"El Caballo" -- "the horse" -- has directed his own recovery like a play from the pen of his friend Gabriel García Márquez, the master of magical realism. The first act consisted of a few home videos of Castro in bed, pajama sleeves fluttering over his emaciated arms. He'd lost a lot of weight, but his eyes were alive. Message: El Caballo was down but not out, and with the Cuban people in spirit.

Seven weeks ago he underwent gastric surgery, but he was healthy enough to receive visitors by the time Cuba hosted last week's summit of the Nonaligned Movement, a group formed during the Cold War for countries not affiliated with NATO or the Eastern bloc. Castro is the new ceremonial president of the 118-nation group, which meets every three years. And although his brother Raúl stood in for him during ceremonies, Fidel managed to spend an hour and a half with Argentinian writer and politician Miguel Bonasso. Even in the worst days after the operation, Castro told Bonasso, he managed to work. After all, he had to edit the second edition of the 656-page "One Hundred Hours With Fidel," by the Spanish journalist Ignacio Ramonet.

The Cuban leader made it clear that the massive tome -- a biography in interview form -- should be seen as his political testament. "I wanted to finish it because I didn't know how much more time I had," Castro commented.

This belonged to the second act of his recovery opera. Castro's message, passed on by Bonasso in a report on the meeting for the Argentinian newspaper Página 12, went something like this: Yes, you almost lost me, but now I'm getting better; I've gained weight and I'm almost ready to rule again."

'Orchestrating' the Nonaligned summit

In act three, Cuban television tried to dispel any doubts about the comandante's comeback. Castro received his friend and colleague, Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez, on two feet, boxed Chavez playfully in the chest and gave him a gift -- the first fully-edited copy of the Ramonet book. The next person to visit Castro in his room was UN General Secretary Kofi Annan, who said later he was impressed by Castro's quick recovery.

It must have bothered the Máximo Líder to no end that he couldn't personally drive to the airport to pick up Annan or the other Nonaligned leaders. The summit in Havana was meant to be a highlight of his career, the grand finale of celebrations around his 80th birthday -- which he had to postpone because of his illness.

Over 50 heads of state from the 118 nations converged on Havana, along with representatives from almost all the others. Cuba promoted the meeting as the largest display of anti-American heads of state in history, only 150 kilometers (93 miles) off the coast of Florida. It was supposed to be a huge stage for Castro, a milestone toward a world-spanning alliance against Washington and especially against US President George W. Bush. Instead, though, he had to direct the meeting from behind the scenes, by telephone.

Officially, he handed proceedings to his brother Raúl, who opened the conference in an elegant dark suit. On TV, though, images of the conference flickered alongside footage of Castro convalescing -- act four. Message: Fidel can pull strings from his sickroom, too.

While experts around the world wonder how long Castro can cling to power, he delivers clear signals of a complete return. The comandante wants to set the terms of the post-Castro era himself. "His illness is like a dress rehearsal for his death," says a young Havana lawyer. "He's watching to see who sticks out his head too far."

The Máximo Líder seems to trust only one person to carry the torch of revolution: Hugo Chávez. The "father of all revolutionaries," as Chávez calls Fidel, has received the Venezuelan leader no less than four times in his sickroom, and the two caudillos seem to get along like father and son. Chávez tenderly held Castro's hand in photographs while El Caballo was confined to his bed, which seemed to signal that the young Venezuelan could take over anytime as America's most inconvenient neighbor in the western hemisphere.