The government does not, however, miss opportunities to promote a Marxist interpretation of the island's past. Signs describing Morro Castle, a 17th century fortress in Santiago Bay and now a pirate museum, link piracy with present-day imperialism, which, they claim, is more pervasive and insidious. In addition to the rhetoric, the government offers financial incentives, such as the promise of a new car, to encourage Cubans to participate in revolutions in Nicarauga and Africa.

Even an eleven year old asked about her political beliefs will say she is a "marxista." Yet it is doubtful this enthusiastic patriotism would continue if the government were not significantly improving most people's lives.

But these improvements have sometimes been detrimental to what most Americans would consider inviolable political liberties. When the revolution took a turn to the left in the early sixties, the government changed the motto on the Cuban centavo from "Country of Liberty" to "Country or Death." Certainly, Cubans have lost at least several liberties; the freedom to travel to non-socialist countries, for example. This restriction was implemented in part for ideological effect, but mainly for the more practical reason that it is impossible to exchange Cuban currency in the West. The government also prohibits emigration of citizens who are of military age.

Although the government is officially opposed to religion and has dismantled the Catholic school system, it leaves the decision to the individual, and many churches remain open. Paintings of the madonna and crosses decorates many homes, but these are generally the heirlooms of pre-revolutionary generations. Most young people are atheists, a requirement for communist party membership. In addition, anyone who aspires to join a communist popular organization must show the "proper ideological development."

A heavyset black woman who did piecework and was barely able to survive financially under the Batista regime, does not suffer for lack of some freedoms. Today she is a singer in a cultural group, secretary of the union where she works, and a member of the Federation for Cuban Women. With the availability of day care and a guaranteed job, she says the Cuban women have more "liberty" than ever before.

Committees for the Defense of the Revolution (CDRs) are the primary grassrooots organizations; there is one on each block of every Cuban city, town or village. Each block elects a steering committee of 11 that is responsible for maintaining public health and combatting educational truancy. The committees also are charged with a vague responsibility known as "vigilance," a system, critics say, that leads to neighbor spying upon neighbor.

And yet, ironically, a woman who was a steering committee member of her CDR spoke vehemently against the Castro regime, saying that if it were not for her elderly mother she would prefer to leave. Although she lowered her voice when criticizing Castro, she apparently was not afraid to complain to a complete stranger who had wandered into her home accidently after seeing a CDR insignia on her door.

A woman sitting next to me by a pool at a Santiago hotel one day was an American --a Marxist-Leninist, she called herself. I asked her to watch my belongings while I went swimming. "Cubans don't steal," she said angrily, disgusted by my request.

Castro is less optimistic about the ability of any revolution to create a "new socialist man." He is also more of a realist. Publicly he has acknowledged the difficulty involved in supplanting old attitudes, which he calls "hangovers form the capitalist value system." Even though the revolution has managed to change the foundation of society from one of competition to cooperation, stealing from the government at the expense of fellow workers persists.

In a speech to the Cuban congress last July, Castro said that some Cuban workers, particularly in the service industries where performance is difficult to evaluate, have responded to the lack of immediate material incentives by simply goofing off: waitresses shuffle their feet while customers wait, and bus drivers omit stops. Despite the fact that some continue to exploit the system, Cubans are proud that they have "reclaimed their country" from the American interests that have dominated the region since 1898. Today Havana is a Cuban city. Havana in the fifties was an American sailor's brothel; a friend who was in the marines at that time told me that he and his friends considered Havana "one long chain of wild nights." Lest Cubans forget, a reminder is kept in the museum at the Moncada garrison, where the revolution lost its first men. It is a photograph of a drunken American sailor urinating on the statue of Jose Marti, Cuba's most revered hero.

But at what price has Cuba been reclaimed for Cubans? Every day Cuba receives nearly two million dollars in aid from the Soviet Union, which supplies the country with oil at half the world market price. Although Cuban society has been transformed internally, Cuba is still dependent on a foreign power. In fact, what has not often been mentioned in the recent furor over the presence of Soviet troops is that Cuba actually has forces of both superpowers on its territory: the U.S. continues to operate a naval base at Guantanamo. The native strength of the Cuban people and their achievements in only two decades seem to offer hope that this small island of 10 million will eventually be able to free itself from the role of shuttlecock in a super-powered game of badminton.