Apartheid en Cuba
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    Vision Problems

    Vision Problems
    April 3, 2012
    Daisy Valera

    HAVANA TIMES, April 3 — I had felt something was wrong when the eye
    doctor — in her immaculate white coat — asked if I wanted the
    prescription made out for making my purchase in national currency pesos
    or in hard-currency CUCs.

    I replied in automatic mode: "National currency."

    She immediately whipped off the prescription – tearing up the one she
    had written out of her elegant green pad – and handed me a fragile piece
    of grey paper.

    The texture and size of that small opaque slip made of low-grade paper
    told me everything. I shouldn't have — I mustn't have — gone into that

    I had entered the Optica Almendares, on busy Obispo Street, desperate to
    get rid of this headache. It had been triggered by astigmatism after I
    broke my old pair of glasses several months ago.

    Everything there was perfect: the air conditioning, the uniform of the
    receptionist, the black and white striped armchairs, and even me.

    All that I knew was that at that very moment I was enjoying a pause from
    the infernal lines and whole days that would have been wasted trying to
    correct my eyesight in some hot little office associated with the public
    care system.

    I felt relaxed in the waiting room. No one was shouting, and the doctors
    and technicians walked from place to place without disgust written on
    their faces.

    I simply sat there reading the directions written in French on the
    lenses, glass frames and eye gels, as if I wanted to get an idea of what
    it was like to be in Paris.

    But that wasn't the case.

    I was taking in the willingness of the staff to assist, along with their
    professionalism and efficiency. The paradise demanded by the Communist
    Party was here on this street in Old Havana.

    I tried on about 10 pairs of glasses, while the doctor finished her
    calculations. "The eye test costs 10 CUC ($11 usd)," she said. I
    swallowed hard and prepared to pay the price demanded at that apparently
    friendly and clean place of business.

    It was the end of a dream, next came the moment of truth.

    There I was with that little piece of gray paper that was rubbing in my
    face the fact that even three months of my salary wasn't enough to pay
    for these designer glasses, which are apparently kept in stock here at
    the Optica Almendares for the Cuban upper class.

    Time for impotence.

    I hit the streets and went to all of the opticians that charged in local
    currency in the Cerro neighborhood, but none of them had the lens type
    that I needed.

    I finally made it to Vedado, where people tell me they have all the
    corrective lens types available – ones that wouldn't be found in Cerro,
    Marianao, the 10th of October or in any of the other poor areas of the city.

    In the end, though, I came to terms with the wonders of our health care
    system. I waited through the horrendous line and finally ordered my pair
    of glasses for 20 Cuban pesos (about 80 cents USD). I even got a case
    for them – for an extra 11.50 pesos.

    Now I'm happy, even if I'm waiting. It will only take a month for them
    to have my new pair ready.



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