Category: Luis Felipe Rojas

So far, during this new year the expectation of massive layoffs has increased, and along with it so too the decisions of various people I know to enter the private sector as self-employed workers, whether it be setting up a small shop or becoming agricultural workers for farmers.

However, around here it is a fact that the “re-organization of the surplus labor force” has been held back “until April” (which curiously coincides with the long-awaited congress of the Communist Party). There are already signs of what’s to come, what has been set in motion by the current prevailing malaise.

In the municipal leadership of Culture in Holguin and San German, they have announced that 1/3 of the staff will be cut, without specifying what will be done with those left over. Uncertainty reigns around here, and an old friend of mine (who for a very long time was the leading union member in the Cultural sector) told me that:

“They are going to eliminate many cultural promoters, and you know the idea to form them in first place was of the Commander, but we can’t even escape that. The truth is that no one can make a living from songs and poems. I don’t know where we will end up, for here in this municipality there are more than 100 of us working in the cultural sector and sometimes even rounding up 20 fans is a difficult task. But what can we do?”

I asked her if she would appeal to the union of cultural workers to see which options they would give her. She stared at me with a mocking face and said, “What union are you talking about? They have always done whatever the Communist Party tells them to do, and now the order being given is that we must understand that it is necessary for the country to take such measures.”

In January, it was announced in San German that Housing Inspectors will have their salaries cut by 40 pesos. A neighbor of mine sees that as a contradiction. For many years, he was a union member himself and he always believed that “layoffs were in part to stimulate and increase the salary.” Now, he was another who with an incredulous face told me, “I don’t know what these people are talking about.”

Each citizen I have approached on the street has taken a different tone. In some, I can note the expectations, while in others I hear the frustration. Most commonly, there is a clear sign of alarm. The people have noticed that the direction taken by the government finds itself amid an old dilemma. Many express the feeling that, “Today they say one thing, and tomorrow they announce the opposite. But they won’t take the plunge… they are testing the grounds to see what will happen, to see what the people will do.”

Every corner of San German has become a public spot to debate, although many still do so with much fear. There are no firm demands or accusations aimed at anyone directly. In some instances, some labor centers have been host to heated debates in the presence of Party executives and representatives. Each argument has as its focal point the “The Draft Political, Economic and Social Guidelines,” but as usual many ask themselves, “How are we going to argue about something which has already been approved by Parliament and by the Party hierarchy?”

Antonio, my neighbor, is also a union member. He explains it to me as if it were a grand strategy “The unions are dormant. They only seek to amplify what the bosses of businesses or institutions are saying, but then again, people aren’t protesting much…”

February 6 2011

Yesterday, February 2nd, I was on my way to the home of Caridad Caballero Batista in Holguin. She is a great friend of my family and during the last few months I have barely been able to visit her for two reasons. The first reason is simply because her house continues to be under the eternal vigilance of the G2 (Secret Police)who prevent anyone from being able to get to it. The other reason is because I am also prohibited from leaving my own town.

Just a few meters from her house I was intercepted by the political police officer, Saul Vega, and another official who claimed his last name was Caneyes. I was detained and taken to the police station of that same neighborhood. Without giving me any explanations they kept me sitting on a bench for half an hour. Later, they put me once again in a police car and took me to the center of the city to another outpost of the G2 known as “El Anillo” (‘The Ring’). I submitted to an interrogation where the main question was why I was visiting Caridad Caballero.

Then came the lecture of the “do’s and don’ts.” They will not allow any type of commemoration to go on during the 23rd of February, the one year anniversary of Orlando Zapata’s death. They will not allow meetings to be held by the Eastern Democratic Alliance. They will not allow me to go to certain towns to report any incidents of those which “you put on your blog.” Once again, my blog, my reports, my interviews with citizens and activists who are beaten and mistreated by that same police who were questioning me right then.

In another section of that document which they read to me they stated that on the 3rd of February it would be one year from the day when a public protest was held in Camaguey by more than 20 peaceful dissidents who took to the streets to alert everyone that Orlando Zapata would soon die in the Amalia Simoni hospital room and that not a single guard was doing anything to help save his life.

There were other prohibitions mentioned as well. Neither myself or any other member of the Eastern Democratic Alliance has permission to travel from one town to another. In other words, I am restricted during this whole time from traveling to Las Tunas, Santiago de Cuba, Guantanamo, Moa, Bayamo, Baracoa, or Holguin. And never to Banes.

When they concluded the litany of warnings, threats, and prohibitions, they took me (once again in a police car) to the exit of that town, which indicates the way back to San German. They told me that I “better return to my town because the restrictions for Holguin and Banes for this month had been made very clear.”

Not only do they limit and restrict my freedom of expression and movement from one province to another, but also within my own province which is the place I am forced to move about, for all my friends live there and that is where all the cultural centers I visit are located.

At some point in the “chat” (which although it violated my citizen rights, this time it was not aggressive) I asked the official who claimed his name was Caneyes if all those prohibitions and formulated threats could be handed to me in written form. His answer came quick, “No, no.”

I then told him, “That’s where the difference lies between both of you and me. ”

“What’s that?” he asked.

I responded by telling him that, “Whatever I think about any subject I write it down and publish it on my blog, and you can’t give me what they tell you to do in written form. For my part, I have the freedom to chose what I will write and the freedom to publish what I think. As soon as I get out of here I will write about what we just “spoke about” and it will get published on my blog. I will try to get someone to print it for me and if you accept it, I’ll give you a copy, and a few copies of previous entries as well.”

February 3 2011

I continue to be moved by the images of a Cuba that doesn’t appear in the newspapers. A country which does not exist to the authorities.

This is a blog made up of different pieces, among them the collaborations of my compatriots-in-the-struggle and all that I can do with my camera and pencil. The images you can see today are very similar to those which the propaganda scaffolding of the Cuban system reserves for special occasions, for example when they wish to make a statement such as, “Cuba will not return to the past.” In such instances, they are referring to the dictatorship of Fulgencio Batista, and to the eras of other past presidents who came before him. The “Bohemia” magazine would do a great job of detailing life in Cuba during the ’50’s, reporting on places and people who had not been touched by the hand of civilization.

In the photos of this post, one can see people who have been born and grown old under the achievements Cuba’s 1959 Revolution. Olivio, Rafael, and Cilia were all rescued from “ferocious capitalism” so that they could live under the kindness of Cuban socialism. Such a socialism was implemented based on the measures of a man who wishes to perpetuate himself in power. The photos were given to me by my friend Marta Diaz Rondon, who every once in a while helps these unfortunate people. They have lost their pensions for the simple reason that they have a relative living with them at home who receives (or “earns”) more than 7 dollars a month in their job. This is a measure imposed by the Ministry of Social Work and Security.

During this past week, my mother informed me that her 127 peso check (as the subsidy could be called in another country) was canceled because she has a son (me) who is of working age (although I do not live with her) and who does not have a job (although I was fired four years ago from the Cultural sector).

We have entered the XXI century with a rhythm of disaster and desperation. It is the result of a group of men who advance the country in the newspapers but push it far back in real life.

Translated by Raul G.

January 30 2011

A decade after fussing about how we would be the “most abundant and successful country in the world”, the first threats to overthrow the old cultural apparatus in Cuba have gotten underway. The monstrosity which led thousands to dream about the aims of a socialist art has grown, so much so that cultural modules were created. These groups do not contribute a thing to society since they have been built on subservience, propaganda, and the most rancid of ideologies, which only intends to achieve reverence from the subject before the monarch. And now they are starting to fade.

The proposed budget cuts have reached the door-steps of local Cuban culture, and the interior provinces are the ones most threatened. In Holguin, the popular “City Awards” (an event which takes place on Culture Day each year) have ceased financing the competitions in the areas of: Fine Art, Scenic Art, and Literature (in all its genres). The recipient of the Poetry Award will now only receive a small wooden statue, along with a cardboard diploma. In addition, the winner must wait for the local editor to publish his/her book in order to make any sort of earning or copyright.

The national “House of Culture” system has also launched its own plan of dismissals under the name of “available personnel”. The ideological apparatus has prohibited the use of the word “unemployed” when referring to those who will be left without jobs, it’s that simple. In Cuba we have Cultural Units made up of local institutions such as the House of Culture (for any acts of Theatre, Music, Dance, Fine Arts, and Literature), a museum, a library, a film theatre, and a Municipal Management Office. With such bureaucratic machinery, small towns like San German, Songo-La Maya, and Vertientes have created more than 100 titles for “specialists”, analysts, programmers, art instructors, economists, accountants, janitors, directors, sub-directors, artistic directors, cultural promoters, librarians, computer specialists, and a plethora of other positions which occur to them, as the government is bent on being the “most productive country in the world,” all the while ignoring any local talent.

In fact, there may be hundreds of cultural employees while there are not even 20 local musicians, actors, or craftsmen from a small municipality. Now, the budget-cuts have arrived and nearly 30 of these talented artists will be missing in the municipal sectors of Holguin.

While I jot down these notes from beyond the barbed wires, I have received some worrisome news. Around twenty or so young writers from Holguin will be traveling to Venezuelan slums. There, they will hand out their verses and share their work instruments with the sons of Bolivar. We continue “Lighting the streets while it’s dark inside our own house.” Now, the miserable thousand Cuban pesos ($40 U.S.) will no longer be offered to the author or poet recipient of the City Award. The Ministry of Culture will get ready to culturally invade the slums of Caracas. They simply continue to play with the dreams of some youths who embark on adventures simply to be able to bring back a cell phone, to make a good friend who will help them buy some necessary things, or to earn a thousand dollars to buy a laptop on their way back.

“Why go if you do not want to?” I asked one of the young men who is now taking a Popular Culture seminar. His answer was really the tip of the iceberg, “To escape this time bomb for a while.”

We are still a country where good books are scarce, still missing out on the best cultural supplements (found in papers like El Pais or El Mundo), where theatres are dilapidated, and where going to watch a good dance or ballet show could cost you an entire month’s salary.

Hundreds of so-called “cultural promoters” will depart to Venezuela soon. Upon returning after three months they will join the ranks of the unemployed. Dozens of musical groups have just been dismantled as a product of such a fierce staff reduction. Only on certain occasions may we watch films on 35mm, and in medium quality. Cultural events, such as the Party of Fire in Santiago de Cuba, and the Romerias de Mayo in Holguin, have reduced their interest to scarce foreign participation, and very little national talent. These are the wagers of those who preferred to make culture the nation’s sword, not its shield.

Translated by Raul G.

January 27 2011

For those who cannot see the photo attached to this post, Marta Diaz Rondon is sitting on a stool with her fingers in a V shape. The “V” represents “victory”. Her eyes are black and can either make you fall in love or feel fear. Up to that point, the description could very well fit any woman. But when one looks down you can see her thighs, legs, and arms are covered with bruises. These marks are the results of a beating given to her by the experts of the Cuban political police on October 31, 2010 in the town of Banes.

Marta was imprisoned in Holguin, and upon being released she went over to the house of her friend and sister, Caridad Caballero Batista, and that is where I took these photos. A few days later, she told me about the beatings. The culprits were men, although some women also took part in her mistreatment. However, the actual physical blows were given to her by men — those same men who claim to be patriots and protectors of Cuba’s security. Majors Freddy Aguero Allen and Wilson Ramirez Perez had already mistreated her once, along with Caridad, inside a car with music blasting on the stereo. This all occurred in Banes, the land of the poet Gaston Baquero y Antilla, and the very same place where it is said that the Virgin of Charity first appeared.

If I were to bump into any of these “men” in any of the torture cells or interrogation offices, I’d ask them about the perverse beatings of these women which occurred behind tinted windows and with reggaeton background music.

Despite the beatings, each week Marta continues to walk 2 kilometers from her house to the home of Reina Tamayo Danger to accompany her to the church and to the cemetery.

Between the old La Guira cemetery and the historic Banes monuments of the Republican era there now lies a trail of blood, of abuses, and laments of defenseless pro-democracy activists who, one day, will really frighten their oppressors. But it will be the fear of truth, as is shown in this photo, and which is always present in the words of Marta and many others, who both accuse and forgive at the same time.

There will be many voices working in favor of that country which was lost one day… in what century? The Nineteenth? Twentieth or Twenty-first? Who knows.

Translated by: Raul G.

January 24 2011

I met Pedro Cruz Mackenzie when we were both taking university prep classes. It was during those difficult years which came to be known as the Special Period. In between classes we would entertain ourselves by collecting oranges, bananas, and any other source of food we could get to ease that hunger which was so common at that time. His academic talent and his skills for “sneaking” into math and chemical experiments earned him much fame in that place. Upon finishing the course, he was one of the recipients of a Medical scholarship.

Many years later, our paths once again crossed. He did not become a doctor, and he was not able to become a faculty member of any university. He soon grew tired of so much misery, of getting to class with ripped shoes, and of not counting on any real support to inspire him to study. He abandoned his strictness midway through his Cuban university career. Now, he clandestinely sells merchandise on the beach, he gets his hands on any souvenir that he can, trying to sell them in order to purchase clothes for his kids. Whenever the opportunity arises, he runs errands and delivers merchandise from one place to another.

However, he has also joined the struggle to denounce Human Rights violations in Cuba. While the police have him under constant watch, he denounces Cardet, the chief of the Police Sector in the neighborhood of Melilla in Santa Lucia, Holguin. Cardet is a soldier in charge of prosecuting disaffected youths, and Pedro tells me that, in conjuction with the president of the Committee for the Defense of the Revolution (CDR) of Yamagual, he has taken note of all those young people who “don’t want” to work agriculture or construction for 8 hour days for just 6 Cuban pesos. The officers claimed that such youths will shortly go to trial.

“I don’t have the list of all the names, with myself included,” Mackenzie tells me on some notes written on a yellowish paper, “some are too scared to give me their names. But as soon as I find them out, I’ll send them to you or tell you over the phone — you can be sure of that,” he concludes.

The thing is that my friend from back during the difficult years, Pedro Cruz Mackenzie, lives at the entrance of the Tourist Pole of Guardalavaca, in Holguin. This Pole is a special reserve for foreigners who decide to vacation in this area of Cuba. The strict police control, the lack of employment for those who are not trustworthy enough in the eyes of the regime to be able to work in their hotels, along with the sharp contrast in lifestyles between hospitality and tourism employees and those who do not have access to such currency or tips given by tourists is a very difficult and incomprehensible fact. “If something happens to me (he is referring to being jailed) please denounce the situation quickly so that my wife and kids can be visited by some of the Human Rights people,” that is one of the final phrases written in the letter by my friend Pedro, another one who has decided not to wear the shackles of this modern slavery.

Translated by Raul G.

January 21 2011

This happened to me a few days ago, on January 12th. I wandered about the city in the middle of the heat, searching for a good photo to take to upload on the blog. That was when they informed me that my friend, Ivet Maria Rodriguez, was going to present her CD at the Piano-Bar. So I head out over there.

It was really a splendid afternoon, surrounded by friends who I have lost contact with years ago, or who have simply avoided me so they would not be contaminated by that ideological leprosy that comes attached to being a “public and open” dissident in Cuba.

I have known Ivet for many years — ever since she would grab her guitar and sit under the shade of a tree and start coming up with songs or poems for the sugar-cane factory workers of her town, Baguanos. I met her in the midst of a moving and fantastic moment. Ivet was singing while the workers were walking towards the sugar-mill under the blistering sun. Ivet was singing, “don’t look at me that way/ because my skin is not made out of wood”. Suddenly, a mulatto who smelled of the fields was also staring at her with a saddened face. Meanwhile, he was piling a bunch of sugar-canes which had been left behind by the Sugar-Mill workers, all the while staring at Ivet.

That same afternoon of the 12th, she was singing in the aseptic room of the Holguin Piano-Bar. Her songs seemed as if they had just been composed. Various years after writing and producing her songs, and after an eternity of having recorded this disc, she finally was able to offer the music to us. The CD is called “People of Faith”, and it has taken so long to put out there because Cuban musical production works one way, promotions work another way, and neither of them have any clue what the “market” is. What I have been able to do is translate, to the best of my ability, the words of Jorge Luis Sanchez Grass, who was in charge of the CD’s presentation. And it’s true, in Cuba it is very difficult to conciliate the reality of making a disc with the desires of promoting an intelligent and worthy song.

Which record label takes its chances on controversial singer-songwriters like Frank Delgado or Pedro Luis Ferrer? Purchasing a CD which has just gone out to the market may cost you up to 400 pesos, or else you have to wait years until it’s out of circulation and then they can sell it to you for 30 pesos in national currency.

Ivet opted for singing poems written by poets from her own village, like Luis Martinez and Orestes Gonzalez, repeating those lyrics with her sweet voice, “Listen to the tunes of your daughter/ If desperation falls all over you”, which is a song written by her friend Fernando Cabrejas. This is not a Havana-style CD. It has not even been passed through theaters or small spaces reserved for “trova” in Cuba. The interesting fact is that it was recorded in the house of a good-willed friend, a singer-songwriters named Jose Aquiles. Aquiles has his own “studio” built up on a hill in Santiago de Cuba, and with the very little that he has he helps out other singers, rappers, or other musicians, to realize their dreams of having their very own records.

This disc is a truth which saves that other country of ours — the Cuba which does not come out on our newspapers. This afternoon, I went out to drink some rum with my friends, some who follow this blog, and others who actually believe in Marxism. I extended my hand out to a public functionary who once attacked me for publishing an independent magazine (“Bifronte”). I applauded Ivet next to the poets Rafael Vilches and Rolando Bellido, who are both good friends of mine for different reasons, yet who are nonetheless loyal friends. Among the things that I appreciate from that afternoon, after the songs of Ivet of course, was that future Cuban picture I saw — where one is not going to get stoned for thinking differently. There were writers there who I would not exclude tomorrow, if I were an editor, just because they believe the words of Karl Marx or Paulo Freire. Those friends, in the Cuba I dream of everyday, can make a magazine, a recording studio, or a documentary, without having their houses sacked by the police. Their names will not be hung up in the public light with a “warning” sign on them, as if they were portraits of national shame.

The songs of Ivet served for stirring up good conversations that night: and the language? Almafuerte, Neruda, Roland Barthes, life.

January 16 2011

I am sure that any Cuban would give a fortune to find out the name of the general from the Ministry of the Interior who gives orders to sign the Exit Permits, or the “White Cards,” as these documents which determine whether Cuban citizens can leave their country are popularly known. I would give more than what I have to know the exact names and inclinations of those who restrict movement for hundreds of Cubans within the national territory.

Since I have fruitlessly looked over those paragraphs within the Penal Code and the Constitution which prohibit me from entering Caimanera, Banes, or Placetas, I turn to my readers. If any of you have information about this, you are more than welcome to let me know through this blog. The absence of Guillermo Farinas in Strasbourg and of Yoani Sanchez in Sweden were reported with all the force of the media and communication sector of the digital era. I dream of the day when permits for entering any town will just be an obsolete ruse.

Why can’t Roberto Bartelemi Cobas and Yoandris Montoya Aviles visit Banes, home of the poet Gaston Baquero and the musician Juan Blanco? Who impedes Marta Diaz Rondon from going from Banes to Santa Clara (the city of Marta Abreu)? Under which decree should the son of Raudel Avila Losada, of Palma Soriano, present a safe-conduct in order to spend the night in the house of Caridad Caballero Batista in Holguin? These are only some routes of internal prohibition.

The process of deporting Eastern natives living in Havana back to their hometowns has been more than denounced. However, each week the security check points send back those who go from Contramaestre to Jobabo in Las Tunas, or from Moa to Banes in Holguin. But does this happen to all Cubans? No, it only happens to some dissidents who are singled out by their high levels of civil disobedience. Sometimes we are shocked as we read accounts of deportations described on major media outlets, yet we don’t have the time to look at all the gags which take place nearby us, in the most obvious of places.

January 13 2011

Several days after my previous detention in that Eastern Cuban city, we were finally able to make it there without the usual “security” obstacles. Although they did require identification of all the men at the Point of Control at the entrance of the city, my family and I were able to pass through without difficulties. In what seemed to be a wholesome ambiance, without the presence (at least it was not visible) of the police, Rolando Rodriguez Lobaina’s kids received the holy water which consecrates them as baptized children of the Christian faith. The event took place at 3 pm on Sunday, November 19.

Was there some reason for obstructing us a few weeks ago? What order came from Villa Marista or from the general barracks of Guantanamo which demanded that my family be sent back to San German while I was taken to a dark and wretched cell? Should we believe that it was “just an error”, as they told Rolando Lobaina?

What is certain is that an attitude such as the one in the city of Guaso continues making that area one of the most repressive zones in the entire island.

Every single human action serves as an experience. This one served to reaffirm my faith in Jesus Christ and in the day that freedom arrives in Cuba. I would once again go through all the fiery doorways, all the cells, and the corporal punishments if that meant I will be a free man. It is my belief and it is my faith, just as it is the belief and faith of many others. That day in the principal Catholic church of Guantanamo, it seemed as it was the day after the fall of the dictatorship. It was a sign of the days soon to come.

Translated by Raul. G.

January 9 2011

On January 2nd, under a delicate rain, we San German natives received the image of the Virgin of Charity.  For 50 years, the government and the Communist Party outlawed public processions, but now, hundreds of people were present and willing to walk down the main streets of this dusty provincial town. The children went first, followed by the image of the Virgin, and later a multitude of locals which must have numbered in the thousands.  The Virgin Mary was received amid songs and praise for peace and love as she traveled on her altar.

Without any citations, arrests, threats of lay-offs at work, and without the fear of losing 10 dollars in hard currency as part of a monthly stimulus, thousands of men, women, and children congregated to hear Father Antonio Rodriguez, who encouraged the crowd to not be fearful.  He also encouraged us to ask for whatever we wished for, because the “Virgin always concedes”, and because, as the religious song says, “a mother never gets tired of waiting,” the same way it seems that Cuba does not get tired of waiting.

After the mass, which was held out in the open, the Virgin’s urn was taken in to the temple.  The procession did not end until 12 am.  There were many mothers praying for their imprisoned or detained sons and for their sick children or husbands. There was also a special mass which blessed children and pregnant women. It was a cultural evening full of hymns, praises, and an entire astonished town which had never before witnessed such clamor.  That is what I was able to see.

There was a specific event which I cannot let pass unmentioned to you all.  When the mass concluded, the G2 official who had detained me numerous times in the dark dungeons and who prevents me from leaving my own town, Lieutenant Saul Vega, approached me to “offer his best wishes to me for the new year.”  Since I had just finished praying before the image of the sacred Virgin of Charity, I extended my hand to him and wished that the same wishes he had just made to me would multiply for him as well, as well as for all my family and the entire town.  I really do not know if he did this in order to capture me in a photo — I will keep you all informed.  But one thing I can say is that I do have photos, from that same day, of the oppressive cops who spy on dissidents.  I will share them with you all in future posts.

The visit of the Virgin has been an extraordinary event.  It was a sign of popular mobilization which has no comparison with past events in Cuban society.  It was something which the tyranny must keep in mind when their D-Day comes around.

On the 3rd of January, the functionaries from the local and provincial Communist Party Department of Religious Affairs refused to allow another procession. The drivers who took the image of the Virgin to the town of Cueto were then forced to pick up their pace, under strict orders of not waiting for anyone. This says a lot about those who wield power and who think they have the right to deny even the oldest traditions.

January 5 2011

Photos: Luis Felipe Rojas

January 5 2011

The regressive count has now commenced for the Cuban government. A swarm of hungry men and women being chased down by entourages of state inspectors, and a rampant wave of people who snitch on others has launched a new massive wave against individual initiative, the primogenial production belt of any country in the modern age, the small business. Producers of light goods, millers of animal fodder, bicycle-taxi drivers, messengers, dressmakers, and science and art tutors all enlist their marketing mechanisms: the promotion and sale of their products.

A few weeks ago when I went to Bayamo I met Mirurgia. She had arrived the night before from Cienfuegos where she bought some fabrics “at a very good price”. With these fabrics she planned to sew clown costumes for kids, whether to sell or rent. I took a look at these costumes and they were impeccable. Her sister, who lives in the United States, sends her magazines with models to get inspired by, she sends her buttons and pendants, and the end products are some costumes that look as if they came out the best “first-world” stores. I am not exaggerating. She already has orders from Manzanillo and Santiago de Cuba.

“Now, I am alone. But as soon as I recover an investment I made two months ago, I’ll employ two more seamstresses, each one working from their own homes. Together, we will try to increase production. But for now we are alone in the market,” she told me with an uplifting vibe.

Ever since he came from a Bulgaria dominated by the Soviets in the ’80s, Adrian has never been so enthusiastic about his personal business.

“I used to sell pork and lamb meat, one or two animals per week. But every time they sell ground beef, other meats, or eggs by the rationing card, my sales go down and it just pushes everything back,” he said, while showing me his “workshop”.

“I studied wood-turning. That’s my field. If I put three teams to turning, that’d be much better than the animal trading business,” he points out.

Now, he has set up three bicycle-taxis. He will paint them in about two weeks and he will rent them out to whoever wishes to use them.

Today, they rent out porches so that people can sell movies, they tear off fences and steal display counters which obstruct sidewalks, and they go to whatever extent to sell flowers, or they try to sell any other kind of merchandise by shouting out information about the product. This is the new scene of Cuban society. In response there is animosity, false optimism, and never before seen hope. Many stare at all that is happening from afar, while others take the chance and join in, but for the majority, it is not an option, it is the “only” way out.

I do not think that such liberalization of productive means is the remedy of our problems. Only freedom will get us out of half a century of failure. But this determination of so many people makes me think, to examine everything, and to go forward without personal prejudices so I can hear these stories which circulate around me. I hope my readers will not be bothered by a few other reports which will surely come during the first months of 2011.

Before the face of imminent or real unemployment, I ask myself: What can a country, that was known for its diverse confines of labor and desire, do?

Translated by Raul G.

January 1 2011

My wife, Exilda, gave me this post from her collection of unpublished articles to celebrate the 1 year anniversary of my blog.

I have just finished savoring pleasure and, at the same time, bitterness upon witnessing the presentation of the series, “Anthology of Paths”. This time, the theme was “Race and Racism”. It’s a compilation put together by the editors of the magazine known as ‘Caminos’ (Paths) and dedicated to the Martin Luther King Jr Center. This was prepared with the intent of trying to understand the current racial problem in Cuba — that trend which we do not know when it will vanish.

The anthology has appeared in Cuba at the same time that the century-long anniversary celebration of the Independent Party of Color, founded by Evaristo Estenoz and Pedro Ivonet during the first decade of XX century was going underway. In this deficient anthology I have found a text which I have found to be tendentious, and I would like to point out some issues.

In the essay, “Racial Identity of People without History” by Yesenia Selier and Penelope Hernandez, it is stated that we, whether we are blacks or mestizos from Cuba, have a negative and conflicted view about ourselves. Historically, according to the work, we have always been marginalized and forgotten, but “thanks to the Revolution of 1959” we managed to integrate socially and politically.

In the same vein, a center such as the Martin Luther King one is in charge of promoting the messianic pro-Castro program in the Cuban nation, which states that, supposedly, Fidel Castro and his bearded men came down from the Sierra Maestra mountains to save us from the ignominy of racism. This supports that plan and image which theorists of tropical socialism subdue for the sake of posterity and to seek other followers.

From my own personal experience, I can testify that my grandparents, Oscar and Iris, were immigrants from Antigua-Barbuda and Jamaica, respectively. She was a mulata and he was a black man, and both were searching for fortune and prosperity. They found love, and they made a family composed of 5 sons, and they also helped to establish this small town lost somewhere in the Eastern Cuban geography — San German.

Their love of work, their being of a race with patterns of dress, dance, and other unique ways of behaving, made them respectable people. In addition, they also always respected others, despite how Cuban society functioned at the time. As their descendants, we learned that being black was not a burden or an error, but that it is a source of pride. Being black means that you have rhythm when you walk or make gestures, that you have a particular way of cooking foods, and that you have a distinct way of representing the history of your predecessors — those who lived through humanity’s worst crime, which was slavery. But this does not make us better than anyone else, but it does make us different. And as a black woman in the XXI century, I have accepted this responsibility with much dignity.

The references used by some critics of racism in current times sometimes places them in the same group as that of the most frantic racists.

Anthologies such as the one made by the Caminos Editorial, which respond to the good relations between Christianity and the Latin-American left with the Cuban state are also a form of induced false memory. The phenomenon of racial integration should not be passed through the sieve of false celebrations or underpinnings of past errors.

The essence of the “black problem” in Cuba will be to shed light on all the torpor, while being able to count on the support of all so that we can start referring to both things as one: nation and race.

Translated by Raul G.

December 30, 2010

Photo: Luis Felipe Rojas

Once more I made the journey from Havana to Santiago de Cuba in a glistening Yutong made-in-China bus, which doesn’t belong to us Cubans, but rather to those “embattled workers” of the capitalist world who come to spend the summer in Cuba. It was the Transgaviota busline, a tourist emporium that belongs to the Revolutionary Armed Forces in my country.

Since these buses should not return empty to the east of the island, they are made to pass through the bus stations to pick up those passengers who have spent several days in line to move between provinces. This time I must shamefully admit that Raul Castro’s government has made some changes, superficial (as the politicians say), skin deep (as ancient Cubanology states), but there have been changes. Now, instead of poisoning us with the latest reggaeton or the last concert tour of Alvaro Torres through Europe (forgive me, fans of the Salvadoran), they showed us a Celia Cruz concert where she never ceases missing her homeland. Some young people behind me were surprised and they were asking why not show it. When we left the first conejito on the National Highway, the driver surprised us with a selection of the hundred best plays in the Major Leagues, and we saw Ordóñez, José Ariel Contreras, Canseco and Alex Rodríguez.

I don’t like the lovey-dovey music of Marco Antonio Solis, but when those Hispanic crowds cheer him on, I take my hat off and step aside. In a tribute that makes up the stock of any respected bus driver, Marco Antonio is greeted by former President Bush and when they shook hands, I saw the face of a Lieutenant Colonel in the People’s Revolutionary Army who was in the row next to me — he looked like he was recovering from a heart attack.

Afterward, the trip became boring. They started playing a few programs which were made in the USA, called “Decisions” and “Case Closed”. Everyone on the bus would just stare at each other in awe as those Hispanics butchered the Spanish language — and yet, they had jobs and they were apparently happy. The trip ended with a “Case Closed” episode, a sort of personal life program. In this specific episode, a Dominican man was being accused of exploiting a semi-mentally challenged girl. Astonished, he was alleging that he had not done anything out of the ordinary, stating that, “in Cuba they give you a girl for 20 bucks!” The bus driver started lowering the volume, while some on board were staring at the Eastern landscapes. The afternoon was arriving and we barely even noticed when the guy behind the wheel put on a bank-robber movie. We were hungry and sleepy, worn out by 700 kilometers of bad roads and horrible food service. But for 12 hours, we lived outside the heat of the nation and of its television, something which the housewives and workers who will now become unemployed cry out for.

This is also my country.

Translated by Raul G.

December 20, 2010