Translating Cuba

Hands fly over the table. So fast you can only see the slipstream of the fingers and the brilliance of a golden ring. You can divine — at least the first time — under which container is the small wad of paper. It’s just for you, you’re the prey, the only audience for the spectacle. You’re in that room in a dark tenement to buy a pair of shoes more cheaply than in the stores. But when you get into the maze-like hallway the youngster who suggested those great prices vanishes. So you remain standing there, a few yards from two men who play as if you weren’t there, but at the same time direct their gestures to your eyes. In a few minutes they suggest you bet and you believe you can discover where the slippery little ball is. In less than an hour you will have lost all the capital you had on you.

So far, a succinct narration of one of the most common scams in our country and in the world. A brilliant swindle which, despite its simplicity and repetition, hasn’t stopped working. In Cuba new methods have recently arisen to separate people from their money. There’s everything. One peso bills with crudely drawn zeros to “pass them off” as if they were hundreds. Bags with jeans sold from a doorway, but when you get them home they just contain on old sack of harvested potatoes. Even “boat trips to Florida” that end with the takers eaten by mosquitoes, never with the appearance of a boat. I repeat, there’s everything. Although recently there is a new type of theft that almost always involves a supposed foreigner.

Even the technique is sympathetic, if it weren’t for its effect on the wallet. Someone, with an Argentine or French accent, rents a taxi. He offers the driver an amount of money to hire him for the whole day. With the car in motion the foreigner, upset, begins to talk about all the problems he has with his Cuban wife, while also describing a profitable business he’s setting up on the Island. The itinerary always includes going to a hotel, going by a hospital, picking up some suitcases at the home of some “friend” and even having a beer in a bar. When the driver has already struck up a certain friendship with his client, the latter asks for some money to pay for some transaction, with the excuse that they don’t accept hundred peso bills or all he has is euros. “Lend it to me for a couple minutes and then we’ll go to the bank to change the money and I’ll pay you back.” And the tourist in his hat and flowered shirt gets out of the car. After waiting for more than an hour, the taxi driver begins to get suspicious, but the scammer is already a long way from there.

If the trick with the little ball under a cup appeals to our ego, making us believe that our eyes are faster than the player’s hands, the trick of “the tourist who asks for money” is based on the widespread belief that foreigners “can never be more cunning than we are.” So taking advantage of this false stereotype, the Havana scammers are making a killing. By training their hands, or waiting for their “prey” to enter a dilapidated room looking for a pair of shoes, or deciding whether sounding like Buenos Aires or Quebec will lead to a greater gain. A certain smell of sunscreen, dark glasses, bermuda shorts, and curious looks toward the buildings seen through a taxi window… just that and the scam is on the point of making off with the contents of your pocket.

28 August 2012

The newspaper Granma provokes, slapping its readers’ faces with a fistful of falsehoods. I am not saying they use fallacy on a regular basis, but sometimes they publish opinions with a manipulative slant. These must be refuted because, if we remain silent, we are ourselves guilty of lying through inaction or omission.

On July 31 of this year the journal, an “official organ of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Cuba,” published an editorial entitled “Truth and Reason” to address the repercussions and doubts resulting from the deaths in an automobile accident of the well-know opposition leader, Oswaldo Payá Sardiñas, director of the Christian Liberation Movement,and Harold Cepero Escalante, another member of the organization.

It is the same old tedious conversation, with its glossy praise for the faded revolution and its abicú* political party. And, as usual, the purpose is to say that the United States is responsible for whatever discordant opinion or criticism that is generated in the world towards the dictatorial Cuban regime.

One is taken aback to read in the fourth paragraph of the editorial the writer’s statement that “the immaculate history of the Revolution is well-known.” Did the journalist forget about the unpunished crime involving the tug boat March 13th in July 1994 in which 41 people lost their lives, 10 of them minors? Or those who were gunned down in Cojímar earlier that same year?

Perhaps he ignored the 2003 shooting of three people, who were not attempting homicide, but rather were trying to emigrate using a state-owned boat? Were they shot in order to send a message? Is it for wanting to leave Cuba or for having an opinion different from that of the system’s officials that people lose their dignity or become objects of mistreatment? To what impeccable history is he referring?

To the one who punches and verbally assaults peaceful, defenseless women such as the Ladies in White, cowardly impeding their right of reply? Or takes water away from Orlando Zapata Tamayo – who was on a hunger strike, not a thirst strike – so that he would die? Perhaps he is referring to the “humanitarian action” against another striker, Wilmar Villar Mendoza, and the failure to provide necessary and timely hospitalization.

Perhaps the editor-in-chief has fed so long at the revolutionary udder, drinking the milk of amnesia, that he has forgotten about the trips abroad, the ease of buying a car or of being assigned one, the abundant supply of gasoline to go with it, the shackles on his writers, the appearances on national radio and television, and other such perks.

They are the calves of the revolution. Rather than being faithful to Cuba, they are the ones who serve and are loyal only to the party in power. The ones who did not and do not respect a family’s grief after a tragic death by interrupting the funeral procession of a respectable man like Payá in order to put on their usual show of mobilization to train and motivate their followers and send the message that the street belongs to the revolutionaries and not to all Cubans, as it should. It is the same mechanism, established years ago, with its running routine that get activated automatically, and it is worn out by the old mentality of those who do not want anything to change. The following excerpt underscores the type of lies found in this editorial:

“You cannot block out the sun with your finger.** In spite of censorship and manipulation, it is well-known that, in our country, the counterrevolution is and has always been mercenary. They are vulgar agents that the government of the United States and its allies pay, supply and instruct. They betray the Fatherland for a few coins.”

It seems that something is twisted in the minds and thinking of Cubans living here who defend the dictatorial Cuban model. Or is it the privileges that I mentioned earlier? Another of the meanings of mercenary — in addition to the well-known definition that applies to the troop or soldier that for a stipend serves in the war against a foreign power — it alludes to working for money, perceiving a salary for work or payment for services.

A refrain says that thieves think that everyone robs. The opposition and independent journalism are diverse and pluralistic and, as a ridiculous result, tries to think that we all think and act the same way; as well as the followers of the Castro regime think and act differently, according to their personalities, preferences, and levels of political compromise. I’m not doubting that defending to the death the 53 year old failed system,

*Abicú: A term for children who have an incarnate spirit that does not die, and are under a particular spell that can cause the premature deaths of their siblings, or prevents them from being born. Ceremonies are performed to “dispel” the curse. By extension, it is said of a person who is dirty, jealous or not well-intentioned that “He is an abikú.”

—Natalia Bolívar Aróstegui, The Orishas of Cuba, Vocabulary, p. 169.

**Translator’s note: An expression which roughly means: You cannot deny the obvious.

August 22 2012

The question of the title was inspired by Fidel Castro himself when, on March 28 of this year, he asked Benedict XVI, “What does a Pope do?” Beyond the childishness of the question, it made me reflect on what any president would say if we inquired about his agenda, how a dignitary would narrate his usual day-to-day. Surely his schedule would include participating in the council of ministers, receiving other presidents, overseeing the functions of state, being present at public acts, plus this or that speech on particular dates.

The list of his responsibilities, of his commitments, would be long, from the hectic days in the presidential palace and the difficult discussions in the congress or parliament. Perhaps he would even preside over factory openings, or sites of social interest, and hold more than one press conference with the national media.

If the president is a statesman with a marked populist tendency, he would probably have to leave time to have his picture taken with children, snapshots amid a walkabout, and to be filmed distributing refrigerators, rice cookers and water heaters. He would put long speeches on his daily activity list, a variety of interventions where he talks about genetics in an auditorium filled with scientists, and about intensive grazing before sunburnt farmers.

Because, for political egomaniacs, the presidency is like a stage where every day there must be a lavish and intense spectacle. So they divide their days between true executive tasks and the work of self-promotion, in obvious showing-off to stay in power. But what happens when the maximum leader of a country offers no evidence of meeting even a small part of his agenda? What can we do when citizens don’t have the slightest mechanism to know whether our president is working or not?

So far in 2012, Raul Castro has given very few signs of industriousness in office. If we count the hours he has appeared in public, the speeches he’s made, and the trips he’s taken… we have to conclude that his productivity is extremely low.

Repeated absences from international events, summits and regional meetings, highlight to his lack of activity. Just one short international tour in the eight months of this year, to reliable allies such as China, Vietnam and Russia. But we add to that almost no travel in his own Cuban territory.

He did not go to Sancti Spiritus provence at the end of May to see with his own eyes the devastation left by the floods. Nor did he go to Granma province where — after a century with no reported cases — a cholera outbreak has so far caused several deaths. Nor did he go to some of the Havana and Camaguey hospitals where the numbers of those infected with dengue fever is climbing into the hundreds.

One could say that his public appearances have been limited to welcoming a few foreign leaders, a speech at the First Conference of the Cuban Communist Party at the end of January, another at the National Assembly in July, and a few brief words at the commemoration of the assault on the Moncada Barracks.

Beyond that we have no evidence that the General President is assuming his responsibilities or — on the other hand — that he’s not on a permanent vacation. Especially because nothing suggests that far from the spotlights, the former Minister of the Armed Forces is undertaking frenetic political and organizational activity. The slow pace of Raul’s reforms disprove that possibility.

It is worth noting that this is not a demand that the current Cuban president maintain the same omnipresence his brother had in the national media and in the smallest details of the lives of eleven million people. Nor that, in a frankly demagogic approach, he start to make us believe that he is aware of everything when in reality he spends more time in leisure than in working. It’s definitely not about that.

But the exercise of an executive job implies mobility, efficiency, long work days and sacrifice. If this man of 81 is not able to fulfill his presidential agenda because his physical and mental capacity don’t allow it, then resign. A country can’t be administered “once in a blue moon,” from the palace couch, and much less by showing up only on significant anniversaries.

In February of 2013 it will fall to Raul Castro — as he himself declared — to begin his second term, after having inherited power through consanguinity. He then has the option of waiving his continuation in office, given his apparent inability to perform the major responsibilities involved in running a country.

He could vacate the post for some substitute… most likely one he himself would designate. But should he decide to continue and cling to power, will there be another five years of sporadic appearances and a few public events? Of long silences and absences at the times and places of crises? A new period of having to ask sarcastically: What does a president do? What does THIS president do?

26 August 2012

Some people in Cuba are already placing bets. Everyone knows that within five to ten years power could change hands. The unknowns are whether the successor will have the last name of Castro, and if the inefficient political and economic system will be preserved.

Raúl Castro crafted a law limiting time in political office to two five-year terms. If he were to apply this to himself, he would have to retire from national politics in 2016. If one assumes his official rise to power occurred in 2008, then his retirement would begin in 2018.

But autocrats often do not abide by their decrees. Rules are for others, not for themselves. And many on the island believe that as long he is of sound mind and enjoys good health the general will continue to rule the nation.

Cubans like to prognosticate. And to bet. The underground lottery is a popular pastime. For example, baseball fans are making predictions about the World Classic in 2013. On questions of politics, however, they are cowardly. Fidel Castro always considered it a crime to be politically ambitious, and his subordinates were always careful about saying anything that might be construed as a declaration of a future possible presidential candidacy.

More than a few heads have rolled for coveting the throne.Roberto Robaina, a former foreign minister, has become the owner of a successful private restaurant. Others, such as Felipe Pérez Roque y Carlos Lage, fell from grace and are now two obscure, low-level bureaucrats. In the last Communist Party Congress, the younger Castro warned of the dearth of young politicians and functionaries, and stated that, in the future, no president would be able to rule for more than a decade.

An eighteen-person survey a group of well-informed people, who have access to the Internet and illegal cable antennae, believe that, if the nation continues on its present course, Raúl himself will handpick the next president.

Who might be the successors? Seven believe it will be Alejandro Castro, coordinator of the secret services. He is young and has the Castro name, which would allow for the continuation of the family dynasty. Four believe the next president will be someone from Raúl’s old guard and point to Leopoldo Cintras Frías, minister of the armed forces.

Two of those surveyed think that, in a Cuba of the future, a military junta will rule. Five believe that Mariela Castro, Lázaro Expósito, Marino Murillo, Luis Alberto López-Callejas or Miguel Díaz Canel might be president given their family ties or political affinities with Raúl Castro.

What would the political landscape look like? Those surveyed could not even imagine, but speculated a bit and wagered some guesses. Nine felt that, if Fidel Castro were no longer alive, the successor would opt for a market economy and a strong government run by a committee with the presidency rotating among its members.

They could craft a country with a democratic veneer like Russia. If the United States negotiates, dialogs with and accepts whoever might be Castro’s successor—shielding itself from security concerns over illegal immigration, terrorism and drug trafficking—it might prefer an authoritarian government. It would not be overly concerned if such a government discreetly violated individual freedoms, provided it controlled its borders. This would be preferable to a weak or corrupt democracy, which might turn the island into a giant raft or a fertile ground for international narco-trafficking.

They also believe that Castro’s successor would seek a relationship with Washington that casts aside the Cold War diplomacy crafted by Fidel Castro. Several of those interviewed felt that the United States would not tolerate a “Castro light”government and would continue to press for real democracy with the participation of all the political actors.

If it came to pass, which opposition politicians or dissident leaders could govern the country the day after the Castros? Those surveyed felt that, given the level of repression and lack of leadership, no one figure stood out at the moment.

Some believe that Oswaldo Payá Sardiñas would have been a good candidate, but after his unexpected death, they now favor Oscar Elías Biscet. Others mention Manuel Cuesta Morúa because he has more experience and a longer resumé than Eliécer Ávila or Antonio Rodriles.

Although unknown by the general public, the blogger Yoani Sánchez was mentioned by one person as a possible candidate. However, in an extensive interview I did with Yoani, published in two parts—the first in February, the second in September—she indicated she was neither an opposition figure nor a dissident, and did not see herself in a political role. She rejected it because she finds politics repulsive.

All eighteen of those surveyed think the opposition should focus its work on the community and developing a viable, inclusive and coherent political platform. They feel the future president of Cuba need not necessarily be an opposition figure or someone tied to the current regime. He or she could be an ordinary citizen, now walking among us, who, at a given moment, could become a leading figure. Or a Cuban exile with good political connections in the United States and to the financial world. Someone brought up in a democratic and transparent environment. Whichever version Cuba becomes after Castro, all agree that the role Cuban exiles play will be fundamental.

Personally, I am leaning towards a woman, provided it is not Mariela Castro or Aleida Guevara, who are too closely tied to the Castros. Cuba is in need of the female soul. I would not mind if it were Miriam Celaya, Laritza Diversent or Rosa María Payá. I am quite fed up with all the chest thumping. There’s been enough testosterone.

Photo: Rosa María Payá Acevedo, twenty-three years old, reading a few wordsat Havana’s Saviour of the World church on July 24, 2012during a funeral mass for her father, Oswaldo Payá Sardiñas, shortly before his internment at Cementerio de Colón. Taken from the blog, Razones de la Palabra, Radio Netherlands.

August 26 2012

The National General Strike is an important initiative sponsored by theOrlando Zapata TamayoNational Front for Civic Resistance and Disobedience. As its name indicates, this initiative seeks a partial paralysis of the entire national infrastructure through strong and systematic actions by the forces of internal resistance. In its first and second stages the General Strike is part of a continuing campaign of non-cooperation. This strike can be successful only after a real and resolute decision by a significant number of citizens to deny responsibility for, or to cooperate with, the oppressive regime.

It must be made clear that, although the National Front is calling for and sponsoring this crucial campaign, it can only be viable with the participation of each and every constituency for change, whether it be the National Front, political parties, movements, regional coalitions—in other words the energetic forces of Cuban resistance, which are the primary vehicle of democratic change.

The campaign for the National General Strike will use only peaceful means so that no constituencies which take part can in any way confuse the strike with economic sabotage, or the destruction of or attacks on state or private property.

It is the policy of the General Strike to be dissuasive and persuasive, acknowledging that, to succeed, we must work patiently, motivated by great faith and certainty. The only true potential for change comes from citizens who support us, as well as those who simply look upon us with indifference, fear or admiration for what we are doing. This includes those we see walking beside us, in line behind us, from a private office, and even those attacking us in so-called acts of repudiation. All can unite with us and contribute to the great day of the General Strike.

The campaign for a General Strike can, in a powerful way, also help to do away with the worrying fear of change that persists in many areas of society, especially among those who are ill-informed and those most compromised by the current regime.

The concept must be clearly understood, both by the promoters of the General Strike as well as by those who hear its message. The purpose of the strike is not to destroy, obstruct or cause damage to anyone or anything. Its intention is to peacefully boycott the means of production that confer profits on those who misgovern the millions of Cubans who are hungry, oppressed, and without liberty or the right to protest.

The Strike is a decision and commitment by everyone, or by a great and significant majority of Cubans, to say, “Enough!” The strategy of the General Strike is in accordance with basic, universally recognized rights and freedoms, which—together with the peaceful tactics it employs—gives it legitimacy and puts it in harmony with human dignity itself, something of primary importance.

Though a recent idea,one born that was born in Cuba, the strategy of the General Strike Campaign is based on innumerable precedents and inspired by similar actions around the globe. These have been successful in spite of a number of differing circumstances, such as culture and language.

The change which the General Strike seeks is viable under any circumstance in the struggle against the oppressive and totalitarian system.

The first phase of the campaign is outlined below:

To effect a total or partial strike before doing the necessary preparation or raising public awareness is so unlikely as to be almost impossible—even more so in a country like ours in which repression affects everyone and is everywhere, where a sinister and comprehensive system of repression controls, spies on, and penalizes the slightest and most moderate expression of discontent or dissent. It is unthinkable and impossible to bring the country to a total or partial standstill when little or next to nothing has been done domestically to systematically provide information to the average Cuban, who is misinformed and bombarded by the state media monopoly.

Therefore, theOrlando Zapata Tamayo Front forCivic Resistance proposes an introductory phase to develop an intense and on-going public awareness campaign. This program will present the citizenry with mottoes and slogans with social themes, which will initially identify us as being concerned with the needs of the people.

This will help convince Cubans of the nature of their situation, that they have rights, and that these right must be respected. This information blitz will be carried out through visible channels such as text messaging, Twitter accounts, CD’s, flash drives, printed material, as well as through pamphlets, placards and signs posted in visible, public spaces.

We can also solicit support, through broadcasts and other media, from friends who support the Cuban cause. This duration of this initial campaign, to be called “Cubans, Defend Your Rights,” will be open-ended if it is determined that it can—given its importance—be postponed,or rather extended,to other phases of the larger campaign.

This first phase is one of outreach, both internally and externally, to the public, which has the potential to play a leading role in the very necessary and essential change. It will be launched in light of the hard reality that most Cubans lack access to the internet, satellite television or cable.

Regrettably, outside of Cuba a not insignificant number of people are able to analyze Cuban reality from the viewpoint of an open society with a free flow of information, one of numerous advantages common in other countries. In Cuban society only the official version can be published, and only when and how the governing elite decide to publish it.

Luis García Pérez Antúnez

Secretary General of the Orlando Zapata Tamayo National Front for Civic Resistance and Civil Disobedience, who will neither be silenced nor will leave Cuba, and who reiterates that his primary objective today is the “National General Strike.”

Placetas, Cuba

The miter leans slightly with the rhythm of the ritual, leaving his back exposed to the stone face of José Martí. On the table of the Mass, the chalice rests and reflects from its golden surface a relief of Che Guevara mounted on the facade of the Ministry of the Interior. Benedict XVI officiates mass in the Plaza of the Revolution, and the whole scene could not be more contradictory, more unreal.

In the red heart of red Cuba, the Lord’s Prayer is heard, and a few yards from Raúl Castro’s office, a multitude responds with an “amen” instead of the traditional “fatherland or death.” In the street in front of the altar, ordered reticles contain those attending the Catholic liturgy. When the television cameras pan the scene it’s clear many of them don’t know how to pray or how to cross themselves.

There is also a VIP area filled with the members of a government that defines itself as Marxist and atheist. The Communist Party leaders aren’t wearing olive-green but rather suits and ties, but even so they clash with the white clothes of the many believers and the red of the cardinals. Wednesday, March 8 has barely dawned and the island seems exhausted by the two days St. Peter’s successor has already spent among us.

The visit began in the east of the country. After the jubilant throngs that greeted him in Mexico, the Pope found a surprisingly orderly people here, lined up along the road between the airport and the city of Santiago de Cuba. The crowd carried no posters nor were shouts of joy heard; it was simply a gentle stream of people with little flags waving in their hands. An image perfectly suited to the adjectives “educated, composed and organized” which the newspaper Granma had used a few days before to describe the people who would wait for Benedict XVI.

Also, with sufficient lead time, schools and workplaces received their marching orders. “We must show respect to His Holiness, believers as well as non-believers. No one can miss Mass,” they were warned at meetings called by union, party and student leaders for this purpose.

Knowing the euphemisms that rule Cuban official language, reading these marching orders was clear: no enthusiasm and no spontaneity; anything that departs from the program will be punished. In some companies, whose employees received a bonus in convertible currency, the message was even more direct: those who don’t attend will lose the hard currency cash stimulus. Which explains, in part, why so many atheists and materialists showed up at dawn in the plazas on the days when the Supreme Pontiff celebrated Catholic worship.

Cachita

The preparations for the papal visit had started months earlier, when it was announced that His Holiness would visit us for the celebration of the 400th anniversary of the discovery of the image of the Virgin of the Caridad del Cobre. Our patron, popularly known as Cachita, was found in the Bay of Nipe in the early 17th century. Two men and a teenager, all three named Juan, found her floating in the water.

So Cachita, rescued from the waves by those arms, became the Mary of a people who, centuries later, would launch themselves into the Straits of Florida on rafts, doors converted into boats, and trucks made watertight so they would float. The Mambisa Virgin, who was also with those who demanded Cuba’s independence from Spain at the point of machetes, now adorns the altars of our compatriots scattered across the globe.  She has her shrine in Miami, as she has her sanctuary in Santiago.

Cachita was the first rafter, only did she not escape, she arrived, not wanting to reach other horizons but to stay with us forever. And in honor of this “traveler of the faith” Joseph Ratzinger also came to Cuba. To pray in a temple full of offerings, known as El Cobre, for its proximity to copper deposits. In the entrance hall of the busy church — the Chapel of Miracle — is a varied collection: locks of hair dedicated by girls planning to marry a foreigner alternate with booties from babies written off by doctors but who managed to survive. Bracelets from the 26th of July Movement left there by rebels who once wore scapulars, but ended up banning them. In one corner a card recalls the dissidents imprisoned during the Black Spring of 2003. Only under Cachita’s cloak can such plurality coexist.

Fidel Castro’s mother herself offered this Virgin the silhouette of her son sculpted in gold so that he would survive the rigors of the Sierra Maestra. Ernest Hemingway’s Nobel Prize lies side-by-side with several military orders that belonged to the Fulgencio Batista’s soldiers and officials. All the elements of the national melting pot come together at the feet of Cachita, under the protection of the crown that adorns her head.

Benedict XVI also brought his own gift for our patron: The Golden Rose, one of the highest decorations awarded by the Catholic Church. And with each day the offerings grow, as five hundred people cross the threshold of that temple daily,; on the weekends the numbers double. Some from devotion, others out of curiosity. Who knows?

Joseph Ratzinger entered this sanctuary one warm March morning, surrounded by the faithful. On the steep road leading there he didn’t see any of the vendors who normally offer wood carvings of the Virgin of Charity. Nor were there the traveling sellers or flowers, candles and little pebbles speckled with copper.

Also missing were the Ladies in White, who every Sunday make a pilgrimage to the temple of our Patron Saint. They were there for several days before being warned by State Security to stay away. Several of them were subject to house arrest, while others fared worse, ending up in one of the area’s jail cells.

Like someone who cleans the house to receive an important guest, the Cuban government had decided to sweep all the inconvenient citizens under the carpet. To achieve that, they triggered the strongest campaign of repression of recent years.

From atheism to faith

In a population that has had to wear so many masks to circumvent the controls, it is difficult to distinguish between those who really believe in God and those who don’t. Among those who showed a vertical materialism thirty years ago, today are many devout and mystics. However, despite this emergence of religiosity, we remain a people of few practitioners, perhaps for lack of  perseverance, or perhaps because freedom from worship, once interrupted, delays its return in all its aspects.

Many who feigned being anti-religious when it was an ideological sin to have a picture of the Sacred Heart of Jesus in your home, are now confessed Santeros, Jehovah’s Witnesses, or Seventh Day Adventists. Cubans coming out run through an odd and surprising route, through agnosticism to faith, from doubt to belief. Crucifixes are no longer hidden under shirts, and altars to saints are in plain view in the living rooms of thousands of homes.

The custom of baptizing children has returned after several generations that never received this sacrament. Church weddings are back in fashion, and it’s common in hospitals to see the sacrament of last rites. Catechism classes are filled with children whose parents had to learn in school that “religion is the opium of the people.” National history seems to have closed a cycle of guns to begin another of rosaries.

And not only religion, the Church as an institution has gained ground in our society in recent years. Among other achievements is the possibility of opening a new seminary to train priests. Catholic masses are broadcast on national television on certain important dates and even the political discourse has cast aside its old anti-religious slogans. December 25 has been a holiday for fourteen years, an accomplishment of John Paul II, and now Benedict XVI has given us the first Good Friday off in several decades.

The papal visit of March 2012 was also focused on strengthening the spaces already recovered and extending pastoral action to other areas of society. One of the long deferred dreams of the Cuban archdiocese is to be able to teach Christian ethics in the Island’s schools. Cardinal Jaime Ortega y Alamino has been playing a decisive role in these present conquests and their possible future expansion. His personal history includes a stay, in the mid-sixties, in the so-called Military Units in Aid of Production (UMAP). Under these initials were hidden forced labor camps surrounded by barbed wire where homosexuals, Catholics, Jehovah’s Witnesses and other politically incorrect “elements” were interned. Perhaps from having lived there the Archbishop of Havana knows what the Cuban government is capable of against those who oppose it.

Ortega y Alamino led the controversial negotiations between Church and State that culminated in the release of the prisoners of the Black Spring. Applauded by many and criticized by many others, those conversations were notable for the absence of various stakeholders who had been peacefully demanding the release of those dissidents and independent journalists.

The Ladies in White — wives, mothers, sisters and daughters of the prisoners — were excluded from the table where it was agreed to draw back those locks and, for many of the incarcerated, exchange the bars for departure into exile. The Church emerged strengthened by its role as mediator, but perhaps not even its ancient wisdom allowed it to measure the enormous responsibility it had assumed.

In a country where all the roads by which civil society can make demands or question the government have been cut off, any small path that opens in that direction is immediately crammed with requests. The effects of the Catholic Church assuming political leadership at that moment did not fail to be felt.

On March 13, in a Havana temple consecrated to the Virgin of Charity of Cobre, a group of thirteen people gathered, asking that a list of demands be delivered to the Pope. The list ranged from the authorization to form political parties to respect for economic freedoms. They refused to leave when the mass ended, and demanded a chance to speak with some representative from the Church hierarchy.

After three days without anyone offering them food, an unarmed commando moved in and removed the occupants by force. Undertaken with the consent of Cardinal Jaime Ortega, this eviction maneuver sparked a deep discontent among other activists, even those who had expressed their disagreement with the tactic of breaking into a church.

One unfortunate note published by the Havana Archdiocese in the Communist Party’s Granma newspaper implied that the official and ecclesiastical discourses could once again be almost identical in certain situations. The incident was broken up in a misguided way before the arrival of Benedict XVI, so its political cost will linger for a long time. Cachita’s golden mantle did not serve, on this occasion, to protect all her children.

Wojtyla vs. Ratzinger

Parallel with citizen disconnect, another shadow cast over the arrival of His Holiness was the luminous trail left by his predecessor. The Polish Pope, Karol Wojtyle, traveled to Cuba in January 1998 and so was the first Pope to arrive in our land. We experienced, then, moments of hope and doubt. We’d recently emerged from the hardest years of the so-called Special Period, with its economic crises and endless blackouts. The Berlin Wall had fallen nearly a decade earlier, partly due to the influence of this Traveler of the Gospel on events taking place in Poland and other Eastern European countries.

John Paul II came preceded by the thunder of a political bloc that had disarmed while Fidel Castro’s government put into practice small and controlled economic reforms to avoid a collapse. The man who had been educated in Jesuit schools and later renounced the faith waited at the foot of the stairs for the old anti-communist born in Wadowice.

Seldom has a welcoming ceremony had so many explicit and subliminal messages as those that would be read on that January 21, 1998 at José Martí Airport. Face to face were the Guerrilla and the Pastor, the atheist and the pontiff, he who imposed the writings of Marx in the schools, and he who spread the Holy Bible.

John Paul II had ventured a phrase that would not come to pass in the nearly fifteen years between one papal visit and another:

“Let Cuba open itself to the world and let the world open itself to Cuba.”

These were his words but insularity — more political than physical — continued to mark the national direction. His presence in several Cuban provinces was met by an enthusiasm that his successor couldn’t even begin to equal. One of the popular signs of the disgust that met Benedict XVI was the absence of jokes about him. In a festive people who laugh even in the midst of great material scarcity, the jokes and funny stories that greeted the coming of Karol Wojtyla could have filled a book.

But in March of 2012 Joseph Ratzinger found us more serious, more tired. Pepito, the eternal mischievous urchin of so many popular stories, didn’t deign to appear on this occasion. As one day faith abandoned so many Cubans, now it was sarcasm that had taken its leave. All we managed to come up with were a few word plays, as in Spanish the word “papa” means both pope and potato — that tuber so missing from our plates. An elementary and trite play on words between the resident of the Vatican and this savory bite that has disappeared from our forks: “Instead of habemus papam, what we want is potato,” Cuban housewives joked.

Fourteen years later it was clear we were no longer the same, but neither was the pope. The Commander-in-Chief did not wait for him at the airport, rather the red carpet was watched over by his little brother, Raul Castro. The heir to the triple tiara was received by the Cuban heir to the throne.

In his welcoming speech, the General President said that the country was absorbed in a process of transformation. As if the ancient memory of the Church could forget that similar phrases had been pronounced before the previous pope. If the hosts feared that Benedict XVI might emit criticisms about the management of the Communist Party on Cuban soil, real life calmed them. His public speeches were centered on pastoral themes and the boldest phrase that came out of his mouth was to assure us that “Cuba is looking to the future.” Beyond that, there was incense in abundance while social and political references were scarce.

There was no time on the papal agenda to meet with the outlawed voices of civil society. Well in advance, the Ladies in White had solicited at least one minute to tell His Holiness of this other Cuba that the official side never includes in its conversations. There is no one better than they to make such a demand.

Every Sunday for the last nine years dozens of these women have attended mass at Santa Rita, patron of impossible causes, to pray for their imprisoned family members. The peaceful women’s movement they represent has spread to seven provinces and, although many of the Ladies have accompanied their husbands into exile, there are now more than one hundred members on the Island.

Cuban Cardinal Jaime Ortega’s failure to include the Ladies in White in his negotiations with the Cuban authorities has been strongly criticized, as these women have — without question — the merit of having put their lives in danger in the streets, before a government that penalizes political opposition and free expression with long prison sentences. If the cardinal and the president had opened this space, there would have been faith that the pope would have met with them.

But Vatican spokesman Federico Lombardi, already on Cuban soil, said that Benedict’s schedule was too tight for a meeting with the dissidence or other civic groups. But he could dedicate half an hour of his scarce time to the ex-president Fidel Castro, with whom he met at the Apostolic Nunciature in Havana.

A frail old man, accompanied by several of his children and his wife, spoke with the man who, in his day, was the prefect of the Congregation of the Doctrine of Faith. This meeting irredeemably tilted the papal visit to the side of officialdom. In Mexico he had refused to cross words with the victims of clerical child abuse, and in Cuba he abstained from an exchange with the victims of governmental abuse.

The pope yes, the citizens no

Benedict had used up all the controversy his stay in Cuba would raise days before he landed at Antonio Maceo Airport. He addressed the Island’s model in very strong words while on his plane en route to Mexico. “Communism is no longer working in Cuba,” he decreed, in what seemed to be the preamble to a visit marked by tensions between Catholic doctrine and a government that declares itself — even today — Marxist-Leninist. But as the papal delegation approached our skies, the discourse was moderated.

Although the national press did not publish these criticisms from His Holiness, most people learned of them thanks to the illegal information networks and the persecuted satellite dishes that capture channels from Florida. Everyone knew, but few made their knowledge public. In schools and workplaces it was insistently repeated that attendance at the Pope’s Mass was an imperative, in the same tone used to announce the May Day parade.

Despite the controls deployed, in the middle of the plaza of Santiago de Cuba a man named Andres Carrion shouted, “Down with communism!” His words echoed in the morning air above the psalms and prayers, even reaching the ears of those closest to the pope. Immediately two plainclothes police evacuated the daring activist who had made a mockery of all the fences.

Once Carrion was beyond the area visible from altar, a man wearing the insignia of the Red Cross hit him in the face and brought a stretcher down on his head. Before the astonished eyes of the foreign press and the opportunistic lenses of several cameras, the scene explained very well how the circles of vigilance were set up around that gathered flock. With police camouflaged as the faithful, as nurses, as lighting technicians. If anyone expected to see a booted soldier with a gun on his belt repress the indignation, what happened would have confused and affected them even more.

The image of that individual, supposedly there to provide first aid, slapping a handcuffed man and beating him with what should have been emergency equipment, provoked the most notorious scandal of the papal journey. The report of what happened reached the ears of the International Red Cross, which demanded an investigation of the facts. Their Cuban spokesperson, several days later, issued a note of apology without specifying the identity of the aggressor.

The short video showing the beating has been seen by millions of Cubans, although the official press never referred to what happened. People must know that Andres Carrion will be charged with public disorder and it has also leaked out that the Vatican entourage intervened to avoid the the application of a very severe penalty.

Perhaps this intervention was motivated by what the Pope had said about Communism before coming to Cuba and what Andres Carrion had chosen to shout in the middle of the plaza. One of them was received with honors after asserting that a system wasn’t working, and the other was locked up and expected to be tried for his actions. Dramatic paradoxes of who and where.

The truth is that the Cuban government’s meticulously planned script for the three-day visit suffered an irreversible setback from one man’s scream, a sobering surprise.

State of emergency… undeclared

To prevent something like what, in fact, happened, innumerable measures — including the most excessive — were taken ahead of time. Throughout all of Cuba hundreds of people were victims of an intensive crackdown during the last week of March.

The Commission on Human Rights and National Reconciliation was able to account for more than four hundred activists taken to police stations or subject to house arrest. The scope and effectiveness of this raid, popularly dubbed the “Vow of Silence,” betrayed its meticulous preparation weeks and months in advance.

Amid the hardships we live with, a repressive deployment of these proportions must have exhausted the national coffers and compromised a share of the resources urgently needed for other sectors.

There are those who say the Pope’s stay among us served as a dress rehearsal for the enforcement mechanisms being made ready for “X-Day,” as the day Fidel Castro’s death is announced has come to be called. And for this, everything will be brought to bear. At least we now know how the first twenty-four hours will pass after the “Great Death”: dissidents behind bars, communications cut, eyes lurking around every corner.

Transportation was virtually paralyzed hours before the Alitalia plane landed and Internet access was cut in schools and workplaces a week in advance. The mobile phone company, Cubacel, became an accomplice, cutting the lines of any potentially “dangerous” users. Even the black market experienced anxious moments with the excessive number of police in the streets. The country was under an undeclared state of emergency.

By the time His Holiness spoke at the Plaza of the Revolution in Havana, filled with believers and non-believers, he had probably already heard of the ideological purge that had rounded up numerous sheep from his flock. Why didn’t he allude to them in his homily? What was the reason for his not pronouncing a few words during his farewell at the airport as a reminder of those who were prevented from approaching his entourage?

One of the detainees of those days tells how they took him to a cell east of the capital, with boarded-up windows. The timing of his arrest, on a public street several hours before the Pope landed in Havana, seemed like something from the script of a bad action movie. In the cell where they held him he found three other opponents who were arrested when they went to a police station to inquire about the whereabouts of a missing colleague.

Through a small hole that opened onto the street he spent the night shouting telephone numbers so that some passerby might call his family, because they denied him the right to make a single phone call. Through the gap he just managed to see the feet of kids playing baseball, the shoes of old people walking to the bodega, and skinny legs of the dogs.

All night he repeated the same digits over and over until he had no more voice to continue. He still doesn’t know who contacted his friends and family, but when he was released they were already aware of his arrest. Perhaps a stranger heard those numbers coming from a small hole flush with the sidewalk and miraculously decided to act as the messenger of such an urgent errand.

Several weeks after Benedict XVI arrived on our Island, the phones still weren’t working and civic activists remained in detention. Like that prisoner in the boarded-up cell, many Cubans are still waiting to unravel the method, the mechanism, through which they can let the Supreme Pontiff know what happened behind the scenes of his visit.

From this side of a closed shutter, within a guarded cell, or in a plaza occupied by State Security, there can always be a small hole through which to send a message. Do they hear it on the other side? Does the papal mantle reach, this time, to protect all of us?

May 2012

25 August 2012