Fake Money and Picture IDs

Cuba: Fake Money and Picture IDs

May 29, 2013

Vicente Morín Aguado



HAVANA TIMES — The grocer at the bodega on my block, a man well liked in

our neighborhood, has put up a sign which reads: "Notice: Anyone making

purchases with 50 or 100-peso bills must show me their photo ID. No

exceptions."



Asking around, I found out the man had been paid with a fake one-hundred

peso note, yet another victim of the veritable invasion of counterfeit

money Havana is experiencing. A neighbor of mine tells me they haven't

yet found the printers, true counterfeiting masters. She says that if

you place the notes side by side, real next to fake, it's almost

impossible to tell them apart.



I get a little concerned, thinking this might be an instruction handed

down from the Ministry of Domestic Trade. Clerks at other shops set the

record straight: "No, no such instruction's has ordered that. That's

just your grocer being silly."



I say goodbye to my friend at the Cuatro Caminos market and head to La

Segunda Estrella, a very popular cafeteria, where my friend Mario, who

has worked many years behind a counter, tells me: "the bills are

identical; they even have the security watermark."



I ask him whether one sees Jose Martí, Cuba's great martyr, when one

looks at the bill against the light. "You see him, Vicente. You can only

tell it's fake if you wet your fingers and rub the note, because the ink

runs. Your grocer is going to need a glass of water and a lot of

patience to check each note, by the looks of it!"



That's a bit much, I think to myself. People don't often make large

purchases at a bodega and pay with fifty or one hundred peso notes even

less often. Of course, this doesn't make my grocer feel any better over

being shafted like that, because that money will need to come out of his

own pocket, and because he feels cheated by people he has been serving

for years in the neighborhood. My concerns, rather, surround this whole

business of showing ID, as no one, at least not the competent

authorities, has issued any instruction in this connection.



In Cuba, it is mandatory to carry personal identification – a document

created by the State as a means of controlling the population – at all

times. The police may request to see it, at their discretion, whenever

they deem it necessary.



If you don't have it on you, the police are authorized to take you to a

station, fine you and lock you away until they have determined your

identity or, of course, until your ID turns up.



Decades ago, Cuban citizens had approved of this law, regarding it as

something positive without thinking about its future consequences. We

placed a lot of trust in our government, in this and many other matters.

It was only years later that we began to see the repercussions of our trust.



Today, the personal identification document can be requested by any

figure of authority at an entity whose services one requires, and one

must produce it, lest not be denied the treatment that one deserves.



For example, you head to the Computer Sciences Center to get the last

update for an antivirus and, if you don't show them your ID, you get

anything. The same thing happens when you need to leave your belongings

in a checkroom to go into a store or if you're seen conversing with a

foreigner on the street.



This business of asking for one's ID upon payment dates back to the

1990s, when the U.S. dollar began to circulate, along with the Cuban

peso, in Cuba's domestic market. If you paid with a fifty or a

one-hundred greenback note, it was mandatory for the person collecting

to write down the serial number on the note and the personal information

of the individual making the purchase.



Now, to make matters more complicated, the managers of many locales

offering different services have made this a requirement, of their own

free will. At this pace, I will likely have to apply for a new ID card

soon, for the plastic is beginning to peel off from so much handling,

and, if they ask for it at the bank or police station, where it actually

is mandatory to show it, I will be denied service or fined, justifiably,

for the questionable state it's in.



This last remark, made by a concerned neighbor, takes me to the end of

this chronicle, leading us, full circle, back to the beginning.

According to the newspapers, this year, the Personal Identification

Document all Cubans currently have, known as the "CI", will be replaced

with a new, high-security card which is more practical as a means of

verifying personal information.



At this pace, I will likely have to apply for a new ID card soon, for

the plastic is beginning to peel off from so much handling, and, if they

ask for it at the bank or police station, where it actually is mandatory

to show it, I will be denied service or fined, justifiably, for the

questionable state it's in.



In the meantime, the streets are still a mess, waiting for a modicum of

order which refuses to arrive. Yesterday, I was walking down Monte

Street, away from the Parque de la Fraternidad, overwhelmed by the heat

of our early summer. I see a brewery, the kind that serve beer on tap,

and ask for a pint.



Imagine my surprise when the waiter, a young man whose swarthy

complexion Cubans colloquially refer to as "indian", says to me: "Fella,

I need your ID." "Why?" I ask him, somewhat taken aback. "Cause the

place is full, people take off and take the mugs with them, and I bought

those mugs myself. If I lose 'em, I can't come in to work tomorrow!"



That is to say, this young man, without being rude, was guaranteeing the

return of the mugs he had purchased by holding on to people's IDs. I

looked him over twice and continued on my way, angry.



The young man called after me, perhaps as a show of respect towards an

older gentleman, to offer me an alternative I, a 56-year-old man, would

find acceptable. I was grateful for the gesture, laughed, paid for the

beer and gave him a USB memory stick as the guarantee of my good behavior.



As I took the first sip of beer, someone nearby said: "Boss, you're on

top of things!" In Cuba, this is a synonym for an uncommon and effective

response to a situation that is out of the ordinary.



Between truth and falsity, we continue to stumble along.

—–

Vicente Morín Aguado: morfamily@correodecuba.cu



http://www.havanatimes.org/?p=93743