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Cuba's Secret Side Previous Broadcasts

The Truth Revealed (Episode #102)

KQED World: Sat, Sep 13, 2014 -- 4:00 PM

The Truth Revealed looks beyond the politics and propaganda at the Cubans themselves. People like Adolpho, a tobacco farmer who had open-heart surgery ten years ago and still tends his fields. Or Marco, who walks for miles each day, his operatic voice enticing villagers to buy his cilantro and hot peppers. Both live in rural villages where time moves more slowly and people look out for each other. Although Castro confiscated all land shortly after the Revolution, the Cuban government has since started allowing farmers to sell their excess harvest, and private food stands have popped up all over Cuba. Castro once tried - unsuccessfully - to eradicate religion in Cuba. Cubans still show their faith every year at the festival of San Lazaro. Many pilgrims crawl six miles to the church. Others drag rocks or suffer even more drastic penances. But Catholicism isn't the only religion in Cuba. Santeria - an African belief brought to Cuba with the slave trade - is practiced by over half the population. Hilda is a Santeria priestess and a devout Catholic. After hosting a huge Christmas dinner, she opens up her home to a secret Santeria celebration, complete with drums and dancing - and a spiritual possession. But as much as Cubans love their faith, they also love to laugh and entertain themselves. You'll find a game of dominoes on almost every street corner and the kids have their own hilariously Cuban version of Monopoly. They play to win and they're just as capitalist as their Yankee counterparts. That's a good thing, since the Cuban government is privatizing over a million jobs in Cuba. Manuel repairs shoes on a Havana street corner, and barely makes ends meet. And yet when his customers don't bother to pick up their shoes, he doesn't sell them - he gives them away. It's capitalism, Cuban style - with a human touch. Cubans are avid fishermen, and on any sunny morning you can find Jose fishing on Havana's waterfront. He owns almost no equipment and only two pairs of shorts, yet cheerfully shares his catch with anyone who comes along. Spear fishermen patrol the same waters, using homemade guns and occasionally catching enormous - and toothy - barracuda. A few really brave souls use blocks of Styrofoam to paddle several miles out to sea each morning in search of bigger catch. Their "boats" - barely larger than bathtubs - only last a few months so they often take them home for repairs. This time they've borrowed an old drill and can't get it to work, but they don't get angry. If there's one thing the Cubans have learned over the past 50 years, it's patience. But to really find out what makes Cubans tick, you have to visit Remedios during their annual fireworks festival. For nine months a year it's a sleepy little town, but in September the place splits into two teams - San Salvador and Carmen - and both sides prepare for war. They build enormous floats and complicated light walls, all run by century-old machines. Women design costumes and men make thousands of homemade firecrackers. Rusty tractors haul carefully concealed pieces of floats through back streets. And finally, the big day arrives... The square erupts with games, food, and rides. For the children, this beats Christmas hands down. The men enjoy themselves in baseball pitching challenges and patronize the local beer trucks. Everyone dances and gorges themselves. But this year Team Carmen is in trouble. The fireworks have already started and they haven't finished wiring up their light wall. There's a short somewhere, and they can't find it. And then - amazingly - the other side sends a team of men to help. Within minutes, the machines rumble to life and the competition is on. It looks more like World War lll than a festival - falling ash as thick as snow and fireworks going off in the middle of the spectators. The men use the burning debris to light their cigars, which they then in turn use to light more fireworks. The fuses are unreliable, to say the least. When they reach their

Under The Radar (Episode #101)

KQED World: Sat, Sep 13, 2014 -- 3:00 PM

Knowing that the Cuban government severely restricts all foreign journalists, Karin Muller took a huge risk - she set out to film a documentary on a simple tourist visa. Free of government minders, she hitchhiked around Cuba for three months - sleeping in private homes, working with farmers and fishermen, and participating in festivals and religious ceremonies. She was arrested over a dozen times, but in the end she discovered a side of Cuba that few foreigners get to see. Like Hector - Havana's pizza guy - who lives on the third floor and uses a basket and pulley system to deliver pizza. Or the wonderful way Cubans have of turning a tedious wait in line into a social event, and the unexpected joy of Havana's waterfront. Cubans joke that the Revolution produced three successes and three failures. The successes were health care, education, and social equality. The failures were breakfast, lunch, and dinner. In the rural sugar town of La Vega, Muller discovered the secret to Cuba's good health. Dr. Angelina walks house to house, visiting every one of La Vega's two thousand inhabitants - even if they're healthy - at least twice a year. Angelina knows everything about her patients, from how many pillows they sleep with to whether they're getting along with their spouses. She is happy with her life and work, despite going home each night to a tiny, dilapidated apartment without running water and having to work two days to earn enough to buy her family a can of spam. Education is another Cuban success - 97% literacy and free universities - but it's not all good news. Books and newspapers are censored, so a nation that has learned to love the written word has no choice but to read the party line. The monthly food distribution provides all Cuban citizens with staples like sugar, rice, and beans. The government also pays retired Cubans a pension, though it's rarely enough to make ends meet. The elderly often augment their meager incomes selling newspapers or collecting cans on the street. When Castro took over Cuba, most wealthy Cubans fled. The government divided their mansions among the poor. Fifty years later tenants still pay virtually no rent, but the marble floors and vaulted ceilings are now human warrens where thousands of Cubans live with crumbling roofs and no running water. Lurking in the basement of one building is a sea of human feces, roiling with maggots. The plumbing rotted out years ago. The Cuban government is not entirely to blame. Cuba was in fact doing quite well until 1989, when the Soviet Union fell apart. Without Soviet subsidies, the Cuban economy ground to a halt. Castro declared a "Special Period" and ordered farmers to go back to plowing their fields by hand. In desperation, the government began allowing people to go into business for themselves. And Cubans have their own way of dealing with adversity - through music and sports. Kids play baseball with homemade balls and bats on every street corner and in every park. And even in the worst of times, the Cuban government still underwrites a free concert now and then. But you can't live on entertainment. Castro urgently needed hard currency. He knew that over 60% of Cubans get money from overseas friends and family - he just had to find a way to get his hands on some of it. So he printed a whole new currency and opened up a bunch of luxury stores filled with American sneakers, designer sunglasses, and refrigerators. In the process, Cuba once again became a two-tiered society - those who have and those who don't - exactly what he launched a revolution to end. Cubans are nothing if not ingenious. Despite having almost no money, they still manage to keep things going - like their 60-year-old American cars. For those who can't afford a set of foreign wheels, there's always Cuba's public transportation system. It's cheap, but breakdowns were so common that the government came up with an entirely new way to move people around - the camel bus. It's a converted flatbed

The Truth Revealed (Episode #102)

KQED Life: Fri, Sep 5, 2014 -- 4:00 AM

The Truth Revealed looks beyond the politics and propaganda at the Cubans themselves. People like Adolpho, a tobacco farmer who had open-heart surgery ten years ago and still tends his fields. Or Marco, who walks for miles each day, his operatic voice enticing villagers to buy his cilantro and hot peppers. Both live in rural villages where time moves more slowly and people look out for each other. Although Castro confiscated all land shortly after the Revolution, the Cuban government has since started allowing farmers to sell their excess harvest, and private food stands have popped up all over Cuba. Castro once tried - unsuccessfully - to eradicate religion in Cuba. Cubans still show their faith every year at the festival of San Lazaro. Many pilgrims crawl six miles to the church. Others drag rocks or suffer even more drastic penances. But Catholicism isn't the only religion in Cuba. Santeria - an African belief brought to Cuba with the slave trade - is practiced by over half the population. Hilda is a Santeria priestess and a devout Catholic. After hosting a huge Christmas dinner, she opens up her home to a secret Santeria celebration, complete with drums and dancing - and a spiritual possession. But as much as Cubans love their faith, they also love to laugh and entertain themselves. You'll find a game of dominoes on almost every street corner and the kids have their own hilariously Cuban version of Monopoly. They play to win and they're just as capitalist as their Yankee counterparts. That's a good thing, since the Cuban government is privatizing over a million jobs in Cuba. Manuel repairs shoes on a Havana street corner, and barely makes ends meet. And yet when his customers don't bother to pick up their shoes, he doesn't sell them - he gives them away. It's capitalism, Cuban style - with a human touch. Cubans are avid fishermen, and on any sunny morning you can find Jose fishing on Havana's waterfront. He owns almost no equipment and only two pairs of shorts, yet cheerfully shares his catch with anyone who comes along. Spear fishermen patrol the same waters, using homemade guns and occasionally catching enormous - and toothy - barracuda. A few really brave souls use blocks of Styrofoam to paddle several miles out to sea each morning in search of bigger catch. Their "boats" - barely larger than bathtubs - only last a few months so they often take them home for repairs. This time they've borrowed an old drill and can't get it to work, but they don't get angry. If there's one thing the Cubans have learned over the past 50 years, it's patience. But to really find out what makes Cubans tick, you have to visit Remedios during their annual fireworks festival. For nine months a year it's a sleepy little town, but in September the place splits into two teams - San Salvador and Carmen - and both sides prepare for war. They build enormous floats and complicated light walls, all run by century-old machines. Women design costumes and men make thousands of homemade firecrackers. Rusty tractors haul carefully concealed pieces of floats through back streets. And finally, the big day arrives... The square erupts with games, food, and rides. For the children, this beats Christmas hands down. The men enjoy themselves in baseball pitching challenges and patronize the local beer trucks. Everyone dances and gorges themselves. But this year Team Carmen is in trouble. The fireworks have already started and they haven't finished wiring up their light wall. There's a short somewhere, and they can't find it. And then - amazingly - the other side sends a team of men to help. Within minutes, the machines rumble to life and the competition is on. It looks more like World War lll than a festival - falling ash as thick as snow and fireworks going off in the middle of the spectators. The men use the burning debris to light their cigars, which they then in turn use to light more fireworks. The fuses are unreliable, to say the least. When they reach their

Under The Radar (Episode #101)

KQED Life: Fri, Sep 5, 2014 -- 3:00 AM

Knowing that the Cuban government severely restricts all foreign journalists, Karin Muller took a huge risk - she set out to film a documentary on a simple tourist visa. Free of government minders, she hitchhiked around Cuba for three months - sleeping in private homes, working with farmers and fishermen, and participating in festivals and religious ceremonies. She was arrested over a dozen times, but in the end she discovered a side of Cuba that few foreigners get to see. Like Hector - Havana's pizza guy - who lives on the third floor and uses a basket and pulley system to deliver pizza. Or the wonderful way Cubans have of turning a tedious wait in line into a social event, and the unexpected joy of Havana's waterfront. Cubans joke that the Revolution produced three successes and three failures. The successes were health care, education, and social equality. The failures were breakfast, lunch, and dinner. In the rural sugar town of La Vega, Muller discovered the secret to Cuba's good health. Dr. Angelina walks house to house, visiting every one of La Vega's two thousand inhabitants - even if they're healthy - at least twice a year. Angelina knows everything about her patients, from how many pillows they sleep with to whether they're getting along with their spouses. She is happy with her life and work, despite going home each night to a tiny, dilapidated apartment without running water and having to work two days to earn enough to buy her family a can of spam. Education is another Cuban success - 97% literacy and free universities - but it's not all good news. Books and newspapers are censored, so a nation that has learned to love the written word has no choice but to read the party line. The monthly food distribution provides all Cuban citizens with staples like sugar, rice, and beans. The government also pays retired Cubans a pension, though it's rarely enough to make ends meet. The elderly often augment their meager incomes selling newspapers or collecting cans on the street. When Castro took over Cuba, most wealthy Cubans fled. The government divided their mansions among the poor. Fifty years later tenants still pay virtually no rent, but the marble floors and vaulted ceilings are now human warrens where thousands of Cubans live with crumbling roofs and no running water. Lurking in the basement of one building is a sea of human feces, roiling with maggots. The plumbing rotted out years ago. The Cuban government is not entirely to blame. Cuba was in fact doing quite well until 1989, when the Soviet Union fell apart. Without Soviet subsidies, the Cuban economy ground to a halt. Castro declared a "Special Period" and ordered farmers to go back to plowing their fields by hand. In desperation, the government began allowing people to go into business for themselves. And Cubans have their own way of dealing with adversity - through music and sports. Kids play baseball with homemade balls and bats on every street corner and in every park. And even in the worst of times, the Cuban government still underwrites a free concert now and then. But you can't live on entertainment. Castro urgently needed hard currency. He knew that over 60% of Cubans get money from overseas friends and family - he just had to find a way to get his hands on some of it. So he printed a whole new currency and opened up a bunch of luxury stores filled with American sneakers, designer sunglasses, and refrigerators. In the process, Cuba once again became a two-tiered society - those who have and those who don't - exactly what he launched a revolution to end. Cubans are nothing if not ingenious. Despite having almost no money, they still manage to keep things going - like their 60-year-old American cars. For those who can't afford a set of foreign wheels, there's always Cuba's public transportation system. It's cheap, but breakdowns were so common that the government came up with an entirely new way to move people around - the camel bus. It's a converted flatbed

The Truth Revealed (Episode #102)

KQED Life: Thu, Sep 4, 2014 -- 10:00 PM

The Truth Revealed looks beyond the politics and propaganda at the Cubans themselves. People like Adolpho, a tobacco farmer who had open-heart surgery ten years ago and still tends his fields. Or Marco, who walks for miles each day, his operatic voice enticing villagers to buy his cilantro and hot peppers. Both live in rural villages where time moves more slowly and people look out for each other. Although Castro confiscated all land shortly after the Revolution, the Cuban government has since started allowing farmers to sell their excess harvest, and private food stands have popped up all over Cuba. Castro once tried - unsuccessfully - to eradicate religion in Cuba. Cubans still show their faith every year at the festival of San Lazaro. Many pilgrims crawl six miles to the church. Others drag rocks or suffer even more drastic penances. But Catholicism isn't the only religion in Cuba. Santeria - an African belief brought to Cuba with the slave trade - is practiced by over half the population. Hilda is a Santeria priestess and a devout Catholic. After hosting a huge Christmas dinner, she opens up her home to a secret Santeria celebration, complete with drums and dancing - and a spiritual possession. But as much as Cubans love their faith, they also love to laugh and entertain themselves. You'll find a game of dominoes on almost every street corner and the kids have their own hilariously Cuban version of Monopoly. They play to win and they're just as capitalist as their Yankee counterparts. That's a good thing, since the Cuban government is privatizing over a million jobs in Cuba. Manuel repairs shoes on a Havana street corner, and barely makes ends meet. And yet when his customers don't bother to pick up their shoes, he doesn't sell them - he gives them away. It's capitalism, Cuban style - with a human touch. Cubans are avid fishermen, and on any sunny morning you can find Jose fishing on Havana's waterfront. He owns almost no equipment and only two pairs of shorts, yet cheerfully shares his catch with anyone who comes along. Spear fishermen patrol the same waters, using homemade guns and occasionally catching enormous - and toothy - barracuda. A few really brave souls use blocks of Styrofoam to paddle several miles out to sea each morning in search of bigger catch. Their "boats" - barely larger than bathtubs - only last a few months so they often take them home for repairs. This time they've borrowed an old drill and can't get it to work, but they don't get angry. If there's one thing the Cubans have learned over the past 50 years, it's patience. But to really find out what makes Cubans tick, you have to visit Remedios during their annual fireworks festival. For nine months a year it's a sleepy little town, but in September the place splits into two teams - San Salvador and Carmen - and both sides prepare for war. They build enormous floats and complicated light walls, all run by century-old machines. Women design costumes and men make thousands of homemade firecrackers. Rusty tractors haul carefully concealed pieces of floats through back streets. And finally, the big day arrives... The square erupts with games, food, and rides. For the children, this beats Christmas hands down. The men enjoy themselves in baseball pitching challenges and patronize the local beer trucks. Everyone dances and gorges themselves. But this year Team Carmen is in trouble. The fireworks have already started and they haven't finished wiring up their light wall. There's a short somewhere, and they can't find it. And then - amazingly - the other side sends a team of men to help. Within minutes, the machines rumble to life and the competition is on. It looks more like World War lll than a festival - falling ash as thick as snow and fireworks going off in the middle of the spectators. The men use the burning debris to light their cigars, which they then in turn use to light more fireworks. The fuses are unreliable, to say the least. When they reach their

Under The Radar (Episode #101)

KQED Life: Thu, Sep 4, 2014 -- 9:00 PM

Knowing that the Cuban government severely restricts all foreign journalists, Karin Muller took a huge risk - she set out to film a documentary on a simple tourist visa. Free of government minders, she hitchhiked around Cuba for three months - sleeping in private homes, working with farmers and fishermen, and participating in festivals and religious ceremonies. She was arrested over a dozen times, but in the end she discovered a side of Cuba that few foreigners get to see. Like Hector - Havana's pizza guy - who lives on the third floor and uses a basket and pulley system to deliver pizza. Or the wonderful way Cubans have of turning a tedious wait in line into a social event, and the unexpected joy of Havana's waterfront. Cubans joke that the Revolution produced three successes and three failures. The successes were health care, education, and social equality. The failures were breakfast, lunch, and dinner. In the rural sugar town of La Vega, Muller discovered the secret to Cuba's good health. Dr. Angelina walks house to house, visiting every one of La Vega's two thousand inhabitants - even if they're healthy - at least twice a year. Angelina knows everything about her patients, from how many pillows they sleep with to whether they're getting along with their spouses. She is happy with her life and work, despite going home each night to a tiny, dilapidated apartment without running water and having to work two days to earn enough to buy her family a can of spam. Education is another Cuban success - 97% literacy and free universities - but it's not all good news. Books and newspapers are censored, so a nation that has learned to love the written word has no choice but to read the party line. The monthly food distribution provides all Cuban citizens with staples like sugar, rice, and beans. The government also pays retired Cubans a pension, though it's rarely enough to make ends meet. The elderly often augment their meager incomes selling newspapers or collecting cans on the street. When Castro took over Cuba, most wealthy Cubans fled. The government divided their mansions among the poor. Fifty years later tenants still pay virtually no rent, but the marble floors and vaulted ceilings are now human warrens where thousands of Cubans live with crumbling roofs and no running water. Lurking in the basement of one building is a sea of human feces, roiling with maggots. The plumbing rotted out years ago. The Cuban government is not entirely to blame. Cuba was in fact doing quite well until 1989, when the Soviet Union fell apart. Without Soviet subsidies, the Cuban economy ground to a halt. Castro declared a "Special Period" and ordered farmers to go back to plowing their fields by hand. In desperation, the government began allowing people to go into business for themselves. And Cubans have their own way of dealing with adversity - through music and sports. Kids play baseball with homemade balls and bats on every street corner and in every park. And even in the worst of times, the Cuban government still underwrites a free concert now and then. But you can't live on entertainment. Castro urgently needed hard currency. He knew that over 60% of Cubans get money from overseas friends and family - he just had to find a way to get his hands on some of it. So he printed a whole new currency and opened up a bunch of luxury stores filled with American sneakers, designer sunglasses, and refrigerators. In the process, Cuba once again became a two-tiered society - those who have and those who don't - exactly what he launched a revolution to end. Cubans are nothing if not ingenious. Despite having almost no money, they still manage to keep things going - like their 60-year-old American cars. For those who can't afford a set of foreign wheels, there's always Cuba's public transportation system. It's cheap, but breakdowns were so common that the government came up with an entirely new way to move people around - the camel bus. It's a converted flatbed

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TV Technical Issues

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    TV Technical Issues
    • Comcast/Xfinity Ch10 audio, Monday 7/20 evening

      UPDATE: Comcast was able to resolve their technical glitch apx 10:45pm * * * * * We are aware that at least during the early part of the evening of Monday 7/20, the audio is out of sync on Comcast/Xfinity channel 10, their basic cable service. This problem still exists as of 8:10pm. We have […]

    • KQED DT9s OTA: very brief outages Thurs 6/11/15

      (DT9.1, 9.2 and 9.3) There will be 3 very brief outages (apx. 10 seconds each) of KQED’s Over The Air (OTA) DT9 signal Thurs 6/15, between 10am and 3pm. This is to accommodate preventative maintenance and inspections at Sutro Tower. Most TVs will recover easily each time the signal is restored, but a few viewers […]

    • KQET planned overnight outage, early Friday 3/13

      (DT25-1 through 25-3) Another station on Fremont Tower needs to perform more maintenance work overnight, requiring other TV stations to shut down their signals for the safety of the workers. KQET’s signal will turn off late Thurs/early Friday between midnight and 12:30am, and should return by 6am Friday morning. Many receivers will be able to […]

To view previous issues and how they were resolved, go to our TV Technical Issues page.

KQED DTV Channels

KQED 9, KQET

KQED 9 / KQET

Channels 9.1, 54.2, 25.1
XFINITY 9 and HD 709
Wave 9 and HD 164
DirecTV, Dish Network, AT&T U-verse: Channel # may vary, labeled as KQED, or as KQET in the 831 area code

All HD programs

KQED Plus, KQET

KQED Plus / KQET

Channels 54.1, 9.2, 25.2
XFINITY 10 and HD 710
Wave 10
DirecTV, Dish Network, AT&T U-verse: IF this channel provided to customer, channel # may vary, labeled as KQEH

KQED Plus, formerly KTEH

KQED Life

KQED Life

Channel 54.3
XFINITY 189
Wave 157

Arts, food, how-to, gardening, travel

KQED World

KQED World

Channel 9.3
XFINITY 190
Wave 156

History, world events, news, science, nature

v-me

V-Me

Channel 54.5 & 25.3
XFINITY 191 & 621
Wave 154

24-hour national Spanish-language network

KQED Kids

KQED Kids

Channel 54.4
XFINITY 192
Wave 155

Quality children's programming parents love too