Whenever I see this image of my friends Julio and Marķa, I think about the music hall song. The story behind my emotion is a long one, sometimes sad because of separations, but often with bright memories of happy family life. At the time I snapped the shot, they had been together for about thirty years, and their two daughters had emigrated since a couple of years, but they were still being held back by Cuban bureaucracy.
The pretext for the violation of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, article 13 (2) "Everyone has the right to leave any country, including his own, and to return to his country." is that the government gave them "free" education and shall have the right to reap the fruits thereof. They were still held back, although they had worked for more than 25 years each in Cuban hospitals. They are both medical professionals. He is a senior surgeon, proctologist, and she's a stomatologist.
A couple of years later, they finally got their permit to leave, and had to turn in all their possessions to the government before leaving. Their house had already been permuted to relatives, but the old dilapidated Lada that took us to the beach that day became state property. When Cubans migrate to a foreign land, all they are allowed to take with them is the clothes they are wearing. And they won't be allowed back.
Julio and Marķa, my wife and I, went to the beach in Siboney that day in Julio's Lada. It was a moderately hot day, about 28 degrees centigrade (82°F) in the air as well as in the water, a bit hot to my taste. I lay resting the shadow of a tree in a hammock, together with my wife, and Julio took up his camera to snap a few pictures. I hadn't brought any camera, but Julio wanted me to take a picture of them two, so he gave me his camera - it's a Nikon Coolpix 775, a p&s from 2001, 2 megapixel. The best camera always is the one you have with you to take the picture.
I took up the camera, pointed it at Julio, and Marķa came up behind him, leaned over him and laid her arms over his shoulders, and on the little stamp-sized screen, I zoomed them in and saw what I thought would be a nice picture - click. And the result is an image that for me carries so many memories, that tears sometimes come to my eyes when I see it. And often when I see those discussions about gear, this image pops up in my mind, one that for me is one of the best portraits I have taken. Maybe the image won't convey that to others, but for me, it is an icon.