Category: Miriam Celaya

A few days ago, a pushcart vendor in my neighborhood was complaining about a new government measure that will apply to his trade: soon, street vendors selling agricultural products, already proliferating throughout the city, will be forced to get a regulation cart from the State measuring one square meter, two levels to show the merchandise, and a roof. “Raúl’s cart,” as the device has been nicknamed, will cost the vendors 800 pesos, and this tax will be in addition to the recent increases that the “self” employed have endured. Another business that the government will benefit from.

The excuse by the authorities this time is that the vendors use any rolling contraption for selling their goods, with the resulting disfigurement of the city, and, in addition, there are too many illegal vendors, so “Raul’s cart” will serve to monitor violations by those who evade applying for a seller’s license, thus avoiding paying the tax. The cart will be, therefore, something that will grant legality to its owner, a kind of certificate of guarantee that, in a way, will support the inspectors’ jobs. continue reading

The recent ascent of the Cuban President-General to the head of the Community of Latin American and Caribbean States (CELAC) and the silent tolerance or evident indulgence of thirty democratic nations, even before the arrogance that permeated his speeches, highlights the political cross-dressing of “our America”.

Some specific details on the speeches of Castro II, like lessons he offered his… counterparts(?) with regard to drug trafficking and consumption, based on the Cuban experience, on the strategic utility of the death penalty and the egregious disrespect he demonstrated against the will of the majority of the Puerto Rican people – who recently endorsed their sovereign decision to remain a commonwealth – when he expressed his regret at the absence of that island nation at the conclave, and his wish that one day it would serve on the CELAC, are just an example of how we need to advance the region’s democratic culture.

The General’s blunders were welcomed by undaunted representatives of Latin-American democracies attending the meeting, who even applauded the rudeness of the old former guerrilla, wearing a civilian costume for the occasion. So we attended, among smiles, compliments, and handshakes, the alliance of democratically elected governments in the region – whose countries have multiparty systems, freedom of movement, of expression and of the press, freedom of association and other civil advantages that embellish democracies – with the ancient Antillean satrapy, thus legitimizing his dictatorship. The new Latin-American principle was explicitly made: gloss over what they have termed “our ideological and political differences in order to consolidate “the unity of our sister countries” and maintain “the respect to self-determination” of each peoples.

Obviously, the thirty-plus Latin American governments meeting in Santiago de Chile decided that the totalitarianism imposed on Cuba is not only an “ideology”, but has long remained in power thanks to the self-determination of the Cuban people (though we have to admit that they may have a point in the latter). Perhaps Chavez’s oil, the subtle detail that the new capital of Venezuela is located in Havana or that the investments of certain Latin-American enterprises in Cuba might have had something to do with such regional empathy.

Another thing that was not clear to me was what commitments the Cuban government might have entered into with the CELAC chairmanship, what advantages Cubans could expect from those commitments and what the projections are for the medium and long terms as far as the progress of the Latin American and Caribbean countries. At least from what they aired in Cuba, the speeches were geared more towards historical references that would justify our supposed common identity, towards the need to overcome poverty, and the command to create a common front in the presence of powerful economies of the developed nations of the First World. Too many clichés in the speeches. As is customary, there were also many “what’s” but few “how’s”.

In this vein, while in Cuba’s interior the dictatorship does not give one iota about civil liberties, it flaunts the presidency of the umbrella organization of democratic nations in the region. The General’s aggressive speech, presenting the violence of the Cuban experience as the legitimate letter of the government, seems to enjoy the complicity of those attending the regional event while the loneliness and helplessness of the Cuban people escalates. The dictatorship’s summit has ended, and, as for me, if those governments exemplify our siblings, then I’d rather be an only child.

Translated by Norma Whiting

February 1 2013

A sign near the tunnel entrance reads: “Welcome to Havana, capital of all Cubans”. It’s a lie. For years, many Cubans have been literally captured and deported from the capital to the cities and towns where they came from originally, as if they were an unwelcome plague.

“Havana can’t take it anymore…” was the catchphrase of a song made famous long-ago in the 80′s by Los Van Van, whose lyrics, often vulgar, have been a kind of chronicle of what is officially approved to be divulged.

Los Van Van are not just tolerated by the authorities, but belong to an elite club of “artistic” government spokesmen. In fact, the old song was complicit in backing the segregationist government policy of expelling people from the provinces from the capital. continue reading

In the people’s collection of sayings, there is a well-known refrain that goes as follows: “Justice takes its time, but it will get here”. Judging from the more than 50 years’ of dictatorship expertise of Cubans, the syntax of the phrase could be changed to come up with a result that is more representative: “Justice will get there, but it’s taking its time!” Nothing could have predicted that 54 years after power was snatched in Cuba, and 24 years after that house of cards that was socialism in Eastern Europe fell, the chameleon-like Castro regime would not only have survived, but that Cuba would become the virtual metropolis of a huge oil country. continue reading

Another year is ending and in a few days 2013 will begin. For me, 2012 has been like a whirlwind, so much has been happening and I’ve been so busy! Since for me a year is much more than time intervals that limit one from another every 365 days, I like to think of them by proper names according to what they mean to me, what I plan to achieve in their course or what events take place in each one.

It may seem crazy, and perhaps it is, but personalizing the years helps me to get a hold of them and to live them more intensely. I make better use of time when I assume, with empathy, those periods I claim to fulfill options and realize dreams. Not only does it work for me, but I can deal with adversity more optimistically.

It was not always so. Just over a decade ago I felt the year’s passage as a weak-willed segment between Christmases. Waiting for December was the illusion, the mainstay of the soul to achieve what I considered the best of each year –parties, overindulging, revelry, parades of friends we hadn’t seen since last year … – with the additional childish expectation of thinking that perhaps the new year would be the one to make a difference: who’d know if perhaps we would be lucky enough to dawn in a better Cuba one of those days. Thus, the hidden sign behind the lights on the Christmas tree and behind the greetings and the toasts was always the longing, the quiet feeling of undigested and poorly assumed deprivation, frustration and dissatisfaction. If I didn’t succumb back then to the national epidemic that I am in the habit of calling “the zombie effect” it was simply miraculous, by chance, or perhaps because my testy nature always refuses to accept resignation as a destination (or to accept fate with resignation, as a good Christian friend would say).

The truth is that at one point I caught a glimpse of that light in all of us and came out of the quagmire. Ever since that day, though December continues to be a happy, joyful and festive month for me, far from being a goal, it’s a pretext for invoking both my best angels and to exorcise my worse demons. Each December is a watchtower to view the horizon ahead of me, and to choose my own path towards it. 2000 was, if memory serves me, the first year I named in the millennium: I named it Awakening because that was what my spirit felt, and since then, each New Year’s eve I celebrate the christening of the coming year.

I wanted to share with you these memories to wish you success and prosperity in the New Year and so that, together, we make them ours. I wish you much health and lots of the good energy to achieve our personal goals. Recently, I choose the name of my 2013: it will be called Hope. I hope that my readers will understand why. A big hug to everyone,

Eva-Miriam Celaya

Translated by Norma Whiting

December 28 2012

My readers must forgive this long and abrupt absence. After so much talk about the Cuban health system, I ended up getting sick. Luckily, it was not cholera or dengue fever, but I just had the most aggressive flu that I can ever remember, and it kept me home for many days without even having a chance to play with the computer keyboard, since I had an acute case of conjunctivitis as a complication. Not for nothing, but they “threw everything at me”, but they haven’t been able to do away with me… at least for now.

Although a lot has happened during these days and, of course, there are many things to comment on, today I just want to announce that I’m back and to thank everyone for the many e-mail messages, asking about my health. I also would like to take this opportunity to extend my deepest appreciation to everyone who, all through this long and difficult 2012, have shown their solidarity in the most diverse ways. You have really helped me, and the medications that you sent me on occasion came in handy on this critical juncture. I also want to thank you for your PayPal donations that allowed me to buy internet connection time in Havana hotels when I can’t get on line through more friendly venues; the numerous times you have made possible my cell phone recharges, which allow for immediate communication with my “fellow travelers” and protect me against any potential adverse circumstance with the boys of the repressive forces; text messages that quickly inform me from the outside about events not published in the press within Cuba, and finally, all the words of encouragement that inspire me to return to this blog to meet with you in the ongoing effort to push down the wall together.

Without you, I’m sure the road would be a thousand times harsher. Thank you with all my heart. We will, once again, meet here next week.

Translated by Norma Whiting

December 14 2012

I originally published the article that follows on the website Penúltimos Días last November 26th. Since there are several and conflicting opinions about the post, I will submit it to the regular readers of this blog for their consideration. I just want to make a preliminary clarification: what some may consider inadequate demands of the Spanish government, which, according to them I should also make of the Cuban government, I will remind that my words are based on words of the Consul of that country in relation to Cubans who have obtained Spanish citizenship, which includes me, and which gives me the right to review the decisions and actions of that government’s policies. On the other hand, readers have witnessed my habit of demanding the rights that are due me as a Cuban.

Here goes:

Ravings of a Cuban-Spaniard

A few days ago, I read a note published by the editors of Cubaencuentro, dated in Madrid on October 30th under the title “Spanish Consul in Havana asks Island Hispanic societies to welcome new Cuban-Spaniards”, which seemed a bit perplexing to me. Besides offering some interesting facts, the article deserves careful reading: often, the essence is in the details, especially when it is a diplomatic discourse, full of omissions and half-truths.

The issue of the Cubans who have crowded the headquarters of the Spanish Consulate in Havana in order to qualify for the nationality of their ancestors under the Law of Historical Memory is an eloquent sign of how depreciated the condition of native-born Cubans is. Suffice it to check the figures to get an approximate idea of the mobilization unleashed by hundreds of thousands of Spanish descendants who in the last three years have sought to restore the citizenship of their grandparents.

According to that note, admissions by the Consul General of Spain himself, Tomás Rodríguez Pantoja, at the end of 2011, 65,000 new Spanish citizenships have been granted, and 70,000 have been obtained to date, while 140,000 requests still remain. If we add to that the 28,000 Spanish nationals who were living in Cuba before the application of that law, you can easily conclude that the number of citizens of this country (i.e. neo-Spanish Caribbeans) that have emerged in a few years almost exceeds the total Spanish immigrants who arrived in Cuba in the first third of the last century. These figures do not include the tens of thousands of Cubans of Spanish descent who, for various reasons, have been unable to obtain the necessary documentation required for requesting Spanish citizenship -as, for example, the grandparents’ birth certificates- and, consequently, have not even submitted their applications to the Consulate.

In a meeting held with the leaders of Spanish associations in Cuba, the Spanish Consul stated that “one of the biggest challenges we have, and I ask you to take this with the deepest affection, is to integrate into our societies the vast number of new or old renovated Spaniards, Spanish-Cubans who, through the Law of Historical Memory, will recover their ancestors’ nationality” and he asked that the Spanish communities assume “the responsibility of integrating them into the spirit of Spain” since some of the nationalized [Spanish] Cubans “can’t even tell the difference between communities”. He had previously stated, in another instance, that these people “don’t yet have the Spanish sense (…), don’t feel for our country or are united onto our reality, though they are as Spanish as we are”.

As a recent Spanish-Cuban, I must admit that, to a certain extent, the Consul is right: around here, we don’t even have the vaguest idea of how “having a Spanish sense” might feel, at least not in the same way as the diplomat might regard it. We are, simply, and purely, Cubans, regardless of the number and variety of citizenships or passports that we might come to cherish if we could. It is no secret, even to the consul, that the overwhelming majority of those who have benefited from Spanish citizenship has done so in the hope of emigrating, and, by the way, a Spanish passport is not in as much high demand as an American visa.

And at this point I want to emphasize that I am the exception to the rule: I have no interest in escaping from Cuba, or settling in Spain (or any other country) and if I decided to take my grandfather’s citizenship, a Basque born in Busturia, is because I have the right, and if one day I have the possibility of visiting Spain, it would be better to do so as a citizen of that country, with a passport that would open the doors that my Cuban passport closes for me. I’m definitely an incurable addict when it comes to rights. I’m not interested in “asking for help” to be a parasite on the public purse sustained on the taxes of the Spanish, to which they contribute with their work and effort. I have neither a lazy nor a beggar’s soul.

Personally, I have no idea what the consul means by “a Spanish sense” I don’t think that a nationalist feeling is necessary to experience deep emotion in the presence of the Spanish history and culture. The great masters of the art of Spain, her artists and the numerous geniuses of her literature, especially her poetry, with Antonio Machado as my favorite, the force and uniqueness of her music and dance, the richness and variety of her traditions, the fascination of her rich history, full of light and shadow, which largely holds the key to the very course of the history of my country, Cuba, and also explains the idiosyncrasies of my own nation and identity, are sufficient elements to understand the singular empathy between Cubans and Spaniards.

Spain is closer to me, in addition, since a reverse migration began to take place: decades of dictatorship have contributed to the displacement of thousands of Cubans who have made Spain their adopted country. Many of them do not have Spanish citizenship, and a considerable portion hasn’t even obtained legal residence, but they do their best to survive from a disadvantaged position in the midst of a prolonged and severe economic crisis. I love Spain more since it has become home to so many of my countrymen, and since, for the past five years, I have received the support and affection of Spaniards who write to me and follow my digital blog, because, though this may not be important to Mr. Consul, I understand that the Spanish government might not have made a good investment when it gave me my citizenship: I am an unrepentant dissident, and I oppose any authority abridging my rights. As a Cuban, I oppose the Cuban government, and as a Spaniard, condescending speeches aside, I would love for the Consul, representative in Cuba of my other nation’s government, to clarify some of my doubts.

I would be interested to know, let’s say, how the Consulate is going to help those Cubans who are recovering the nationality of their ancestors “have a sense for the country (Spain)” or “join” the Spanish state of affairs. Let’s say, for instance, that the Spanish diplomatic seat in Havana could start by introducing practices that recognize the rights of Cuban-Spanish as the same ones of Spanish-born citizens, since, so far, treatment given to the former and the latter is markedly different, as evidenced by the detail that native-born Spanish need only present their passports or their Spanish identity cards to gain access to the embassy, while Cuban-Spanish are required to use their Cuban identity card to do so, though they have Spanish passports. Are we second-class citizens without pedigree, amateur Spanish?

The passport is another fundamental point. It is almost as cumbersome to obtain a Spanish passport as to get a Cuban one. In my case, I was given notice of having been granted my citizenship in October, 2011, and over one year later, I have yet to procure a passport, and I don’t know why. A lot of Cubans who got their citizenship after I did already have theirs. For lack of answers, I have applied several times, without success. I am registered in the Havana consulate, but I am an “undocumented Spaniard”, without knowing what bureaucratic ineptitude (if only that were the case!) prevents me from accessing the document that identifies me as a citizen of Spain. Could it be that the Spanish passport is as selective as its Cuban counterpart and certain people have no right to it?

I know of no new Spanish-Cuban who has been invited to the Columbus Day celebrations held each October 12th, and haven’t heard any news that the consulate has given any attention to this sector of its “nationals”. For example, despite the known limitations of Cubans to access the Internet, all consular procedures require prior appointments to be requested by e-mail, however, the consulate has not seen fit to enable a location with access to the web, even for the use of Cubans who have already obtained their documentation as Spanish citizens. The service is likewise not offered in cultural Spanish associations. Wouldn’t this be an effective way for the Madrid government to demonstrate its good will and a way for the new Spanish citizens to be better informed about their adopted nation? Aren’t the new computer and informational technologies the most expeditious means to the free cultural exchange in the so-called global village?

Nor do I know of Spanish-Cubans who are freely contracted and considered as such by Spanish companies that have invested capital in Cuba. What prevents them to be hired as overseas Spaniards and enjoy the same benefits and labor rights? Similar exclusions extend to those who have decided to become independent from the official employer –the Cuban government- after obtaining their Spanish citizenship. I know of Cuban cases that, while they were contracted through an official Cuban employment purse, they could practice their profession in Spain without the need to be re-qualified in that country, however, when they tried to get employed as Spanish citizens doing the same work, now they demand Spanish education credentials. Could it be that there is an agreement with the Cuban government to limit the rights of Spanish abroad? How can the “Spanish feeling” be consolidated this way? How would the consul explain such discrimination and how does he suppose these neo-Spaniards will be able to “penetrate” the economy of their companies when in principle they are marginalized?

I don’t think Mr. Consul is very clear in that integration cannot be sustained only on “trade and cultural activities.” That is, tambourines, castanets and bagpipes seem all well and good, but as “rights”, they are insufficient. Spain’s government could do much more for the Spaniards on this Island and also for its own nation if it conceived effective policies that stimulated them [Cuban-Spanish] to remain in Cuba while benefitting the Spanish economy. In fact, that is just what men like my Basque grandfather and hundreds of thousands of Spaniards did. Like him, they arrived on this Island hopeful to work, prosper, and help their relatives in the distant homeland. We are not talking about offering handouts, but drawing mutually beneficial strategies. If only Spanish policy makers in Cuba today were so determined, creative and authentic as those immigrants, who long ago left their beaches to make landfall on ours!

Translated by Norma Whiting

November 30 2012

The picture illustrating this post, which I downloaded from an official site, relates to one of many that exist on the intervention of Cuban doctors in Haiti after the earthquake that struck that country in 2010, and also about the cholera epidemic. Interestingly, on this December 3rd, Latin American Medicine Day, I failed to find any photograph of our doctors caring for victims of cholera in Cuba.

Of course, some might say that you cannot photograph what does not exist. Judging by the official press, and in the absence of convincing medical reports, it appears that what is circulating in Cuba -especially in the eastern region of the Island- is not cholera, but an outbreak of acute diarrhea. Another euphemistic phrase that a few months ago defined cholera in the official media was intestinal infection from water contamination, which in turn was also reported as being under control and eliminated.

Today we woke up with a phony media celebration. The TV morning news was pleased with the doctors’ day, and once again listed the countless achievements and sacrifices of health professionals, while Cubans on the Island continue to be exposed to the dangers of cholera and dengue fever, two epidemics that have already claimed many lives and remain hidden, concealed under the government triumphalist speeches and the accomplice silence of health authorities.

There is nothing to be celebrated this December 3rd. In actuality, we should be mourning the lack of freedom that keeps Calixto Ramón locked up in a government prison. He is the freelance journalist who first made mention of the presence of cholera in the province of Granma and other regions of Cuba, who has been on a hunger strike for 22 days, so far. We should be mourning the loss of human lives due to the criminal lack of responsibility of the government and healthcare officials. We should be mourning the helplessness of the people against the rampant lack of hygiene and the death of medical ethics.

What good is so much professional talent, so many hours sacrificed, working in appalling conditions, or the internationalists’ absence from country and family, if our doctors are unable to comply with the ethical obligation to disclose the risk faced by the population? When did the sacred duty of those who once swore to protect us become subordinate to the commitment of political ideology?

At present, only a few doctors dare to overcome their fear and compromise their personal and professional interests to alert patients about epidemics silenced by government policies. Most remain silent.

This December 3rd reminds us that there are very few doctors with dignity in this country, once such an example of medical care, that for so long had such a great primary care health system. So far, the silent docility of those who one day took the Hippocratic Oath constitutes a desecration to the memory of the illustrious Cuban doctor, Carlos Juan Finlay, born on this day in long ago 1833.

Translated by Norma Whiting

December 3 2012

At first glance, it would seem that nothing changes in Cuba. The system seems to gently continue down its inexorable march toward a crash that, nevertheless, doesn’t seem to ever arrive, just like the future promised by the defunct revolution. People continue to do everything related to the three national occupations of the highest priority: subsistence, illegal activities and emigration, mired in a riverbed of static appearance in which each side is trying to achieve its own goals, as if they were independent of each other… As if they actually were.

During the past four years the Cuban government has established the methodology of making up time by wasting it. Perhaps this has been the only political contribution of the General-President: a formula that is based on the accumulation of experiments emanating from a group of reforms and counter-reforms designed to create the expectation of economic changes without essentially changing anything, while time passes and circumstances continue to deteriorate.

The closest thing to a government program in recent decades was endorsed in a few guidelines few had faith in and that no one seems to remember (including General R. Castro himself), whose “implementation” has turned into some incomplete and inadequate aberrations, such as the distribution of leasehold land to agricultural producers, the granting of licenses to the self-employed, the approval of sales or the donation of private homes and cars, and the expansion of the use of cellular phones, among other stunts. The most recent and spectacular official scripted act has been, without a doubt, the so-called “migration reform”, a kind of myth that has taken hold over large sectors of the Cuban population, eager to emigrate, a trick whereby the government passed the ball to the opposing field: starting January, 2013, ordinary Cubans who behave will be able to travel without requiring the humiliating exit permit. Instead, they will just have to apply for an extremely expensive passport. After that, it will all depend on the overseas destination conditionally extending a visa. Skill and ineptness combined into yet another perverse hand at a balancing act without giving up control.

The giddiness that such a wealth of “change” should generate in a country whose characteristic permanent hallmark has been its resistance to change had barely a brief effect. While some journalists and foreign visitors think they see a sign of progress for Cubans in the official measures and the numerous street kiosks and carts, or an opening leading to the Island’s democratization, the fact is that there have been no real changes resulting in the improvement of life, the increase of the people’s capacity for consumption, or in palpable economic growth, not to mention the rights issue. The brief bubble of hope of early kiosk entrepreneurs has faded in the face of reality: prosperity is a crime in Cuba.

This is reflected, for example, in the fact that agricultural production is still insufficient because of the many obstacles imposed on the peasants (including defaults on contracts by government entities, or the continuing delays in the same, bureaucratic obstacles, lack of guarantees to growers, the shortage of materials, etc..), while the proliferation of self-employed sellers engaged in the marketing of these products, far from bringing about a decline in prices of agricultural products — as would occur in a in a healthy and normal market — has caused a disproportionate rise in prices, shrinking the people’s purchasing power, especially of those in the lower income brackets. The formula is quite simple: about the same amount of goods and consumers, plus an increase in the number of sellers, results in an out-of-control rise in prices in a country where the State is unable to even meet the most minimum requirements of the more fragile and dependent sector of the population, while wages and pensions are purely symbolic.

The issue of house sales is one of the more sensitive, due to the critical state of the housing market, as hundreds of thousands of families do not own their own homes. While it’s true that now those who own property may sell their homes, the difficulty consists in that few Cubans who do not have a roof over their heads have the means to acquire even the most modest apartment, though, compared with home prices in other countries, Cubans may, for the most part, be considered “moderate”.

A similar picture is presented in the rest of the “liberated” activities in virtue of the so-called government reforms. In fact, each “liberalization” brings with it the implicit increase in the cost of living and extends the schism between the nouveau riche and the dispossessed, which is proof that the problem of Cuba lies in the very core of the system. Nothing will change as long as they don’t change the principles underpinning the regime. Consequently, the government won’t be the one that will promote changes that the country needs, because changing what needs to be changed would mean the downfall of the regime.

Though this is a simple enough principle to explain, both the failure of the so-called Cuban socialism, strengthening of state capitalism established by the same class and the same “communist” subjects, architects of the national aberration for over half century, as well as the continuing and deepening socio-economic crisis, there is a kind of delicate sustained equilibrium in certain key factors that have prevented a social explosion, among which the following are significant: the state of permanent poverty which glaringly limits the expectation of great masses, who prefer escapism or survival rather than taking the risk of confronting the regime or of –- at least — not making things easier for the government; the lack of civic culture of the population; the still lack of development of independent civil society groups and their limited –- though growing– social influence; the use of repressive forces to harass any manifestation of freedom, and the monopoly of the media and communication by the government.

Nevertheless, such equilibrium in an existence of supersaturated frustrations could tumble at any given moment. Sufficient for one component to exceed its limits for the landscape to be transformed, especially considering that the discontent is growing and the long contained frustrations are a depth charge in a society biased by fractures and inequalities. It is not only the steady growth of internal dissent and of other sectors that criticize the government. Migration, corruption, illegal activity and all expressions of escapism — including apathy and pretense — are all forms of dissent that now dominate almost the entire Cuban population, a fact that the government is aware of and seeks to control by applying the precision of the repressors: political persecution to civic activists by the minions of the so-called Section 21; economic persecution of producers and traders through corrupt inspectors of the Comptroller.

The growing frustration on the Island is the seven-headed Hydra lurking between dark crevices of a structure that stands on miraculous static, and whose balancing should, right now, be the General’s utmost concern.

Note to readers: As you may have noticed, I am making changes to this page little by little. I hope you forgive some slips due to my faulty connectivity (which slows down the process of updating the image in the new template), compounded by my lack of mastery of the technology. Anyway, I’ll keep updating the posts at least once a week … Don’t give up on me. Thanks.. Hugs.

Eva-Miriam

Translated by Norma Whiting

November 19 2012

Since the evening of Wednesday, November 7th, independent civil society activist Antonio Rodiles has been detained at the police station on Acosta Avenue, in the Havana municipality of Diez de Octubre. It was reported that he was beaten in the face and other parts of the body, and has been without food or water demanding his freedom. One of the henchmen threatened him by raking his gun against Rodiles’s head… not surprising, given the rich Latin American dictatorial tradition of the impeccable military uniforms. Of thirty-some arrests that took place last week, only Rodiles is still locked up. It is said that the authorities are accusing him of contempt, resisting arrest, and, more recently, it is presumed that they seek to prosecute him for a more serious crime: assault. The intention is clear: we must imprison the leader of the idea that is causing the generalship to lose sleep.

Those of us who know Antonio Rodiles and are committed to his civic cause know that so much official cynicism is the effect of the Cuban government’s fears of the claims of peaceful opponents. The campaign Por Otra Cuba — For Another Cuba — which collects signatures of hundreds of Cubans demanding the ratification of the Covenants for Rights signed by the authorities February 2008, is a threat to the immunity of a totalitarianism that has dominated Cuba for more than five decades. The moral force of dissent and the experiences of hundreds of decent Cuban over the years, seem to filter down to the spirit of resistance that has hatched among broad sectors of society and is taking shape in the consolidation of citizen projects such as the Estado de SATS, the Cuban Juridical Association, the bloggers’ platform Voces Cubanas, the Razones Ciudadanas project, the group OMNI Zona Franca and many others of different tendencies but with a common goal: a democratic Cuba.

The oppressors’ fear is so great that the police station where Rodiles continues to be confined is protected by a strong operation to prevent the development of groups to demand the prisoner’s release. They know that he is not alone; dozens of his traveling companions are waiting for him and keep a constant demand for his release. It should also be noted that it is not necessary that we plant ourselves before a den of thugs to continue our peaceful struggle. The Demand is being signed, reluctantly, by other Cubans who are becoming more aware. The people’s yearning for freedom cannot be contained, that is why repression is achieving the opposite effect when it attempts to quell the rebellion by means of terror.

We should strongly oppose the conspiracy. Freedom for Antonio Rodiles. The Covenants of Rights must be ratified.

Translated by Norma Whiting

November 12 2012

The results of the ballots –the so-called “elections”- in Cuba this past October 21st were reported in the official media as a demonstration of the people’s loyalty to the Revolution, which is to say, an example of allegiance to the government. Nothing new in that discourse. Every two and a half years, there is a repetition of the choreography in which government and “voters” play their role in the comedy, pretending to do their part: the former, holding elections, the latter, making choices.

Although this time the process featured more apathy than usual on the part of the voters, and the authorities were less irksome with propaganda, and even stopped the usual practice of niggling voters by sending Pioneers to insistently knock on doors of the most unlikely to go out and cast their votes, attendance figures again placed above 90%, as befits any self-respecting totalitarian regime. However, even if we gave credence to the official data, the number of dissenters was clearly endorsed at 1,161,431 Cubans of voting age who did not go to the polls, invalidated their ballots, or left them blank, three sufficiently clear ways to at least protest the lack of confidence in the system by a significant number of the population.

At any rate, the fear of retaliation and the zombie effect continue to be the norm in the population. A few days after the elections, I decided to make inquiries among voters in some neighborhoods of three of the more densely populated municipalities in the capital: Cerro, Diez de Octubre, and Centro Habana. Knowing how impossible it would be to organize a formal and complete survey, I thought it more expeditious to assume the position of a fellow citizen innocently seeking information needed for a personal matter, and to improvise, according to the situation. My objective was to confirm what we all know, including voters who vote in an effective manner, that is, those individuals whose ballots are valid upon scrutiny, because they vote for only one of the candidates for delegate districts, they do so automatically. Even so, most of those who consider themselves party to the system ignore even the most basic information of their “elected”.

Thus, I showed up randomly in 46 different blocks of said municipalities, sometimes knocking on doors where an always rickety sign declared it to be the headquarters for the CDR; others, I would turn to any civilian strolling around the area or simply taking in the sights on his doorstep. In total, my questions were very basic, and, as I said before, I modified them whenever appropriate:

1. Do you know who the district delegate is, his name, address, how I can get in touch with him and his schedule to meet with his constituents?
2. Did you vote for the elected delegate?
3. How do you get in touch with the delegate?

Only one housewife could give me a half-answer for the first question, because the delegate lived in her building, though she didn’t know where or when he held office hours. The rest, people would tell me they did vote –except in one case, when an individual answered, with some suspicion, that he was away on that day, and he wasn’t very communicative- though nobody could tell me with any certainty the name of their delegate, let alone his address or how to get in touch with him. Only three individuals told me that the candidate they voted for had been elected, but couldn’t quite remember his information (last names, address, etc.) “I think his name was Juan Luis or something like that”, “I think he lives in the green building around the corner” were some of the most accurate information I found. Other descriptions were even ambiguous: “He is military, bald-headed”, “Yes, of course, he’s a mulatto who hobbles a bit when he walks, but I don’t remember his name or where he lives.” As can be seen, people have a high political sense and a close bond with their representatives, as proclaimed in the official media.

As far as my many relatives and friends, close or not-so-close, the pattern was of similar behavior, though, of course, no one was reluctant to answer. Only one person admits voting for a delegate (a valid ballot), though he has no idea of his name or who the guy is. The rest voided their ballot with “D” or crossed it out. A smaller group and I did not go to the polls.

Certainly, my little “survey” is not worth any official purpose, but I invite any Cuban to verify for himself the truth in what I say. One does not have to be very sharp in his questionnaire. Any question about what led an individual to vote for one or another of the candidates, or about the nature of his expectations will immediately raise suspicions on the part of the surveyed and will only produce evasive answers. We have had over 5 decades of fear, and a lot of people still seem to sense a guardian dog of the regime behind any other Cuban. But they will be able to see without doubt that the official discourse stands on a scaffold so fragile that it would not withstand even the simplest poll of any agency qualified for such purposes.

Of course, a makeshift Cuban pollster would also run the risk of approaching the wrong person. He could stumble onto the most zealous “combatant” on the block, the one who sees “the enemy” behind the most innocuous question, and then the person conducting the survey might spend a night in a dungeon and get out after signing a “memorandum of warning “as punishment. I must confess that I’ve been lucky, or maybe the snitches and the Talibans are waning. I don’t know. That would be another kind of survey, that, I have to admit, I still don’t dare to perform.

Translated by Norma Whiting

November 5 2012