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Cuando Sali de Cuba – Estrella’s Story

September 26, 2012 By Marta Darby 8 Comments

Marta here: Estrella was 10 years old and part of the historic Mariel Boatlift which happened 32 years ago and brought more than 125,000 (!)  Cubans to America's shore and to freedom.

Cuando

Mariel:  Remembering the Boatlift

By Estrella Diaz-Quibus

My parents and I were part of the Mariel boatlift, where hundreds of thousands of Cubans took to the seas seeking freedom. 

On a May afternoon in 1980, all the students and faculty from the Augusto Cesar Sandino in Fontanar were led to Gaspar’s (a fellow classmate) home to scream obscenities and throw stones. I remember how sad I felt at his fate while I managed to stay far in the background, hoping to be invisible. You see, it was rumored his family was going to leave the country. In the eyes of the revolutionary government, that made him "escoria" – scum. That same week the same thing was done to Ramona, a teacher who, as far as I know, never got to leave.
 
Some days later a patrol car had stopped in front of my house. I ran home curious to find out why they were there.  My mother let us know that my uncle Mario had sent for us.  This was a complete surprise, even to my parents who had never planned on leaving Cuba. I remember begging my mother to please let us stay.    I feared I would suffer the same fate as poor Gaspar.
 
On May 28th my mother woke me up at around 2am asking me to rush and get dressed… we were leaving.  I was terrified. That evening my cousins Frank and Miriam who lived with us were patrolling the streets doing their obligatory neighborhood watch when another police car approached them asking where the Diaz-Quibus family resided.
 
I give Frank (my cousin/Godfather) full credit for encouraging my parents to leave.  He made my mother realize it was the best thing to do if they wanted me to have a chance at a better future.  I will forever be grateful to him. I knew it wasn’t easy for him to see us leave. He had said goodbye to his parents, two brothers and three sisters when his visa was denied because he was of “military age."  He bravely told his parents he was not going to sacrifice his siblings. He insisted they leave so that they could be free. Here he was sacrificing himself once again. I will forever be grateful and indebted to him.
 
We left the house before dawn. I remember them knocking at the neighbor’s house down the block asking him if he could please take us to Marianao. He refused, fearing retaliation if anyone ever found out he helped us. So off we went to the bus stop, wearing what was on our backs and just one set of clothing for changing. By the way, I still have the one dress I wore hanging in my closet. Unfortunatelly it stopped fitting me about a week after I got to Key West!
 
We arrived to the Abreu Fontan where we were registered and then we waited. The place had been some sort of a country club in it’s heyday. At the moment it housed what seemed to be an endless sea of people. We slept under the stars on the cold concrete for what seemed to be an eternity to a ten year old child.  I remember asking my mother if we could go back home if our names had not been called by my birthday (June 4th). 

I was so looking forward to the usual party… to wearing the new shoes they had bought for me, smelling the cake they always baked themselves.  Oh, what lovely memories I had. “Let’s wait and see,” was the answer I always got.  My poor parents were afraid someone would hear me saying I wanted to stay. It was rumored that kids who asked to stay were separated from their parents and lured by the idea of being given some sort of a heroic title.
 
Five or six days later our names were called. We were led like cattle to a shuttle bus that took us to “El Mosquito."  It was an awful place. I saw how they beat some defenseless looking men as the dogs were barking. I remember seeing the fear and sadness on people’s faces. We were stripped of any personal belongings and of our citizenships. We ended up being assigned to a tent that had many bunk beds.  My mother was able to find a can of sweetened condensed milk (“nectar of the Gods”).  I had some of it and fell asleep till dusk.
 
We were put on another bus and taken to the ship that evening.
 
A Rough Crossing

It seemed small to me… extremely crowded. We ended up sitting on a small bench on the outside deck on the left side.  My mother would joke saying she was afraid to lift up her foot because she’d end up stomping someone’s head when she’d put it down.

My parents corner right
Estrella's parents on the right in the corner.
 
The boat was wooden. It seemed old and not sturdy at all. I was sure the thing was going to capsize before we reached Key West. I kept wondering how Christopher Columbus must have felt.  I would look out to the horizon and only saw the endless sea. Land was just an illusion and it seemed it was never going to become a reality.
 
The Gulf of Mexico has the roughest waters I’ve ever seen. At one point a helicopter came very near holding an SOS sign on it. We were handed life preservers. The smell of the fumes made me nauseous, not to mention the sight of people vomiting into the plastic bags they came in.

The Queen of Queens

My mother tells me it took 17 hours.  To me it seemed like a lifetime. The joy I felt when we finally saw land on the horizon was overwhelming. I can sincerely say the only other time I’ve felt anything bigger was when my son was born.  There were these uniformed men helping us get off the boat. I was so scared. Had we really reached the USA? We were lined up and handed a can of ice cold Coca-Cola. To this day, I remain faithful to Coke. I looked up and there was a sign in Spanish that said “the last one to leave the island, please turn off the lights.”  I think that was the first laugh I had in the USA.
 
My mother and I would reminisce about that day… what the boat looked like. She and I had different versions. From time to time I would do an internet search for “The Queen of Queens” but would be directed to beauty pageant pages. Last year it occurred to me to Google my maiden name (which I have proudly resumed recently) and had the great pleasure of finding a posting by Mr. Jorge Rodilles who was looking to reunite with the passengers he’d brought over during the Mariel Boat Lift on his boat The Queen of Queens.

Queen of Queens
 Jorge Rodilles and The Queen of Queens brought many Cubans to America and freedom.

Jorge Rodilles also remembers Mariel as one of the greatest experiences of his life.  He was able to bring a number of relatives on this voyage, including his parents, whom he had not seen in 18 years, and his maternal grandmother, who was then 97 years old. 

Rodilles remembered Estrella Diaz-Quibus as a little girl, who celebrated her birthday shortly after landing in Key West with birthday cake provided by the US Immigration Service.

Mr Rodilles back in 1980

Mr. Rodilles back in 1980.

Arriving in Key West

I remember that evening vividly.  We were in line waiting to be taken to Opaloca when my dad recognized a flag from the Bay of Pigs Troop his Godson had served under. Someone overheard him mentioning it to my mother and we were pulled aside and taken to an office as a courtesy to wait for my aunt and uncles to come pick us up.
 
At midnight my parents kissed me and wished me a happy birthday. (I’m crying as I write this. What a sentimental woman I’ve turned out to be.)

Again, someone must have overheard them, because shortly after that, they came in with a piece of coffee cake with a lit match on it singing Happy Birthday. I was thrilled. They gave me an apple, gum and a dollar.  They took some pictures, what I wouldn’t give to see those now!
 
I felt so special. The fears were now gone. I was now an 11 year old woman… Cuban by birth, American by choice.  A very good choice made my two loving, aging parents that put their lives on the line to provide me with a better one.

Mr Rodilles and I 2011

Estrella with Captain Rodilles in 2011.

Rodilles has been compiling a list of his passengers on that voyage, now having about 105 names out of about 200 people.  He still has over 100 photos of the Mariel phenomenon — of the three weeks he spent at the bay of Mariel, picking up passengers, of the journey itself, and of his passengers, many of whom were children, like me, forever changed by this experience.

You might also like:

Cuando Sali de Cuba – How We Became Marielitos – Gracie’s Story Cuando Sali de Cuba – Anna’s story Cuando Sali de Cuba – Ada’s Story Cuando Sali de Cuba – Margaret’s Story

Filed Under: Cuando Sali de Cuba Tagged With: Bay of Pigs, Cuando Sali de Cuba, Cuban family, Cuban immigrants, Jorge Rodilles, Key West, Marianao Cuba, Mariel boat lift, Queen of Queens

Previous Post: « Cuando Sali de Cuba – Carmen’s Story
Next Post: Cuando Sali de Cuba – Roland’s Story »

Reader Interactions

Comments

  1. Mercy says

    September 26, 2012 at 1:28 pm

    Beautiful story—it brought tears to my eyes 🙂

    Reply
  2. Rosemary says

    September 26, 2012 at 9:00 pm

    Thank you for sharing your beautiful story.

    Reply
  3. Margaret Rabelo-Carlson says

    September 28, 2012 at 1:20 pm

    Don’t ever feel bad about crying everytime you relive your story. We are all one people. As I wrote mine,I could see and hear it all over again.Gracias hermanita Estrella. <3

    Reply
  4. Tyrita says

    June 3, 2013 at 7:07 pm

    What a wonderful story. Thank you for sharing a small piece of Cuba with me.

    Reply
  5. Rick says

    January 20, 2015 at 1:30 pm

    Estrella hi my name is rick I was a passenger in the same boat you came. My family were one of the two families that our relatives paid for that specific boat to pick us up in Cuba. I’m a little confused in your article you speak of the captain rodilles but to my knowledge I thought the captains name was Antonio. Who my aunt paid for him to bring us to the United states. Do you remember any of that. Maybe there were two boats with the same name.

    Reply
    • Isabel Diaz- Almaraz says

      February 26, 2017 at 11:21 am

      Hi Estrella,
      My name is Isabel Diaz and I am the daughter of Renato Diaz Blanco, who was one of the captains of the Queen of Queens.

      Rick, yes one of the captains names was Antonio Perez Alberti and my father was also a captain on the ship. Mr. Rodiles was part of the crew. The way I know the story is that Perez Alberti began looking for boat and a crew to be able to get his family out. Between a few families, they pulled money together to buy the boat. My dad had no family to bring, but he helped and captained the boat as a way to help.

      These stories bring tears to my eyes but I love reading them nonetheless.

      Thank You for sharing!
      Isabel Diaz

      Reply
  6. A Bovberg says

    April 24, 2019 at 7:57 am

    I love these stories as they are written with such love for those that made sacrifices and for our grand future in the US. Will always be grateful to our parents for bringing us to this Country. Cuban by Birth, American by Choice – Thank you for sharing.

    Reply
  7. A Vazquez says

    April 18, 2021 at 5:25 pm

    On 06/03/21 ,
    41 years will have passed since the Journey was made and we arrived to this country. Was 1 of two Families whos family members paid for Freedom on Queen of Queens. Was only months old, cant really give details other than the experience shared by people time is now slowly taking away from all of us.
    My mother, with me now recalls that the sick, most elderly, women and very young children we kept inside sheltered. The rest remained in the exterior of the boat. Crammed along with many common prisoners that had been release. She respectfully recalls the Captain was hesitant because of the VERY bad weather, he was waiting for a break that would occur in midnight hours. The Government Pushed him to leave or remove everyone on the boat. So he bravely and with precision navigated those 18 hours.
    Those in her immediate area.. another young mother whom was too sick to take care of her baby. Only months old she gave my mother her Daughter to watch over her. She nursed/fed 3 infants with Canned Russian Milk that had been handed out. A young man his wife and worried family, whom had blunt force trauma to his face with a swollen shut eye. Their combined conversations and fears on timing needed to save his eye. Babies/Children being fitted with life preserves due to the ships taking on some water along with a gentlemen that was close to where she and 3 of us. she later learned he was going to grab us and help if the boat went down due to the amount of water it began to take tail end. I spare the additional details of the people that never made it, the prisoners whom were beat to death simply for fun, the vile acts of repudiation upon departure from our home like many others, the physical threat she received by a government official for trying to feed another badly beaten prisoner whos crime was he said solely Homosexuality.

    Having grown up in the S. Cal area surrounded by older generation Cubans from prior waves. They instilled in me “Our Shared Stories are universal unique, different are that unspoken bond to that tie all of us as Immigrants”.

    A. V.

    Reply

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