually into a tiny village called Punta Gunado. It hardly looked like a village because most of the houses just looked like stacks of sticks with thatched roofs. But they continued along the dusty road until they saw an old man sitting in a backless rocking chair out on the front "porch" (a slab of cement). They stopped, got out of the car, and went and sat with him. They only spoke French, the old man and the people who began to gather around him only spoke Spanish. But somehow they managed to communicate. My BIL's soon realized how impoverished these people were, and more importantly how utterly cold the old man was. So the BIL's went back to resort and the next day returned with a bag of clothes - sweaters, pants, even used underwear (I know, it sounds gross, but believe me, it was much appreciated!) By the time the BIL's left Cuba, they left with only the clothes on their backs, they had given everything else away to this family.

That was the beginning. Our family has adopted their family, and over the 20 years since, we have all seen firsthand the great improvements in their lives. Now all the chairs have backs, most people have new underwear every year, and we speak more Spanish and they speak more English (some even speak a bit of French). The original BIL has since passed away, as has the old man. The old man had been on his death-bed for many weeks, but the story goes that he knew our family were coming and waited. My BIL's (and my hubby on that trip) arrived and went to visit him the next day and the day after, the old man died, asking to be buried in the first sweater my BIL had brought him all those years ago. The family still tells the story to this day of how he waited to see them before dying.

Hubby started going in 1994 after retiring from the military (before that, he wasn't allowed to go to Cuba). I started going in 2003, because hubby's family always went in Jan/Feb and I could never get the time off work. And since I was working for National Defence as well, I wasn't allowed to go to Cuba either until I retired.

So that's how it started. There's a very strong bond between our families. A few years ago, when my BIL was there on what would be his last visit, he was visiting the family when he had an accident, didn't make it to the bathroom in time. Our Cuban family all gathered around him, every single woman, man and child, tenderly undressed him, filled a tub with all of their precious (rationed) water, carefully and lovingly bathed him, washed all of his clothes and shoes, redressed him in some of their clothes (most of which he had given to them over the years) and took amazing care of him. Never wrinkled their noses, never blinked an eye at the mess or the stench...pure loving kindness.

Our family will NEVER forget that kindness or the love those people showed him that day. That forever cemented the bonds.