In Time / Regina Coyula

Last Saturday they showed the film In time on television, a science fiction movie without aliens and intergalactic warfare: in the future, genetically modified human beings will not use money as a measure of value, they will use time.

In our national movie, the current government bought time by releasing cell phones, by selling computers, by receiving Cuban nationals as guests in hotels. When the effect of such easings dissipated, the discussion of the Guidelines raised the numbers; as they dwindled, the bonsai flexibilization of self-employment appeared, which has kept us so occupied. The time account has grown somewhat by approving loans and grants for housing construction. The tour of the Virgin, the Pope’s visit, and the amnesty that preceded it, have rapidly spun the numbers into the black. Immigration reform remains the ace in the hole for that time when the numbers start blinking red.

So this way, buying time, is how our leaders think to end their days in power. But the movie is not only about the desire to earn hours and minutes. The protagonists, a mixture of Bonnie and Clyde with Robin Hood, rob banks and give away time, so that the precious commodity is no longer manipulated.

Do not read this as an incitement to anything. Seeing the movie, which I liked at lot, I could not avoid the allegory.

July 27 2012

Tribute to Oswaldo Payá / Miriam Celaya

Yesterday afternoon a piece of hope for Cuba died. Oswaldo Payá Sardiñas was the fatal victim of an auto accident in circumstances still not clarified. Cuba is dying while continuing to lose its best children, emptying the vital fountains due to unrestrained emigration, galloping corruption, the larceny of such a prolonged dictatorship that has sucked the sap out of four generations, and loses like this one: the death of a Cuban of great worth that fills us with grief.

I did not share all of Payá’s points of view, I was even critical at times of some of his proposals. I would be again; but I always respected the man who created them, his will, his spirit and his dedication. I admired above all his courage and his faith in a better Cuba, the dream to which he dedicated so much energy and so many sacrificed over many years, longer than some deserve who now shrug their shoulders and look away.

Not all the leaders of the opposition have had the merit of confronting absolute power without flinching, without abandoning the fight, without giving in. So today is particularly tragic. In a few hours a Havana perish will hold a wake for the body of a man whose principal weapon was his faith in God and love for Cuba, I bow my head before his death.

I see people walking the streets without even known that an essential Cuban has died; surely the administrators of the terror, cowardly and selfish, will be celebrating a feast in their barracks. But to feel resentment at this time would profane the memory of this fighter for peace. It is consoling to know that Payá had already transcended in life; so death will not be enough to silence him.

I would have wanted us to be able to count on him in the democratic future that we will have some day, no longer so far off, because we need leaders of his stature in a nation that is left bereft of values. Hopefully there are many like him, hopefully they won’t have died. Here is a farewell and a small tribute that I would have preferred never to offer. So that death does not triumph, we offer thanks to Oswaldo Payá for his life, and may God welcome him at his right hand, as befits the righteous men.

July 23 2012

Pope Benedict Didn’t Look Behind the Scenes / Yoaxis Marcheco Suárez

In Cuba there is the habit of arranging or accommodating things so as to keep up appearances, while the reality and the truth remains behind the curtain. So it usually happens in businesses, offices, agencies and ministries. Lying is so natural and inventing figures and adulterating statistics so common, that we can now say that we Cubans have lived the story and the bad idea for a long time. Invention has saturates all the spaces at all levels, clearly we can’t leave this behind, the greatest storytelling, the most fallacious, is the State.

So, this great machinery of invention was put into practice during the visit of Pope Benedict XVI. Specialized as it is to invent images and pretend that’s not what they are, the created a whole march of the combative people, where hypnotized masses in the strictest order and most militarized discipline waited, listened, cheered and said goodbye to the Pope.

A considerable number of those attending the masses offered by the Pontiff both in Santiago de Cuba as in Havana attended not because the Pope is of interest to them, much less the Catholic Church, but because the Revolution called them to line the streets and plazas and make up the number, so that the world would see a fierce and respectful people show consideration to the leader of the Catholics. Benedict appeared dazzled by by crowd listening to his homilies and did not notice, or at least pretended not to very well, what was happening behind the scenes.

Among the crowd and all around it a strong police cordon was set up, belonging to the organs of State Security, the mission was not to let opponents or dissidents enter the plazas. Despite the measures and precaution, some could express themselves, still it ended in assaults and blows by the Cuban Red Cross, which should have been neutral. Although the aggression occurred only a few yards from the Pope, he took a cold political attitude and showed no sign, then or later, of giving any importance to the event.

Nor did he give any importance to the hundreds of detainees, some in prisons and others in their homes, among these later were my husband and I, guarded all night the night before the mass in the Plaza of the Revolution in Havana, and through the whole time this lasted, in the house of some fellow servants in the faith, who gave us asylum and showed their solidarity and friendship, witnesses also to the arbitrariness of the repressive forces of the Cuban government.

Benedict XVI has refused to offer an opinion on what happened with the Cuban dissidents during his visit, he refused to listen to them and bring them under his spiritual protection. Cardinal Jaime Ortega, in addition, was hostile toward the opponents and too servile and cloying with respect to the authorities. It seems that the Cuban Catholic Church and the highest levels at the Vatican have given their approval to the Cuban dictatorship. It would not be the first time that Catholics made pacts with the powerful and with bad governments.

For my part, I who did see what happened behind the scenes, because I was behind them, say and will say what happened in Cuba during the visit of Pope Benedict XVI, particularly from my own experience, which although I am not Catholic and have no interest in being in the close presence of this person, was placed under house arrest, watched for hours as if I were a criminal and held incommunicado because, like many others, my husband’s cellphone was cut off and silenced from before the mass and several days afterwards.

Benedict did not see this, or pretended that he did not, so delighted was he with the false theater, while behind the scenes the reality was very different from the appearances.

July 20 2012

Raúl Castro: “The Table is Set for the United States” / Yoani Sánchez

On Thursday morning, the 26th of July was celebrated in Gunatanamo province. The 59th Anniversary of the assault on the Moncada and Carlos Manuel de Cespedes barracks went according to script with no great surprises. In Mariana Grajales Plaza in this eastern city, members of the government, local authorities and thousands of local people gathered. The main speech was delivered by José Ramón Ventura, first vice president of the Councils of State and Ministers. His words were marked by calls for anti-imperialism and calls for efficiency.

He delivered them like a man of the old guard, an octogenarian leader emphasizing the need to meet production plans and insisting on the Guidelines of the Sixth Communist Party Congress. His allocution was free of announcements, although popular rumor suggested – weeks in advance – the possibility of a decree regarding travel and emigration reform. A change longed-for by Cubans who could travel outside the Island without needing a permit to leave, what we call the “white card.”

Instead, the statements made at the ceremony focused more on the continuation of the current process. Only in the final minutes did Raúl Castro take the microphone and improvise a speech. From experience, Cubans know that unscripted words are often the most momentous. The General boasted that the ceremony had lasted only “55 minutes,” a clear contrast to the long events organized in the past by his brother, Fidel Castro.

He also stressed the need to raise productivity, without which it will not be possible to improve the current wage scales. Historical references also salted his time in front of the microphone. Meanwhile, the sun rose in the sky over one of the hottest areas of the country and the people remained standing before the words of the current president. This was the first 26th of July that was commemorated under the new rules of the Raúl regime, with the site chosen not in a contest between provinces but in their geographical order. The 60th anniversary, next year, will take place in Santiago de Cuba, where the Moncada Barracks is located.

The most controversial statement in Raúl’s speech was that if the United States wants “to talk, the table is set… If they want to talk about the problems of democracy, of freedom of the press, of human rights… we will discuss it… but under conditions of equality,” affirmed the man who for almost fifty years was Minister of the Armed Forces.

This assertion comes at a time when the opposition has lost, physically, one of its main leaders, the layman Oswaldo Payá. Many of the dissidents surveyed by this writer for El Pais newspaper, expressed their displeasure with the fact that the Cuban authorities are disposed to talk about internal matters with a foreign government and not with the nonconformists in their own backyard.

But this is not the first time the current Cuban president has spoken of a possible dialog with his neighbor to the north. In reality, however, the official discourse continues to feed off confrontation with the White House.

This was, without a doubt, a 26th of July that will pass with neither pain nor glory.

26 July 2012

“No one can doubt that totalitarianism will be dismantled.” / Antonio Rodiles

Antonio Rodiles at the time of his arrest

Antonio Rodiles Speaks to PenultimosDias.com about his arrest and detention at Oswaldo Payá’s funeral

On July 24th, during Oswaldo Payá’s funeral, Antonio Rodiles, coordinator of the independent project Estado de Sats, was arrested by the police and held for almost 24 hours in the Police Station at Infanta and Manglar, in the Cerro neighborhood. Some twenty bloggers, dissidents and activists remained outside the Station, along with Rodiles’ family, for the better part of the night, until they were assured he would be released the following day as, in fact, happened. This interview, conducted just hours after his release, aims to clarify the circumstances of the arrest and the events that followed.

PenultimosDias.com: What exactly happened?

Antonio Rodiles: The problem begins when the hearse is ready to go to the cemetery. A group of activists wanted to accompany the coffin on foot, alongside the car, because not everyone could fit in the vehicles that were going to the cemetery. The police refused to allow the dissidents to walk alongside the car to the Colón Cemetery, and so there was a confrontation.

Guillermo Fariñas was in the front row. We were behind several cars, waiting to leave, when we saw a group run towards the hearse. From where we were we couldn’t see what was happening and so Ailer [Conzález] got out of the car to look. He was delayed in returning and when I was about to leave, the cortege started off following the cars.

We go to the Avenue, but I stop the car to get out and look for Ailer. Once I’m in the street I’m aware of the violence of State Security and the police, and I return to the car to leave my wallet. I’m looking for Ailer and find Julio Aleago, who I ask for help to find him amid this mass of people. I walk down one side of the sidewalk, Aleaga down the other, and suddenly one agent says to another, “There goes Aleago Pesant, let’s arrest him.”

On hearing this, I turn and go over to them; they come up and I am questioning them and trying to avoid their grabbing him. One of them shouts at me, I respond, and then I feel several of them grab me violently. I defend myself and start to also throw punches and kicks.

Antonio back home after his arrest

About six or seven of them descend and take me to the police car where we have more wrestling to prevent them forcing me in it. Finally they get me in and one of them sits on me, pushing his head against the roof of the car, and another trying to grab my feet. We head off this way until by common agreement we decide to stop the struggle. The air was completely rarefied within the backseat of the car.

When we arrived at the station there is again physical violence. One of them tells me I’m going in the cells and I tell him I’m will not go in. They threaten me and I tell them to save their threats, I am not going in. He and his partner pull me up and the fighting and punching starts again until a person from the National Revolutionary Police (PNR) intervenes. Those in the PNR try everything to calm things down, the State Security agents left the area and a Lieutenant colonel came to talk to me.

Meanwhile, Aleaga remained on the bench at the entrance to the cells. The lieutenant Colonel assured me we would not be put in the cells and would remain in a small room at the entrance to the dungeon, and that’s what happened.

Security didn’t stop pressuring them to put us in the cells, but the people of the PNR left us permanently in that little room. The interrogation was more of a conversation with the lieutenant colonel from State Security, in which I mostly talked. My conclusion is that they no longer have much to say or to argue, faced with the disaster.

PD: What did the police accuse you of and what were the details of the arrest?

AR: They didn’t accuse me of anything, in the record of the arrest it just says, “Matter of SE [State Security].”

PD: Did the solidarity of the activists, families and friends who were outside the station help you?

AR: I believe it was fundamental. I have no way to give thanks for the total support my family received, two elderly and sick people. It’s very important to send a clear message of determination and support. It’s importation that this kind of response be part of the action of civil society.

PD: What are your plans, for Rodiles and for Estado de Sats, now that you have been a victim of direct physical repression?

AR: Sadly, these barriers have become a part of the proofs of the defeat of this system. My plan is to continue working, now with a clearer view of all the effort we must put into a peaceful and democratic transition in our land. What does seem very clear to me is that we are on a one-way road, no one can doubt that totalitarianism will be dismantled.

26 July 2012

Oswaldo Payá: The Act of Serving / Luis Felipe Rojas

Still dazed and in shock I compose these words to Oswaldo. When I started to get the first messages about Oswaldo Payá Sardiñas’s death they were showing the film “War Horse,” and in one of the scenes a soldier leaves his foxhole to save his charger and before the imminence of his death he is praying parts of the 23rd Psalm, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,” as if nothing should be lacking now to someone who is and well be a man-bridge, man-dialog, man-country.

The messages clogged my phone with the hashtag #OrlandoPayá and the mention OswaldoPaya. The questions of friends from every corner of the island and of the world. The police cordon at the hospital in Bayama, the details of the fatal incident, the doubts of a witness about a supposed police chase, the construction crews in the middle of the road on the El Naranjo curve. The questions. The answers. The words. The damn words.

It’s difficult to think of Payá and not go back to the now well known EFE Agency photo where he, Antonio Díaz Sánchez and Regis Iglesia, on that 10th of May 2012, are approaching the site of the National Assembly of People’s Power to deliver the 11,025 signatures of citizens who supported the Varela Project.

There was the map of tomorrow’s Cuba. I say that because now the faces of the three blend together for me with those of hundreds of anonymous opponents, without a visible mark for the “mass media” merrymaking, those who gave birth to and collected these desires.

The most insignificant of the Cuban dissidents saw pass through their hands a form, a copy, or a summary of the range of strategies that Payá wanted to tune into so that Cuba would be different. Along with virtues, defects and contradictions, there was his greatness. The Cuban regime had to move, in an acrobatic high-wire act to the people to amend those articles that gave a glimpse of freedom and that were a dead letter in the Constitution until Oswaldo Payá grabbed hold of them.

The Varela Project was a lever that moved the country.

I think of Payá, but also of Osmel Rodríguez (The Chinaman Manicaragua), of Ezequiel Morales and Juan Carlos Reyes Ocaña, of the Ferrer-García brothers and of the hundreds of Cubans who armed with courage went out through our dark country to seek signatures for the Varela Project, to spark the desire to be free or to dream with this treasure that is freedom.

I didn’t support all of Payá’s initiatives, and for this I won his friendship. The first time we met he listened to my arguments without interruption. In 2007 he invited me to review the draft of something he’d been “cooking up” for months and I still appreciate that gesture, that cunning to get me to participate. From that time he called me and I him.

The first close people who talked to me about him were Father Olbier Hernández and Deacon Andrés Tejeda who described him as a contradictory being, helpful, a rebuilding. They and the way in which the former American president Jimmy Carter in some way presented him on that day in 2002* in the Great Hall of the University of Havana depicted the face of Payá Sardiñas in the tapestry of an inclusive Cuba for everyone. It will come, we will have to find it together.

*Translator’s note: Jimmy Carter was allowed to address the Cuban people on live TV and took the opportunity to praise Oswaldo Payá and the Varela Project.

July 23 2012

Oswaldo Payá: the nights of San Juan de Letrán / Jorge Ignacio Domínguez

Oswaldo and “Ofelita” in 2010. From Along the Malecon

It was the summer or autumn of 1984. Father Juan de Dios — who is now a bishop and yesterday celebrated the first funeral mass for Oswaldo Payá — chose several people to prepare a document that summarized what was said by Havana Catholics over the previous months in hundreds of meetings preparatory to the Cuban National Ecclesiastic Meeting (ENEC). The commission consisted of two priests — Juan de Dios and Father René Ruiz — and four laypeople: Oswaldo Payá, Ofelia Acevedo, Gustavo Andújar and this scribe.

For several months we met two or three times a week in the Church of San Juan de Letrán. Father Yeyo, the son of a former chef at the Havana Hilton and pastor of the church, didn’t stop complaining about our meetings (joking or serious?), but he prepared us snacks and exquisite dinners from his father’s old recipes.

Oswaldo was thirty-two years old with the nasal voice that later the whole world would hear, and wore little hick shirts and tacky pants, and gave the impression that none of that mattered in the slightest. Ofelita — we all called her that — had Bambi eyes and Isabella Rossellini skin: she had a beauty that took your breath away. Its delicacy hid the immense courage she would later demonstrate so many times, and could say things that would also take your breath away. She is one of those women who, when they enter the room, men lower their voices and tuck in their shirts.

During breaks and over dinner in those months I had dozens of conversations with Oswaldo. We talked about the subject that occupied us (the ENEC), of course, but also about Poland, Lech Walesa, the fate of Cuba, the political prisoners, about Valladares who had married Oswaldo’s cousin…

We agreed that communism was evil nonsense, but I thought it was immutable. Oswaldo Payá, no: he was the first person who told me, with absolute conviction, that communism could be overcome and that we had to do something to save Cuba from the disaster. I told him I thought he was a dreamer. History, to the infinite joy of both of us, would prove Oswaldo right.

But what fascinated me was his cheerfulness and his desire to do good. Oswaldo was the guy you would choose to go with to see a ballgame or a hopeless war. With him you always knew who you had at your side. And I imagine it was this that Ofelita saw with those eyes of hers today brimming over with tears, because a little while later they got engaged. She couldn’t have falling in love with his hick shirts and his fifties haircut, but with his capacity to imagine a better future and his courage to pursue it.

In Cerro parish, where he practiced his faith his whole life, they married in 1986. I remember that instead of entering the church to the Wedding March of every wedding, they chose a liturgical song: “People of kings.” I remember the crowded church, like today, but overflowing with joy. Because that day, like in the movies, the mischievous boy had conquered the most beautiful girl in school.

Years later, in 1991, we met at the “First Day Social,” an event for lay Catholics organized by Dagoberto Valdés. It had been some time since I’d seen Oswaldo, who was already, by then, a known and persecuted dissident. At lunchtime, when I approached his table, Oswaldo, sarcastically, was saying to someone, “Don’t sit next to me, you’ll get in trouble.” Then he raised his eyes and saw me, laughed and said, “Come, sit here, not even a miracle can redeem you.” And it was if no time at all had passed since our conversations at San Juan de Letrán. A few months later I left Cuba: we never saw each other again.

Oswaldo Payá’s death is devastating for his family, friends and colleagues, but a disaster for his country. His courage, his political talent and consistency are always precious, but more so in a country worm-eaten in its vital essence. May God help his wife and children who, in these days, have given us a lesson in integrity and dignity in the midst of tragedy. May God help us all, because to some extent, we will all pay the price of his absence.

Translated from the original Spanish from Tersites, the blog of Jorge Ignacio Domínguez.

24 July 2012

A Coded Editorial / Regina Coyula

Though a committed atheist, I am of the opinion that the Church must play and will play an important role for change in our country. The publication Espacio Laical (Lay Space) has come to occupy a very important position in the dissemination of ideas and divergent opinions, a remarkable feat in our society. It is an interesting and coveted publication, passed from person to person as Encuentro de la Cultura Cubana (Encounter with Cuban Culture) was in its time. That being said, I would like to focus on Espacio Laical editorial#2-2012.

The editorial appears to have been written as a response to something or someone who goes unmentioned.Although it is good that we know about or are reminded of its efforts on behalf of prisoners and its condemnation of terrible actions from our nation’s recent past, there is ambiguity in the implied subject which leaves anyone not familiar with or not involved in the Church’s accords and disagreements confused. (Monseigneur?) I share and want to be part of the vision of encounter, dialogue and consensus as the basis for a national solution outlined in the text.

If it is true, as claimed, that there is no other social actor as committed to the alternative of positive change in Cuba, it is because the Church has had the advantage of being virtually the only institution outside of government with its own infrastructure. It was here when the 1959 Revolution arrived and does not worry about being accused of receiving funds from foreign sources.

I do not know what threat might lead certain factions to eliminate the Cardinal, but the Church and Ortega himself must understand that it could never come from the opposition. Since it has been outlawed and partly silenced throughout the country, it would not have the necessary means. They should surely watch out instead for those within the party/state apparatus, known as “Talibans,”who do not want change.

As a citizen, I would like to know about the different political projects mentioned. I would like to judge and discern which among them comes closest to my ideas for the country. I am disturbed that this editorial talks about “monitored and joint projects. . . to agendas dictated from outside the country.” Citizen that I am, I can identify with one of those “rapacious minorities” which it mentions tangentially, as if all this information were public and widely known.

Greater clarity would have resulted in a greater “commitment to truth.”

July 25 2012

“I do not believe the version of the government nor of its spokesmen.” Ofelia Acevedo Maura speaks of the death of her husband, Oswaldo Payá

Ofelia Acevedo Maura and Oswaldo Payá in 2010: Source: Along the Malecon.

Ofelia Acevedo Maura speaks about the death of her husband Oswaldo Payá. Transcript/summary from PenultimosDias.com.

I have nothing in writing, only brief information given verbally by an official from Criminal Affairs. Briefly, he told me that the car went out of control because of excessive speed and had hit a tree, and this caused the death of my husband and the boy who was behind him.

I have no obligation to believe this… My husband is very cautious when driving or traveling by car, constantly advising the driver how he should go… I don’t understand how many times the car rolled or anything like that.

What they said to me was not backed up. In addition, they told me the investigation was over. All this was verbal. From the experiences we’ve had and the previous threats we’ve received, both the movement and my family, as I expressed the the major, I doubt what I’ve been told.

I want a transparent investigation, that allows the two living witnesses to speak, they are the people who were beside my husband until the last minute. I’ve asked this of the embassies of Spain and Sweden. I want you to take it to the Spanish government…

that. We have a long experience with lies and defamations from the government with respect to my husband.

The same official told me there were only a tractor driver and a man on a bicycle, who only saw a cloud of dust; he only talked to me of those two witnesses.

No one, much less within Cuba, has the right to confirm what not even the government has given me as an official version of the incident…

I don’t have any photos of the car nor of the place. I haven’t even received his pants or shoes or small video camera that my husband was carrying.

I disavow any statement made by Elizardo Sánchez Santacruz, or any other person about the events…

Ofelia Acevedo Maura

25 July 2012

Tomás, the Man who Brought Broadway to Taguayabón / Mario Barroso

Source: http://buenavistavcuba.blogspot.com/

This past July 2 was second anniversary of the death of Tomás Leopold Alfonso Manso. He was born on September 30, 1941, and unexpectedly passed away from a heart attack on July 2, 2010, leaving an irreplaceable emptiness in Taguayabón, the town in which he lived since 1978 and to which he devoted his art, with the same dedication as if Taguayabón was New York City.

In the last months of his life, we shared the same daily routine of having coffee in the morning at the home of a mutual friend, a ritual as important to Cubans as three o’ clock tea is for an Englishman. Tomás adopted me as his spiritual guide and told me the stories about his deepest traumas and desires. In the 51st edition of the folklore magazine Signos from 2005, dedicated to the traditional occupations in Cuba, I published my contributionHabit Makes the Monk, and Hard Work Traditions Make Taguayabón,” and under its title it said “Tomás Manso Alfonso, our float maker” (pages 65-66). This human being was receiving then one of the very few tributes that honored him during his life, and that he very much appreciated.

The fact that he was a literacy teacher, especially in the Escambray, during the harsh days of the 1960s when Cubans shed the blood of other Cubans, made him a witness of the crimes committed by the Cuban regime, crimes he never forgot.

The firing squads scenes which he was forced to attend turned into a horrific drama that accompanied Tomás throughout his life. He still could hear the cries of “Long live God our King!” from those who were going to die, teenagers among them, if not children.

Tomás could not find any other way to avoid those memories, but secluding himself in art, and Taguayabón had the blessing of being the place for Tomás’s work. Thanks to him, the hardships of a town like this, in  remote Cuba, became less because Tomás gave his people a reason to laugh and dream. Probably, most of Taguayabón’s people will never see Broadway, not even Tomás did, but that was not an excuse to not bring it to the Taguayabonians.

The State censors, who were always shadowing Tomás’ projects and who knew very well what he had witnessed, in spite of knowing that this was contrary to the wishes of his family and of El Gavilán, the party neighborhood to which he belonged, made a clumsy attempt to stop me from speaking at the cemetery of San Antonio, on the morning of July 3rd, before his burial.

They failed. And as a tribute to Tomás, on behalf of all of Taguayabón, two years after his deeply felt absence, the blog Cubano Confesante will make available a video that his entire neighborhood El Gavilán dedicated to him, which was publicly exhibited in the 2010 carnival parties that were organized to honor Tomás’ memory. The entire recordings of two mournful farewells before his burial will be also available, that of a retired State Security agent who served as the head of this organ for many years in Caibarién, and my own, which he failed to stop from happening.

Translator’s note: Two video links accompanied this post but they have been removed from YouTube because they are too long.

July 5 2012

The Fallacy of Internet in Cuba / Jeovany Jimenez Vega

Cubans waiting for the internet under Fidel’s watchful eye. Source: Global post, from: Photographer: STR / Source: AFP/Getty Images

Not to slam Granma, but it happens to be the only publication I subscribe to and I, like millions of Cubans, do not have access to the Internet so here’s my revenge. I couldn’t help reading in the International section of the July 6 edition the unfortunate way in which the Latin Press Agency scored another miscue, this time with the statements of its president Luis Enrique Gonzalez who just said at a world summit on mass media that in Cuba, “… more than 30% of the population has access to the Internet, and another 30% to the new technologies, through social services that now exist on the World Wide Web.”

Guys like Luis Enrique leave me flabbergasted, publicly putting out this lie in the crudest way. On hearing this anyone would suppose that Cuba has a connectivity rate comparable to any other country in the region, when the reality is quite different. This gentleman knows that the political authorities and the Cuban government has been doing everything humanly possible to keep their people in absolute cyber-darkness; that in my country only a privileged few can access the Internet, and even they with dagger of censorship threatening to oust from their jobs anyone with the temerity of post some “inappropriate” comment, because the Party that oversees everything is not going to make an exception just for something as strategic as information.

If the selected journalists, rancid Roundtable panelists, managing directors of foreign companies, diplomatic personnel, high officials or exceptional public figures ideologically aligned with the Cuban government are permitted to connect from home, or the students who make up the pathetic cybernetic response brigades from the University of Information Sciences join the count of this 30%, it would still be a count that this Cuban would greatly doubt, and we must always take into account, that in order to be on line the sine qua non is always absolute submission to the rules established by the inquisitors.

I hope that Mr. Director of the Latin Press, when he speaks of the other 30% who have “access” to the new technologies, is not referring to the declining network of “Youth Clubs” or the misnamed “surfing rooms” in some post offices, places from which, with great luck, you might barely be able to write an email and where, inexorably, the censoring eye of the Party and the Political Police are looking over your shoulder, which is no secret to anyone.

I also hope that they are not referring to the most select sector which has the affluence required to pay the extortionate fee to connect in hotels — between 6.00 to 12.00 Cuban convertible pesos (CUC) for one hour (which is $6.60 to $13.20 in US dollars, or, if we look at the average monthly salary of 400.00 Cuban pesos, the cost is 150.00 to 300.00 Cuban pesos) — which is fixed by Resolution No. 146/2012 of April 27, established for our workers by the Ministry of Finance and Prices, all of which would make one die laughing if it weren’t so serious.

Regardless of what this head-in-the-clouds director says, I do know something very specific: it may be pure chance (?) but I don’t know a single Cuban doctor in my entire circle of relationships who connects to the Internet, nor a single one of my neighbors in the many streets around, nor one of my family members, nor any friend, who can connect freely from their home which is also true for me and every blogger I know.

There are no two ways about it: the Cuban government deliberately keeps its people deprived of Internet access because it fears the free flow of information and desperately needs to maintain the most absolute monopoly on it to preserve its power without jumping through hoops. More than once I’ve said: I maintain with absolute certainty that if the powers-that-be in Havana considered it convenient for the maintenance of their status, our people would be able to access the Web regardless of any economic or political obstacles, including the United States embargo.

Thus, I would suggest that Mr. Luis Enrique, a complete professional of the press, at least learn to lie with more subtlety for the sake of the brand new agency he represents.

July 22 2012