The Second Sunday of May / Regina Coyula

This Mother’s Day has been distorted over the years. In among the shortages you see everyone going crazy looking for treats for their teacher, their aunt, for the neighbor who is so good, for my friend Fulanita* who gives me something every year, and also buying an impressive number of picture postcards to give to every mother they know.

I do not know if it is a practice of the so-called consumer society that has infiltrated around here, but for me it doesn’t matter. I enjoy my mom every day, I spoil her whenever I can, and if I can’t I already did, we don’t get all in a twist on the issue dates.

But this is me and my circumstances. For all my readers, have a wonderful day and love those close to you very much. If you can, give them something, but don’t give them something as a substitute. (Horrors!!! Now I feel in a position to give advice…)

*Translator’s note: “Fulano/a” is equivalent to “so-and-so”… the unnamed somebody.

12 May 2013

Filial Love / Diana Karen Tur Garma

pies-descalzosThat night for the first time in seven years the girls heard footsteps that weren’t those of their mother. The darkness had already become eternal. They couldn’t even remember their faces. But they knew what time Mamá brushed her teeth, that Mondays were the day to go to the market, that every Thursday she cried like that at nine at night because at that time it was one more week that their father had abandoned them, seven years now, Mamá and the three of them. But more the three of them, because if he hadn’t gone Mamá wouldn’t have gone crazy.

The steps seemed like a man’s, because they were longer and heavier, a little after hearing them on the porch they could hear the masculine voice announcing, “Police! Anyone home?” Then they heard Mamá run quickly to the door. “Good evening, officer, can I help you with something?” “Yes, madam, you can help me if you let me inspect your home, two of your neighbors have called in emergencies today, to complain about the bad smell coming from your house.”

The girls knew that Mamá hadn’t thrown out the trash nor cleaned for several weeks, it seemed that their crisis intensified recently. But this wasn’t what most frightened them, rather that this cop might decide by some chance to search the basement and find them there. Poor Mamá, she would have to go to jail and they didn’t want that even though she’d left them locked up for so many years. continue reading

They couldn’t hear Mamá answering the officer, but his steps crossed the living room, then the hall and then over the whole house. Since Papá left they had decided not to resist her orders or her craziness, they didn’t want to hurt Mamá more. The officer poked his head through the hole in the basement ceiling where their mother threw food once a day, but he couldn’t see anything, only sense the smell of feces and urine that came from below.

The steps creaked under the weight of him coming down, the odor getting ever stronger. The girls had stayed completely silent the whole time, hugging each other in a corner, trying not to let him find them. The officer saw the dirty bare feet in the darkness, then he approached them.

“Come with me, don’t be afraid, I’m not going to hurt you.” The girls didn’t move, but they saw Mamá’s shadow coming down approaching the boy from the back. She raised something in the air and with a thud his body fell like a stone to the floor, she threw the piece of wood and grabbed the shoulders of the boy to drag him up the stairs.

The oldest daughter started to help her and when the body was in the middle of the living room, she smiled at her mother as if expecting something in exchange, then she ran back to the basement. Mamá walked slowly after the girl and put the lock back on the door.

Second Sunday in May / Rebeca Monzo

Patchwork portrait by Rebeca

Mother’s Day is a custom that has been practiced in our country for generations. It continues to be celebrated, though differently and under certain limitations, in spite of the current state of familial disintegration. The main objective of the celebration was to return to the matriarchal home to be with one’s family. It never mattered how far one person lived from another.

I remember a great commotion all through the house beginning early in the morning. Even the youngest family members had their assigned chores. Unmarried girls like me, who still lived together under the same roof, were in tasked with cleaning. The males were in charge of gathering dried leaves from the garden. They would put them in a metal tank in the patio to become compost, which would later be used as fertilizer. Or they would burn them, which was an easier way of getting rid of them. The women manned their posts in the kitchen. The maid had been given the day off since she would also be having a celebration at her own house.

On Sundays, as well as this on this special day, my mother, an expert cook, was in charge of creating the menu with the help of my grandmother. Uncle Pedro had to be kept out of the kitchen because he was fond of “dipping his spoon in the pot.” He was, therefore, given the task of setting up the big table with the help of his son. For this and other occasions a “little room in back” was used for storing a pair of wooden burros, or saw horses, and an immense slab. continue reading

Around noon members of the extended family began arriving. The first to get there were some uncles whose house was across the street, followed later by those who lived further away. Everyone, both children and adults, wore either a red or a white flower on their chests. The former signified the mother was still alive, the latter that she had passed away. This custom evolved as a way of preventing someone from “putting his foot in his mouth” by inquiring about a mother who was deceased. Fortunately, at that time almost everyone in our house wore a red flower. In the afternoon we were joined by other family members who, because they lived a little further away, did not join us for lunch. They nonetheless stopped by to pay their respects to the mothers, who on that day were the queens of the party. By evening, with all the family members and close friends, we were a multitude!

The superb lunch almost always featured a chicken, which back then was reserved for the Sunday feast. During the rest of the week we ate beef, prepared in one of its many different ways. It was the most common dish simply because it was both economical and good. The exception was Fridays when fish was generally served. Pork, guinea hen and turkey were the preferred choices on Christmas Eve, Christmas and New Year’s.

One of my mother’s culinary specialties was her always superb arroz con pollo, which on this day she served on big platters garnished with pimentos, asparagus tips, baby peas and hard-boiled eggs, prepared according to a famous recipe. There were also salads made with seasonal vegetables. And, of course, one could not forget to have a nice cream cake as well as the famous ice cream cake covered in chocolate, which came in a box packed with dry ice to keep it frozen until serving time. The climax of the lunch was the invariably delicious coffee, which my grandmother often said was the “crowning touch” to any meal.

Later in the evening, after almost everyone had left, Uncle Pedro (to avoid cooking) prepared wonderful sandwiches. He would spread one side of a baguette with butter and the other with mustard, adding slices of ham, chorizo, cheese and rounds of pickled cucumbers. There were two blenders in the kitchen similar to the ones found in cafes (there were a lot of us) in which he prepared delicious mamee or mango shakes, depending on the season. The fruit came from trees growing in the patio behind the house.

Today, so many years after that wonderful time in our lives, I am struck with nostalgia remembering those Mother’s Days with their Sunday lunches. After 1959 they were snuffed out, little by little, as our family became fragmented — as was the case with almost all Cubans — when most of us went into exile. Many of the products needed to prepare those feasts also began disappearing as a result of state intervention in private business and salaries which were no longer sufficient to cover their costs. Add to that the ever growing transport problems which prevented those who lived in other provinces from attending the festivities. Like a grey blanket, sadness began shadowing these family events from my childhood and adolescence. The houses became practically empty. No longer did anyone wear a flower on the chest out of either happiness or sadness.

This is just one more of our lovely Cuban traditions, which have gradually disappeared along with our youth and illusions. Fortunately, they went into exile along with our compatriots, who continue to practice them there. Because of this I have hope and am certain that one day they will return — perhaps a bit modified, but enriched — to fatten our cultural imagination and currently meager culinary repertoire.

11 May 2013

Fidel Castro, Mentor to Chavez / Ivan Garcia

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

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

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

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

After the years of the Castro hurricane are left behind, the amount of money and resources squandered in overseas battles will be known. When Soviet Communism said goodbye, the island entered a stage called the “Special Period”: a punishment of waste and economic unproductivity. The regime was jumping through hoops.

The State coffers were nearly empty. Lack of oil paralyzed the development plans. Closed industries. The blackouts lasted 12 hours a day. It was like a war, but without aerial bombardments.

In Venezuela, in 1992, a lieutenant colonel in the paratroopers attempted a military coup to install himself in Miraflores. Meanwhile, in his office, Fidel Castro circled in red pencil the news from the event. He awarded the highest priority to young Hugo Chavez. And when he was released in 1994, he was the guest of honor. It was in Havana where the future alliance was born.

The olive-green autocracy bet everything on a winning horse. Screaming, the homeland of Bolivar demanded changes. The corruption and inflexibility of traditional politicians, rampant poverty and urban crime, had gestated an explosive panorama.

Hugo was Fidel’s man in Caracas. He came to power skillfully managing the discourse of poverty and social change. No talk of socialism to be controlled much of Venezuelan institutions. He didn’t talk about socialism until he had the better part of the Venezuelan institutions under control.

Venezuela is a democracy in appearances. There is free press and political game. Even elections. But the strong man of Barinas designed a strategy that will enable staying in power for decades, using authoritarian methods subtly supported by the Constitution.

Chavez’s ideology was amorphous. Catholic, a little Marxism along the way, and a first class passion for the XXI Century Socialism devised by the German political scientist, Heinz Dieterich.

Death came to collect him and saved him from disaster. If Venezuela remains committed to the path of political absurdity, it will end in massive street protests, citizen discontent and social unrest. The economic figures are unsettling. Crime is frightening. Inflation soars.

Although the barrel of oil is around $100, the money collected evaporates. Oil production decreases. Part of this production is to pay their debt to China. Another part is delivered at a subsidized price, if paid for at all, to Cuba and other Caribbean nations.

Socialism sounds nice in theory. Helping the homeless, prosperity, health and free education. That is good. But social policies should be designed without violating individual liberties or leaping over democratic laws. A State can’t plan a whole economy from toothpicks to the exact amount of slushy ice.

President Nicolas Maduro could turn things around for good. But he’s carrying the burden of his friends’ cadaver on his back. The advice that blows down from Havana should not be a pattern to follow.

The project is to polarize society. To continue delivering oil to the string of friendly countries. And consolidate the continental hegemony against the United States. During his visit to Cuba he met with Fidel Castro for five hours, presumed mastermind of today’s Venezuelan landscape.

If Maduro is an honest man, he will notice that his alliance with the Cuban government could lead to political ruin. The ideal would be to break that heavy burden, which annoys even many supporters of Chavez.

And the model to follow, opting for a modern and moderate leftist style like Lula’s of Dilma’s in Brazil. Otherwise, its days are numbered.

Iván García

Photo: Gregory Bull / AP, taken by Los Angeles Times. Fidel Castro receives Hugo Chavez at the airport in Havana on November 15, 1999.

11 May 2013

A Chameleon Word / Fernando Damaso

Archive photo

There is a word in the Spanish language, which is used in different ways by the Cuban authorities, according to their interests: this is diversity.

In international relations it is widely used by the top leaders and their representatives, who demand respect for it. It’s logical. When the majority of countries have democratic governments, diversity is represented by those who do now. In this situation, the presence of these, Cuba among them, is only possible if it is accepted and respected. This happens in the United Nations (UN), the Community of Latin American and Caribbean States (CELAC), the Association of Caribbean States (ACS), and so on.

For individual countries, diversity works in two different ways. If in those countries that have democratic governments, which do not share the Cuban political-ideological spectrum, the defense of diversity support parties, movements and opposition groups. If governments are authoritarian and populist, and respond to the interests of the Cuban authorities, then diversity is attacked, accusing its representatives of being bourgeois, stateless, fascists, mercenaries, lackeys, allies of the empire, and so on. continue reading

However, extreme deformation is produced in the national situation, where the word diversity becomes a true chameleon, constantly changing color according to conveniences. In political matters it is totally excluded, supporting this exclusion with the concept of a single ideology for more than fifty years, accusing those who do not share it of all the known expletives and even some created for this purpose (worms, annexationists, traitors, etc.), meanwhile using questions of gender, race and sex, with the objective of attracting these social clusters into the government fold, through pro-government organizations and institutions created and funded for this purpose.

This is not the only chameleon word used by the Cuban authorities. There are many others. Insult serves as a simple example.

Until so many of these words fail to shed the thick ideological veneer, with which they have been covered for their circumstantial use, and resume their unique and real significance, the speeches and official statements that use them continue to enjoy little credibility.

11 May 2013

Official March Against Homophobia in Cuba Led by Raul Castro’s Daughter

This Saturday, Mariela Castro, daughter of the Cuban president, led, along with a group of official homosexual activists, a walk with the  slogan “Socialism Yes, Homophobia No.” Indepedent activists Ignacio Estrada and his wife Wendy attended in the afternoon hours at the Cuba Pavillion in Havana.

Wendy and Ignacio

11 May 2013

The Sound of Silence / Rosa Maria Rodriguez

Miguel Diaz-Canel criticized the information silence imposed on us by the authorities and called it an “impossible dream” to maintain it due to the circulation of news that circulated among people who surf the internet or who have email, and the avidity of our compatriots to have alternative sources of knowledge of the news.

In the National Seminar in Preparation of the 2013-2014 School Year, held in Havana, the Cuban government’s second in command acknowledged publicly and tacitly — even without saying it — that the authorities have violated the rights of a society to free information have imposed an incidental ignorance, biased information, and an obligatory official and irresponsible journalism.

Which authorities is he referring to? Evidently, the number two Cuban is alluding to the “gray quarantine” of the mandate of Raul Castro.

We all know that in Cuba people use the internet at their workplaces — those who have it — to be able to communicate with family and friends living abroad, and consume a little information about what is happening in the world from an alternative perspective to the classical posture of the unconditional government journalists.

A great part of the population is fed up with the visions and versions aligned with the party and the high command offered by the professionals of the national press, so distant from the Cuban reality that suffers daily lines to buy meager food for the day, who have to face full buses to get to work, and who at night consume super-politicized television programming, mediocre and outmoded, that seem anchored in the decade of the seventies.

The Cuban Vice President did not speak, however, about the cable that, under the leadership of President Hugo Chavez, we have had in Cuba since February 2011, which those in power tried to hide with all kinds of misinformation and rumors, and the growing demand of the computerized Cuban society to have their free access to information through the Internet be respected.

This silent but progressive demand, which is imposing a renewed conception of the information paradigms that should be established and rule in modern society. There is no point in insisting on a lifting of the so-called secrecy of the Cuban press unless the authorities take the first step to greater transparency and information freedom, if there is censorship, if they do not allow alternative news agencies, and if they harass and condemn independent journalism.

The so-called socialist models that have been imposed in Latin America, also have their share of influence in the new directions that should guide our destiny towards greater social justice. What are called the new systems of the continental left, have pulled the rug out from under the Cuban regime with their multiparty system, with their social programs, housing and technological development, among many others to cajole their people.

When thinking about the development of their countries and giving them greater benefits, they have left their Cuban ideological benefactor and sponsor as the hemispheric “ugly duckling” with regards to freedoms and rights.

But it seems that the day “is coming” when “the silence of the innocents and the lambs” that the powerful has so greatly mocked and abused, will break the wall of cyber censorship and begin at least to walk along the highways of information and communication. New times dictate this, but we expect more, much more that they owe to Cuba, to our people and our history.

11 May 2013

The Keys of Time /  Boris Gonzalez Arenas

Photo: Jose Garcia Poveda
Photo: Jose Garcia Poveda

This photo has come to me somehow, has opened a door and I could see, within what I have at home, the formation of the rooms that I’ve designed in the last twenty years with the help of my country. The photo came accompanied by a text attributed to a gentleman called Jose Garcia Poveda, alias “el Flaco” — Slim — a foreigner who came to Cuba in 1990.

That year, synonymous for so many Eastern European countries with a wall that collapsed to leave men and women face to face, recognizing themselves as equals, for Cubans is synonymous with an uncertain drift between homelessness, frustration and death.

In 1990 I was fourteen and the director of Raul Gomez Secondary School, a good man — I believe I remember that well — assured me that the Food Program, a new mobilization strategy for agricultural production, would soon give amazing results, to the point that stamped on the back of the twenty peso banknote was a representation of the men and the technique of getting the fruits augured by the new plan.

But I’m not the kid with the plastic container nor the girl with the big shirt in this extraordinary photo, nor am I the cloud in the background nor the calm sea, that seems to wait for the stampede that will turn it into a more or less solid highway for a people seeking a destination. I am not the sole of the shoe without laces, nor the fly-away curls, nor the resting open hand as if asking the photographer not to go there, to continue waiting, that the work just started like the life in front of him and he, with his camera, can be the unique witness to what is coming.

The image suggests a photographer caught off guard, uncoscience of having his back to the storm and stuck in the middle of the field of view of his own lens.Unaware that in a country of cyclones this is not the first time that the tornado has formed over land and that, to reach these children, because no one will be saved, it will pass over his body until he can no longer recognize himself in the mirror.

A great work of “el Flaco,” if the note attached to the image is true. If today he took a photo of the same intensity, what should the hand gesture of this girl anticipate for the future of our country? What should the horizon suggest, divided between the big city and the open space? Knowing that I can just put the answer I want, I would like her hand gesture to be an omen of a nation with judgment and authority, and on the horizon there should be a magical reunion of reconciliation, essential to having a future less dramatic than what 1990 opened in my country.

9 March 2013

SOS: Attempted Riot in Prison 1580. Increase in Repression Against Angel Santiesteban and the Other Inmates / Angel Santiesteban

After the attempted riot in Prison 1580

Last night, Sunday May 5 at 7:45 PM, an inmate — Reniel Agramonte Valle — was beaten by two guards: Jesus and Andy the karate man. The inmates of both barracks started shouting against abuse and almost all looked through the windows and bars while the guards continued the abuse of the black, slight and famished 24-year-old.

The prisoners began to hit the gate until it broke and opened; the guards seeing the possible population unnerved all about them, fled and forgot how numerous they and their batons were, the same ones who minutes before struck the prisoner in question, and who by then had been taking their pills for chronic mental illness that are supplied  to them several times a day.

To stop the potential riot, the senior officer, when he reached the scene, freed the prisoner, and when they saw him return to the barracks it began to calm the spirits of his comrades who had already begun yelling “Down with Fidel,” “Down with dictatorship,” “Tomorrow we will get the news to Radio Martí,” “Assassins,” and “Abusers,” among others.

This morning, when the inmates attended the breakfast, they were met with German shepherds, the ones who on just seeing a prison uniform begin to bark and are very aggressive with them, Nazi-style.

In previous days they also beat several prisoners and after the beatings, they put them in cells hidden from the eyes of the rest of the prison population to hide their injuries and bodily signs of violence against them.

Ángel Santiesteban-Prats
Prison 1580, San Miguel del Padrón

Sowing Terror

One day after the attempted riot in the prison, they began the interviews and the removal of all persons who regularly conversed with me.

They want to keep inmates away from me because they consider a dangerous element my relating to them. And so they were taken to other barracks.

Now the prisoners afraid to approach me because they don’t want to be harmed. I am also concerned about some who claim not to care; because when they receive reprisals for being close to me, my guilty conscience is great because their fates are worse just for talking to me.

Even so, some have changed strategy and started to leave me papers on my bed with silent solidarity messages.

A prisoner on a hunger strike, Jesús Guerra Camejo, for talking with me, has also been taken from the company to an unknown destination.

The inmates are constantly interviewed to obtain information about me, writing or any data they might provide about me.

Ángel Santiesteban-Prats
Prison 1580, San Miguel del Padrón

10 May 2013

Zero Violence / Lilianne Ruiz

1368212654_violencia-cero-213In San Luis, a small town in Pinar del Rio, two young men caught the attention of State Security for distributing flyers for the Zero Violence campaign, and were detained.

Taken to the police station, one of them asked the repressor, “Are you in agreement with the violence?”

The cop responded no.

“Then, why stop me if all I’m doing is calling for no violence?”

The guy in uniform responded, “Because I’m not in agreement with what you’re distributing (the message). Give it to some other citizen to distribute.”

“Then I’m giving it to you, so that you will distribute it, among your people who are violent,” concluded the boy.

The Zero Violence campaign is an initiative from within the independent New Country platform, and is being conducted throughout the Island to create a change toward tolerance; which inevitably contradicts — disagrees with — Revolutionary politics; which is by nature intolerant and, let no one doubt it, violent.

“The authorities are trapped in their own contradictions. Between the image they want to sell of a calm and civilized country and their real conduct relative to repression,” says Manual Cuesta Morua, independent journalist, political analyst, president of the social-democrat Progressive Arch party, and national coordinator of New Country.

The victims of the repression agree with regards to the style flaunted by the agents: whether they’re uniformed police or State Security agents; even people recruited to carry out an act of repudiation try to ignore the existence of the other, the right to different, with an attitude masterfully defined once by Padre Conrado — recipient of the Tolerance Plus prize created by the same Platform — as “The Nullification.”

According to Cuesta Morúa, political violence, in Cuba, feeds on marginality, crude language, barbarism. People who are recruited to perform an act of repudiation are rarely the grande dames of the Revolution. Those who are mobilized to carry out these acts of verbal and physical violence are people who inhabit the marginality reproduced by the Revolution.

The Zero Violence campaign aims to work in marginal communities across the country, because from the moment that people learn not to use certain language and not to engage in certain behaviors, acquiring education instead of ideology, it is quite difficult later to break their own rules; also severed is the possibility of the State buying the attitudes of the marginalized for acts of repudiation, which are, as Cuesta-Morúa noted, “the suspension of politics.”

“When you become aware that you can’t, nor shouldn’t, project yourself violently against others, it quickly activated the culture of conversation,” says Cuesta Morua.

The culture of dialogue has been marginalized by the Cuban authorities, who need to be reminded of that phrase of the far-off Voltaire: I disagree with what you say, I completely disagree with that, but would defend with my life your right to say it.

“Violence in education is part of the organizational structure of State violence,” continues Cuesta Morúa. “Children in Cuba are taught to salute the flag with the slogan, We will be like Che.”

“El Ché,” as the Argentine guerrilla Ernesto Guevara is known, was a Communist and officiated for years, running the deaths before the firing squads of La Cabaña. Cuban mothers and fathers have never been consulted about whether they agree that this is the best educational paradigm. Cuban schools are State-owned, and are an investment in the ideological field. “When you teach a child to be like Che, he is subliminally instilling the culture of violence and disrespect for human rights,” added the activist.

1368212656_artistas-y-auspiciadoresThe women who joined New Country created this campaign and are its main promoters. They have organized workshops to teach their peers how to defend themselves in situations of violence, whether domestic or institutional. Through the Zero Violence Help Line, a series of phones have been placed at the service of people who seek advice, literature, or who decide to report an act of violence to the coordinators of the campaign. The coordinators would be responsible for investigating the complaint and for ultimately entering into the Orange Report, created for that purpose, cases of violence that come to their attention. With the hope of seeing what they can do to reduce them to the minimum.

Each year, 18 to 25 November, the Zero Violence Festival will be held, which last year featured guest artists like the rappers the Patriot Squadron, Silvito the Free and the punk band known as Porno para Ricardo. The boys of Omni Zona Franca, who are engaged in poetry, slam, performance, have also joined.

The days of November 18 to 25 coincide with the international day against child violence and gender violence, respectively.

Paradoxical as it may seem, as we said above, there have been a number of arrests of activists and promoters of the Zero Violence campaign in the west and east of the island. They are political arrests, obviously.

Taken from Cubanet.

10 May 2013

Private 3D Movies, the Latest Fashion in Havana / Ivan Garcia

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Iván García

7 May 2013

Commemorating in Santa Clara the 2nd Anniversary of the Murder of Juan Wilfredo Soto Garcia / CID

Mario LLeonart
Mario LLeonart

The Cuban Independent and Democratic party (CID) in Santa Clara marked the 2nd anniversary of the murder of Juan Wilfredo Soto Garcia — “The Student” — at 8:00 pm on May 8, with a talk and prayers for the repose of his soul, in the home of Joel Fonseca Machado, municipal vice delegate.

Juan Wilfredo Soto Garcia
Juan Wilfredo Soto Garcia

Rolando García Casadeval said by telephone:

The event began with the national anthem, the participants shared their experiences of living with Juan Wilfredo Soto and the circumstances of his death, beginning with a personal statement from Rev. Mario Felix Lleonart Barroso, pastor of the Baptist Church of Taguayabon, in Camajianí, and professor at the González-Peña Baptist Theological Seminary professor in Santa Clara.”

The memorial event was preceded by an activity held on May 5 at the same venue, a day on which the beating given him by the political police to the victim that led to his death was denounced on the social network Twitter.

The activists concluded with a march in the street to the municipal cemetery where there were scripture readings, prayers for the repose of Juan Wilfredo Soto Garcia and shouts of:

Freedom!, Glory to the martyrs of the Castro dictatorship!, Juan Wilfredo Soto Garcia Lives! and Long Live the CID!

9 May 2013

Between Delirium and Distance / Rosa Maria Rodriguez

Cesar Portillo de la Luz (La Habana, October 31, 1922), one of the kings of Cuban music, has died. He departed this world but he left behind his songs and a guitar widowed from arpeggios and creative harmonies. He crossed the threshold of “feeling” into the light of immortality alongside other greats such as Jose Antonio Mendez, Frank Dominguez, Nico Rojas, Frank Emilio, and Aida Diestro, through Elena Burke’s voice. His art converged the melancholic equilibrium of guitars with emotions born from the genre, which marked a time of renovation in Cuban music. Our Cesar, one of the creators of “filin,” took Rebeca, his first stringed wife, and taught a generation and many musicians that one could compose and accompany the feminine instrument – evoking its forms – and he left behind to the history of Cuban music great hits such as Tu, Mi Delirioand Contigo en la Distanciaor Realidad y Fantasia, works that earned him international fame.

His bohemian soul knew full well his (our) nocturnal Habana that he sculpted and immortalized in the notes of Noche Cubana. I know that he has not hung up his guitar, as some might think, but rather he left her waiting, hung in the walls of all the nightclubs in the capital city, through the multiple voices of interpreters from all regions and cultures and through all the phonographs that play his songs. Just in case, and in honor of our teacher, I will leave his melodies playing in my sonorous memory so that every time I come back to his raspy, fresh voice and his sober, serious image to delight myself with, I can imagine him there, in the eternal international musical scenery of the great.

9 May 2013