While in Cuba, explore revolutionary Che Guevara’s life during the 50th anniversary of his death,
Attractions provide fractured, human look at one of past’s most controversial figures
SANTA CLARA, CUBA— When Che Guevara liberated Santa Clara from the regime of Cuban president Fulgencio Batista in 1958, it marked the end of a political era — and the beginning of lineups at what has become the city’s star tourist attraction.
It’s almost impossible to tour Cuba without seeing Guevara’s face on billboards and T-shirts. As this year marks the 50th anniversary of his death, he lives on conspicuously in the city that’s home to several looming historical landmarks celebrating the revolutionary and pop icon.
The Museo Historico de la Revolucion and the Mausoleo del Che Guevara (the museum and mausoleum) are must-sees during a visit to Santa Clara, located in Cuba’s geographical centre.
Guevara led a handful of young fighters to victory over Batista troops travelling by rail. In the Battle of Santa Clara, against overwhelming odds, they derailed the train — and consequently, the dictatorship. Batista fled Cuba days later, Fidel Castro took over and Guevara became a government minister and a potent figurehead.
Guevara was shot dead in 1967 while trying to spark a revolution in Bolivia. His remains, along with those of other guerrillas found in the same unmarked grave as his body in 1995, were moved to Cuba in 1997 and are entombed in the mausoleum. Cameras or recording devices aren’t allowed inside the sombre and respectfully lit space.
The museum celebrates his life, from his boyhood as “Ernesto” in Argentina to his vibrant days as “Che” the guerrilla fighter.
Having been shushed by smartly dressed attendants in the mausoleum when raising our voices to speak, we were swiftly trained to discuss artifacts in low whispers, which seemed to echo the haunting vibe.
Guevara’s brown saddle, which looked achingly small, his white phy- sician’s coat, his black beret with the golden star and his incomplete chess set are among the wide and varied collection of items that form a picture of his life.
Even so, the museum has the haphazardness of a living, breathing man. It speaks in terse snippets of Spanish, and occasionally English, in the text alongside photographs and artifacts that offer little or no explanations.
As I bend over the glass enclosure that housed a carving of Guevara’s head on a peach pit the size of a marble, I wondered, who did this, where, why and how — lovingly, I supposed.
“Hey, Che, can you move your head a bit to the left, I’m doing another peach pit portrait.”
There was a vintage Zippy Zither lying on its side, a stringed musical instrument that, who knows, guerrillas carried with them in the jungles for lulling in between harsh bouts of warfare.
The Guevara that emerges is oddly more fractured and human than the famous image ( Guerrillero Heroico) that Cuban photographer Alberto Korda snapped in 1960, before Irish graphic artist Jim Fitzpatrick rendered it into what has been replicated worldwide as a symbol of nonconformity and rebellion.
These days, most of us view Guevara through the lens of pop culture, a term that has itself become musty as time relentlessly ticks on. When leaving the museum, you tumble into sunlight that bathes the grounds and the monument of Guevara rising into the sky, which is emblazoned with the slogan, “hasta la victoria siempre” (ever onward to victory).
As tourists take photos of their friends, family and selves outside, posing beneath the giant Guevara statue and sharing the shots on social media, they are perpetuating the seemingly endless consideration of one of history’s most controversial figures — a victory, of sorts, that Guevara could never have seen coming. Mike Fisher was hosted by Memories Resorts & Spa, which didn’t review or approve this story.