Freedom Fighters

42. Takeover

2nd January 1959
Havana, Cuba

It did not take long for word of Batista's flight to reach all parts of the island. The military, thrown into utter disarray, lost any remaining desire to fight any longer. Fidel and his brother, Raul, hearing the news, led their forces to travel across the country from Santiago towards Havana. Meanwhile, the garrisons in between Santa Clara and Havana surrendered to the first rebel forces they saw.

On the streets of Havana, anarchy ruled for the day. The police, in a state of confusion themselves, left the streets to the whims of the people. The opulent districts where the American Mafia once controlled, soon became fresh pickings for a hungry mob. Widespread attacks ensued. Meyer Lansky and the other Mafia bosses, having lost their base of support in the ex-dictator, soon fled the country on their private jets, furious at the losses incurred. 

The neon lights, flashing slot machines, and luxurious clubs, soon turned into scenes of carnage as people sought to loot whatever they could. 

It all changed on the afternoon of the 2nd of January, 1959, a day after Batista's abdication, as the columns under Che Guevara, Dario Ruiz and Camilo Cienfuegos entered Havana, much to the delight of a grateful populace. The chaos in the city ceased.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On their way to the National Capitol Building, the convoy passed by the neighbourhood of Centro Havana, where Dario once lived.  

"Long live the revolution!

"Cuba is free!"

"Our heroes!"

From the back of the jeep, Camilo waved his hat, displaying his wide smile to the crowds gathered along the sidewalks to catch a glimpse of their triumphant heroes. Occasionally, he would scream out in joy. Dario, beside him, sat quietly in his seat, enjoying the view of a joyous crowd. 

When was the last time the people of Havana had something to rejoice for? For the last few years, it had been brutality and oppression that dominated their daily lives. Dario's heart welled up in pride, knowing that he had contributed to the dawning of this new era in Cuba. 

Mama, Papa. I did it. 

 He looked around at the place he once called home. It still looked the same. Except this time, it was not out of a sense of indignation and injustice that the people came out. It was out of a united feeling of triumph and hope. 

Before that hope could be realised, Dario knew, they had to undertake the momentous task of rebuilding the country. A country that had been ravaged by violence and corruption for the better part of a decade.

"Lighten up, Dario!" Camilo said, slapping his friend's back. "Don't look so gloomy on our victory march, you sulky fool! We won!"

Dario managed a half smile at the sight of his best friend overflowing with joy. Perhaps, he was right. It was a day of celebration, and he ought to smile a little. He took the time to appreciate the wondrous scene around them. Throngs of people clustered all around them, shuffling around to catch a glimpse of the famous revolutionaries who did the impossible. The buildings of Centro Havana brought out a pang of nostalgia in Dario. 

He recognised his house, one among the many dingy houses of the area. He wondered what became of it after he left. He remembered the reason it all started. The Mafia had wanted to develop the area into another entertainment district to line their pockets. Dario saw that their plans had not materialised and felt a weird satisfaction in that. Otherwise, the area had not changed one bit. The same grimy streets and rugged people scratching out a bare living. In fact, the infrastructure can be said to have deteriorated from what he could see. The roads seemed to have more potholes than ever. The dangling electric cables now had copper wires dangerously poking out through their frayed ends.