Nose to Nose with Fidel Castro

Aug. 13, 2006 — -- As I stared into Fidel Castro's bloodshot eyes, his right hand on my shoulder for support, his face just a few inches from mine, I thought, "He is going to work himself to death within five years."

It wasn't that the Cuban president was in poor health for 75 years of age. Quite the contrary: He had just spoken to a meeting of area economists from 9 p.m the previous evening to 3 a.m. on Sept. 21, 2002. Then, he had chatted a few hours with the left-leaning participants, posing for photos, talking earnestly, joking.

Fidel emerged into the hallway of Havana's convention center still on his feet as dawn broke. He was disheveled, exhausted, his gray hair going every which way.

"If he pushes the envelope every day like this, how long can a man his age last, even if he is Fidel Castro," went through my mind.

It's been almost five years. Castro marked his 80th birthday Sunday, recovering from an operation for abdominal bleeding caused by overwork that nearly accomplished what his foes have desperately tried to do for close to half a century.

A message and four photos in the paper assured Cubans he was alive, the first visual proof since his hand-over of power to brother, Raul Castro, two weeks ago.

Five years ago, a few of us had hung around for nine hours in hopes of that rare chance of talking with the legendary figure.

"The hurricane, are you going," a colleague shouted, capturing his attention as he walked away.

Hurricane Isidore swirled across Cuba's sparsely populated western tip 100 miles to the west.

Castro wearily turned and walked over to let us know he was indeed on his way at that very moment.

"And the other hurricane," I shouted.

He turned my way and asked, "What other hurricane?"

Hundreds of Americans were expected the next week in Havana for an agricultural trade show, the first such event since the 1959 revolution. U.S. food sales to Cuba for cash had just begun under an exception to the trade embargo.

"The Americans, they are coming next week," I said.

Castro hit my soft-ball question out of the park, sauntering over, placing his lanky hand on my shoulder, his twinkling and curious pupils peering out from the pink of his eyes.

We chatted for 40 minutes about the event -- but to be honest, I remember little of what was said.

"I am very happy they are coming," said Castro, still lucid enough to adopt a diplomatic tone. "We have dealt with many of them, and they are really people who leave a good impression.

"They are excellent and educated people," he said of talks with executives from agribusiness giants such as Archer Daniels Midland and Cargill, or the powerful U.S. wheat and rice organizations. "They have been respectful, and I have not seen arrogance in any of them."

I kept thinking about how old and tired the "invincible" bearded one looked and the damage he had just inflicted upon himself and was certainly inflicting every day. What drove this man to work so much -- power, ideology, ego, love of country and humanity, a chemical imbalance?

"The Cuban leader is a proud man who no doubt wants to die with his boots on, fighting for the cause," I thought.

Then Castro was off, surrounded by his men -- like him, in olive green military garb -- to the hurricane, and we reporters to bed.

How much longer Castro lives, a few weeks, months or years, will no doubt depend on how hard he works in the future, as his condition, though not in itself fatal, could flare-up again if he is not careful, officials have said.

"Fidel will slow down," Castro supporter Eddi Machin said. "After all, he quit smoking just like that and always put the country first."

Castro confidante and National Assembly President Ricardo Alarcon has repeatedly said over the last week that Castro is having a hard time putting the country and world out of mind, and that slowing down is the hardest thing Castro has ever done.