They have few reasons to envy of their capitalist counterparts. The differences between them are ones of rhetoric and philosophy. The anti-capitalist islanders having studied Marxist manuals and speak on behalf of the poor.

But many are living at full throttle. At the workplace they wear sweltering uniforms designed by some sadistic tailor from the former Soviet Union. Twenty-five years ago they used to get around in Russian-made Ladas with capitalist tires and stereo systems. They called attention to themselves.

The top officials were untouchable. Officers used to place their caps in the rear of their vehicles so that police would not stop them for traffic violations. Laws were for other people to obey.

The only ones who could dismiss them, punish them, jail them (or shoot them) were the Castros. They lived in the former residences of Havana’s upper and middle classes in the Siboney, Miramar, Nuevo Vedado, Fontanar or Casino Deportivo neighborhoods.

They had more than one car and houses with Ikea furniture, electric kitchens, “made in USA” refrigerators, Sony televisions, South Korean air conditioners and Philips audio equipment.

They enjoyed three succulent meals a day and once a week they read articles from the western press that had been condensed for the directors of the Department of Revolutionary Orientation or the Communist Party. For vacations they travelled  to one of the USSR’s Baltic republics or strolled carefree through Prague’s Wenceslas Square. And they went to Varadero whenever they felt like it.

The drank Czech beer and Yankee whiskey. They smoked cigars for export and carried American dollars in their wallets back when doing so was forbidden. Ministers and military brass were fond of dressing up like Madrid’s posh elite or New York’s jet set, with Levi’s 501 jeans and polarized Ray-Ban sunglasses.

In the difficult years of the “Special Period,” while the masses whom they lauded suffered from hunger, became ill from malnutrition, put up with blackouts lasting twelve hours and got around on bicycles, the revolutionary upper class maintained its same lifestyle. They had electrical generators in their homes, celebrated with loud parties and never had to put up with the lousy food — ground beef from soy, meat paste and Cerelac — devised by Fidel Castro for the average Cuban.

In the 21st century they have become successful entrepreneurs. The various businesses established with capitalist partners as well as the “industry” which arose after the increase in remittances sent by Cubans living overseas nourish members of the armed forces and interior ministry.

An absurd captive market, which forces Cubans to pay for everything from a bottle of cooking oil to a ventilator in another currency, is managed by a holding company set up by the military.

Meanwhile, the number of maneuvers intended to counter a supposed Yankee invasion have diminished. Aging Russian armaments, built in the 1980s when the government was mobilizing the population for “imminent enemy aggression,” lie rusting in underground bunkers.

Today the new Creole upper class is betting on the world of business. It advises Venezuelan comrades and secures positions in European embassies. The old Russian Ladas are no longer fashionable. Now they show off with Audis and Hummers.

Cuban baseball bores them. They prefer to watch Big League games, championship football matches and NBA playoffs live on satellite. The like to play golf or go hunting in exclusive game reserves. They dine as though they lived in London or Paris. They have internet access at home and use Skype for video conferencing or for chatting with their children in Florida.

Offspring of the nouveau riche have studied or are studying at universities in the United States or Europe. Others, more in tune with the times than their fathers, prefer to live in exile.

At night this elite bourgeoisie dines at Havana’s finest restaurants and frequents its hottest nightclubs. They dress in designer clothes, perhaps made in dismal garment factories in Bangladesh. They sport French perfume and Swiss watches. By day they take part in revolutionary actions while wearing white guayaberas.

They demand productivity and sacrifice, speak of a prosperous and sustainable socialism, condemn Yankee imperialism and ask that the people work with them to end rampant corruption. This new Cuban upper class loves to foment revolution from the soap box.

Photo: Banquet and show from the XV Festival del Habano 2013, which took in more than a million dollars. These festivals has been taking place in the Cuban capital since 1994 and bring together hundreds of celebrities, specialists and cigar lovers from all over the world. Parents and children from communist military high society regularly attend these exclusive, opulent events. From Diario de Yucatán.

Iván García

16 June 2013

Although virtually unknown in Cuba, the Spanish actor Willy Toledo — to paraphrase one of his icons, Argentina’s Che Guevara — at least intends to put his money where his mouth is.

In an interview with the pro-Chavez Venezuelan broadcaster Telesur, Toledo declared his intention to live full-time in Cuba. Guillermo Toledo Monsalve, his full name, was born in Madrid on May 22, 1970.

He is the son of José Toledo, a prominent surgeon and a pioneer of thoracic surgery in Spain. Willy grew up without food rationing, power outages or water shortages. As well as being an actor, he is a theatrical producer and a left-wing political activist.

He received a Goya, the Spanish equivalent of an Oscar, for his performance in the TV series 7 Vidas (Seven Lives). After the death of Cuban dissident Orlando Zapata Tamayo on February 23, 2010, Toledo declared him to be “a common criminal, not even a political dissident,” echoing the official stance of the Castro regime.

The actor is a fervent supporter of the Cuban revolution, the late Hugo Chavez’s policies and the 15-M movement in his own country. Unlike his comrades-in-arms who voice support for Cuba’s military government from Europe or the United States while living in nice houses, driving late-model cars and enjoying broadband internet access, Willy has decided to move permanently to Cuba.

Perhaps he is fleeing the economic crisis afflicting Spain. Or perhaps he is moving to the “Caribbean paradise of workers and peasants” out of real political conviction.

I like this kind of guy. It is easy enough to support a cause from thousands of miles away while staying in five-star hotels, but it is better to be in the thick of things.

But I have my doubts about Willy Toledo living in Cuba if he is coming to stay in a guest house in the upscale Laguito neighborhood run by Cuba’s Council of State, or paying out of his own pocket for an exclusive duplex apartment for foreigners.

Toledo will gain the respect of many affluent, progressive people if — once he is on the island — he moves to a poor neighborhood. In Havana there are more than sixty.

I can see it now. I imagine him carrying jugs of water through the impoverished Colón neighborhood, with a hooker, a marijuana dealer, an unemployed worker and a bookie for the bolita, or illegal lottery, as neighbors.

And if he is really a dyed-in-the-wool communist, then he would prefer to be in a llega y pon, a shantytown of cardboard and aluminum shacks. In these unsanitary neighborhoods there are no electric lights or sanitation services. People eat little and poorly, and drink too much distilled alcohol.

If he is coming to work and earn his wages in Cuban pesos without turning to the black market while taking the city buses and private taxis, and feeding himself from the ration book like any other Cuban, then we could say that Willy Toledo is preaching by example.

What disappoints me is when a leftist remains above it all, when he stays in special houses when travelling through the country, or accepts luxurious perks such as those given to generals and government ministers by the Council of State.

I would be disappointed if this European leftie ended up living in an old bourgeois Creole villa – one of those remodeled by the government with air-conditioning, a pool and private security .

I would not like to see Willy Toledo driving an Audi or Mercedes Benz from the flotilla of cars used by Castro’s guests. Or visiting the CIMEQ* clinic, with its latest advances in medical technology.

I would be disappointed if someone wore a Ho Chi Minh T-shirt to accept a Goya. Or if he ran around town at night, paying hard currency for drinks at the newly renovated bar Sloppy Joe’s, surrounded by mulatto beauties.

Or dined in expensive restaurants with the creme de la creme of “Castro’s aristocracy.” Presumably he would in no way resemble Beyoncé or her husband Jay-Z by declaring himself to be anti-capitalist.

If Willy Toledo is coming to experience first-hand what socialism under Fidel Castro is really like, then welcome to Havana.

Iván García

Photo: Willy Toledo creates an incident when he tries to board a Ryanair flight without proper identification.

*Translator’s note: Spanish acronym for the Center for Medical and Surgical Research, a hospital dedicated to treating senior government officials, their families and foreign dignitaries, but inaccessible to ordinary Cubans.

28 May 2013

Facing the India fountain, next to Fraternity Park and close to the Capitol, in the center of Havana, is nestled the Hotel Saratoga.

Its ancient facade, painted lime green, has an architecture of curved arches and tall columns. The interior is a modern frame with iron structures and plasterboard. According to the relaxed norms of Cuban hospitality, the Saratoga is a 5 star hotel.

Like almost all hotels, has an Internet cafe. Going up a wide staircase with iron railings, after crossing the piano bar in a small room and pool, one can connect to the internet.

If you have a tablet (iPad), laptop or smartphone, you can do it from anywhere in the hotel, thanks to a wireless network. Otherwise, the Saratoga has three computers. The speed of transmission is a maddeningly slow.

Opening a Yahoo email can take up to 6 minutes. Forget Gmail. The connection runs at 100 kilobytes. Downloading videos and photos that exceed a megabyte is not advisable.

The service is too expensive, even for a foreigner. Half an hour for 6 CUC (over $6 US). One hour for 10. Two hours for 15. In the same hotel where a month and a half ago the singers Beyonce and Jay-Z stayed, the internet works in slow motion.

In 2010 the Castro government, opting for a full ’digital sovereignty’, decided to open its wallet to the investment and together with Venezuela and Jamaica, financed a submarine cable of several thousand kilometers. Its birthplace was the Venezuelan region of La Guaira and termination, Siboney Beach in the eastern province of Santiago de Cuba, about 550 miles from Havana.

Little is known about the cable. It is a kind of ’ALBANET’, with filters and control mechanisms. Behind the famous cable there is an Olympic framework of corruption.

Some put out their hands along the way and lost several million dollars. It’s rumored — in Cuba the rumors are more reliable than the news from the official press — that several people could go to jail.

State media reported euphorically that when the cable is connected, the  data transmission speed would be multiplied by 300. While technical issues are resolved, 97% of the Cuban population still sees the Internet as the stuff of science fiction.

In its absence, a USB flash drive serves as transmitter of information for those computers not connected to the network. The regime considers the internet a ’hegemonic control tool of U.S. imperialism’.

Since the island links to the information superhighway via satellite, the tropical ’think tanks’ wear themselves out trying to design and effective cyber police that can tame the democratic worldwide web.

So far they have not succeeded. What they have achieved is to block sites deemed ’subversive’ and in the workplaces ’big brother’ is watching the footsteps of those disobedient people who decide to take a look at a digital newspaper from Miami or Madrid.

In ETECSA, the State telecommunications company, staff with access to the web had to sign a statement agreeing not to read ’enemy pages or visit pornographic sites’.

Nor may they have international email account (Yahoo, Hotmail, Gmail). Zero Twitter, Facebook or other social networks. But in such closed societies, people applaud a speech with the same emphasis that they blatantly steal from their job or violate established rules.

Raisa, 24, has never surfed internet. That has not stopped the girl from having a Facebook account and a page where she advertises herself as a photographer for weddings and quinceañeras — girls’ 15th birthday parties.

All thanks to a computer savvy friend, charged with editing and updating her site. And those who have State accounts on the internet don’t miss a trick. They sell access for 2 CUC an hour.

But I don’t recommend it. At its best, the connection is 50k. It can take you up to 30 minutes to get to the online edition of the Journal of The Americas.

Even though the Castro regime has established a drips-and-drabs internet, some censored information reaches the average Cuban. Late, of course.

Ivan Garcia

Photo: Several people access internet in a room in Havana. Taken from Infolatam.

1 June 2013

Although a sputtering Russian-made truck and its crew passed through the Sevillano neighborhood picking up trash and garbage in the streets the night before, debris had once again accumulated on the street corners by morning.

“It never ends. At dawn every morning we go through areas of Diez de Octubre picking up trash. We take tons of waste to the dump, but a little later the street corners are overflowing with junk again,” says Orlando, a 35-year-old sanitation worker.

Directly facing the Plaza Roja in the heart of the Havana neighborhood of La Víbora, there is an unoccupied building where neighbors dump significant quantities of trash. Every so often large dump trucks and a bulldozer carry off the piles of debris. A few days later the building is once again filled with refuse and discarded objects.

The garbage trucks cannot always make their rounds. The drivers do what they can with the aging fleet. Many of the vehicles remain idle due to a lack of spare parts. Widespread indifference leads some people to steal the wheels off the trash containers to make pushcarts. Or for fun, gangs of youths turn trashcans over into the streets.

Public health and epidemiological officials launch media campaigns in an effort to stem the illegal dumping, but they have little effect.

“Havana as a city is extremely vulnerable to diseases associated with a lack of cleanliness. Unhealthy conditions as well as rats, mice, mosquitoes as well as poor water treatment can lead to skin infections, cholera and dengue fever,” says a specialist.

In spite of some outbreaks of dengue fever and cholera, Havana has not seen large-scale epidemics — at least not yet — even though dengue fever has reached almost epidemic proportions.

Because potable water is not available 24 hours a day, a large segment of the population is forced to store water in containers, and not always in the most hygienic or careful way. As a result mosquito larvae carrying hemorrhagic dengue fever can be difficult to eliminate.

“Ending the cycle of the dengue epidemic has so far proved to be impossible. As long as current living conditions in Cuba persist, trying to eradicate dengue is like tilting at windmills,” says the head of a brigade which fumigates houses in an attempt to prevent the illness.

A shortage of trash bins means pedestrians often throw peanut wrappers, beer cans and other pieces of trash into the street. Because there are fewer public restrooms — especially in bars, cafes and nightclubs — at night many people urinate or defecate in public thoroughfares, on street corners or in building stairways.

Public apathy and societal discontent among certain segments of the population manifest themselves in acts of petty vandalism towards public telephones, automatic teller machines and city buses.

The filth and stench have turned the capital into the dirtiest city on the island. A shortage of trashcans and public idleness have caused the streets to overflow with refuse and debris.

“If the accumulation of dirt and poor water treatment continue, an epidemic of huge proportions could be unleashed in Havana in the near future,” warns an epidemiologist. We have been lucky so far.

Iván García

18 May 2013

There is still the ration book. Potatoes are scarce, the price of fruit is going through the roof, and drinking a natural orange juice is a luxury. Sanitary pads are only distributed every two months — a package of ten to menstruating women. And connecting to the Internet is still a science fiction story for a large part of the population.

However, sex is liberated. A national sport. According to some, the infidelity between couples is a gene human beings carry. If those verse in it give a tour of Cuba, we can confirm their strange theories.

And they confirm that teenagers of 12 and 13 are “experts” in the field. Unaware that Australian is a continent, or that Henry Lee was in independence fighter in the American Revolution and not the creator of Lee jeans. But when it comes to sex, they have countless stories to tell. For many boys, their fathers teach them from the time they’re small, that the more women they have the more macho they are.

It’s the ABCs of a Cuban father to his son; life is dick. Men don’t cry. And the boss of the house is the one with balls. If in the 19th and 20th century fathers paid prostitutes to de-flower their sons, today it’s not necessary.

Most children are more up-to-date and more promiscuous than their parents. Having a “honey” or a lover is synonymous with masculinity. An athlete of sex. A son of a bitch of the street.

The more lovers, the more drinks friends pay for. In the bars they offer “wise” council about how to get into an impossible female. For hours, they tell sex anecdotes without ceasing to drink like Cossacks, beer and cheap rum.

Sex in Cuba is messy, but it has its hierarchies. Not like the neighborhood pimp that manages a five-star hotel. A capital that’s a general. A boring and monotonous deputy to parliament that’s a mandarin.

The “honeys” of the superiors respect them. Secretly they look at their breasts or butt, but desist from the rude compliment or indecent proposal.  A boss can fire you or make your life impossible if he finds you prowling around his woman.

Meanwhile, the more stars on your epaulette or if your photo appears among the members of the Central Committee, the more chances you have to give major luxuries to your lovers. You can even choose: blondes brunettes, mulatto or black. Or have a collection with one of each. As all are stunning, with pride and discretion we see you on the weekend in exclusive recreational villas for senior officers, or at parties their wives don’t attend.

Being the “honey” of a major character in Cuba, is synonymous with social status. As if rocket-propelled, you climb the ladder at work. All over Havana everyone is talking about the meteoric rise of a famous television report, who is both beautiful and talented. According to the rumors, the lucky guy who sleeps with her is the “boss of the bosses.”

It’s still remembered that in the 90s, when Carlos Aldana was the third strong man on the island, in charge of the ideological sector of the Communist Party, came to have three “darling” journalists, the three well-known.

Even Fidel Castro, between sips of Jack’s Daniel, liked to talk in private about his sexual exploits, like the affair he had with the German Marita Lorenz and she told about it in a book. In a macho-Fidelista Revolution like the Cuban one, having amorous adventures in bulk sets you apart from the pack. A rogue, a pimp. A hallmark of virility that makes the difference.

In a note from Juan Juan Almeida published in Marti News, told about the debauchery of Cuban officials in Angola. He gave a figure, taking from the Ministry of the Armed Forces: 40% of the woman who were on the mission in Angola were harassed or raped. That figure has never appeared in the newspaper Granma. For me, Almeida Jr. is a highly credible source. He lived among the creme de la creme of the Cuban hierarchy. His father, a great person in the opinion of his relatives, took to his bed every woman who stirred his pleasure.

And I pardon their children and wives. The great difference between being the “honey” of a leader and dying of hunger, are luxuries and comforts. The guy with few resources invites you to a movie and buys you popcorn or peanuts. The “bigwig” puts a roof over your head. And if you really satisfy him he buys you a car. And in addition, you climb the ladder in your profession.

There are women who live off their lovers, like the pimps off their prostitutes. And sometimes they have more than one “girlfriend,” they compete to see who gets more and remains preferred. Recently I heard an argument between two hookers. One said to the other, “Yeah, I’m a monster, I bought my boyfriend a motorcycle and three gold chains. The others just give him shirts and sneakers.”

You can live in tile house in Carraguao, or a residence in Miramar. But if you were raised to it, you have to have a “honey.” In a conversation between “tough men,” if you don’t talk about the “girlfriends,” “honeys” or lovers you have, they might label you Catholic or retarded. A bore who doesn’t know how to use the penis God gave you. That is, taking care not to mention or even look at the boss’s lover.

Ivan Garcia

16 May 2013

The French General Charles de Gaulle used to say that when two people or two countries associated with each other, one always tries to have the upper hand. Cuba, which because of its geographical situation is considered the Key of America, after 54 years of the exclusive mandate of the Castro brothers still has pretensions of being a lighthouse of redemption.

As the first Communist country on the continent it has forged the natural right to be an ideological mentor of the rebellious, seditious, or outdated Latin America anarchists.

The Havana government has outlined interventionist policies. When in the time of the “proletariat internationalism” the Soviet titty connected a tube of rubles, funds and oil, Fidel Castro offered guerrilla apprenticeship courses in Cuba.

Terrorists, such as the Venezuelan Carlos “The Jackal,” currently in prison in France, learned to use C-4 explosives from his Cuban comrades. On behalf of the dictatorship of the proletariat, an enraged poor island sent troops to civil conflicts in Africa. Continue reading →

Some are advertised online. And they pay taxes to the state. Other work by the left. Either way flowers grow like Havana.

All are located in private homes. Prices vary between one and three CUC with the right to a bag of popcorn and a soda. They also sell ice cream and beer, rum, vodka and whiskey for adults.

There are runs for children, adolescents and youth. And sessions just for adults with horror movies or violence. These private 3D cinemas have a wide collection of films in three dimensions.

Avatar or Tintin, are now all the rage among children. In the neighborhood of La Vibora there are now several 3D cinemas. One of them is located in a house on the side of the former primary school, Pedro Maria, today a dilapidated shell.

So many children, youth and adults attend, making reservations days in advance with Roinel, the owner. The house has air conditioning and a small wood and metal bar. About twenty yellow and white plastic chairs, four large sofas and three high-legged stools.

In one of the showings last Saturday, the makeshift 3D theater was packed. Each session lasts two hours. “It’s tremendous, the reception given the 3D. It is a unique experience and people are loving it. In one day I have to 5 showings with a full house,” says Roinel.

He has 40 polarized glasses. A formidable 60 inch flat screen and a special projector for films in three dimensions. When Roinel is asked about the profits he responds with a smile. “I’m making good money,” he said without giving figures. The olive-green state, owns 90% of the companies in Cuba, and keeps an eagle eye on the new 3D cinema private businesses.

The first public exhibition hosted by the Cuban Film Institute (ICAIC) was held in the province of Camagüey, a little more than 300 miles east of Havana, at an event for film criticism, last March. “It was more symbolic than anything else, because we only had 20 glasses, but for historical purposes it must be as the first exhibition in a public space by the State,” he told the film critic Juan Antonio García from the Spanish agency EFE.

According to ICAIC officials, the agency is considering adapting a small room at its headquarters at 23rd and 12th in Vedado, for three-dimensional projections. As always, the State lags behind the creativity shown by the self-employed.

The equipment in these particular 3D cinema comes to the island thanks to relatives residing in South Florida or Cubans married to foreigners.

Although 3D cinema is now causing excitement, this type of experience is not novel in Cuba. “In the 50s, in various rooms of Havana they showed films with the anaglyph 3D technique, blue and cyan. The new thing now is the polarized glasses,” says a capital cinephile.

According to official data, Cuba has just over 300 cinemas, with 16 and 35 mm format. Most were built before the Revolution. Today, operating theaters have severe damage and do not have the technological equipment to make the jump to 3D. Others have disappeared or turned into juggling schools, theater companies and stores selling schlock.

A movie ticket is very cheap on the island. Two pesos (ten cents). But talking about comfort is another thing. You can count on the fingers of one hand the air-conditioned rooms, ushers with flashlights and clean bathrooms.

The days of the old children’s matinees in the local cinemas where the children saw Chaplin and for the first time and the comedies of Laurel and Hardy, gone.

That magic of a dark room and a large screen has begun to be replaced by new private cinemas in 3D that proliferate in Havana. The difference is that the experience can cost a family two week’s wage.

Iván García

7 May 2013

Like Deng Xiaoping in China, General Raul Castro is using capitalism to save Cuba’s brand of socialism. It worked in China. The party and its ideological stalwarts achieved results.

Not only did the market and capital investments transform China into the second largest economy on the planet, creating spectacular economic growth, the party also performed Olympian ideological acrobatics. Sweeping away the resounding failures of Mao’s Great Leap Forward and the barbarities of the Cultural Revolution was a masterpiece of Chinese advertising magic.

Deng experienced the violence of the revolution personally. He was a victim of the Cultural Revolution unleashed by Mao. Accused of being a counter-revolutionary, he was stripped of power. He was confined in 1969 to a remote region and forced to work in a tractor factory in Jianxi province. After Mao’s death he was rehabilitated. Once in power he gradually began China’s transformation.

From a rural economy he created a superpower by fusing the tools of capitalism with the supremacy and control of the Communist Party. His first steps were gradual. At the time his Soviet comrades and Cuba’s Fidel Castro branded him a traitor to Marxism.

In the 1980s, while Fidel Castro dismissed the new Chinese government, his brother Raul took note. The Chinese reforms began seven years before Gorbachev’s perestroika. They met with approval from the United States which, astonished by the economic and social experiment, granted China most-favored-nation trade status.

Meanwhile, Amnesty International accused China of violating human rights, imprisoning political dissidents and carrying out 18,000 death penalties a year.

During the uprising in Tienanmen Square in 1989, Deng Xiaoping did not hesitate to order the army to fire on peaceful protesters calling for democracy. Deng was clear; no one but no one was going to impede the progress of the reforms.

Millions of people got out of poverty thanks to the economic transformations. Today the Communist Party applauds people who make money, as long as they remain silent, obedient and do not succumb to democratic rhetoric.

Today China is a quiet empire – a country where laborers work for seventy dollars a month for as many hours as an investor wants without worries about losses from strikes or independent trade unions.

China is a cocktail of voracious capitalist ambition combined with the rigid societal controls typical of an autocracy. The entire reform process in China has been carefully studied by the accountants, technocrats and economists advising the Cuban general.

Raul Castro has been in charge of the nation’s economy since the mid-1990s, but it was only after July 31, 2006, when his brother gave up power due to illness, that the path was clear to introduce economic changes on the island.

In Cuba the capitalist methods of a market economy are to be introduced gradually. As in Deng’s China, lip service will still be paid to a planned economy, but the doors will be discreetly opened to capitalist investors. The economic czar, Marion Murillo, is careful to camouflage his future plans.

Among the first steps will be overtures to millionaire Cuban businessmen living in the United States. Unlike China, however, Cuba is of no particular interest to the world’s power centers.

A limiting factor is that its market of eleven million impoverished Cubans in not a seductive draw for foreign investment. Its complicated investment laws also do not inspire confidence.

Until now the Castros have acted like swindlers, breaking it off with capitalists and closing down their businesses when they feel like it. General Raul promises to change the rules of the game.

The embargo is another big obstacle. No capitalist with any sense of pride is going to invest money in Cuba if it means not being able to do business with the world’s superpower.

There is nothing more cowardly than a million dollars. To reverse the situation, sensible people in the regime are trying to strengthen the anti-embargo lobby in the United States.

They can count on the support of most country’s in the world as well as the proven inefficacy of the embargo. Economic pressures from Washington have brought neither democracy nor free elections to the island.

Eleven administrations have passed through the White House during the fifty-fours years of this autocratic government, having committed themselves to democracy in Cuba.

If Raul Castro comes up with cosmetic political changes and creates business opportunities for all Cubans — exiles and non-exiles — the next American president could change policy.

At the end of the day, China is no more democratic than Cuba. And the United States wants a neighbor that keeps illegal immigration under control and combats drug trafficking and terrorism.

These are the trump cards the government of Castro II will proposed to sit down and negotiate with the Americans. The current regime could be innovative in creating democratic pockets.

For some time, the special services have been colonizing certain areas of dissent. As an international image it doesn’t hurt. And, above all, to engage the rest of the nations of the continent, where the opposition is legal.

Raul Castro’s intentions are to revive the economy so that people can to live better without questioning who governs. His goal is to extend the Castro regime beyond his death.

His guide has been China’s reforms. His strategy is similar. That capitalism saves a shipwrecked socialism.

Iván García

Photo: Iberostar Ensenachos. Five star hotel with 440 rooms, located on the north coast of the province of Villa Clara, in the center of the island. Among the benefits of the environment are two pristine beaches, the Ensenachos and The Mégano. Built on a virgin key in a the shape of a horseshoe, the area is considered a Biosphere Reserve, for having endemic species of flora and fauna and an aboriginal settlement.

25 April 2013

On Sunday, April 14, at 11:45 PM Havana time, the president of the National Electoral Council, Tibisay Lucena, delared Nicolas Maduro, the candidate of the United Socialist Party of Venezuela (PSUV), the winner of the presidential election. More than a few bottles of champagne and Russian vodka were uncorked by Cuban government ministers and military businessmen in a relaxed and familial atmosphere.

The close victory by Chavez’ hand-picked successor — 50.66% of the vote compared to Capriles’ 49.07% — was the culmination of a political campaign orchestrated in large part from Havana.

While the Bolivarian comandante lay dying in CIMEQ, a large hospital west of the city, the Castro brothers offered their services as political intermediaries to the bereaved Chávez cabinet. It was in the Cuban capital that a plan was cooked up and a timetable for succession was worked out. Behind the scenes a script was being written. Continue reading →

Photo: Víctor Manuel Domínguez

For someone from Havana, the best thing is to walk the streets in spring. These March days, Jorge Olivera Castillo, 52, poet and journalist, is delighted by the green of the trees, the salty aroma, and the gentle sun.

On any weekday morning, he traces his own journey. Aimlessly wandering through a maze of alleyways crammed with the facades of propped up tenements: in these sites reside in the subjects of his stories and poems. He likes to walk the streets of Central Havana, and places not on the tourist postcards.

It was in another spring, that of 2003, when the State wanted to break a handful of peaceful men and women, making arbitrary use of its absolute power. And sentences were handed out to Cubans, like Jorge Olivera, who disagreed and disagree with a regime that confuses a nation with a farm, and democracy with loyalty to a commander.

Olivera was one of 75 prisoners of the Black Spring. Ten years later, without drama, he recalls those days. “About two o’clock in the afternoon of March 18, 2003 I was arrested. I had returned from the hospital, to be seen for a gastrointestinal problem, when a troop of about twenty violent soldiers appeared. At that time I was director of Havana Press, an independent press agency. They conducted a thorough search of every piece of paper I had. They seized books of literature and my stories and articles. An old Remington typewriter. Family photos, letters from friends, electric bills and even my phone bill. A clean sweep. Everything was confiscated by state decree.”

When a government says that a man who writes must be prosecuted, something is wrong with this society. The weapons of free journalists like Jorge Olivera, Ricardo Gonzalez, Raul Rivero and other reporters sentenced to 24 years in prison, were the words, typewriters and landline telephones through which once a week they read the news and their texts about the other Cuba the regime tries to ignore.

In April 2003, a Summary Court sentenced him to 18 years’ imprisonment. “The trial was a circus. Without legal guarantees. The defense attorneys were more afraid than we were. The definitive evidence showing that I was a public threat were my scattered internet writings and recordings of my participation in programs of Radio Martí,” says Jorge.

He slept 36 nights in Villa Marista, headquarters of the secret police, a former religious school transformed into custody for opponents. Located in the Sevillano neighborhood, in the 10 October municipality, Villa Marists is a left over from the Cold War. A Caribbean imitation of Moscow’s Lubyanka Prison from the Communist period. In March 1991, He was there thirteen days, accused of ’enemy propaganda’. When you enter the two-story building, with walls painted bright green, a watch officer sitting behind glass receives you.

They use techniques of intimidation and psychological torture. You’re not a human being. You become an object. A property of special services. Before a gray dress uniform they undress and humiliate you in front of several officers. They force you to do squats and open your anus. As in Abub Ghraib or imprisonment in Guantanamo Naval Base. But in Cuba it has been applied much earlier.

“They were terrible days. In the cells minimum of four people were boarded. The beds were a zinc plate fixed to the wall with a chain. The medicines are placed on a ledge outside the cell. You are called by a number. I was not Jorge, but the prisoner 666. You sleep with two light bulbs that never go off. At any time of day or night you can be called for lengthy interrogations. They lead you through long and gloomy passageways of packed cells where you do not see any other detainee. It’s like being in the mouth of the wolf,” says Olivera.

Some dictators often have a macabre sense of humor. After extensive tortures, Stalin used trials and self-incriminations as a spectacle. Sometimes there was no show. They put your back to a wall and gave you one shot to the temple. If they wanted to prolong the agony and break as a human being, they sent you to a Gulag.

In Cuba, the agents of the State Security have modeled these methods. Except the shot to the temple. One of those strokes of ridicule that the repressive apparatus of the Castro likes, Olivera keeps fresh in his memory. The condemned of the Black Spring were spread out among the island’s prisons in comfortable air-conditioned coaches, the same ones used for tourists.

“The height of cynicism. We traveled that day watching movies and they gave us good food. We were treated like royalty as we deposited in prisons hundreds of miles from our homes. I was detained in Guantanamo Provincial Combined, six hundred miles from where my wife and my children live,” he recalls.

The worst experience Jorge Olivera lived through was the prison. “The food was a mess. Officers beating common prisoners in common. Inmates self-mutilate. Or commit suicide. Poetry saved me from madness.” It was in prison where Olivera began writing poems. In 2004, due to a string of illnesses, he was granted a parole.

Technically he is still not a free man. If the government decides, the Black Spring prisoners remaining in the island can go back behind bars. Of the 27 independent journalists imprisoned in March 2003, Jorge Olivera is the only one left in Cuba. Abroad he has published four books of poetry and two of short stories.

Right now he gives shapes to his latest poems. “Systole and Diastole”is the working title. He writes for Cubanet and Digital Spring, a weekly where for six years the best independent journalists have performed.

Along with fellow journalist Víctor Manuel Domínguez, he leads a writers club. He is an honorable member of the Pen Club of the Czech Republic and the United States. If people could receive a grade for the human condition, I wouldn’t hesitate to shake his hand to give a ten to Jorge Olivera. His priorities remain information, describing the reality of his neighbors in Central Havana, the crisis of values, prostitution and official corruption.

The author of “Surviving in the Mouth of the Wolf” rejects the ’amnesia’ of newly minted dissidents. “You can not forget history. The rebellious generation that dominates the new technologies is welcome. But they should be honest and admit that before them, we were there. Looking at news on hot news and under constant police harassment. We did not have Twitter or Facebook, we wrote with pens on the back of recycled paper. But we never stopped reporting on the precarious life and lack of a future for the people in Cuba. That can not be relegated or forgotten. The history of dissent is very long. And before us, were those who were sentenced to death in La Cabaña. If we forget these stages, mutilate or distort an important part of the peaceful struggle against the Castro regime,” says Jorge Olivera.

His dream is to do radio, be healthy and live in a democracy. He hopes the day is not too far off when he can reunite with Raul Rivero and Tania Quintero, two fellow exiles. Not in Switzerland or Spain, but walking the streets of Havana in the spring.

Iván García

31 March 2013