Having visited the site of the 1961 Bay of Pigs invasion and the Museum that commemorates its triumphant outcome for the Cuban people, our appetite to learn more about “The Revolution” was piqued. The city of Cienfuegos was on our itinerary and as another saga of the war to liberate Cuba from a right-wing dictatorship with US mafiosi connexions was at hand in nearby Villa Clara province, a small detour was in order. The pueblo of Santa Clara is inextricably woven into the story of Ernesto Guevara and his victory in the decisive battle of the civil war against the Batista regime. Guevara or simply ‘Che’ – the image that launched a million T-shirts, and the man who signed many more million pesos’ worth of Cuban bank notes!✱ – is proudly remembered and commonly revered, especially in this part of Cuba, as two separate Santa Clara monuments testify.
The first is in the centre of the township itself, a monument to the final victory of the war (Battle of Santa Clara, 31st December 1958) when a Cuban battalion under Comandante Che derailed a train carrying government troops, ammunition and heavy weapons, intended to reinforce Batista’s embattled army in Havana.
A portion of the captured train still sits on the site, now part of a monument to the battle which clinched victory for Castro and the Cuban rebels. In Spanish the monument is called Monumento a la Toma del Tren Blindado (literally “Monument to the Taking of the Armoured Train”)
The other tangible tribute to the legendary Cuban revolutionary líder is more personal, not far from the city is Guevara’s sombre but impressive mausoleum (Mausoleo de Ernesto Guevara). The monument was originally conceived as a memorial to the charismatic maestro guerrillero who was executed and buried in the Bolivian jungle in 1967… thirty years later the Cuban government retrieved his exhumed body and returned it to Santa Clara. The remains of Che and 29 of his fellow guerrilla fighters are interred here in a large burial vault (in area a decent sized lounge room).
The mausoleum remains a popular place to visit for tourists as well as Cubans, there were several big tourist buses and umpteen dozen cars in the parking lot when our group visited. The immediately noticeable feature of the mausoleum building which is set down on a wide patch of land is the extra-large statue of Che. Cast in bronze, it is 22 feet high and characteristically depicts Che armed and dressed in army/militia fatigues. The statue officially goes by the somewhat ‘highfalutin’ title Ernesto Guevara Sculptural Complex (AKA Complejo Monumental Ernesto Che Guevara).
Security around the mausoleum entrance was pretty tight, more guards than you think might be necessary hovered around the entrance portal. We all lined up and were soon ushered in by a bevy of serious-faced officials and whisked out again fairly rapidly. There was not a lot to see inside in any case, it was dimly lit and unnervingly cold. We glanced at the photos of the 30 dead comrades on the wall and spotted a few pieces of Che paraphernalia on display – such as Che’s handgun (Czechoslovakian), his water canteen and field glasses.
There’s not much else to the complex (a lot of vacant space actually) but there is a gift shop (Tienda Artex) (opportunity to get that authentic “Che in classic Guerrillero Heroico pose” T-shirt on Che’s own turf!) and a restaurante/cantina. There’s another, official looking building close to the arched entrance to the shops but I couldn’t work out what it was used for. The museum maintains a strict prohibition on the taking of photos within the burial vault, so I didn’t even give a thought to trying to sneak a quick ‘Polaroid’ (even if I had one) – the officials, all wearing the same “not happy Juan” face, gave the impression they meant business!
From rustic Viñales we did a long trek by road (some eight hours) to the province of Mantanzas, our ultimate stop was a resort spot on the south coast called Playa Larga (Eng: ‘Long Beach’). This picturesque coastal village was the scene of the explosive Cold War incident in April 1961 when a CIA-financed and US-trained force of exiles attempted to invade Castro’s Cuba from the south (Playa Larga was one of the two beaches that the mercenaries landed at✱). Courtesy of the media and publicity at the time, westerners know this area as the Bay of Pigs…in Spanish the name is Bahía de Cochinos. ‘Cochinos’ does translate to ‘pigs’, but in Cuban Spanish ‘Cochinos’ can also mean ‘triggerfish’. Given the abundance of colourful fish (including triggerfish) we saw whilst swimming in the bay (and the visible lack of pigs at the site!), the term ‘Bay of Triggerfish’ sounds infinitely more apt!
As we came off the Autopista Nacional and headed south, passing a vast area of wilderness and swampland on our right (Parque Nacional Ciénega de Zapata). A short while later we reached Boca de Guamá (Mouth of the gulf), known for its resorts and boat rides through the massive great swampy peninsula. When we got to ‘Long Beach’ we stopped near a scuba dive-and-snorkel hire kiosk where there was an entry point into the bay to swim. To get into the water we had to cross a narrow but jagged rocky shore. Halfway across the rocky ledge, the folly of not bringing rubber-soled aquatic shoes to Playa Larga became painfully apparent to me (ouch!). The Caribbean water was a beautiful turquoise colour but I found it a bit choppy for swimming (explains why there was only a couple of other people swimming there when we visited). This didn’t seem to deter the snorkellers in our group who thoroughly enjoyed plunging under to explore the delights of the bay’s coral reefs❂.
A stopover here also offers you an alternative to swimming or snorkelling in the bay. If you cross back over the coastal road, passing the dive and snorkel kiosk and head in an inland direction, the short trail through the wilderness will land you at another aqua delight of Playa Larga, a swimming-pool size natural cénote♉! After experiencing the joys of swimming in cénotes in Southern Mexico, I had been anticipating trying out a cénote in Cuba. Unfortunately two things soured the experience – the cénote (unlike the ones in Mexico) didn’t have a cavernous limestone roof and a deep well where you had to descend down a spiralling staircase – elements contributing to a large part of both the fun and the atmosphere! Also, access to the natural pool was inhibited by the existence of a razor-sharp corridor of more jagged rocks. Although the pool looked enticing I didn’t much fancy trying to negotiate the pointy edges, so, my enthusiasm dampened, I hastily turned tail and headed back to the shore.
After spending the night in a casa particular in nearby Caletón we made for Playa Girón to re-live the Cuban regime’s most treasured moment in it’s 60-year revolutionary history. The Bay of Pigs Museum (AKA Museo Girón) in casts a different light on a tense Cold War moment, one that narrowly skirted a global confrontation, to that portrayed at that time by the news medias of First World countries. The museum’s narrative recounting the Bay of Pigs incident describes a episode of national defence against US aggression and imperialism. The exhibits, the photos, letters, maps and diagrams are intended to celebrate the heroic efforts of Cubans, soldiers and civilians, in patriotically repelling the invasion of the homeland.
The surprisingly small museum (just two rooms) displays many black-and-white photos of the episode, various uniforms and medals, examples of the combat artillery, mortar guns and rifles used in the conflict, many of these weapons look like they’d have been considerably old even in 1961! Note: the taking of photos inside the BoP Museum is not permitted unless you pay a 1CUC fee up front at the entrance table.
Outside the museum entrance, there are a couple of props that add gravitas and dramatic colour to the museum’s “mission statement”. In pride of place, on display is a Hawker Sea Fury F-50 fighter plane (the type of British-manufactured aircraft purchased by Premier Castro and used by the Cuban forces in countering the invasion). To the right of the entrance are two Soviet era tanks, all weaponry associated with the 1961 event.
The work put into Museo Girón demonstrates how seriously the government took the incident – and still do! The minutely detailed story of how the Cuban government and people foiled a bungled American attempt to invade Cuba makes an unambiguous point about national memory…unencumbered by subtlety: both the citizens of Cuba and the outside world dare not forget La Victoria! and the country’s no pasarán resolve when it comes to repelling outside invaders. The museum revels in reminding visitors of a nadir reaching low point in US policy towards Cuba from the not-so-distant past which brought international disapproval and opprobrium down on the Kennedy administration and the CIA.
PostScript: Australia, Cuba On the way to visit Museo Playa Girón we didn’t expect to pass a sign on the road saying ‘Australia’ but that is the name of the tiny hamlet and consejo popular (People’s Council) near the Bay of Pigs Museum. The Cuban aldea Australia has no tangible connection to Australia in the Southern Hemisphere, but was named for its relationship with the original sugar factory located there (the practice at that colonial time was to name the locomotives hauling the sugar to market after the continents of the world, hence ‘Australia’). During the 1961 invasion by the US-backed rebels, Comandante en jefe Castro based his defence headquarters in the old ‘Central Australia’ sugar mill.
↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼ ✱ the other being in the cove named after 17th century French pirate Gilberto Girón, Playa Girón, 35km further south ❂ in the bay there’s a 300m long coral wall a short swim away from the shoreline ♉ a deep, natural well or sinkhole formed by surface limestone rock caving in and exposing ground water
The “Long Wall” – the world’s most famous, most myth-engendering bulwark
China’s most distinctive and enduring icon is the Great Wall of China, it is of course also sui generis as the world’s Great Wall. The Wall, Chángchéng長城 – or as sometimes described Wan-li Ch’ang-ch’eng 萬里長城 (10,000-mile Long Wall✱), is incontrovertibly one of the wonders of both the ancient and modern worlds. Starting in the west in Gansu Province at Jiayuguan Pass, the wall(s) meander east over mountains and through passes to they reach the sea in the country’s east (a journey of over 21 thousand km). The oldest sections of the Wall date from the Warring States era (circa 214 BCE).
Laolongtou ⍗ Shanhaiguan and ‘Old Dragon’s Head’ If we follow the extravagating course of the wall east from the Badaling section (near Beijing) for about 300 kilometres, we’ll come to Shanhaiguan (literally “mountain – sea – pass”) in Liaoning Province, one of the Great Wall’s major passes (acclaimed as “the first pass under Heaven”). This section continues to Laolongtou (‘Old Dragon’s Head‘⊟), where the wall enters the sea (Gulf of Bohai) and spectacularly and abruptly terminates! The wall at Shanhaiguan and Laolongtou snaking as it does between mountains on one side and water on the other, has been strategically important to the Chinese Empire eastern defences since the 1600s.
Hushan Great Wall
The setting that greets visitors to Laolongtou Wall end-point (Estuary Stone) looks like a most appropriate setting for the eastern terminus of the Great Wall. The reality is however that the Great Wall/s are not a continuous linear structure, they are actually characterised by numerous gaps in the sections…and where the ‘Old Dragon’s Head’ ceases at the sea is one more break in the line, albeit a dramatically evocative one! Before 1989 the conventional wisdom was that Laolongtou was the most easterly point in the Walls, but in that year Chinese archaeologists excavated 600m of a hitherto undiscovered section of the Great Wall 540km east of Laolongtou. The Hushan Wall (extending over a mountain, Hushan or Tiger Mountain) lies just north of China’s eastern border city, Dandong (which eyeballs North Korea just across the Yalu River). In 2009 the Chinese government, based on Chinese Academy of Social Sciences (CASS) research, recognised the wall as the most eastern point of the Great Wall (and ie, the end-point). Beijing’s classifying of the wall (so close to the Korean border) as Chinese contradicted the North Korean view that the wall was originally Korean (the Bakjak Fortress) and provoked a hostile North Korean reaction. [‘Hushan Great Wall’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org]
PostScript: Dandong discovery reignites the Goguryeo controversy The Dandong wall conflict reignited the controversy over the Goguryeo Kingdom that previously had inflamed tensions between the two countries. Background: the historic Goguryeo Kingdom (1st century BC to 7th century AD) encompassed an area comprising all but the tip of the Korean peninsula and a portion of both Russian and Chinese Manchuria. Both Koreas view the historic Goguryeo Kingdom as having been the ‘proto-Korea’ state. The Chinese perspective (which the Koreas label as revisionism) is that Goguryeo was only ever a vassal state of the ‘Middle Kingdom’, moreover one occupied largely by Tungusic people, an ethnic minority of China. The wall kerfuffle fed into this controversy, stirring up feelings of nationalism on both sides, the fallout being that Sino-Korean relations took a nosedive. Mutual distrust lingers over the matter…fears of irredentist claims on each other’s territory, and for PRC the perennial bogeyman of the spectre of Korean reunification. [‘Goguryeo controversies’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org]
(Source: Man, ‘The Great Wall)
∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸∸
✱chéng in Chinese can also mean city or city wall…or more aptly to describe China’s wonder building – walls in the plural, John Man, The Great Wall (2009)
⊟ so-called because the structure’s end part (above the sea) is thought to resemble a dragon (long) resting its head (tou) on the ground
❂ the Chinese media going so far as to tag the kingdom as ‘China’s Goguryeo’ (Zhongguo Gaogouli) [Korea and China’s Clashing Histories’, (Yong Kwon), The Diplomat, 11-Jul-2014, www.thediplomat.com]
Vichy emphasis on youth sport (Coll: Mémorial de la Shoah/CDJC)
⇑Pro rugby The Nazi-installed, collaborationist Vichy ‘puppet’ regime assumed power in France in 1940—jettisoning the liberté, égalité etfraternité of the democrats and socialists —and adopting in its place the new national motto of travail, famille et patrie (“work, family and fatherland”) as the official philosophy. The new government was quick to focus on sport as a platform for implementing its policies and goals. Taking a leaf from the Corporative State approach of fascist Italy (Carta della sport), Vichy envisaged sport and PhysEd as integral to the “moral education” of the French, an “instrument for constraining and indoctrinating the population in general and youth in particular”. A good illustration of its importance can be seen in the regime’s dissemination of propaganda posters extolling the virtues of physical education (from the start Vichy law made it compulsory for schoolchildren to complete seven hours of PhysEd a week)[1].
The Rugby Wars
The Vichy regime had been in existence for only a matter of months when it banned the sport of rugby league, in France known as rugby à treize, (at the same time taking no action against the amateur rugby code, rugby à quinze). The Vichy French minister for sport, family and youth announced in August 1940 that because rugby league was (according to the government) a ‘corruptor’ of French youth, it would (in his words) simply be “deleted from French sport”. The Vichy regime justified this action by claiming that it wanted to bring an end to professional sport in France, which the regime argued had a deleterious effect on French society and morale, dubiously linking the professionalism of sport to the pathetically feeble and dispirited French military showing in face of the onslaught of the German Nazi war machine. Marshal Pétain and the Vichy leadership associated rugby league with its large working class following in the south with the pre-war Popular Front Socialist government of Leon Blum[2].
Vichy also made efforts to curb professionalism in some other sports, eg, tennis and wrestling were restored to strictly amateur status. The uncompromisingly draconian approach taken to semi-professional rugby league✱ by Vichy however contrasts with its more restrained intervention in the fully professional sports of association football, boxing and cycling (see PostScript for the treatment of football)[3].
f=”http://www.7dayadventurer.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/image-1.jpg”> FFR: Haut coq[/captFrom two rugby codes one …
In December 1940 Vichy chief of state Pétain decreed that rugby à treize would ‘merge’ with rugby à quinze (the fifteen man-a-side rugby union game). In effect, rather than a merger, the thirteen man code of rugby ceased to exist, its funds (around 900,000 francs), its players, its stadiums, even its playing gear, were all expropriated and given to the Fédération Française de Rugby (FFR). This benevolence in favour of French rugby union was not simply the happenstance of good luck on the FFR’s part. The FFR had been at efforts to establish a cosy relationship with the Vichy regime from its inception and had actively lobbied for the elimination of its rival rugby code. This was facilitated by the regime’s choices of commissioner of sport, men with active links to the FFR: Jean Borotra, a former Wimbledon tennis champion who had extensive connexions with the French rugby establishment, and Colonel Joseph Pascot, a prominent rugby international for France in the 1920s[4]. Before I address why the FFR was hellbent on taking down the French Rugby League, I will outline some background relating to the two codes in the period leading up to the war.
http://www.7dayadventurer.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/image-2.jpg”> Jeu de Treize[/captionVarying fortunes of the two rugby codes
Attempts to kick-start rugby à treize as early as 1921-22 with a planned rugby league exhibition match in Paris between the touring Australian Kangaroos and Great Britain’s Lions was vetoed by the influential FFR. In the early 1930s the established sport of rugby à quinze in France experienced a setback at international level. Because of the French national team’s tendency towards violent play and the widely held perception that the FFR was making secret payments to its (amateur) players, France was kicked out of the Five Nations tournament (with the British home countries and Ireland) in 1931. The ostracised FFR responded by setting up its own European competition outside of the IRFB (world rugby board) comprising rugby lesser lights-cum-minnows like Italy, Czechoslovakia and Germany. Rugby à quinze was on the back foot. In 1932 the FFR banned a union international player named Jean Galia who was suspected (albeit with fairly sketchy evidence) of being covertly a professional⊡…Galia went on start up the breakaway code of rugby league in the south-west of France✧, initially called néo rugby by the French. By season 1934-35 there was a 14-team semi-pro domestic comp underway[5].
Through the thirties French rugby league made progress culminating in victory in the European championship in 1938-39 (on route defeating both England and Wales). Rugby à treize’s crowds were growing, it was a hit with many French spectators⊛ who were drawn to its more open, free-flowing and swashbuckling style of game, which seemed to match the French temperament better than the somewhat stop-start rugby union game. In 1939 three of the top rugby union clubs in the country defected to rugby à treize…the FFR were fully aware of the threat posed to its sport by rugby league. At this point the Vichy regime intervened dramatically to salvage rugby à quinze’s and the FFR’s traditional advantage[6].
The game that dare not speak its name! Eventually, in late 1944, the ban on the Ligue de rugby à treize (French Rugby League) was lifted but three years later the code was split into two bodies: the Fédération française de jeu à treize (governing the amateur RL game) and a Ligue de rugby à XIII (governing the semi-professional game)[7]. Although the sport of rugby league was once again allowed to be played, the League bodies were barred from using the word ‘rugby’ to describe the code, having instead to refer to it as Jeu à Treize (Game of Thirteen). This prohibition lasted remarkably until 1991!
World champions: rise and decline Since its reinstatement rugby league has struggled to establish a foothold in France – despite experiencing some stellar moments in the early to mid 1950s, especially under the leadership of France’s most famous rugby XIII player, the mercurial, cigarette-smoking (during matches!!!) Puig-Aubert[8], Les Chanticleers defeated the powerful Australian side in three consecutive test series. By 1952 having won the European Championships twice and beaten Australia, France could justifiably claim to be unofficial world champs. Despite France’s rugby XIII game reaching this peak rugby à quinze and FFR remains the hegemonic rugby code and body in France, and have by far the lion’s share of coverage in the French media. Today, international results suggest the sport is still in the doldrums, however the rise of the (sole) French club side Catalans Dragons in the English Super League competition, culminating in victory in the 2018 Challenge Cup, (analogous to English football’s FA Cup) is a bright glimmer on the rugby league horizon in France.
PostScript: Vichy’s take on the ‘World Game’
Football (soccer) did not get off entirely unscathed from the pervasive tentacles of the Vichy regime. It was allowed to keep its professional status but it suffered significant modifications. Vichy restructured the French football competition to eliminate or discourage the development of “local derby” rivalries (matches between clubs in the same or neighbouring towns). Professional players were made to take up a second trade and teams were compelled to field four amateur players in games. Matches were reduced from 90 to 80 minutes duration. After the eclipse of Vichy in 1944 things reverted to the old system but the upheaval suffered over the previous four years left French football in a state of flux and chaos for a number of years post-war[9].
Footnote: To this day the FFR (French Rugby) has neither issued an apology to Fédération française de jeu à treize for its role in what happened, nor moved to recompense rugby à treize (French Rugby League) for lost finances and the expropriation of its property and equipment over three-quarters of a century ago.
┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅┅ ✱ badminton was also outlawed but in its case because it was deemed by the authorities to be “un-French”! ⊡ FFR’s banning of Galia was intended to show the British rugby authorities that it was serious about cleaning up France’s ‘shamateurism’ [Lichfield] ✧ the south-west was and remains the heartland of rugby à treize – all of the clubs in France’s Elite One competition except one are located there, the exception Avignon is in the south-central/south-east region ⊛ followers and fans of rugby à treize were called treizistes
[1] Christophe Pécout, Le sport dans la France du gouvernement de Vichy (1940-1944)’, www.hssh.journals.yorku.co; ‘Travail, Famille, Patrie … and Sport’, (Mémorial de la Shaoh Musée), www.sportmemorialdelashaoh.org
[2] Vichy also associated it with Free French leader Charles De Gaulle and naturally enough with the United Kingdom, ‘Badge of dishonour: French rugby’s shameful secret’ (John Lichfield), The Independent, 06-Sept-2007, www.independent.co.uk; ‘Rugby league in France’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wiki.org
[3] Lichfield, op.cit.
[4] ‘When Vichy abolished rugby league’, (Mick O’Hare), The New European, 21-Nov-2017, www.theneweuropean.co.uk
[5] Lichfield, op.cit.
[6] ibid.
[7] ‘gentlemen agreement of 10th July 1947’, quoted in ‘Rugby league in France’, op.cit.
[8] the French leadership off the field was provided by Paul Barriere, postwar president of Jeu à Treize who guided French rugby league through the turbulent period and laid the groundwork for the inaugural Rugby League World Cup in France in 1954, ‘Why this trophy for winning the World Cup?’, (Steve Waddingham), Courier and Mail (Qld), 15-Jun-2008, www.couriermail.com.au
[9] ‘Inside History: How Vichy Changed French Football’, (David Gold), Inside Futbol, 06-Feb-2011, www.insidefutbol.com
The first is in the centre of the township itself, a monument to the final victory of the war (Battle of Santa Clara, 31st December 1958) when a Cuban battalion under Comandante Che derailed a train carrying government troops, ammunition and heavy weapons, intended to reinforce Batista’s embattled army in Havana.
The mausoleum remains a popular place to visit for tourists as well as Cubans, there were several big tourist buses and umpteen dozen cars in the parking lot when our group visited. The immediately noticeable feature of the mausoleum building which is set down on a wide patch of land is the extra-large statue of Che. Cast in bronze, it is 22 feet high and characteristically depicts Che armed and dressed in army/militia fatigues. The statue officially goes by the somewhat ‘highfalutin’ title Ernesto Guevara Sculptural Complex (AKA Complejo Monumental Ernesto Che Guevara).
Security around the mausoleum entrance was pretty tight, more guards than you think might be necessary hovered around the entrance portal. We all lined up and were soon ushered in by a bevy of serious-faced officials and whisked out again fairly rapidly. There was not a lot to see inside in any case, it was dimly lit and unnervingly cold. We glanced at the photos of the 30 dead comrades on the wall and spotted a few pieces of Che paraphernalia on display – such as Che’s handgun (Czechoslovakian), his water canteen and field glasses.
