Jose Alberto Potuombo is sitting in La Atarraya, the cafe he manages across the street from the great bay, attempting to hear Fidel Castro on his Korean- made boom box. But there are distractions. A crowd is forming on the seawall across the way. "Ven aqui! Ven, mira!" yell the little children, and people are indeed coming and looking. Now there is a crowd of 70, staring down into the water. They laugh, they cheer. Some drivers stop, others honk and yell, "Balseros! Balseros! A Miami! A Miami!" (Rafters! To Miami!) Potuombo scans the scene sourly. "Let the bastards go," he...
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