After being released on parole and hustled off to Spain with a dozen political prisoners of conscience from the cause of the 75 of the Black Spring of 2003, along with their families, and to my right and left Oleivys and Jimmy, my wife and son, I am finally writing my first lines for the blog, “Voices Behind the Bars.” I have reiterated to the press and to my friends that this blog is healthier than ever.
Today, God has allowed me to fulfill my long overdue dream, held during seven long, hard years of captivity as a result of the hatred and intolerance of a system of government that curtails, day after day, the rights of all Cubans, crushing without pity the slightest vestige of disobedience. I am writing these lines from the modest premises of the Spanish Red Cross in hospitable Málaga, using the same method as always, a pen and a notebook — accessories of my conscience — as it is still too soon to be able to count on a computer. I look at the horizon and repeatedly ask myself in silence: Is this a dream or reality?
A tear runs slowly down my face remembering that two days ago I was able, on his 12th birthday, to give my only son the first look, the first kiss, the hug denied for seven years. Happy Birthday my son, I love you so much! “Thank you Papa, I love you too, a lot a lot a lot,” he answered. Seconds later, the most important person in our lives joined us in a familial embrace. Oleivys was crying too.
The day could not have ended better. I chatted with my colleague and compatriot Mabel Fajardo Roig, living here in Spain and working as a correspondent for WQBA. Unconsciously glancing at my watch, I realized it was past midnight. Listening to Willy Chirino on my MP4 player I fell fast asleep hugging Jimmie. Before, I asked God may no other human being ever have to live a story like mine. But this is something very hard to avoid.
Pablo Pacheco Ávila
Former political prisoner of the cause of the 75