Month: December 2010

We Were Few and Grandma Gave Birth / Iván García

When Raúl Castro assumed the presidency in 2008, it was rumored among the population that the general carried a fistful of changes up his sleeve. The most desirable, the elimination of entrance and exit permits for traveling to and from the country. Cubans on the island already saw themselves getting passports and boarding planes to visit their families in other countries.

It was also said that he would allow free access to the Internet. There were days of speculations and euphoria. And what they were able to buy were cellular phones, DVD players and computers, old and expensive. Nationals were allowed to stay in hotels exclusive to foreigners. Paying in foreign currency, of course.

Two years later, many Cubans have cell phones and DVDs in their homes and some have stayed in nice hotels. It’s certain that employment has grown on its own accord, and certain measures have benefited certain sectors, like hairdressers, taxi drivers and the rural population.

But today the topics of conversation in Cuba are very different. “When your job is what’s in play, the internet and the ability to travel outside the country become secondary,” says Lorenzo, 42-years-old and employed.

In Havana, nothing else is discussed: Massive layoffs, taxes, private businesses and the rationing book. The latter is what bothers Caridad — 78 and retired — the most. “My boy, you know what it is at these heights with a pension of not quite 200 pesos, old and sick, they’re taking more products out of my ration book. They took cigarettes from me, which I traded with a neighbor for sugar”.

The disappearance of the ration book keeps awake the older people who have low pensions, those who have it rough to stay alive. The stronger of the old folks go out on the street to earn a living, selling cigarettes, peanuts, plastic bags or newspapers.

For the laboring population what keeps them awake are other issues. “For me, the worse is not knowing exactly what the government is planning. I worry, a lot, what’s been said, that we will be paying very high taxes”, says Ignacio, 46-years-old and a mechanic.

“Rough stream, better for the fishing”. Like in all crises, there will be those who will be able to play along. Especially all the vermin, unscrupulous people, experts in the art of cheating.

It happened during the 90’s, during the hard years of the Special Period. Roberto, 48 years old, had a brilliant idea of rounding up empty containers from shampoos, creams and deodorants….he would wash them out and would refill them with his own concoction, he would put in a few drops of cheap cologne and would sell then for a few pesos. “I am thinking of doing that again”.

Could be that during these desperate times, some would take advantage of the people’s frustration. “But I think that the majority is going to try to improve themselves honestly. At least that’s what I will ask the Lord for when I go to church this Sunday”, confesses Lourdes, 61 and a housekeeper.

In the midst of many questions and suspicions, discouragement and uncertainty, a few rub their hands, plotting how to cheat others. Or dreaming of establishing small businesses, even if they have to pay abusive taxes.

But the majority pulls their hair out and visits the babalaos. This new Special Period could turn out to be darker than the one twenty years ago. Now with almost one million unemployed and with the same speeches and slogans as always.

Translated by Yulys Rodriguez

September 21, 2010

Vespers of Saint Lazarus / Rebeca Monzo

Tonight and throughout the night to go on any street and you will see the number of people walking or crawling with heavy weights, and despite the bitter cold, they head to the shrine of El Rincón. Many are walking, others are in rented or private cars, most come in buses, whose lines, fortunately, the state has foreseen to keep orderly on this day, in order to avoid disturbances.

It is always impressive to see how many people imbued with faith, continue the tradition that for half a century the mainstream media has tried to overlook.

To all who profess faith in this holy miracle, and for those who bear his name, I wish that all your requests may be met. Happy day to all Lazaruses!

December 16, 2010

Watering the Dominoes* / Yoani Sánchez

An elderly woman walks along Paseo del Prado with a sign around her neck. Made by hand in blue ink, it offers “A 2-bedroom apartment in Cerro,” in exchange for something similar in Playa. People start coming to this site at seven in the morning, with proposals to exchange one house for another in a country where it is prohibited to buy and sell them. They also work through middlemen, known as “exchangers,” who proliferate where one cannot deal in real estate, where public advertising and the illegal housing market have been demonized.

One of the toughest questions my Spanish students ask me, while I teach them this dilapidated city where I was born, is, “What kind of person lives in certain houses or in certain neighborhoods?” I try to explain that you can find a woman who makes her living scrubbing floors living in a mansion in Miramar, and a surgeon living in a shack without running water. Probably the woman living in the enormous house with her roof falling in and her garden a chaos of weeds and rust, because her wages are not enough to maintain so many square feet. The sawbones, meanwhile, has accumulated capital from his illicit breast implant business, but cannot — legally — obtain a house consistent with his means. So the humble cleaner and the doctor come to an agreement, disregard the law, and decide to exchange their homes. To accomplish this they bribe three or four officials at the Housing Institute. A year later he is enjoying his lawn dotted with bougainvillea, and she, her thousands of convertible pesos received for “trading down.”

Thousands of Cubans have been planning to do something similar, and have breathes a sign of relief on reading Point 278 of the Guidelines for the Sixth Congress of the Cuban Communist Party. As stated there, “flexible formulas for the exchange, purchase, sale and rental of housing” will be applied. Many have interpreted this as raising the flag of a housing market, with permission to buy and sell a house. I confess I have my reservations. I don’t think our authorities are prepared to accept the immediate redistribution that would occur in this city, and across the whole country, if they accept that people can decide what to do with their properties. Within a few months of the adoption of such measures, social differences — today hidden behind an unpainted mansion or a shack full of appliances — would break out into the open. The growing inequalities that official hypocrisy tries to hide would flourish.

*Note: In the language of Cuban dominoes, “to water” means to shuffle the tiles to continue playing.

December 18, 2010

Celebration and Condemnation/ Luis Felipe Rojas

Photo: Luis Felipe Rojas

While throughout many parts of the world many tributes were being held for the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Cuba once again opted to go against it.  They began on Thursday the 9th with beatings, mob acts, and harassment towards the Ladies in White, who were carrying out their usual march throughout the capital.

All throughout the country there were arrests, blocking of telephone service, and police harassment towards activists.  The first piece of bad news came to me in text message from Rolando Rodriguez Lobaina at 7 am on Friday.  He and his brother, Nestor, were detained at that time.  They left Rolando in the Parque 24 barracks in Guantanamo, and Nestor was taken to the center of police operations.  Later, the government cracked down on Enyor Diaz Allen, Isael Poveda Silva, Jorge Corrales Ceballos, Jose Cano Fuentes, and other activists.

From Santiago de Cuba I received word that Idalmis Nunez and Tania Montoya had not been detained in the capital city, which they traveled to in order to support the Ladies in White.  However, they did suffer from much harassment, collective repression, and overall harsh treatment carried out by trained mobs.

Later on I received a message from Moa: Omar Wilson Estevez, Angis Sarrion Romero, and three other activists (whose names I could not decipher due to the strange sounds emanating from the phone line) had all been detained.  In Velazco, a small town near Gibara, there was also a repressive wave.  They detained Jonas Avila and Rafael Leiva.

Bayamo reported the detention of Yoandris Montoya Aviles and another young man by the name of Ariel.  I still do not have the names of the detainees in Banes and Antilla, and they also have not been able to explain to me why Nestor was kept in the G2 offices until Sunday, the 12th, when he was taken to the Provincial Prison of Guantanamo without a single trial or formal accusation.

I did not even try to travel out of San German.  I am well aware of the vigilance and control methods exercised over my family and me.  I also know which individuals are responsible for this.  But once Jorge and Rolando were released they were able to inform me that in Villalon Park there were students and social workers placed there by the government.  These groups attempted to halt the activities of the Eastern Democratic Alliance which were to take to the streets to hand out fliers with the Universal Declaration of Human Rights on them, while also explaining how the Cuban police and government violates this document which was signed 62 years ago.

I don’t know why they are so fearful of a celebration where the present members were holding pieces of paper that, among other things, stated:

Article 19. Every individual has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes not being harassed because of your opinions, having the freedom to investigate and receive information and opinions, and to spread them without the limitation of borders, through any means of media expression.

Article 20: Every person has the right to freedom of peaceful reunion and association.  No one shall be forced to belong to a specific association.

Translated by Raul G.

December 16, 2010

FIART 2010 / Rebeca Monzo

For those of you who aren’t aware, the International Artisan Fair (FIART) is the most important exhibition on our planet, with artists-artisans exhibiting their creations and exposing them to the world once a year.

As always, despite the distance and the cold that’s been hitting us lately, the event was very well attended. We were surprised to see during mid-week days and during working hours, the number of people in line to get tickets, mostly young people of working age. The reason for the long lines could also be that there is only a small ticket booth staffed by a single person selling admissions.

This year, as almost always, metalworking is the star attraction. Many stands, including those of Peru, Mexico, Brazil exhibit very attractive silver work. The Cuban metalworkers also show their beautiful creations. There is a lot of handcrafted furniture in the largest rooms. Meanwhile, the weavers and dollmakers are crowded for lack of space.

The public that attends this event comes mostly to look, because the prices, although a little lower this year, are in CUC and this greatly diminishes the opportunity to acquire anything. But still, the fair is very popular because there are few other options for entertainment.

December 15, 2010

Ethics Sleeping/ Claudia Cadelo

Photo: Lia Villares http://habanemia.blogspot.com

Photo: Lia Villares http://habanemia.blogspot.com

I am arguing with a friend about ethics and the intellectuals and he reproaches me, “If that’s what you think you should tell those people.”

And I respond: How am I going to tell someone so intelligent, so wise, something so obvious? Don’t you know? How am I going to say to a curator that I think he should suspend his show because the artists participating in it are being threatened by State Security? How am I going to advise a musician that I think it would be ethically correct to suspend his concert because there are people outside who can’t enter because the venue has been taken over by the political police? How am I going to suggest to a theoretician that I don’t think his conference should take place because some of those interested in the topic cannot be heard, as they are considered “counterrevolutionaries”? What right, indeed, do I have to say all these things when I’m usually among the threatened, those denied entry, and the counterrevolutionaries? I feel that my position, clearly anything but neutral, obliges me to keep some of my opinions to myself. But I know that were he in any other circumstance, he would surely think the same.

My friend tells me my answer is cowardly, and he’s probably right. I don’t like to tell people what I consider ethical, I know perfectly well that they agree with me on these issues and for reasons having nothing to do with ethics they take other positions.

I guess I’m turning into a radical. When I studied history in school they told me that was good. Will they be right?

December 17, 2010

Waiting for Changes in State Policy / Laritza Diversent

After two months, uncertainty fills the Cuban scene. The government still has not specified the principles that will govern self-employment. Meanwhile, the number of the unemployed and the expectations of the population are increasing.

One of the concerns raised is whether the government will grant rights to the self-employed in order to extract administrative concessions, bearing in mind that it considers the activity of individuals as an adjunct of the state.

Up to now it has said nothing about this. But several of the activities authorized for self-employment are related to the exploitation of mineral resources, such as quarrying, and producing pottery items for sale.

Others, like producing and selling granite and marble items, remain stalled, according to the official newspaper Granma, because there is no legal market for acquiring the goods.

The Ministry of Basic Industry is authorized to grant or deny mining concessions for small deposits of certain minerals, recognized by the Constitution of the Republic as properties of “socialist state ownership of all the people.”

Two years ago, the citizen Amada Pupo Cisneros presented an application to the National Office of Mineral Resources for exploitation of mineral clay in the town of La Estrella in Las Tunas. His claim was rejected by the recently deposed Minister of Basic Industry, Yadira García Vera.

The former government official denied the right on the recommendation of the National Bureau of Mineral Resources, which determined that the request by Pupo Cisneros was contrary to the general principles of the practice of self-employment.

Since 1992, state assets can be transmitted, wholly or partially, to the proprietorship of private persons or corporations, with the prior approval of the Council of Ministers or its Executive Committee. But the government only recognizes this right for foreign investors.

Cuban nationals like Amada Pupo are excluded. Their participation in the national economy is seriously limited by the Constitution, by Decree-Law 141 of September 8, 1993, “On Exercise of Self-Employment”, and by other complementary legislation regulating this right.

Article 21 of the Constitution recognizes private ownership of the means and tools for personal or family work. But it restricts that right by prohibiting their use in obtaining income from the exploitation of the labor of another.

Despite being a constitutional right, in the last parliamentary session the President of the Councils of State and Ministers, and a member of the Politburo and Deputy Secretary of the Communist Party of Cuba (PCC), announced that his government would lift some restrictions on the exercise of self-employment, including hiring labor.

Nevertheless, the government made clear that it will maintain its policy of identifying, monitoring, and controlling these activities, and who can perform them. It will also oversee the conditions of marketing the products and services of the self-employed. According to the newspaper Granma, an official organ of the PCC, the measures will become effective, without specifying the day, starting in October.

So far, the socialist government denies its nationals the right to draw on public services, natural resources or public works, although the law gives them that possibility. We will have to wait and see if they change the discriminatory principles of state policies and its system of exclusion. It is time that the Cubans become involved, on equal terms, in their own economy.

Translated by: Tomás A.

December 17 2010

Times of Crisis Even for the Prostitutes / Iván García

They are hard to convince. These girls in short shorts and tights; lots of cleavage and excessive lipstick does not stop the police harassment or the years in jail if they’re caught. Or sexually transmitted diseases.

Nor do they fear the cold winds and the dampness visited on Havana these days. There they are, on the hunt for clients. They stand in groups of three outside a nightclub.

In the 21st century, the hooker of Generation C (all of them were born with the Castro Revolution) are used to partying, drinks and sex with cocaine or a good marijuana joint with the tourists.

It’s desirable. Hook up with a ‘Paco’ (Spaniard) or an old Canadian. But these are times of crisis. “The Spanish who come here are cheap now,” says Yordana, 16, sitting in a park with some friends.

They take advantage of it to offer their services. Sex on demand. And not too expensive from the perspective of a foreigner or a Cuban loaded with silver who goes out at night fishing for whores. And they also promote themselves. “We are meaty mulatas silicone tits,” says one of them. For a blow job, 5 dollars, 10 for penetration, and 20 for a lesbian display.

Still and all, if you’re not up for that and are a little short on “bullets” (cash), and you treat them nicely and buy them some beers, as a bonus they’ll allow you to masturbate, but you can’t touch them.

The morning is coming in Havana. The cold wind has chased the Bohemians, sodomites and whore hunters off to their beds. But Yordana and her friends are hesitant to go home without money.

They walk the length of Linea Street, and stop at the entrance to each nocturnal attraction, at this hour full of boys and tourists who passed out drinks, to see if anyone is seduced by their hard flesh.

But it’s not their lucky night. The competition is fierce. A group of hookers, none of who are older than 15, have already “marked the territory” and taken the clients. Tired of walking, the girls take off their high heels and head for the bus stop, heads hanging. The cold gets into their bones. They hug themselves, trying to warm up.

On 23rd Street, four guys with a quart of cheap rum eye them lasciviously and make a proposal. Walking along with their working clothes and dried cement on their arms. The hookers were doubtful.

“Show me the money,” said one of them. An older gentleman showed them a wad of bills. “We’re bricklayers and we’re partying. We’re about to spend 300 convertible pesos (360 dollars,),” he said in a hoarse voice with his libido in the clouds.

they talked it over and Yordana, the leader, accepted. “They were a mess. But it’s the end of the year and we need money. And after spending a whole night with the cold and not even some cocoa or a nice drink of rum, we deserve to go home with some money,” emphasized Yordana.

The sun was coming up when they went off in a group, arm in arm, singing ballads along the Malecon. These are times of crisis, even for the hookers.

December 15, 2010

After Vampires in Havana, It’s the Turn of the Zombies / Iván García


In 1985, long before the vampire theme became a literary and movie phenomenon, Cuban filmmaker Juan Padrón, premiered Vampires in Havana, an animated film that ranked 50 in the top 100 Latin American films.

Now, Alejandro Brugués, another Cuban director, puts the finishing touches to Juan of the Dead, a zombie story co-produced with Spain. “It will be more successful than the Vampires, because it is a story that unfolds in these times and the artists are so well characterized they frighten you,” said Jesus, a gourmet who watched moments of the shooting by the Havana seawall.

The subject of zombies is closely associated with Haiti and Voodoo. “In Cuba there have also been stories of the ‘living dead’, particularly in eastern parts of the island, where a major Haitian community settled,”says Roberto, 40, grandson of a Haitian.

In the book Castro’s Final Hour, Andres Oppenheimer wrote that we Cubans are like zombies. So we seemed to the Argentine journalist in 2001 and so we still seem to some foreigners. Like Gerhard, a German tourist who asked, “Why you want more zombies than are already here?”

Opinions aside, the fact is that Juan of the Dead, starring the actor Alexis Diaz de Villegas, besides breaking audience records in Cuba, could break them in other countries. “And not only because of the fictional zombies, but also for the additional morbidity that comes from knowing that the Revolution has aged and several of its leaders have been zombified,” said Magaly, an art student, laughing maliciously.

December 15, 2010

On the Bus / Regina Coyula

In addition to my undergraduate degree from the university, I have another I’ve found much more useful: A degree in Public Transport. This is in recognition of the deep knowledge of various forms of travel within the country, and, for those who don’t know Cuba, I assure you that it takes strength, knowledge, and physical and mental agility. Well, yesterday I tutored a friend not versed in this matter, in the intricacies of public transport in order to go to the International Artisan Fair (FIART) in the Pabexpo fairgrounds west of the city. Despite my recommendations, my friend carried an enormous portfolio which became an impediment from the moment we boarded the first bus.

One man behind her warned her, “Madam, take care of that portfolio because things aren’t good and the end of the year is approaching.” After that warning, the driver, with spontaneous kindness, added, “And this is nothing, in January a number of people are going to take out licenses to become self-employed thieves.” People in the front of the bus were laughing openly, though it was too crowded and a little too warm, despite the chill of the day. My friend, a former teacher, using the voice with which she controlled the classroom and stopped the driver so we could board, answered, “No way, the TRDs already have this license!” Knowing laughter and a voice answering, “They have to live!”

A woman between 35 and 40 feels obliged to say something, so she adds, “Yes, but here the learning is free and anyone who wants to can attend the University.” My friend the retired teacher is not light weight when it comes to a riposte, “Hey, Lady! Here,” (and notice the word she uses), “the university graduate then buys a job as a bartender or a taxi driver, the only place where a graduate can get these jobs without being an emigrant!” The woman is a bit annoyed, and left hanging by herself, because she finds no agreement for her position among the other passengers who move to the back.

The discontent and dissatisfaction were obvious in the tight space, though it is certainly not evident in the ballot boxes, but you can feel it if you just pay a little attention. Another passenger dropped a friendly hint, “There’s a lot of global warming and a lot of nuclear winter, but here, nothing.” Before we got off a boy with a long ponytail remarked wryly, “What for if HE say the war is coming?”

TRD: Tiendas Recaudadoras de Divisas — Stores selling in foreign currency (Cuban convertible pesos)

December 16, 2010

“Guaguariando” (Riding the bus) / Rebeca Monzo

In many countries in Latin America they call a small child “guagua.” But I understand that in the Canaries, the same as on our planet (surely the term came with us from there), a guagua is a bus, with the characteristic that those here are always full of people.

Today, Regina and I headed out early to ride one of these famous buses.

It was a lot of work to get on board. Once inside, we were packed in like sardines, and the man who collects the fares (substituting for the farebox), was in a hurry to charge us. This person is something new, recently introduced as a result of an article that came out in the paper saying that sixty percent of the total fare revenue is lost. It occurred to me to ask why, if they have replaced the fare boxes, they don’t do away with these busybodies who take up so much room and annoy the passengers, who can barely squeeze past them into the bus. He didn’t give me any explanation.

Again, speaking to him, I commented on the few guaguas in circulation, given how congested the stops are. He replied that there are few guaguas, and what happens is that there are a lot of people on the street. There was nothing for me to say to this, I January there will be many more people in the street when one million two hundred thousand people are laid off. A funny guy interrupted and said that those people are going to have to get licenses to be self-employed thieves. I replied that the TRD stores (hard-currency stores) already have those particular licenses. The silence was deadly. The journey continued with the usual pushing and shoving. Well what can I say? I got on the bus with jeans and a jacket, and nearly had to get off dressed like a Hawaiian!

December 14, 2010

My Heart and My Soul are in Santiago de Cuba / Juan Juan Almeida

My name is Rick Schwag. I live in Vermont. And for people who doubt that, my telephone number is 802-626-5578

Three years ago, I was put in a Cuban detention center for 8 days, in the tourist prison behind the place where tourists renew their visas, at the corner of Factor y Final, in Havana. I have renewed many visas there, and I never knew that this complex also includes a prison until I was imprisoned myself.

My crime was wanting to know what happened to the very valuable anesthesiology machines that we donated to the William Soler Clinic in Havana.  At first, they told me that the machines had not been accepted, and in a normal way, I went from one office to another trying to find out what happened to them. I went to MINVEC, (The Ministry of Foreign Investment) MINSAP, (Ministry of Public Health), ICAP( Institute of Friendship with the Peoples), and other organizations and Ministries, until perhaps for asking too many questions, I was detained.  I say detained because that is what they told me, but where there are bars and cells, I prefer to say “imprisoned.”

After that, after being freed, the person in charge of receiving donations from North America, Raciel Proenza said that I was a trouble maker and that he would ensure that I would never again be permitted to enter Cuba. It seemed like a threat, but when I tried to return to the island, it turned out to be true. I had to sleep on the floor of the Jose Marti airport in Havana, and I was forced to return to the United States the next day.  At least that was much better than returning to jail!

Think about it. Lots of people work in Cuba for political reasons; but in my case my reason was entirely humanitarian, and for the real love that connects me to many Cubans. I thought that I could be useful, and in retrospect, not having any political motivation was a little unusual. I started off with a few boxes of Tylenol, because many Cubans told me how difficult it was to obtain medicines. I remember that in 1997, I purchased ten huge sacks that could carry 120 pounds of medicine, which I thought was a huge amount.  But a year after that I was sending the first container of dental chairs and hospital beds.  All with the collaboration of the  people at the General Hospital of Santiago de Cuba. One thing leads to the next and I created a non-profit, Caribbean Medical Transport, and over the next 10 years I sent about 20 containers of medical equipment to Cuba, each container 40 feet long, with about 20,000 pounds of donations inside, usually partnering with other non-profits. I know many of the people who send humanitarian aid to Cuba and I am happy to work with them.

The second and third containers were loaded with 7,200 gallons of paint that we received from a recycling plant in Oregon. That was something wonderful! The paint was for hospitals.

From the beginning I saw the enormous difference between working with people in Santiago de Cuba — the hospital directors, the municipal and provincial officials of the Ministry of Health — and the bureaucrats in Havana.

I remember meeting with the director of donations of the Ministry of Health in Havana, concerning the paint.  He wanted all the paint to go to Havana. My point was that Havana is about 20% of the population and receives more than 90% of the donations that come to the country.  But in the end, we agreed to send 3,600 gallons to Havana and 3,600 to Santiago.

This is what happened. In Santiago, everyone was honest.  They told me that unfortunately, 3 five gallon drums had broken in transit, so 15 gallons of paint were lost. We had a great partnership, honest, and respectful. But in Havana, everything was different. For a year, no one would tell me what happened to the paint.

The donors wanted to travel to Cuba to see the hospitals that they had painted, which is normal and logical. I spoke to MINSAP, ICAP, all the people I worked with in Havana, and I explained, “These are donors! If they have a good experience they will want to donate more paint, so please, tell me which building got painted and let‘s arrange a nice tour for the donors.”  I was told that the donors would not be permitted to visit the hospitals unless they got a special visa of collaboration and there wasn’t any time for that. I could give more examples of bureacratic incompetence and laziness.

In 2006 we sent two anesthesiology machines to the William Soler Clinic. These machines are worth about $40,000 each, but they are worth much more than that in human lives. It was a favor to Wayne Smith, who obtained these machines from Johns Hopkins University.  Everything was done with the necessary license from the Commerce Department of the United States. A year later the problems began: I got an email from MINVEC, with the headline in capitals, DENIED. The donation of anesthesilogy  machines has been denied entry into the country for lack of completing the proper procedures. I wrote back immediately, stating that all the procedures were completed by Wayne Smith and the directors of the William Soler Clinic, and that all I had done was write the necessary permit so the machines could leave the US.

Not very happy, I went to Havana, to see if I could find them; if these machines are not permitted to enter Cuba, they should be brought to the Dominican Republic or any other country that needed them.  I was told that this was impossible and that the machines had been burned.

Of course that is a big lie. Nobody in this world burns anesthesiology machines. These machines were not mine.  There are standards of transparency and accountability in the world of humanitarian donations that Cuba, apparently, does not respect. I needed to know and give an account of what had happened, in order not to create fantasies. This was not the first time that things had disappeared in Cuba. It was my obligation to investigate, with the sole purpose of helping the people of Cuba, I could not ignore those international standards of conduct. And for that, I was threatened, then imprisoned, and finally, prohibited from returning to Cuba.

A few months ago I received a new license from the United States Department of Commerce. I am allowed to send any type of medical equipment, medicine, hospital supplies, food, clothing, sporting equipment, pots and pans and household items, millions of dollars of supplies and donations.  But MINVEC has told me that they will not permit me to send anything, and has told some partners of mine in Europe that no NGO is permitted to work with me, even though I can find the supplies and even find the money to pay the shipping.

And so, I ask myself, where is the blockade?

I can tell other stories about the apathy and incompetence and corruption of the system. For questioning the system and insisting on the necessary accountability, I became Rick, ” the bad guy.” Unfortunately in Cuba, for some people, there are things that are more important than receiving medical equipment donated to meet the needs of the Cuban people.

I know many people who have had similar experiences: architects, health providers, city planners, sister city groups, journalists.  The sad thing is that most of my colleagues are afraid to talk about the bureaucracy and the corruption, because they know that if they talk, their projects will be terminated.

We Americans live in an open society where we can criticize everyone who deserves criticism. But the sad truth is that instead of exporting our openness and honesty over to Cuba, we import the fear of those in Cuba back to the United States, fear of telling the truth, and we join in the complicity of silence. I am talking because I prefer to leave without fear, even if it brings more punishment. I prefer to cry for what I have lost, but not for cowardice.

Like I said, my name is Rick Schwag, of Caribbean Medical Transport, and I live in Vermont.  I have many friends in Cuba, including many people in the municipal governments, where some officials do care about the people that they are supposed to serve. They are my friends, but they have to keep quiet.  I am still the director of Caribbean Medical Transport, and I continue to send donated medical equipment to Nicaragua, Honduras, Colombia, Brazil and other places where our work is appreciated.

I would love to continue to help Cubans also. My heart and soul are in Santiago de Cuba.

Translated by ricote

December 13, 2010

Christmas Story / Regina Coyula

As I had unforgettable Christmases in my own childhood, I wanted to awaken those emotions in my son; and I managed to do it while he was little. But Rafael grew up and last year there weren’t decorations, I didn’t have the energy for the fake tree, fake snow, old Christmas cards, empty boxes wrapped up in place of gifts. This year it was a little more difficult than the one before, for reasons everyone knows and for other, more intricate ones. Come November, my husband, ignoring my authority over him, announced that this year I should put up a Christmas tree without any questioning; to make it softer, he told me a cute tale in which the protagonist suffered from a string of bad luck, until he decides to celebrate the holidays at the end of the year. Like all cute stories, it ends well. So yesterday, Sunday, I dusted off all the boxes and put together an idea for Christmas with the same fake tree, the same old Christmas cards, the same boxes – empty but wrapped like an imitation of gifts. Hugging my husband and my son, with the lights out, we contemplated the tree. It was a really beautiful moment.

But the life of Cubans is not a happy story.

December 14, 2010

What to Buy? / Yoani Sánchez

The money came in a white envelope, brought to the door by an agency — alternative and illegal — that distributes remittances. It was accompanied by a letter from the uncle who went to New Jersey thirty years ago and never returned. “Use it to celebrate Christmas,” he wrote, in his stylized handwriting, ending the note with a brief, “bye.” The lady closed the door, still in disbelief that the relative who emigrated had sent them, for the end of the year, these fifty dollars of salvation. She shouted to her son and daughter-in-law, while the great question started to take shape in her mind: “What will I buy?”

First they thought about repairing the roof that leaks every time it rains, but after subtracting the twenty percent tax levied in Cuba on U.S. dollars, there wasn’t enough to buy the materials. Another possibility was to invest in a license to sell juice from the door of the house. But her son quickly convinced her not to, as the profits from such self-employment would be too long delayed and they were desperate for money as soon as possible. He pointed out that his wife was going to give birth in three weeks and the priority was disposable diapers for the baby. But the lady of the house refused to convert all the money into Pampers; they could use the little capital to repair the washing machine that had been broken for years. “Besides, I need a pair of shoes, because it hurts me to keep going to work like this.” The uncle — far away — had no idea of the turmoil his remittance was causing.

They spent the rest of the week discussing what to do with the 40 convertible pesos they got from the bank. The dispute took on an aggressive tone at times, when the daughter who didn’t live in the house showed up to claim that part of the money was hers. None of them gave serious thought to doing what the exiled relative had intended: buying themselves some nougat, a bottle of cider and piece of pork for Christmas Eve. As a Saturday in December dawned, the toilet appeared clogged. They found a plumber who charged 38 CUC to repair it and replace a piece of pipe. Life itself had established their spending priorities. The woman sat down on the living room couch and wondered, again, what she should buy now, with the 2 CUC remaining.

December 15, 2010