I met father-and-son guajiros José and Carlo Oliveira in Cien Rosas, their tiny village high in the Sierra del Escambray mountains. Like so many rural Cubans, they overwhelmed me with their hospitality. First, they filled my water bottles. They proposed a shortcut, but after much discussion they determined that I would certainly get lost if I were to attempt it alone. José then volunteered Carlo to accompany me on the lengthy trip through the forest to Charco Azul, the next village up and over. When I halfheartedly protested, they even invented some spurious errand that Carlo suddenly had to do there. next back photo home