we do have profits,” he says with no hint of shame.
“Why conceal a fact?
We do have profits, we do pay taxes and we do
pay our workers well for what they do.” And this
is what’s new: a Cuban style hybrid of private
enterprise and state-run socialism. In fact, Alex
speaks with pride about the ornate humidors
auctioned every year at the Festival, “The proceeds
from that dinner will go to the Cuban health
sector, and our pieces, over the years, have
contributed more than 3 million dollars.”
I’m asked not to photograph the humidors being
worked on in this little room. They are still at
the conceptual stage, but they are far from just
simple wooden boxes. Each one tells a story, like
dioramas, incorporating scenes, characters and
more hand work that I can wrap my head around.
We leave the tiny room attached to an old
apartment block and cross the street to the main
workshop. Ernesto tells me that this much bigger
building used to be a laundromat, but he took it
over when his business exploded several years ago.
That’s when he landed contracts with Habanos to
produce replica antique humidors and the special,
ornate humidors for the yearly Festival auction.
He now employs close to 30 people, most from the
surrounding area. Alex joins us, freeing Ernesto
from my Portuñol, and we begin our tour of the
workshop.
Sawdust fills the air as they work on 450
H.Upmann replica antique humidors - which I
can only assume will soon house the “Butifarra”
or ‘flying pig’ cigar. At this stage, the humidors
are unfinished and unlacquered. As I stop to
appreciate one worker applying tiny strips of wood
to the lids, Alex tells me “the inlay that you see is
all totally made by hand in our workshop. We do it
the traditional way because it actually goes along
with the cigar itself, which is made the traditional
way, by hand.”
I get to see one of these humidors as we leave the
workshop. It is in a series of three rooms that have
been recently set up for the final spray-painting,
lacquering and quality control. Once again, I’m
asked not to take photos because it is before the
Festival, but what I see can be best described as a
Cohiba spaceship. Imposing, black and resting on
3 legs, in my house, it would have to have its own
room.
I follow Ernesto and Alex into their office.
Here, I get to see finished humidors up close.
Photos simply do not do them justice. Arnold
Schwarzenegger as The Terminator busting out
of a series of wooden wedges is mesmerizing.
Alejandro Robaina peeking out from the top of
a humidor is so life-like, it’s almost creepy. And
the old colonial house that is not only a humidor
but also a rum server bends the mind when you
consider how much handwork was involved.
And it is this kind of creativity, unfettered by the
limitations of wood and metal, that makes It all
worthwhile for Ernesto. He is an artist, first and
foremost. As Alex tells me, “you don’t necessarily
have to be at a major company to accomplish your
dreams. You just have to be at a company that
gives you the possibility to reach your dreams.”
As we move through the workshop, there is a
wonderfully Cuban moment when Ernesto picks
up an old black and white photo of Fidel and Che
that’s been resting on some equipment and hangs
it up on the wall.
But this company is not Old Cuba. While they are
not a “cuentapropista”, Cuba’s euphemism for
private business, as artists they are encouraged to
make money. “With the profit that we make out
of these 450 units,” Alex tells me, “we can then
finance the creative works that we do on a yearly
basis.”. I point out that he’s the first person I’ve
heard in Cuba openly use the word “profit.” “Yes
By Pedro Mendes
The Hogtown Rake
www.thehogtownrake.com
Your personal guide to dressing well in Toronto.
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