Julie Weissman who traveled with the Teen Group to Cuba, was a unique visitor to the Jewish community.  Julie is mostly confined to a wheelchair due to cerebral palsy. but this does not stop her from making the most of her life.   Yes, there was more for us to do at times and dealing with the wheelchair did slow us down, but her joy of life was so contagious, that she quickly became part of the group.  Here are her thoughts on the Teens and a Rabbi Trip to Jewish Cuba.

Community Building - Cuban Style

Last December, I traveled to Cuba with a group of eight teenagers, Rabbi Kelman, Miriam Hyman, and June Safran.  Our mission was to bring humanitarian aide and education to the members of Comunidad Hebrea Hatikvah, our sister congregation in Santiago de Cuba.

What a strange sensation it was to get off the plane in Santiago, a place I had never been, and feel completely at home!  About 15 people from the community took a crowded bus (Cuban "buses" are actually large trucks without seats) to meet us at the airport.  I only recognized Jorge and Andres, who had visited Berkeley to attend the CAJE conference two summers ago.  Everyone else was a stranger.  Yet, I was home.  I was greeted with hugs and kisses.  This welcome was very different than what I expected.  I thought people would stare at my wheelchair.  I thought I'd need to rely on the Americans to role model ways to treat me.  I expected to fight for the right to be included.  I didn't know how I'd communicate.

Although the stairs, narrow sidewalks, small bathrooms, and language differences might have been barriers, they weren't.  My disability was not an issue.  Before we arrived, it was hard for some people (including me!) to imagine how I would function in an environment that isn't at all wheelchair accessible.  I could never have guessed how wonderful it would be.  I actually think that in some ways all those stairs helped me become more integrated.  I was out of my chair so much that it was clear that I wasn't glued to it!

The community rallied behind me.  If I needed help wheeling around, they pushed and lifted my chair.  If I was thirsty, anyone who was standing closest to me would feed me.  If I had to walk up or down stairs, two people would each grab an arm to help me walk.  The best part was that all this was done without a fuss.  I never felt like I was a burden or pitied.  The help I received was a natural result of being part of the community.  When I told Zeina, the youth group leader, how surprised I was about my acceptance into
the community, she simply said, "you are our sister."

After my concerns about disability awareness were laid to rest, my thoughts quickly turned to community building. I  wondered how our group would bond with each other and with our Cuban hosts.  How would American teenagers relate to their Cuban peers?   Would we always be the "Americans"?

This trip was like a huge community building experiment.  Twelve people who hardly knew one another were thrown together to travel in a country that is being boycotted by the United States for over a week.  Despite the differences in our ages and backgrounds, we learned to work together.  Like a family, we stuck together during many trials.  We also laughed and celebrated together.  Our small community was built as a result of overcoming the great odds of making our way to Cuba. 

A slightly subtler dynamic united our group with the Cubans.  The trip had a lot of structured time. We taught Hebrew to the same groups of Cubans for four days.  We shared meals.  We went to beaches and on other excursions together.  Everyday that passed seemed to take down barriers between "us" and "them."   The activities provided a way for people to get to know each other which led to community building.  By the end of our visit, both groups had bonded.  Lifelong friendships were made. 

I was also interested to find out how individuals who were never allowed to practice Judaism, united to form a community in only a few short years.  I began by observing the community.  I was struck by their racial diversity.  Their ancestors came from all over the globe.  Is it this diversity that strengthens the community?   I think that many of the elements of community that Rabbi Kelman talked about on Kol Nidre are at work in Santiago.  They study, pray, eat, take care of their elderly and sick, bury their dead, educate their children and celebrate Simchas as a community.   These activities unite them.  Being Jewish creates the force that energizes their connections. 

During the time I was in Santiago, I was caught up in the closeness of the community.  I taught.  I listened to people read Hebrew from the Siddur.  I sang Debbie Friedman's Alef Bet Song more times than I care to remember!  I corrected English and taught new words.  I also assisted our American kids when they were teaching.  (It took a lot of courage for these teens to teach people who could be their parents or even grandparents.)  The community is so thirsty for knowledge that they suck in every ounce they can.  Many people learned the Alef-Bet in only two days!  Seeing how much I gave back to the people who were giving me so much was very rewarding. 

I also learned.  I practiced speaking Spanish.  I had forgotten so much since high school.  The Cubans taught me many Ladino customs and tunes.  I learned about people and was reminded that life can be full of joy.  I learned that a strong Jewish community has the potential and power to overcome great odds.  I hope to bring this lesson to the community of Netivot Shalom. 

However, the most important lesson I learned was a personal one.  Everyone who went to Cuba had our own personal reasons for taking this journey.  I went to heal.   After I cancelled my wedding and ended a six-year
relationship, people told me I should get away.  I felt strongly that to heal, I needed to be in a Jewish environment.  In Santiago de Cuba, I found myself.  I found community.  I am strengthened and forever changed by my experiences there.