The middle-aged man lowered his voice and leaned in toward us. We were at a paladar, a family-run backyard restaurant in a large Cuban city on a warm evening this winter. Beefy security agents at the next table had turned several times to stare at us.
“I have been traveling all over Cuba in the last few years to get supplies for the tool shop which I run. And no matter where I go, everyone is talking about ‘control.’
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