Courtesy of Brothers to Rescue
On July 13, 1994, an incident caused by the Cuban regime occurred in front of the Cuban coast, and became known the world over as the MASSACRE OF TUGBOAT “13 DE MARZO” That day, seventy-two men, women and children boarded this small boat with the sole intention of escaping to the United States. The boat was pursued by the Castro coast guard for about 45 minutes. It was then that the Cuban government began to charge the boat, with the defenseless refugees onboard, causing its fateful sinking. The vivid testimony of a mother who survived the tragedy, María Victoria García Suárez, is recounted below. On that day, Maria Victoria lost her husband, her 10 year old son, her brother, three uncles and two cousins. Her heart wrenching testimony reveals what it happened to her small child once they fell into the water.
María Victoria García Suárez. 30 years of age. Mother who survived but lost her son in Massacre of Tugboat 13 de Marzo.
I confess that although we live together, I find it very embarrassing to speak with my daughter regarding this matter. And is not because she refuses to speak about it, but that we both experience and share feelings of deep pain that make it difficult to talk about it freely.
She describes with exactitude the tragic moments lived that day and manages to make me feel like a protagonist of that event. In the end we both finished emotionally worn.
This is the second time I interview her since that fateful day. And each time she recounts the same story, to ensure that there are no doubts regarding the veracity of her narration. Now she adds more richness to her account.
Malli, as she is called at home, does not know hatred nor violence. Her childhood has taken place in an atmosphere of love and understanding. Precisely because of the lack of negativity in her being, the impact of this bitter experience is multiplied and it opens an enormous abyss of pain in her heart.
This stirring story took place one afternoon in a room of my two-bedroom house. Also, present that day were my son Jorge Felix and my nephew Iván.
“With our belongings over our shoulders we took the bus. In my group were: Juan Mario my son, Ernesto my husband, Joel my brother, Eddy and Estrella my aunt and uncle, Eliecer and Omar my cousins, Maria María Miralis and Xicdy the wife and daughter of Omar. In addition, Armando Morales Piloto a friend of Eddy, Julia Caridad and his son Angel René, and Yaltamira with Jose Carlos; Espiga also came along. Already inside the bus were Lazaro Borges (Felo) the driver and a cousin of my father, his wife Lisset and her daughter Giselle, and Guillermo his uncle. We left uncertain of where we were heading.
Ten or fifteen minutes later, we stopped. I thought about the police and I pulled the curtain to one side of the window to be able to see out. We were in the rotunda of Cojimar picking up another group. They were many. After greeting each other, we proceeded.
I let the curtain open to look about. We were traveling by the Vía Blanca on route to Havana towards the Paso Superior. When we arrived at the Vía Blanca & Fábrica traffic light, instead of turning right towards the port, we continued straight ahead and entered la Benéfica.
In the parking lot the engine cut off as if waiting for someone that hadn’t arrived; I realized that we were just killing time. Felo had Radio Reloj on the loudspeaker.
We did not delay for long, and started on our way immediately. Two policemen greeted us when we exited. We rode along patrols until we were in front of the cement factory. There, we turned at Anillo and soon arrived at the point. The wharf was a little beyond the plant of Tallapiedra, in the front sidewalk.
I woke up the boy who was asleep and we got off. Some had forgotten and left their knapsack on the floor. I gathered it and I gave it to them later. Felo put the bus on the ramp; he locked it and left the keys in the ignition.
We entered the tugboat, one after another without making any noise. A man guided us saying: Hold on carefully. Be careful not to slip. Stay clear of the motor. By the right or by the left. Get close to the walls near the hull.
With the child at my side, I could not provide answers to quell his restlessness. I told him we were going camping and now the reality before him was another. For this reason he keeps asking: Mom, where are we going?
And I would repeat to him: On a trip… on a trip, then he looked sideways and he said shis, shis, as if frying eggs. He is not satisfied, complains and repeats: darn… listen to me…
When they asked me to I went above deck, while my husband protested. Down, he said, and he tried to hold on to me, but I said to him: follow me and he didn’t do it. With me were other mothers with their children, they were only a few of us there.
I situated myself near the stern underneath a tarp that served as ceiling and we held onto a wooden mast that had a bell above it. I put my son in an enclosure near the base of the mast. We were sailing for awhile when my son looking back asked me: Mom, what is that light? Then I looked back and realized that another boat was following us. Yes my son, it is another boat, I said to him while keeping my sight fixed in that direction.
My boy kept insisting. He shook his small hands and his eyes appeared to bulge out: Mom, mom, it’s getting closer…!
Someone up front warned us that we were being pursued, and I felt that we were going faster but our pursuers were gaining on us. They started to spray us with pressure hoses which pushed hard against our sides. I tried to shield my son with my body. I heard the shouts of a terrified woman: My son…, my son…! It appeared that the water pressure tore the child from her arms.
We were there where the Galleon berths. People in the Malecón saw everything. It could not see well in front, because the lights they shown blinded us.
They aimed the pressure hose sprays at me and left me almost naked. They felt like nails sinking into my back and thighs; but the boy although he was soaked, was not harmed. I rotated from side to side, acting as his shield. Poor thing, tight against my chest he would say to me faintly: Oh mommy, what is this…? Dear God save us…! To encourage him I would tell him not to be scared; to hold on just a little… that the bad part would soon be over. But on and on the jets sprayed us with blows.
Those near me fled from the attacks, some were brutally hurled against the iron and wood. I was left alone with my son holding onto the wooden mast; I feared moving and being thrown too. I did not have any other choice but to wait until they got tired or they killed us.
I was with my back to the stern, and the boy warned me: Watch out mom, they’re coming on top of us! I tried protecting myself by squeezing myself and the boy against the mast. It looked as if a shark was coming to swallow us. It mounted the tugboat splitting the stern and reached us. It almost pinned me against the mast. The child screamed and trembled and tearfully cried out: We surrender, we surrender…
Another man called out: Jabao. Jabao, leave us already… can’t you see there are women and children…
And the assassin mockingly replied: Wasn’t that what you all wanted? There you have it, now figure it out however you can or else die!
Our boat sank and I was desperate and unsure of what to do. I grabbed the child and I carried him. Poor thing, he prayed, and was horrified. He would bite his nails as if he sensed something terrible.
The water began to rise, or rather, we began to sink. I told the child: Papi, leave the enclosure and climb on top of me. Now put your legs around my waist and hold on to my neck with your arms… hold on tight and don’t let go of me… take in enough air and keep your mouth closed. All this I said in the middle of a situation that was worsening, and he listened to me.
- Yes mom, were the last words he said in a low voice barely audible. Little by little we kept sinking until the sea almost swallowed us completely. I do not know when I went down or how I came up. I didn’t know if I died or if I was reborn. I moved my legs rapidly and we floated up twice. The child continued to hold on as if asleep. Then I called to him: Joanmi, Joanmi, but he did not respond. He has lost his strength because of all the water he swallowed; it was as if he fainted.
I stayed afloat moving my legs rapidly. I looked around and held onto a bulk floating by; it seemed like a raft, but it was Rosa already dead. I recalled her shouts of desperation during the attacks. I held onto her, calling out for help; I feared losing time and that my boy would die. There were others whose heads were all that could be seen, and who also shouted out. And those boats that sank us, they kept circling us creating whirlpools, I couldn’t hang on this way for much longer. Then I discovered a box floating nearby with a group of people on top of it. I tried to reach it with the child at all costs, and pushed Rosa aside. I got close enough to reach an outstretched arm. Some reached their arms out to me to shorten the distance; but when I let go of Rosa to grab hold of the people, I did it with such force and desperation that all of them fell on top of me. Because of them and those who were grabbing my legs from behind to stay afloat and save themselves, the child broke loose and drifted away from me. I screamed in desperation: Get the child for me, help, he’ll drown! , but nothing, everything was useless. It lost him before my very eyes, and saddest part was, he didn’t have the strength to swim alone, having already swallowed so much water.
Next to others, I remained on the edge of the box. The tugboats backed off when someone tried to reach them asking for help. Finally some coast guard boats threw life-savers tied with lines.
Author’s Note:
Of the people who made up Maria Victoria’s group, only two were saved: two cousins, she and Armando Morales Piloto. All the others perished.
The Cuban government did not make any attempt to rescue the sinking boat; neither did they give the corpses of the victims to their relatives. They did not have the political will to conduct a judicial process to condemn the guilty. Those guilty of this crime continue to roam the streets of Cuba with impunity.
The Victims of the sinking of the Tugboat “13 de Marzo” – July 13, 1994
1. Hellen Martínez Enríquez (5 meses) 2. Xicdy Rodríguez Fernández (2 años)
3. Angel René Abreu Ruiz (3 años) 4. José Carlos Nicle Anaya (3 años)
5. Giselle Borges Alvarez (4 años) 6. Caridad Leyva Tacoronte (5 años)
7. Juan Mario Gutiérrez García (10 años) 8. Yasser Perodín Almanza (11 años)
9. Yousell Eugenio Pérez Tacoronte (11 años) 10. Eliecer Suárez Plasencia (12 años)
11. Mayulis Menéndez Tacoronte (17 años) 12. Miladys Sanabria Cabrera (19 años)
13. Joel García Suárez (20 años) 14. Odalys Muñoz García (21 años)
15. Yaltamira Anaya Carrasco (22 años) 16. Yuliana Enríquez Carrazana (22 años)
17. Lissett María Alvarez Guerra (24 años) 18. Jorge Gregorio Balmaseda Castillo (24 años)
19. Ernesto Alfonso Loureiro (25 años) 20. María Miralis Fernández Rodríguez (27 años)
21. Jorge Arquímedes Levrígido Flores (28 años) 22. Leonardo Notario Góngora (28 años)
23. Pilar Almanza Romero (31 años) 24. Rigoberto Feu González (31 años)
25. Omar Rodríguez Suárez (33 años) 26. Lázaro Enrique Borges Briel (34 años)
27. Martha Caridad Tacoronte Vega (35 años) 28. Julia Caridad Ruiz Blanco (35 años)
29. Eduardo Suárez Esquivel (38 años) 30- Martha M.Carrasco Sanabria - 45 años
31. Augusto Guillermo Guerra Martínez (45 años) 32. Rosa María Alcal de Puig (47 años)
33. Estrella Suárez Esquivel (48 años) 34. Reynaldo Joaquín Marrero Alamo (48 años)
35. Amado González Raíces (50 años) 36. Fidencio Ramel Prieto Hernández (51 años)
37. Manuel Cayol (50 años)
