Havana/While on holiday in Cuba, Dutch photographer Karel Poort began taking photos of a demonstration outside his hotel, unaware that they would later become some of the most iconic images of the Maleconazo, the first major anti-government protest since 1959, which celebrates its 30th anniversary this Monday.
In his first interview on these events, given to EFE, Poort recalls the frantic minutes when he ran out of his room, with his Nikon F301 in hand, after hearing a commotion in the street. It was the afternoon of August 5, 1994, on the central street of Galiano.
“I was in the shower and heard people shouting and ringing their bike bells in the street. I immediately grabbed my camera, some extra film and ran down the stairs,” says the 78-year-old photographer.
“I was in the shower and heard people screaming and ringing their bike bells on the street”
The tumult led him to the Deauville Hotel, about 400 meters from his own and right in front of the Havana Malecón. There, as he recalls, people were shouting at the top of their lungs: “Cuba yes, Castro no!” and “Freedom!”
Poort, who was then working as a freelance photographer and sound engineer for Dutch television, was unaware of it, but the outburst was the result of weeks of tension.
On July 13, the tugboat ’13 de marzo’ sank after its occupants stole it to emigrate to the United States. Thirty-seven people died.
According to Poort, people were shouting at the top of their lungs: “Cuba yes, Castro no!” and “Freedom!”
/ Charles Gate
Survivors blamed the coastguard for ramming them, while the Cuban government claimed it was an accident.
In 1994, the island was in the midst of the Special Period, the economic crisis that hit the country hard after the disappearance of the Soviet Union and the fall of the socialist bloc in Europe.
The rumour of a large exodus of people towards the North American coasts led the authorities to establish a maritime blockade off the Cuban capital.
Angry Cubans demonstrated in numbers not seen since the triumph of Fidel Castro’s revolution.
Angry, Cubans demonstrated in numbers not seen since the triumph of Fidel Castro’s revolution
When the Dutchman arrived at the hotel opposite the Malecón, a Cuban approached him and said: “Keep taking photos and show the disaster that exists here in your country.”
“While this was happening, a group of plainclothes police officers arrived at the Deauville and started shooting wildly,” he recalls.
Among the thirty photos that Poort gave to EFE, several can be seen of a man, wearing dark glasses, a white shirt and khaki pants, with a handgun in his hand.
In one of them he is in front of the hotel, pointing upwards; in another he is pointing directly towards Poort, and in still others he is seen running towards where the protesters were.
The rumor of a large exodus of people to the North American coasts led the authorities to establish a maritime blockade
/ Charles Gate
Half an hour after those events, a patrol car stopped behind the photographer: “Three police officers ordered me to hand over the rolls of film and the camera. They grabbed me and, miraculously, I managed to get away and ran as fast as I could to my hotel (…) I was able to take more photos from the window of my room,” he adds.
The next day, he captured a piece of paper with the words “Long Live Free Cuba” on the pavement of the half-empty street.
A week later, then-President Fidel Castro ordered that Cubans be allowed to leave by sea. This led to the so-called raft crisis: more than 30,000 left in makeshift boats for the US.
Accustomed to protests in the West, the Dutchman was not aware of the magnitude of what he saw until he heard an explanation from a Cuban.
“While this was happening, a group of plainclothes police officers arrived at Deauville and started shooting wildly.”
When the protests broke out, Poort was in the second week of his first vacation in Cuba. He visited the island nine more times until 2002.
Years later, she shared some of her photos on social media. She doesn’t have them printed in a special place in her house. She prefers to remember what happened as an anecdote of a historic moment that, by chance, she was able to capture even before many international media outlets that were on the island.
“I was the only one there. There were no cell phones back then. That’s why those photos are so special,” he says.
When the Dutchman arrived at the hotel in front of the Malecón, a Cuban approached him and said: “Keep taking photos and show in your country the disaster that there is here.”
/ Charles Gate
