profile: Gerardo Perez

The second in a series of profiles based on interviews with refugees living New Orleans.

by Mark McGrain with photos by Cheryl Gerber

Though it may be ironic that Gerardo Perez, a Cuban refugee, today resides on Havana Street in Gentilly, his story is one of tragic paradox.

During a recent interview conducted in the living room of his unassuming, impeccably maintained home, he sat perched on the edge of the sofa while his companion Maria relaxed beside him. As she translated for Perez her four children buzzed in and out of the room.

In a soft, thoughtful tone and with a look of patient resolve in his eyes, Perez told of how he "hated" growing up under Fidel Castro’s regime; how he vowed never to permit his son Yousel to be subjected to the same oppression.

"I could not allow my son to grow up in Cuba so I started planning my escape to the United States," remembered Perez, opening an album containing photos of the provisions of his escape.

In 1988 Perez, along with four others, waited for a hurricane to pass, then climbed into a makeshift raft of tarpaulins and four innertubes and set drift from Cuba to Miami.

"If they caught us, we would have been sent to jail for 30 years," explained Perez. The trip had been five years in preparation. His plan was to get to the America, get a job, and save enough money to send for his son.

Perez was granted political asylum and began working toward his goal.

"I worked all the time," he said, "16 -- 17 hours, more sometimes." When he had saved enough money, Perez purchased passage for Yousel on a boat leaving Cuba.

Yousel, Yousel’s mother, and Perez’s two sisters set sail on board a boat loaded with refugees. Sometime around midnight, after only a few hours at sea, the boat was apprehended by a Cuban patrol. The boat sank during the capture and the refugees, including Yousel drowned. "His body was never found," Perez quietly said as he unfolded a clipping from a Miami newspaper carrying pictures of all the victims, including his son.

In a corner of his bedroom, Perez has erected an altar in memory of his lost family. Two angels support a map of the Caribbean that bares a short red line drawn from the coast of Cuba to a thumb tack placed at the location of his son’s drowning. Candles illuminate photographs of Yousel taken at various times of his life as well as pictures of the other members of Perez’s family who where lost to the sea.

He lives a life of stress and constant sorrow, often having difficulty sleeping. "All days are the same -- nothing new, nothing different," he said describing what it is like living with the pain of losing his son.

Perez has never sought professional counseling to help deal with his grief. Instead, he relies on a close network of friends for support and a ceaseless work regime. He continues to work 16 hours a day, 7 days a week as an auto body repairman and electrician. The effects of years of hard word are etched upon his face.

"I have to send money back to Cuba to my elderly mother and father,'' he said.

The little free time Perez does allow himself, he spends restoring his prided antique 1957 Chevy Bel Aire.

Despite the hardships he has endured, when asked if he regrets leaving Cuba he replied: "If I had stayed in Cuba I would either be dead or in jail, so yes, it's better here.''

Would he ever return to Cuba? "Yes, but only to get my revenge,'' he said, riddled with anger.

In New Orleans, there are many stories such as Perez's. Thousands of Cubans have fled their country since the 1960s, seeking refuge through political asylum in the U.S.