Sunrise over the Marea del Portillo bay – one of my all-time favorite photos! I took it from the resort beach after a very minor earthquake in 2009.

By Jenny Cressman

HAVANA TIMES – I have friends who like to “watch for signs.” I’m not talking about street signs, of course. These folks are seeking direction from the spiritual realm – God, a celestial being, the universe or whatever. I’ve never really done that. However, sometimes “a sign” is so blatant, even sceptical sorts like me can’t help but say, “Um, well, okay then.”

That’s exactly what happened during my second trip to Cuba in 2009. In my last diary column, I alluded to a life-changing experience after I ended up at Marea del Portillo by fluke. In retrospect, one could say that the stars aligned and led me there. That was just the first act.

During my October 2009 visit, I had a bit of a shake-up. A few other people did too, including my pal Wendy, who was well versed in many types of spiritual matters and beliefs. Afterward, she and I walked on the beach at dawn, talking about what happened. From her learned perspective, it was a sign. I had to agree.

A pasture extends behind the Marea del Portillo resort and, in the distance, the Sierra Maestra mountains define the horizon.

Earlier in the day, Wendy and I had been talking with a dynamic and energetic local guy about the community surrounding the modest resort where we were staying. That night, I had trouble sleeping because I kept thinking about how I could work with him to create opportunities that had the potential to support the people in that impoverished part of the Granma province.

Here’s an excerpt of what I wrote about this experience not too long after it happened:

…Ideas about possible projects were rambling through my mind in the wee hours of the morning when, all of a sudden, there was a boom, followed by a rumble. Then the bed shook as if it was possessed by a “Magic Fingers” massage device on steroids. Seconds passed. I was now wide awake, so I went out on my balcony to see what I could see.

I saw Wendy on her balcony. (We had second-floor cabaña rooms beside each other.) We didn’t see a mushroom cloud or any type of smoke, so we concluded there had not been an explosion. It must have been an earthquake, we decided, but wondered if there would be a subsequent tsunami… We were fairly certain there would be no tsunami, since none of the local animals seemed at all alarmed. They were not heading for high ground; they were just going about their normal morning routines.

A resident hog hiked toward home, checking the odd garbage can on her way. A frisky filly frolicked. Goats, birds and lizards were doing their usual things. The resort staff was stirring. Wendy and I strolled along the beach and admired the rising sun… I told her what I’d been thinking about when the earth shook.

Most people at the resort that week slept right through the teeny-tiny earthquake – a mere “coffee stirrer,” as a friend from Santiago de Cuba later called it. To me, though, it certainly seemed to be a message from the universe that I should pursue what I’d been pondering when the tectonic plates shifted. I definitely hadn’t been looking for a sign! But, when one smacks you on the nose, shakes your bed and rattles your head, you probably shouldn’t ignore it. So, I didn’t.

A friend snapped this shot of me briefly driving a Cuban buggy. She later teased that “Jenny was getting back to her Mennonite roots!”

I started leading groups to Cuba and, with the help of my clients, taking suitcases full of gifts – mainly clothing, small household items and bikes. I began learning about the country and visiting as often as I could, which was usually 2-3 times a year. After my groups went home, I would stay and distribute clothes to people in locations that did not usually benefit from contact with tourists.

I felt very at home there, partly because it was not an urban area. I’d grown up in the countryside and I always feel more comfortable when surrounded by nature. The sense of community I experienced there also reminded me of my Mennonite upbringing; where I grew up, people took care of each other and helped their neighbors. That’s what I witnessed in rural Granma during those early years.

Perhaps I also felt at home for another reason. I used to joke that I must have lived in Cuba in another life. But, people like my friend Wendy didn’t see it as a joke. I’ve gradually come to believe that reincarnation is possible. Did I once live in Cuba? Maybe. There’s no definitive way to know for sure.

The sun sets beyond the Farallón del Caribe, one of two hotels at the only all-inclusive resort in the Granma province. This photo was taken from the beach of the Marea del Portillo village, on the east side of the horseshoe bay.

However, just as Cuba has imbued my writing for the last decade and a half, the concept of reincarnation has also seeped into many things I’ve written. My most recent book is a collection of short stories that are linked by reincarnation. Loosely based on Cuban history, Kat of Nine blends fact and fiction in a way that I think is unique. Although the stories themselves are fictional, each one is introduced with a factual summary of what was going on in Cuba at that time, based on my research.

What do you think about reincarnation? Does the belief make sense to you? You’re welcome to let me know in the comments!

[Watch for my next column here in about two weeks. If you like my writing, you may also enjoy reading my latest book, Kat of Nine / Kat de Nueve. All text is in both English and Spanish. You can find it on Amazon or at a few locations in Muskoka, where I live.]

Read more from the diary of Jenny Cressman here on Havana Times.