CUBA: Start of a Mass Exodus

With cries of "Libertad!" the first refugees fly out

Tired and pale-faced, they straggled into the air terminal shortly after sunrise and headed for the immigration desks. Each one of the 157 visitors carried a new gray Cuban passport, but little else. As they waited in line, some broke into chants of "Libertad! Libertad!" (Liberty) and "Abajo, Fidel!" (Down with Fidel). "I've been standing in line waiting for something all my life," said a 22-year-old man. "This, I hope, is my last line."

Such was the scene at Juan Santamaria Airport in San Jose, Costa Rica, one morning last week as a planeload of refugees arrived from Cuba. They were among the estimated 10,800 who had crowded into the Peruvian embassy in Havana two weeks ago after Cuban authorities temporarily removed their guards from the embassy gates and triggered a rush inside by asylum seekers who wished to leave the island. Reluctantly, Cuban authorities agreed to grant exit visas, a few hundred at a time.

Peru, which consented to accept 1,000 of the refugees, pleaded that other countries take the rest; by the end of last week, seven nations had agreed to admit 5,950 of the exiles. The U.S., which has taken in 800,000 Cubans since Fidel Castro first gained power in 1959, planned to accept 3,500, the largest single group. To speed the exodus, Costa Rica helped to organize an airlift of mercy flights for the first leg out of Havana and to serve as an initial screening site for the refugees. The evacuation plan called for two Lacsa (Lineas Aereas de Costa Rica) jets to fly to Havana each night and then return to San José early the next morning. The airlift worked for two days, but on the third day Costa Rican officials abruptly suspended the flights at Havana's request; Cuban officials reportedly insisted that the refugees be flown directly to the countries accepting them. By then 678 exiles had been flown to Costa Rica.

Though they had been denounced by Cuban authorities as "delinquents, bums, parasites and drug addicts," the refugees turned out to represent a wide cross-section of Cuban society. Most were workers and farmers; there were also doctors, artists and journalists. Each had a tale of hardship to tell about the jammed 20-acre embassy compound, where many spent nearly two weeks. The buildings and grounds were so crowded that dozens had to sleep on the roof, linking elbows together for fear of falling to the ground.

Hungry refugees ate the garden's papaya tree—leaves, trunk and all—as well as several cats and at least one dog. Said Edmundo Navarro Cremati, 37, a translator who fled with his wife and ten-year-old son: "It wasn't living. It was hell."

When the refugees arrived at the Havana airport for the flights, they were forced to run a gauntlet of 300 screaming pro-Castro demonstrators, who cursed and sometimes beat them as they passed. The demonstrators also pounced on the refugees' possessions. "They took everything," said Accountant Carlos Domingo. "Women's earrings, wedding rings, watches, even family photos."