From Cuba to Harvard: The Journey of Garífuna Doctor Luther Castillo

Belly of the Beast journalist Liz Oliva Fernández sat down with Dr. Castillo to talk about his inspiring personal journey and the impact of Cuba’s international health internationalism.

TRANSCRIPT

Dr. Luther Castillo Harris, Secretary of State for Science and Technology of Honduras, was the first Garifuna to graduate from Harvard University. His path, however, began in Havana, at the Latin American School of Medicine.

“Dr. Luther, welcome to Belly of the Beast. Could you tell us where we are right now?,” asked journalist Liz Oliva Fernández.

“We are now at the Latin American School of Medicine. It’s the largest medical school in the world, having graduated 31,000 doctors from 105 countries,” explained Dr. Castillo.

“What does ELAM mean to you?,” asked Liz.

“For us, the youth of developing countries, from marginalized and excluded societies, this was the only opportunity we may have ever had in life to be trained as people of science and conscience, with the high scientific quality that characterizes Cuban medical education. We’ve returned to our countries to put into practice what we learned here with simplicity,” he said.

“Why study in Cuba and not in Honduras—or anywhere else?,” continued the journalist.

“In my personal case, my parents couldn’t afford to pay for my education in Honduras. We’re a family of eight siblings. I dreamed of becoming a doctor, but studying medicine places a heavy financial burden on our parents. They couldn’t even afford two anatomy books. I studied medicine on a scholarship in Cuba. It was offered by the Cuban government after they had sent doctors to Honduras and other countries. The idea was never for Cuban doctors to stay; the goal was to train people from those countries so they could return and serve their people,” explained the Honduran official.

“The National Autonomous University of Honduras was founded in 1847. It took 118 years to graduate the first Garifuna doctor, Dr. Alfonso Lacayo Sánchez, a man who worked as a janitor to put himself through medical school. He paved the way for us. But today, after the creation of this wonderful project in Cuba, we have more Garifuna doctors who graduated in Cuba than those who graduated in the last 150 years from the National Autonomous University of Honduras. We understand what that means for us. I also studied in the United States. I’m a graduate of Harvard University, the first Honduran graduate of the Harvard Kennedy School of Government, one of the Ivy League universities. Cuba opened that path. If I hadn’t had the Cuban degree, I wouldn’t have gotten into Harvard,” reflected Luther.

“Is the quality of education you received in Cuba very different from what you received in the U.S.?” asked Liz.

“This has been the best experience of my life. Studying at the Latin American School of Medicine is like traveling to more than 50 countries around the world. Harvard’s program is similar in diversity—it has graduated over 22 presidents worldwide. But I came from an experience at ELAM, where I studied with people from 100 countries, so it was easy to adapt. Also, while developing my case studies in Harvard’s global health class, one of the discussion topics was the cholera outbreak in Haiti. I was there. I led a team of 728 young people from 26 countries during the disaster response in Haiti,” recalled the doctor.

“We were there for 10 months. At Harvard, we read theoretical case studies at one of the world’s best universities, but many students had no contact with the reality that ELAM students had lived firsthand,” added Castillo.

“At ELAM, we learned that we have a common history and a shared reality. That’s why we have to work to transform those realities. That’s why I founded the first Garifuna Popular Hospital in Honduras—to put into practice the principles of the Latin American School of Medicine. In Honduras, the Garifunas are Black people. We’re 47 communities. The greatest anti-colonial resistance in Western history was led by my ancestors. Today, we are the only existing Afro-Indigenous group on the continent that still preserves its language, spirituality, and moral values. The lands we obtained were gained through sweat and blood to build a homeland of opportunities for our children’s children. In an excluded society, with communities that have no access to education, healthcare, or infrastructure, we built the first hospital ourselves. In that hospital, we provided over a million medical services,” said Luther.

“How has life changed in these communities since the first Cuban medical missions arrived in Honduras and since the construction of this Garifuna hospital?” asked Liz.

“That hospital has been shut down three or four times. Projects born out of resistance are targeted for destruction because they represent the dignity and defiance of the people. They prove that a different model is possible—that if we give resources to the people, they can build better things than what the system has condemned them to receive,” replied Castillo.

“You talk about projects under attack,” said Liz, “and I immediately think of the recent statements by U.S. Senator Marco Rubio, one of the strongest voices against Cuban medical missions abroad. He says they are slaves, victims of human trafficking. He even claims the Cuban government keeps part of their pay. What has been your experience with Cuban medical missions in Honduras?”

“This is an old campaign; the narrative is just rehashed. It started in Brazil, where there was a huge Cuban mission that had a real impact transforming people’s lives. The working conditions are humane, just like those for doctors in any other country. A country like ours provides housing and food to the Cuban doctors. In the past, the missions came at no cost to my country—the Cuban government gave the doctors a $200 monthly stipend. Today, there’s a different model. Honduras has a special program that the country can afford. The true ambassadors of Cuba are their doctors—the real ambassadors are those white-coat workers who care for our mothers, children, and grandmothers anywhere in the world,” affirmed the Honduran minister.

“One thing that strikes me,” continued Liz, “is that if Cuba’s goal were to extract resources through medical missions, what’s the purpose of ELAM? Why create a school like this?”

“My country has had over a thousand doctors and 400 specialists trained in Cuba. Still, doctors are never in surplus—we need more specialists. That’s why we contract Cuban professionals in areas we don’t yet cover, while we continue training our own. Today, we have more than 300 students doing their specialties in Cuba. Yet, some still refuse to understand the true meaning of this initiative: a profoundly human act, free of self-interest, aimed at training professionals to return and serve their communities. They fail to grasp the depth and magnitude of the solidarity shown by the Cuban people, which extends far beyond Honduras—to the entire world,” emphasized Luther.

“ELAM has transformed elitist medical societies worldwide because it has filled them with the children of workers, peasants, and Black and Indigenous people. It wasn’t like that before. Today, there are great cardiologists with subspecialties in hemodynamics, electrophysiology, and rhythmology—fields that didn’t exist in the conservative elite medical ideology of many countries. It breaks the mold. So, if others want to do something different, let them create another ELAM and train 60,000 doctors, so they can surpass us—or at least catch up. Why don’t they do it in Miami, where it costs $500,000 to train a doctor? Cuba, a developing country facing economic and energy crises, has managed to give the world 31,000 health professionals for free,” said Castillo.

“Have you felt afraid to express your opinions about Cuba in the political environment in which you operate, since you’re a government minister?,” asked Liz.

“I’m in government due to circumstances. I’ve always been of my people and of their struggle. The day the government acts against my people, I’ll protest within and against it—and I’ve done so. That’s why I’m not afraid to express my views,” responded Luther.

“Recently, I was in Washington. I was selected as a vice president of the Science and Technology Council of the Americas of the Organization of American States. But that doesn’t stop me from speaking out against injustices committed against people anywhere in the world. I would stand up for Palestine or for Cuba. Dignity is not exchanged for a visa to go buy cheap goods in Miami. Principles aren’t sold to see another building in Manhattan. One day, history will recognize the value of raising your voice,” he said.

“You studied in Cuba in the late 1990s and early 2000s,” said Liz. “Now you return in 2025, amid a severe economic crisis hitting the country. How has Cuba changed?”

“We don’t deny reality. We recognize the challenges—the problems caused by the energy crisis, the economic difficulties, and the hundreds of sanctions meant to stop its economic development. They’ve limited the state’s ability to acquire many things for the people. There’s inflation affecting the currency. We don’t deny that either. Despite all these difficulties, if someone needs open heart surgery, they don’t need their credit card swiped to check if they have $20,000. One day, when this no longer exists, what some criticize from within Cuba will be missed,” concluded Dr. Luther Castillo.