Americans are among foreigners learning medicine in Castro's Cuba

Americans are among foreigners learning medicine in Castro's Cuba
By Marc Lacey
Thursday, December 7, 2006
HAVANA

Anatomy is a part of medical education everywhere. Biochemistry, too.
But a course in Cuban history?

Students at the Latin American School of Medical Sciences, on a
sprawling former naval base on the outskirts of this capital, are
learning medicine Cuban style. That means poking at cadavers, peering
into aging microscopes as well discussing the revolution that brought
Fidel Castro to power 50 years ago.

Cuban-trained doctors must be able to diagnose an ulcer, treat
hypertension and also expound on the principles put forward by el
commandante.

It was Fidel himself who in the late 1990s came up with the idea for
this school, which trains doctors from throughout the Americas, not just
in the ABCs of medicine but in the need for health care for the
struggling masses.

The Cuban government offered full scholarships to poor students from
throughout the region, and many, including 90 or so from the United
States, have jumped at the chance of a free medical education, even with
a bit of socialist theory thrown in. "They are completing the dreams of
our commandante," said the dean, Dr. Juan Carrizo Estévez. "As he said,
they are true missionaries, true apostles of health."

It is a strong personal desire to practice medicine that drives the
students here, more than any affinity for Castro. The Americans in the
program particularly insist that they want to be doctors, not
politicians when they graduate. They recoil at the notion that they are
propaganda tools for Havana, as critics suggest. "They ask no one to be
political," said Jamar Williams, 27, of Brooklyn, who is a graduate of
the State University of New York at Albany. "It's your choice. Many
students decide to be political. They go to rallies and read political
books. But you can lie low."

Still, Cuban authorities are eager to show off this exporter of Cuban
doctor- philosophers as a sign of the country's compassion and clout in
the world. The sympathetic portrayal of Castro, whom the United States
government tars as a dictator who suppresses his people, is sinking in
among some students.

"In my country, many see Fidel Castro as a bad leader," said Rolando
Bonilla, 23, a Panamanian who is in his second year of the six-year
program. "My view has changed. I now know what he represents for this
country. I identify with him."

Fatima Flores, 20, was already an activist in Mexico who sympathized
with Cuba's socialist government when she was accepted to the program.

"When we become doctors, we can spread his influence," she said of
Castro. "Medicine is not just something scientific. It's a way of
serving the public. Look at Che."

Che Guevara was a medical doctor before he became a revolutionary, one
who fought alongside Fidel in the rugged reaches of eastern Cuba half a
century ago and then was killed by government forces in Bolivia while
further spreading the cause.

Tahirah Benyard, 27, a first-year student from Newark, New Jersey, said
it was Cuba's offer to send doctors to New Orleans after Hurricane
Katrina, which was firmly rejected by the Bush administration, that
prompted her to take a look at medical education in Cuba.

"I saw my people dying," she said. "They was no one willing to help. The
government was saying everything is going to be fine."

Benyard said she was rejected from several American medical schools but
could not have afforded the high costs anyway. Like other American
students, she was screened for the Cuba program by Pastors for Peace, a
New York organization opposed to Washington's trade embargo against the
island.

Benyard hopes one day, after completing her studies and taking the
required licensing exams, to practice in poor neighborhoods back home.
Whether her education, which is decidedly low tech, is up to American
standards remains to be seen, although the first American student to
graduate last year did pass his medical boards in the United States.
Reached in California, he declined to say whether he had found a
residency willing to take him in.

If she makes it, Benyard will become one of a small pool of
African-American doctors. Only about six percent of practicing
physicians are members of ethnic minority groups, says the Association
of American Medical Colleges, which recently launched its own program to
boost the ranks of minority medical students.

Even before they were accepted in Cuba's program, most of the Americans
had misgivings about the health care system in their own country. There
is too much of a focus on the bottom line, they contend, and not enough
compassion for the poor.

"Democracy is a great principle," said Williams, who wears long
dreadlocks pulled back behind his head. "The idea that people can speak
for themselves and govern themselves is a great concept. But people must
be educated, and in order to be educated, people need health."

The education the students are receiving here extends outside of the
classroom. "I've learned to become a minimalist," Williams said. "I
don't necessarily need my iPod, all my gadgets and gismos, to survive."

He also does not need countless food options. In Cuba, the menu can be
described as rice and beans, and then more rice and beans.

"The food was a problem for me," acknowledged Benyard, a graduate of
Howard University in Washington. "In the U.S. we have these big plates
and we eat, eat, eat. Here, I lost a lot of weight."

Living conditions are more rugged in other respects, as well. The
electricity goes out with regularity. Internet access is limited. Toilet
paper and soap are rationed. Sometimes the taps are dry. Then there is
the issue of personal space.

"Being in a room with 18 girls, it teaches you patience," said Benyard,
who was used to her one-bedroom apartment back home and described her
current living conditions as like a military barracks.

Other students cite the American government's embargo as their biggest
frustration. The "blockade," which is what the Cuban government and many
of the American students call it, means no care packages, no visits from
Mom and Dad, and the threat that the United States government might
someday sanction them.

Last year, Washington did order the students home but the decision was
later reversed after the Congressional Black Caucus, which supports the
program, erupted in protest.

One topic that does not come up in classes is the specific ailment that
put Castro in the hospital, forced him to cede power to his brother Raúl
and has kept him out of the public eye ever since late July. His
diagnosis, like so much else in Cuba, is a state secret, unknown to
Cubans and visitors alike.

http://www.iht.com/articles/2006/12/07/news/journal.php