The naiveté of Cubans on the island sometimes dresses itself up and asks my family if they’d really tortured me in prison.
I remembered when, on the first beating, back in 2009, they fractured my arm, many doubted that fact because, some told me, State Security didn’t behave this way, given the scandal it would mean to publicly beat a writer. Other colleagues questioned the incident, and the then Minister of Culture, Abel Prieto, appointed a commission who investigated the events.
I have said previously that another of the ways they harassed me was to stop friends who visited me at home, hold them for hours, asking them if I received foreigners in my house, or if I met with them somewhere else; if I received money from abroad and so on.
When I denounced the proceedings, all thanks to my blessed blog, they began to deploy their agents disguised as artists, that the incident that had happened to me was personal and had nothing to do with the State.
I was never said what definition the investigative commission arrived it, everything was forgotten and my fracture was “forgotten.”
I remember that at that time I published how they were going to find themselves.
On November 8, 2012, State Security beat me savagely, the following day, inside the cell, they beat me harder; only this time, a dissident had the courage, the audacity and ethics to divulge the horrors of the dictatorship, by filming the event.
I always wondered if those intellectuals, having seen the brutal beating, were then convinced that State Security did act that way, and what they think of their own silence back then, when they doubted, and now that they know how is it possible that they can continue to remain silence. Do they know that if they speak up they’ll get the same? Do they know if they talk they will come to this prison where I am?
Here, they have beaten me, forced me to eat food against my will, food that stinks and is colorless and tasteless. They torture me psychologically at all times. What do they need? Another video?
Their cowardice disguises their naiveté, it will be veil that accompanies them until they die. Thus, they will be collected by History.
I don’t understand how they can sleep.
Ángel Santiesteban-Prats, Prison 1580, July 2013
22 July 2013