Encontré esta carta dentro de un libro de medicina titulado Semiología médica y propedéutica clínica, de G. Mathé y G. Richet, publicado en español por la Editorial Revolucionaria del Instituto Cubano del Libro.

El libro tiene varios sellos con el nombre de Juan Abdala Mauri y fue adquirido en Cuba alrededor de 2007.

La carta parece estar fechada el 15 o el 19 de octubre de 1977, y en el encabezado creo leer «A Migue de Kike», aunque no estoy seguro.

Lo curioso es que la encontré precisamente un 15 de octubre, casi 49 años después de la fecha que podría tener escrita.

No sé quién la escribió ni si llegó a su destinatario. Me gustaría descubrir su historia.

¿Alguien reconoce la letra, los nombres o tiene alguna información que pueda ayudarme a encontrar a sus protagonistas o familiares?

Agradecería mucho que compartieran esta publicación para que llegue a más personas en Cuba.

I'm going to Cuba sometime next year with a Cuban friend that I've worked with for years. He still has family in Guatemala in the province of Holguin and we are going to stay there for a couple days. He told me that ,as far as he knows, the electricity and internet there are horrible and often don't work for days at a time. When they do work it's for a very short period and never on a schedule... they just come on and go off randomly. I'm not too concerned about the electricity but I don't like the idea of potentially not being able to contact my family or them contact me, especially in the event of an emergency. I want to at least be able to talk to my son once or twice a day while I'm away. Is anybody here from that area that can confirm or deny this is the reality? I'm going either way because we have a ton of supplies to bring people but I'd feel better if I'm not going to potentially be in the dark for 2 days in Guatemala which seems like a small, out-of-the-way place. Thanks in advance for any replies.

Ricardo Gonzalez Zayas was born in Havana, Cuba in 1949. In 1962, he came to the United States as part of Operation Pedro Pan, a program that resettled unaccompanied children fleeing Cuba’s revolutionary regime.

In Black Pedro Pan, the author recounts his childhood and major family influences that gave shape to his life. As he entered his teenage years, his life is abruptly interrupted by his participation in Operacion Pedro Pan, a program that saw the mass exodus of over 14,000 unaccompanied Cuban minors ages 6 to 18 to the United States, where the vast majority were received and sheltered by the Catholic Welfare Bureau. He then briefly describes his participation in the program, his personal experiences and observations after his reunification with his exiled parents at age 17. As he continues his life’s journey, he offers, through a series of vignettes and anecdotes, his outlook on racial issues in general, his insights into the Cuban exile and African-American communities and the relationship between the two, and, from a distance, his impressions on the state of his native country call from the perspective of a Black Cuban (or perhaps as appropriate, a Cuban Black).