Miriam Celaya – Page 19 – Translating Cuba

Edmundo and Robertico : The Opportunist and the Opportune / Miriam Celaya

HAVANA, Cuba, September, www.cubanet.org – Edmundo Garcia, ardent defender and offshore soldier of the Cuban dictatorship, hosts in Miami — in Miami no less! — a radio program that constitutes an extension of the Roundtable TV talk show in Havana. His insults against imperialism and against “anti-Cuban counter-revolutionaries,” like his praises rendered to the Castro regime, are the most convincing demonstrations that the ineffable Edmundo enjoys the opportunity that freedom of expression permits in a democratic country, which the peaceful opposition does not enjoy in Cuba because the regime that he defends denies it to us.

Edmundo rants publicly against the critics of the Castro regime, visits the Island to relax in restaurants and tourist resorts where the majority of his “compatriots” have no chance to even poke their noses, as cool as a cucumber, he walks through those northern and these southern streets without being arrested or harassed, which — let me say — seems great to me.

Many Cubans wonder what reasons pushed Señor Garcia to leave his native land, which — to judge by his own statements — he rates as the fairest system in the world with a government that any democratic nation would envy, to settle in the most hellish and imperfect nation on the planet where, to be precise, terrorists run rampant and the worst enemies of Humanity and Cuba govern. But this seems to be a mystery that only the bilious member of the claque himself can reveal, or — of course — the Cuban government. Meanwhile, Edmundo continues to preach in his underwear, because he is the living embodiment of the opportunist.

He projects this on others and he described as “unfortunate,” “opportunistic” and “disrespectful” the performance by the artist Robertico Carcassés at the recently held gala for the release of the Cuban spies who are serving long sentences in the United States. In the improvisation, Carcassés declared his desires for free access to information, the end of the blockade and the internal-blockade, the power to elect the president directly (“and not by other means”) and asked for “freedom for the Five and also for Maria,” and also launched a phrase that is highly radioactive in Cuba: “Neither militants, nor dissidents, all Cubans with the same rights.”

The audacity of the artist consists not only in the fact of having expressed publicly the desires of an immense majority of Cubans, without his suggesting he belongs to the opposition sector or is committing a legal transgression — all a flagrant challenge to the authorities on the Island — but in having done it precisely at the Protestdrome, in front of the United States Interest Section, the Castro-anti-imperialist scenario par excellence, and as part of an “activity” called with great fanfare by the official media, at which supposedly the entire cast should respond with absolute fidelity to the directives of the ruling elite.

And of course, for Robertico Carcassés it wasn’t opportunistic. Quite the contrary, it was marvelously opportune. So much so that — regardless of whether at some future mediated by the figureheads of the regime, making use of their usual resources of ideological conviction, they get him to publicly take back his (our) truths — as great as temples; and they were said. What’s more, it’s the first time that so much contained hope and so many desires shared by millions of Cubans were spoken live and so clearly on an official stage. And this is the most dangerous for the owners of Edmundo Garcia. If the opposition had had the microphone, it could not have done better.

Because, and here is what should be a lesson to us all, nothing is as powerful and effective as simply and plainly expressing the hopes of an entire nation, not from fiery patriotic discourse or from sectors of the opposition — as demonized and feared by the government as they are little known by society — without infringing upon the rights of those attending, but rather from the courage and shame of an individual not subject to ideological compromises. That is honesty, the exact opposite of opportunism. We need many Robertico Carcassés in Cuba, with or without microphones.

For a few brief minutes, this artist demonstrated, perhaps unintentionally, that the streets, the plazas, the platforms and the microphones do not belong to the “Revolutionaries,” but to all Cubans. For that alone his audacity had value, it was really worth it. Blessed be his way to taking advantage of the opportunity! For the gift of those moments of public freedom practiced from the official media we should thank the young Carcasses, with all our hearts.

From Cubanet

24 September 2013

Central Havana: A Municipality in Danger of Extinction / Miriam Celaya

Photo by OLPL

It’s no secret to anyone that the Cuban capital is falling to pieces. It’s enough to walk around any part of the city to observe the death throes of an urban landscape that is becoming blurred, its buildings disappearing under the combined pressure of time and neglect. No municipality escapes the decline. There are ruins or pre-ruins from the ancient Old Havana — despite enjoying the partial benefits derived from its patrimonial grace and the museum-tourist interest efforts of the City Historian — to the once aristocratic Miramar, of course, saving the marked differences between both areas.

Nevertheless, we can affirm that Central Havana is the municipality displaying the worst state of the buildings. Perhaps because it is the smallest on the whole Island, the most densely populated, the one with the most ancient buildings contained within its small geography and, fatally, the one of least interest to official purposes.

In Central Havana, in addition, a multitude of multifamily buildings from the first half of the 20th century crowd together, old rooming houses and guest houses in precarious condition and almost completely unmaintained, and old shops, worm-eaten theaters and other rundown spaces.

A commercial area during the Republican period, the accelerated deterioration of old businesses and fleabag hotels, many of them closed and propped up, adds a grim note to an urban node that seems marked by misfortune: Central Havana, crowded with inhabitants, right now seems a municipality condemned to disappear.

It’s enough to walk down any of its crowded streets to feel surrounded by this kind of agony of crumbling bricks, peeling plaster, broken sewers, an environment of filth, overflowing trash bins, unpainted buildings, debris, the intense odor of accumulated poverty, at times ill-concealed by the efforts of this or that stubborn resident, who tries to maintain the little piece that he or she miraculously and precariously inhabits safe from the extinction that is upon us.

Only a miracle could save Central Havana, but where would it come from? Perhaps from God? From the government-executioner itself? From its wretched people? There are ever more buildings that succumb and fall to the ground, usually taking with them the life of some stubborn resident who refused to give up his home. Ever more vacant spaces are opening in its neighborhoods and in the hopes of its inhabitants.

It’s true that all of Cuba is dying and succumbing to despair, but today I want to dedicate this complaint, almost a requiem, to the municipality where I live. Allow me to show my readers, in just a few photographs by me and my friends Orlando Luis Pardo and Dimas Castellanos, some images of the landscape that greets my eyes every day and that says much more than any of my words. Take them as an insignificant sample of the immense destruction achieved by more than 50 years of government abandonment and contempt. Here they are.

Photo OLPL

Trash dump with Martí, Shield and Flag. Photo by Dimas Castellanos

Corner of Belascoaín y Animas. It’s now razed. Photo by Dimas

Barcelona Street (The Capitol Building is in the background)

Former Campoamor Theater. Photo by OLPL

Avenues Infanta y Carlos III. Photo by OLPL

Central Havana. Courtesy of Dimas

Balcony collapse. Aguila Street. Photo by Dimas

Urban landscape of Central Havana. Photo by Dimas

Typical Building in Central Havana. Reina Street.

20 September 2013

The Carlos III Mall Operates Outside International Standards / Miriam Celaya

HAVANA, Cuba , September ww.cubanet.org – It’s Saturday , it’s six o’clock, and Anaydée is with Carla, her young daughter, in the “children’s play area” of the well-known Carlos III Market in Central Havana. Whenever she cans she takes some of her savings to please the little girl, letting her climb on the machines with coin slots which, for 25 cents in CUC, for a few brief moments sway and shake the lucky kids whose elders can afford the “luxury” of paying for this ephemeral diversion. A handful of electromechanical devices delight the children while taking a bite out of the pockets of their parents and grandparents. After all, 25 cents for a child’s smile seems a modest price.

The Carlos III shopping center is probably the best known and busiest of all those selling in hard currency in the capital. It may be the most “popular” in Cuba, judging by the presence of customers from all provinces circulating through it every day, especially on weekends.

A reduced tropics-communism version of the typical mall of market economies, nestles in one of the populous municipalities in Cuba; this is a key point in the hectic human traffic in the city. It could be raining, hot, cold, or threatening a hurricane, but the Carlos III market is never empty, which is justified perhaps because – despite the insufficient and almost always deficient offerings, or the poor customer service – a variety of services are concentrated there: cafeterias, department stores, food market, hardware, travel agencies, Western Union services and children’s play areas, among others.

So Anaydée, resident of the same municipality, a working single mother who has little time to devote to the entertainment of her little girl, visits the children’s section of the commercial center every time her collateral economic activities (illegal sales of clothes and other articles) allow her to shoulder the extra costs for Carla to enjoy the longed-for “machines” and for them to share a light meal together.

But recently Anaydée told me of her worries about what is happening in the Carlos III “playground.” She thinks this place is not the most suitable for children. The equipment for the entertainment of the kids is nestled right in the midst of a veritable cattle trough for adults: a bar and two outlets for beer and other alcoholic beverages are the environment that welcome the little cars, horsies, games and other kiddie distractions, such a chaotic and promiscuous mixing that it’s literally impossible to isolate children from the vulgar drunken mess and every kind of debauchery that comes together in that area. Anaydée is sure that “something is being violated” there.

While, if in Carlos III the children’s play areas seem designed for the comfort of the families that make their purchases at the mall, with food service included, the truth is that it has become a food-and-drink-trough for the most diverse moral collection, where decent families are involuntarily mixed with marginal types who provide the environment with a dose of vulgar attitudes and filthy language.

So, the kids who enjoy the games are subject to inappropriate conversations and every kind of unpleasant situation between the surrounding adults, many of them completely inebriated, while others consume alcoholic beverages and smoke very close to minors. The situation tends to get worse as the evening progresses. Just visit the area between 7:00 and 8:00 at night, primarily on weekends, to detect the bad atmosphere that reigns there, derived from the social detritus that concentrates to consume the fruits of its illicit dealings, including narcotics trafficking and prostitution. The Carlos III shopping center has many faces.

Usually, even in the Castros’ Cuba, recreation places intended for children have prohibited the sale of alcoholic beverages. A measure consistent with the principle that children should play in a morally healthy and exemplary environment. Such is the case, let’s say, of the playgrounds adjacent to La Maestranza and the Havana Amphitheater, in the Old Town.

However, the compulsive urge to “collect hard currency”* is an interest that overrides the moral formation of our children, so the management of Carlos III—I’m not aware of others—doesn’t seem very committed to the official call to “rescue the missing values.” It’s about guaranteeing sales, the rest doesn’t matter very much. After all, we are talking about a place in Central Havana… Has anyone seen a General in Carlos III Mall

Translator’s note: State-owned stores that sell in hard currency (the so-called Cuban convertible peso, or CUC) versus national money, also known as the Cuban peso, are formally called “currency collection centers.” One of the ways the regime “collects” much of the money sent to Cubans by their families overseas, is through selling goods, only available in these “stores” at greatly marked-up prices.

From Cubanet

17 September 2013

Discrimination Against Women in the Cuba of the Generals / Miriam Celaya

LA HABANA, Cuba, September, Miriam Celaya, www.cubanet.org –The revolutionary movement that took power in 1959, from its inception kept women in a position subordinated to male leadership. None of the revolutionary programs included female emancipation. Moreover, no woman took part in the crafting of the program or gave input about the objectives and social aspirations of society’s feminine sector despite the fact that already in the 1950s they were an important labor and student force, even in the universities.

At the end of the insurrection, no woman had reached higher military ranks as opposed to those who participated in the 19^th century wars of independence.

The feminine sector committed to the revolutionary movement followed the patterns established by a strongly sexist tradition, and submitted itself to the always male high command’s decisions, thus being relegated to reproduce –during the war and later on the new social stage– the patriarchal model with its rigid separation of gender roles.

Women’s Front at Sierra Maestra

Nevertheless, Fidel Castro recognized the importance of the feminine force as shown during the brief imprisonment of the attackers of the Moncada Army Barracks when many women mobilized themselves into action to collect 20 thousand signatures requesting amnesty for the young revolutionaries and presented them to the Senate. Castro understood the importance of this force, and therefore created a women’s front at Sierra Maestra –Mariana Grajales Female Battalion (1958)– under the command of the 26 of July Movement lead by him.

Once in power, they created the Revolutionary Women’s Union, the predecessor of the Federation of Cuban Women (FMC), to mobilize women in support of the revolution’s social programs. All republican women’s organizations, including those that had supported the revolutionary struggle, were dismantled to preclude tendencies different from those dictated by the new political power. At the same time, no woman was considered to occupy a position with the decision making circles; only one occupied briefly the post of Education minister, and Vilma Espín, Fidel Castro’s sister in-law, led the FMC from its creation to her death.

Feminism for idle bourgeoisie

The main objective of the FMC was, in principle, to promote women’s participation in the country’s political, economic and social life, but always dependent on a complete loyalty to the revolution and the new ideology now in power. Thus, “the FMC described itself as a feminine organization, but not a feminist one since feminism was considered a social movement that took away efforts and attention from the revolutionary struggle, aside from being the ideology of idle bourgeoisie.” Most women accepted being part of the organization. Eventually, membership became automatic for women older than 14 years of age, so by 1995 around 3 million Cuban women, 82% of the female population, were “affiliated” to the organization.

Feminist ideology was diluted within a “collective revolutionary way of thinking.” As the civic tools developed during the Republic disappeared, women were definitely left at the mercy of the government’s will.

Paradoxically, paired to the loss of female autonomy in politics, more than 60 percent of professionals and highly specialized technicians are women. In contrast, most of the leadership positions are occupied by men, and this illustrates the prevalence of male patterns that maintains discrimination vis-à-vis the supposed “conquests” granted from the circles of power. Despite their alleged emancipation, Cuban women continue to be subjected to discrimination masked by a false egalitarian discourse.

More male business owners

Currently, government reforms that legalize investments in the private sector also show the wide prevalence of men as business owners and entrepreneurs. Women come to the new economic stage, where male protagonism prevails, at a disadvantage. There is no political program to equalize the opportunities between the genders for the future of the island, and in the absence of a really autonomous feminine movement, women are left in the most abject civic helplessness.

But full emancipation also requires full civic responsibility. The strong presence of women within the dissidence and the independent civil society points to an opportunity for the resurgence of women’s struggles in times to come. Only in a democratic scenario will it be proven whether the necessary foundations for a gender conscience exist in Cuba.

Translated by Ernesto Ariel Suarez

From Cubanet

12 September 2013

“Pioneers for Communism”: Doctrine with Bandana / Miriam Celaya

Aspiring Pioneer in 1965

This school year my grandson César began the first grade. He is pleased with the expectation of learning to read and write, but above all he is very excited that soon he will get his blue bandana and become another “pioneer for communism,” like his father 28 years ago, and like his confrontational grandmother a long time before that.

Last Monday, fresh from school, he phoned me: “Grandmother, I’m going to recite poetry and I learned what all the children in my class have to recite the day we put on the bandana.” And he continued, in his clean fresh voice, repeating the rhymed doctrine in the worst doggerel:

For my commander with the sweet smile

I keep forever the sun and the breeze

For my commander with his beard and hat

I cut garden flowers in January

For my commander lost in October

This blue bandana covers me

Struck dumb for a moment, absorbing the bad effect, I surprise myself seeking the stupidest consolations in the world: at least it’s not an ode to the Unnameable, or to the Argentine who murdered so many Cubans with impunity… although I recognize this is a fool’s comfort; before and after, the Revolutionary catechism includes in the program those two protagonists in the sainted olive-green, and there will be other bad poetry, and there will be slogans and ritual perfidies.

Then I was assaulted by the old memories of my own initiation into the Pioneers, when I was the same six-years-old that César is today, and walked gap-toothed and happy about the nearness of my bandana, blue and white then, on the light gray blouse of my elementary school uniform. A photographer came to the school to take pictures of the kids aspiring to the Pioneers, seated one by one at a desk in the school courtyard with an enormous Cuban flag as the background and a pen in hand, as if we were writing the application form, although hardly any of us knew how to write even a little. Because then it was an essential requirement to aspire to the Pioneer organization and to receive authorization from our parents, who had to sign this form giving us their consent, before we could belong to it.

In the span of 48 years some details have changed. For example, in my generation membership in the Pioneer organization was not mandatory, the Pioneer stage was limited to the elementary school years, the bandana was only worn for certain dates and ceremonies, and the textbooks weren’t so overwhelmingly ideological. But basically the content of the organization has always been the same: to establish mechanisms of social control in service to the government, beginning with the manipulation of the conscience of the great masses from very young ages. Thanks to this method, eminently fascist, most of those individuals were subject, if not to the ideology itself, at least to passive submission, acceptance.

For children, however, being Pioneers does not represent a political-ideological affiliation, which in effect it is, rather the bandana is a sign denoting belonging to a school, a group of friends and classmates, who share learning, games, common interests. The bandana says “they are big,” they already know how to read and write or are close to having this knowledge. They ignore that they will receive, between poetry, readings, mottos and slogans, the systematic official brainwashing that their parents and grandparents born under this regime received before them.

In fact, the process of “Communist Pioneerization” has degraded over the last 30 years, through the generation gap between Cubans born just before or just after the establishment of the Castro regime, and the guerrilla caste of the Moncada barracks attack, the Granma Yacht and the Sierras, and those in the wake of the growing disenchantment that occurred basically from May 1980, following the events at the Peruvian Embassy and the Mariel Boatlift.

The “Revolutionary” romance had ended, and in consequence, the conscience of tens of thousands of Cubans gradually began to become independent of the official discourse, while publicly expressed attitudes continued to respond to the call of the government. Thereafter, almost every Cuban who deviated from the Castro creed began to wear two faces and to hold two, opposite, moral standards: a “real” one, for private life with family and close friends; another “false” one, to blend into the labor collective and into society (in “the mass”) and to keep themselves safe from reprisals and accusations.

Thus, the Pioneer initiation rite that marked the official and socially acceptable indoctrination for ideological servitude, has also become a turning point in the exercise of the so-called “double moral standard” (immorality). A vile pact tacitly accepted by the parties, in which the government pretends to believe that all Cuban parents accept the “Pioneer-Communist” militancy of their children, at the same time that they teach their children to “go with the flow” of the doctrine in the schools and to repeat the verses and slogans praising the regime, while at home illegalities and even anti-government speech survives. “What you see and hear here you don’t say at school,” “if the teacher asks you say this, but in reality things are different.”

Finally, there are the children who wear the bandana of “Pioneers-for-Communism-we-will-be-like-Che” even a few days before emigrating with their parents in search of a freedom they don’t find in their own land. And with this practice, for one generation after another, we have inculcated lying and hypocrisy in our children as values for facing life.

Maybe that’s why hearing my grandson recite the stanzas of that bad versification left me cold. However, quick as a flash I thought of a solution when, surprised by my silence, my little boy asked me, “Grandma, why are you quiet? Don’t you like poetry?” “No, but I know many nursery rhymes prettier than that. Let’s make a deal: I’ll teach them to you.” He was delighted. I also know the power of verses, but not to indoctrinate, rather to enrich the soul, to make us free. We’ll see which verses better calm the spirit of my boy, but I’m inclined to think they will be the ones I recite.

16 September 2013

Between Neglect and Helplessness. Prostitution in Cuba, Part 3 / Miriam Celaya

Official secrecy and complicit silence

The original sin of the “Cuban Revolution” in relation to prostitution lies not in the fact of its not being able to eradicate it, a clearly impossible task, but in denying its very existence. Such a denial doesn’t only retard the search for solutions for social problems — sexual slavery, drug trafficking, child prostitution, the spread of sexually transmitted diseases like AIDS, etc. — that have appeared on the Island, but also prevents the population from having a clear perception of the issue and its social implications.

By excluding the issue from public debate it remains buried under less pressing emergencies related to economic survival and the precariousness of material resources. At the same time, these very privations accelerate the the deterioration of moral values, and feed the growth of prostitution, especially among teenagers under 18, who constitute the most vulnerable sector. A vicious circle that closes in on itself with a Gordian knot that seems to have no solution.

The end of innocence

While many adult women have chosen for themselves the path of prostitution, it is not less true that the entry of minors into the profession is ever more frequent. Eighteen marks the age of sexual consent in Cuba, but it is not rare to find girls between 13 and 17 who have already become prostitutes.

These kinds of activities, although prohibited by current laws, are difficult to detect due the complex web of illegalities that has been consolidated in the heat of impunity, and that now includes the networks of “recruiters” (generally older prostitutes and pimps), brothels — often protected behind the facade of a legal business, clandestine hostels, etc. — and, in some cases, with the complicity of law enforcement.

Police corruption, meanwhile, can be gross or subtle and ranges from simple extortion of the prostitute to the direct participation in obtaining monetary benefits under the concept of protecting the business; but in all cases it constitutes an important obstacle in combating this scourge.

According to the testimonies of several prostitutes, some police officers who cover shifts at certain key points in the capital receive direct payment from them, or from the employees of neighborhood bars, to permit both the trafficking of these sex workers as well as the clandestine trade in rum and cigars that is a scam usually played on unsuspecting foreigners. Prostitutes and bartenders have established a kind of mutually beneficial professional collaboration and have created true niches of corruption, particularly in poor areas of dubious reputation, such as Chinatown in Havana or San Rafael Boulevard.

The absence of institutions

In addition, some life stories suggest that the majority of minors who venture into the world of prostitution come from dysfunctional families and have grown up in hostile homes, both materially and affectionately, without there being any institutions truly responsible for their safety and protection.

A sample study conducted with a group of young prostitutes between the ages of 15 and 25, allows the conclusion that almost all of the cases came from dysfunctional homes, that prostitution among minors is a growing trend, and that the representatives of the repressive bodies or the courts are the only representatives of any official institution with which they have had any contact or relationship, whether it be to be blackmailed, arrested or punished; but never to offer them an alternative life or to enroll them in some social program that allows them to overcome the serious existential conflicts facing them.

Some of them are completely lacking in family support, others have minor children, are school dropouts, have used drugs at least once, and/or smoke and drink alcoholic beverages regularly.

The issue is compounded because it appears that there is no national program, nor even a local one, charged with supporting those who, given their particular circumstances, have taken to prostitution as a way to solve their material problems, not even for those who have lived in conditions of extreme poverty and lack of attention in dysfunctional homes, those who have been abandoned by their families, or for those who have been systematically abused, including by their own close family members.

Such helplessness is even more inexplicable given that, for over half a century, the Government has developed organizations dedicated to “surveillance” on every block through the so-called Committees for the Defense of the Revolution (CDR), or to the needs and defense of women through the Federation of Cuban Women (FMC). An institutional structure that, had it functioned in the social interest or fulfilled its founding principles, would have been capable of controlling this evil from the beginning.

Neither the Government nor independent civil society

Even though the problem of child prostitution potentially affects thousands of families, it does not seem to arouse significant interest on the part of the Government, largely responsible for the fate of so many frustrations; the same Government whose educational system, for decades, has robbed parents of their authority and awarded the “paternalistic” State custody of children, teenagers and young people, now abandoned to their own bad luck.

More worrying still is that not even within the alternative spaces is there a particular interest in this matter. In any case, a debate on the topic is not emerging, nor are there civic proposals that take it on, to any extent, from independent civil society. This suggests that perhaps there is an underlying accumulation of moral prejudices or traditional taboos that prevent the same sectors which have opened spaces for questions as complex as racial discrimination or sexual diversity, from taking on the challenge of the debate about prostitution and its social effects.

But far beyond the lack of resources, what is really alarming is the apparent lack of political will within all parties to approach one of the most complex issues that Cuban social reality is facing in the near future.

From DiariodeCuba

Prostitution in Cuba: Part 1. Part 2.

9 September 2013

Revolutionary Prostitutes. Prostitution In Cuba, Part 2 / Miriam Celaya

No social phenomenon arises suddenly or by spontaneous generation, rather it is the result of a long process of the accumulation of essential components. The rise of prostitution in “Socialist Cuba” is no exception. In fact, prostitution was not eliminated by policies dictated by the Government, which favored the mass incorporation of women into the workforce, nor with the wider social benefits that they undoubtedly enjoyed as long as romance subsidized by Eastern European socialism lasted, as was demonstrated when, impelled by the calamities of the so-called “Special Period*” the Government opted for international tourists as the most expeditious way to bring in hard currency.

With the Revolution brothels disappeared, but prostitution did nothing more than change its attire to disguise itself and survive in other forms, perhaps more subtle, which were enshrined and diversified as the system consolidated itself and installed the “meritocracy,” a predominantly male caste formed by mid- and high-level “leader cadres” of the Government, the Communist Party, high-ranking officials of the army or the Interior Ministry, as well as directors and managers of numerous state enterprises and institutions.

The privileges that the new caste of leaders can enjoy, according to their level, includes everything from travel abroad, free or very low-cost vacations in the country’s best hotels, special medical attention and private clubs, to the assignment of housing and cars, along with a generous quote of fuel, among many others.

The meritocracy, in turn, brought an explosion of a subordinate caste, the vaginocracy, formed by women attracted to the power and benefits of the new anointed, which are passed on to those with whom they are linked sexually, who can now enjoy a way of life that, otherwise, they would not have access to. These were not always their wives. It was an open secret that almost every prominent leader accumulated, among his trophies, some young and beautiful lover whom he maintained out of wedlock, based on gifts, perks and material benefits. The most successful of these hunters managed to wed their protector or came to acquire a good home or well-paid job, among other possible benefits.

It was not exceptional for military leaders to travel with their lovers, including on their “internationalist missions,” as happened in Angola, where they appeared embedded as personal staff. And surely they were.

This, with the advent of Marxism in Cuba and of the new class in power, prostitution for barter was reinstated, exchanging sex for money rather than for material benefits, and for the possibility of moving up the social ladder. The new model renewed old principals, tolerating the “vices of the bourgeois past” painted with make-up in the colors of the proletariat. The new prostitutes had no qualms about marching in Civic Plaza on the ritual dates, dressing as militants on the Days of Defense, or quickly stepping up for the Committees for the Defense of the Revolution or the Federation of Cuban Women. Revolutionary prostitutes had emerged, although neither they, nor the society, would consciously assume this definition.

For its part, society was abiding by the new rules. After all, offering sexual favors to a cadre of the Revolution in exchange for certain benefits was not so reprehensible. They were sacrificed comrades who spent a lot of time far from family and should have some leisure activity; it’s true they traded in sex, but at least their shared their beds with pillars of the fatherland, which in some way turned them into patriots. It was the heyday of revolutionary intransigence.

The double standard was imposed almost inadvertently as a national culture and as part of the mechanisms of the survival in a country in which the scarcity of material goods pushed the society towards the frontiers of moral misery. Almost the entire national spirituality was constrained within the ideological corset, which added to the chronic civic irresponsibility, contributed to the aggravation of the “anthropological damage” that has been brilliantly defined by the layperson Dagoberto Valdés.

Simultaneously, the traditional family structure was fractured and its values disrupted. Parents lost authority to the power of the State-Government-Party which appropriated their children and indoctrinated them into the new ideology of the commune. The children were sent to boarding schools from adolescence and grew up in promiscuity far from family control.

They had laid the foundation for the social disaster that would come in the ultimate decade of the 20th century when we Cubans were discovering that prostitution had overflowed the confined limits of the sex trade and infiltrated the roots of the whole society. Soon, the vaginocracy would yield to the strength and diversity of “jineterismo” — hustling.

*Translator’s note: The Special Period in Times of Peace (Período especial en tiempos de paz) was the name given by the regime to the period of extreme economic crisis following the collapse of the Soviet Union (Cuba’s main political and economic ally and subsidizer) in 1991. Its end is not very well defined, but seems to have been around the time when the late Venezuelan strongman Hugo Chavez started to send oil and money to the island.

Prostitution in Cuba, Part 1: The Many Faces of a Conflict

From DiariodeCuba

2 September 2013

Violence in Cuba: People’s Helplessness and Protection of Power / Miriam Celaya

Havana Police. Photo OLPL

It was Saturday morning at ten-thirty, and was out with my oldest grandson. I was driving our old little car down a street in Central Havana as we turned a corner and I had to stop. On the left side of the street, a van parked at the curb was taking up a lot of room, while in the left lane, in the middle of the intersection, a young man was having an animated conversation with a girl, blocking my way. Since I thought that maybe they were too absorbed in their talk to notice that I wanted to proceed where they were standing, I blew the horn once. The young man glared at me, clearly annoyed at my interruption and immediately, without moving an inch, continued with his talk.

I insisted then, blowing the horn once again, and he turned to me, gesticulating angrily, and cursing me out. His face was irate, and, to my surprise, he challenged me to get out of the car. I didn’t even have time to be scared and couldn’t believe such an irrational and unexpected situation. My grandson was terrified, pressed against the back seat, while the girl tried to grab the young man by the arm, in an effort to get him over to the other sidewalk. I finally had enough space for my little car to move and continued on our way. If the girl had not intervened, the young man would have hit me, even with my grandson watching. I would have been helpless in the middle of the street.

“Grandma, who was that man? Why did he want to hit you?” The kid asked, still overwhelmed by the event. “I don’t know who it was. I’m sure he was a little crazed and mistook me for someone else.” I did not know how.to explain to my grandson why a 20-something total stranger had become so violent in a matter of seconds when I had not offended him at all and he did not have the slightest reason to act in such a way. Nor could I explain to him that the brief episode was just a sample of the level of violence that is reaching Cuban society, particularly in the capital, manifesting itself in an increasing spiral of aggression between individuals and groups for the most insignificant reasons, most often without any reason.

Almost every day one hears of assaults, burglaries, knives fights, murders. The news of the attacks seem endless and events happen daily and in the most dissimilar places. Recently, a woman was beheaded by a subject in a moving public taxi in a Vedado-La Palma route in the presence of other passengers, including a child. A few days ago, three men were attacked by a youth gang in Mulgoba, In the Boyeros area, leaving one dead of a stab wound and another one hurt of several fractures as a result of the beating.

At a bus stop, a young man mortally stabbed a family man who was out with his wife and children, simply because the victim claimed his place on line, which happened to be just in front of that of the attacker. Another bus driver was assaulted by a passenger who refused to pay his fare, and had to be helped by another driver of a bus that stopped at the same bus stop. Another bus driver from Guanabo was also attacked with a knife by an irate passenger who did not want to pay for his fare. The driver had to stop at the village clinic for treatment. It is a fact that buses are potentially among the most prone to violence in the capital.

A street in downtown Havana. Photo OLPL

The list of violent events becomes endless and it’s growing. One could almost say that each municipality in Havana is competing for the highest crime rate and, unfortunately, they all seem determined to reach the first place. At the same time, the impunity of criminals and the police inaction are staggering, so the feeling of insecurity among the population is intensifying. Many people say that they fear going out because of the possibility of becoming victims of the violence that has become commonplace.

Testimonies of knife assaults abound. It would seem that the law of the jungle has descended on our streets and that the strong and warlike elements are taking over, displacing decency and imposing terror among peaceful people.

The accumulation of frustration, poverty, marginalization and lack of a social project that would afford the population a modicum of prosperity, coupled with widespread corruption, even the very law enforcement for public order favor the emergence of the worst scenarios in a nation already marked by polarization, deep social differences and exclusions.

Marginal sectors, increasingly prone to violence, are marking the symbol of the system’s social decay, pointing to a spiral of unpredictable consequences if the situation doesn’t get under control. There are already decent people who have made the decision to acquire self-defense weapons of various origins and nature to defend themselves in case of aggression, whether in the streets or in their own homes. Violence as protection against violence, violence in response, as social code. I can’t think of anything worse that could happen.

The authorities are clueless. The official press continues its praises of the system, depicting an imaginary Cuba where only flourishing cooperatives exist, model hospitals where the best specialists in the world save the lives of children and all the sick poor people that in other countries would not stand the slightest chance to survive or to undergo surgery, or where schools are getting ready for the start of a new year which, incidentally, future criminals will also attend. Because this is also a revolutionary achievement: there might be many illiterate delinquents in the world, but not a one of them is Cuban. I have not heard of any of these violent acts where the police have had an important role, protecting “the public” or capturing the wrongdoer.

In fact, right now I can’t recall a single event in which the police have been even near the conflict. Most of the evidence I have collected reflect the tremendous distrust and suspicion of the population in relation to the euphemistically called “law enforcement”. Chances are that while the crimes are taking place, uniformed law enforcement entities may be supporting agents of State Insecurity whose job seems to be cracking down and trying to uselessly intimidate peaceful opponents, with that other form of selective violence, and making use of police vehicles not in the pursue of muggers and troublemakers who sow fear in society, but to carry away those who are dreaming of and working toward a better Cuba.

However, it appears that in a few years we will have more scientists in the Ministry responsible for these matters of internal order. This Sunday September 1st, Juventud Rebelde published a report (Orgullosos de servir a la sociedad, by Ana María Domínguez Cruz), which reported that students from the thirteenth detachment of cadets of the Ministry of the Interior (MININT) composed of 400 young people across the country of which 250 belong to districts in the capital, have served their period of “preliminary military training” before being injected into university careers, such as Journalism, Psychology, Law, Computer and Medical Sciences, among other specialties not related to Agronomy or any of the technical schools or offices the General-President so much endorses as the most necessary for the country. With these cadets, states the report, “the ranks of MININT will be fed by educated and committed professionals”. We already know on which side the commitment rests.

There is nothing to hope for. The press does not reflect what is happening in Cuba in real life: Everything seems to be fine with the country and the news about the assaults and crime is no more than rumors of those who want to damage the revolution’s image and create an opinion state that is adverse to the system. Everything indicates that the blue-uniformed police are not going to be more efficient and are not going to improve the social order and public peace, but we are certainly going to have more well-educated and learned MININT with the assigned task of pursuing and harassing anything that threatens the political power. That’s too bad for everyone.

Translated by Norma Whiting

2 September 2013

Shoal Philosophy / Miriam Celaya

HAVANA, Cuba , August, www.cubanet.org – Every Cuban must have heard countless times a compilation of phrases that try to encompass all the Island’s popular wisdom: “don’t bother”, “you’re not going to solve anything”, “what the heck, you are not going to change anything”, “don’t look for trouble” , or this next one, which is the paradigm of evading commitment: “I don’t care about politics”, though the ones who utter it ignore that mere membership in the Committee for the Defense of the Revolution implies a direct relationship with the politics of government.

All of them, without exception, could be part of a manual on how to better serve the interests of the dictatorship because they appeal to passivity, to limitless waiting, to subordination, and to complicit subterfuge. But, without a doubt, the crown jewel and the one most frequently used is “don’t call attention to yourself”. It is the quintessential advice, and it serves to brake the spontaneous impulses of any dissatisfied individual in any circumstance, because “to call attention to yourself” in Cuba is to leave the flock, to rebel against absolute power, to fault at the most elementary prudence, and it can manifest itself even in the smallest sign that could set the individual apart from the rest.

It is interesting that such a no-nonsense phrase should be the currency in a country where people don’t think twice about hurling themselves into the sea and crossing the Florida Straits on board any artifact buoyant enough to take them to the other shore, to another realm, where calling attention to yourself isn’t necessarily an imprudence, but just the opposite, most of the time.

But let someone express his intention to stop paying the syndicate, the MTT (Territorial Troops Militia), not attending the May Day parade or the assembly of accountability for the well-known phrase “don’t call attention to yourself” to make its appearance.

Recently, a young man working in a private restaurant told me about a visit an official of the national union made to his place of employment, to educate employees about the importance of “creating” a union, affiliated to what she called” the national union movement”, to “defend the workers’ interests.”

It’s beyond the absurd, only possible in Cuba, that a State official will interrupt the work of a private business to encourage employees to organize to make a stand against management – the prime and essential reason for unionizing — with the complacent consent of that same management, and with the independence that a true syndicate must have as its premise the freedom to associate, which doesn’t exist in Cuba. The strangest thing of the matter is that the vast majority of workers in those private businesses have joined the “syndicates” created from and by the same power that has unleashed a wave of layoffs at State workplaces.

My young friend insists that, initially, some workers were reluctant or undecided, and there were those who naively asked if membership was compulsory, but, here and there, an infiltrated delegate would drop the little phrase “don’t call attention to yourself” and the stirrings of rebellion were diluted, wrapped in the protective anonymity of the collective.

“It is the philosophy of the shoal, the school of fish,” says my friend, a definition that is based on the tactics of the sardine or anchovy in which the individual is diluted in the group so he’ll have a better chance at survival, which, however, does not prevent predators from feeding on them.

I acknowledge that my friend is somewhat cynical, but this does not negate the gist of his remark. And the civic abandonment and the lack of rights in Cuba is such that it has developed a kind of slavery syndrome of thought, so that when some people have a modicum of freedom, they refuse to make use of it and continue to be subjected to the snare and the master.

Nevertheless, the emergence of private initiative could mark a major turning point in the resurgence of sectors that might strengthen the weak fabric of civil society, a reality which the independent unions that exist in Cuba cannot ignore. This requires implementing a program, or at least for these groups to make specific proposals which are attractive to this new labor force. It would be an essential step to achieve union autonomy.

Government’s interest in keeping this labor force subjugated indicates the recognition of the risk implied by the potential autonomy of the sector; an opportunity that activists could well take advantage of in order to fight that widespread social evil, the shoal philosophy.

From Cubanet

Translated by Norma Whiting

29 August 2013

CUBACEL recharges: Why Isn’t It Allowed From Inside?

Double Recharge…Double happiness this summer from 30 July to 2 August… Gift of 30 text messages… Other surprises on these days.

For some time and with some regularity, many Cubans have received refills on our phones thanks to the generosity of friends and advocates who support us from the outside. Many others receive it by the kindness of family and friends living outside of Cuba

These refills, promoted by a subsidiary of ETECSA, CUBACEL, S.A, the telephone company responsible for cellular telephone service in Cuba, are announced through a message that appears on our phones with the following content: “CUBACEL Reports: PROMOTION . Recharge the balance from overseas from 20.00 CUC and get twice the amount recharged”, then it shows the beginning and ending dates of the promotion.

And this comment is stressed by the writer because I have always been shocked at the explicit declaration which, by all accounts, is discriminatory, harmful to Cubans living in Cuba and violates their rights to enjoy a service even if they have the ability to pay. I have asked several employees of the Príncipe branch on Carlos III Avenue, and their answers have been evasive, if not incriminating: “It’s management’s decision” “We only work with the public, we don’t make the rules” “Why are you asking me? you should be asking Raúl” I wish I could ask him, though that would be the least I would ask him.

That is, it’s not just about the real and true fact that CUBACEL and ETECSA take it upon themselves to arbitrarily interrupt at will telephone communication of those pesky customers who don’t have, according to the system’s standards, the “correct” political leaning, thus, ETECSA violates the contract’s conditions, but, in addition, it voids everyone’s rights, including those of people who are obedient or quiet, who don’t bother with political matters.

In short, I would like to know what this policy is about. It is exclusionary for Cubans residing here, whose money seems to be of absolutely no value for this telephone company managed by – how well we know it — the Ministry of the Armed Forces, that is to say, Castro II.

So I appeal to the imagination, information or wisdom of readers to help me understand what, needless to say, the employees of the Cuban revolutionary telephone company will never explain. How is it “politically” possible that a Cuban who has 20.00 CUC to recharge his cellular phone will be unable to benefit from his own country’s company promotion? Could it have anything to do with the criminal imperialist blockade? Could it be that the evil “Big, Bad Wolf” and other stateless Cubans can’t prevent us from having émigrés recharge our mobile phones and yet have the power to influence media policy dictated by the no less big, bad Cuban dictatorship?

No doubt, the communications issue is extremely delicate for the aging olive-green cupola. It isn’t merely about the undeniably most expensive cellular telephone service in the world, but, in addition, the only one that discriminates against its clients for the simple geographically tragic fate of living inside CUBACEL territory.

Translated by Norma Whiting

2 August 2013

The Political Burden of the Dictatorship after the Dictatorship / Miriam Celaya

Days ago, I had the opportunity to read a smart and funny article by Eugenio Yáñez, in which, based on the age of the highest representatives of the government, the writer was questioning the “youth” proclaimed by Castro 2 in his recent speech for the 60th anniversary of the assault on Moncada barracks. Almost at the end of that article, Yáñez successfully launches a judgment referring to the olive green gerontocracy still in power in Cuba: “Instead of trying to distort reality, it would be better to clear the way for new generations that will do it better, because it’s impossible to do it any worse”.

The extent of the case, as simple as it is accurate, brings to mind a debate a couple of years ago with several of my friends that focused on a discussion about who could be the alternative political actors we might consider for the presidency of a Cuba in transition. On that occasion, there were very interesting analyses around opposition figures and programs of the most diverse leanings and positions, including the dissident spectrum from the last part of the ’80s decade until today. The opinions of those debating were, of course, also very different and emotional at times.

I will not fall into the naïve temptation of retelling a version of that reunion here, or the viewpoints of each participant because, after all, it was not about trying to decide the Cuban transition in a simple dialogue among friends, nor does Cuba possess the necessary minimal conditions for freedom and democracy, political maturity or enough civility, even among the dissident ranks, to tolerate criticism or opinions that are different from their own evaluations. In fact, almost every figure carries within him the messiah virus or the belief that he eats the egg of absolute truth for breakfast every morning, and only the more honest ones, the best, have the ability to recognize the evil in their own hearts, and to keep it duly restrained and not allow it to expand and dominate them. Even the people seem to interpret the criticism of any leader or program as a divisive attempt. Often, people seem to need idols more than freedom itself.

But back to the question, the fact is that at that unique and unforgettable meeting attended by several intelligent and acute individuals, the idea that raised the most debate was that of a fellow member who closed the circle, declaring: “Anyone who is democratically elected and supports civil liberties conducive to the exercise of all human rights will do as president for me, since, if that were the case, we would be guaranteed the right to criticize him, to speak out against his administration, to demand, to force him to listen to demands and, within a reasonable period of a few years, to remove him from office in new elections if he doesn’t meet the voters’ expectations”.

I must confess that at that time I wasn’t 100% on board with his proposal, though I could understand he had made a good point. Maybe I was driven by distrust in imagining what the performance of certain shady characters would be when anointed with legitimate power leading the destiny of a nation in the turmoil of a transition that will undoubtedly be difficult. That prospect terrifies me still.

However, Yáñez’s article has made me think about the Cuban reality and once again taken me back to that memorable gathering where, as so often happens, a group of friends discussed the hypothetical future of a democratic Cuba. That friend and Yáñez are both right: the Castro regime has deliberately performed so badly that no one else could do it worse, not even the worst of the worst hidden kingpins we have in every sector of Cuban society. But, to elect “the wrong thing” so we won’t have the worst one, doesn’t sound to me like a good political sense.

Definitely, in the presence of a democratic election, I would not vote for just anyone. However, due to the stubbornness of the eternal Moncada octogenarian boys who cling to power, I can’t help but to recognize that any other option would be preferable, at least for the majority. The dictatorship has become the point of reference to such an extent of what a government should not be that it has sealed the evil within the fate of the Cuban people, even long after it’s gone. And so, paradoxically, it could still play a political role, in case it becomes indirectly responsible of an unfortunate future election of the transition that awaits us.

Translated by Norma Whiting

9 August 2013

The Many Faces of a Conflict. Prostitution in Cuba, Part 1 / Miriam Celaya

In Cuba there are no institutions that guarantee the rights of the most vulnerable. Prostitution is not even mentioned as a problem by the Government.

It is said that prostitution is the oldest occupation in the world. There aren’t any cultures whose histories have not recorded the practice of sexual services in exchange for money or something of value. Other forms of prostitution are fashioned in exchange for favors or privileges.

Prostitution’s time-worn persistence throughout the ages offers an almost infinite variety of forms, circumstances and considerations, sociological and psychological as well as historical, economic, gender-associated and even political. The darker margins of the phenomenon today refer to the trafficking of women through international networks specializing in human trafficking for sexual means –- victims of which are illegal immigrants and young people in impoverished areas — slavery and, specifically, the trafficking and sexual exploitation of children.

Prostitution in ‘Revolutionary’ Cuba’

Recently, the Miami newspaper El Nuevo Herald published an article about the so-called prostitution’s “hustling” (George Porta, El Jineterismo es una Forma de Genocidio [Prostitution is a Form of Genocide] ), which brings into discussion the issue of prostitution in a country that was considered a territory free of the sex trade in the decades following 1959.

“Hustling” is the expression in the marginal vocabulary that defined the prostitution that started to proliferate more strongly in Cuba since the decade of the 90’s of the last century, fueled by the economic crisis after the collapse of the former USSR and the socialist camp, and the increase of tourism as an alternative, developed by the government to generate foreign exchange income. Thus, it is all the more controversial because Cuban prostitutes in the last 20 years don’t stem from — as often happens in other underdeveloped nations — social sectors hit by illiteracy, ignorance and other similar afflictions, but are members of generations formed and indoctrinated in supposedly superior moral principles of “the new man” and many of them hold significant educational levels.

The image of the poor naïve country girl, deceived by some wily suitor who “disgraced” her and ended up exploiting her in some brothel in a provincial city center or at the capital was left back in pre-1959 history. Today’s prostitute is usually a young woman who has completed at least the ninth grade and who consciously uses her sexual attributes to achieve, in a brief time, the material benefits that she knows she cannot achieve from a salary or from the practice of a technological or professional university career.

The “hustling” does not represent a homogeneous caste either. This is a well-differentiated phenomenon in layers or strata, by category, age, physical attributes, qualifications, aspirations, relationships and other factors, of the young woman in question. Thus, there are different types, from the cheap street “jineteritas”**, that satisfy quick sex in a car or in a hallway or small room in a hovel to the spectacular and expensive prostitutes at gyms and spas, beautiful and refined, providing a more “personalized” service, many of whom dream of an advantageous marriage to a dazzled foreign tourist or to some executive at a mixed-capital firm, or to accumulate sufficient funds to emigrate by themselves.

Between both extremes is a world of prostitutes of the most diverse conditions and goals, many whose minimal objective is to survive day-to-day, with no plans or ambitions, dependent on a reality without expectations for a future.

However, the causes of prostitution in Cuba, though they relate to the ongoing economic crisis and the rise of international tourism, are deeply rooted in the deterioration of other values not necessarily linked to the issue of gender inequality, sexism or oppression of women. The phenomenon is much more complex and has deep surges, a legacy of the vulgar egalitarianism that prevailed in the years of subsidized socialism.

Sometime after, there was an inversion of values in Cuba in the social appreciation of the prostitute. Many of these women who used to sell their sexual services to foreigners in the 90’s – previously a reason for disdain and social stigma – turned into a sort of popular heroines, when they became family providers and sometimes even benefactors of their distressed neighbors. In particular, the “class” prostitutes who often provided medicine, hygiene products or food to the most destitute, significantly changed the perception of the profession: to prostitute oneself was not only more lucrative, but could be considered as a source of solidarity and prestige. By the way, by then, we Cubans were not that “equal”.

The same transformation did not take place with the lower-class prostitute. Segregationist prejudice gained momentum starting in those years, stemming from differentiations in purchasing power which spontaneously settled among prostitutes as well. Before Castro, the poorest prostitutes were popularly known as “coffee with milk”. Today’s are “sugar water.”

Having said that, could a jinetera always be defined as a victim of gender and of poverty? Does jineterismo, as in prostitution in Cuba, adjust itself to the definition of “genocide” that the article in El Nuevo Herald proclaims? Personally, I prefer to turn away from the hype. It is a fact that prostitution as a social phenomenon favors the proliferation of related crimes: pimping, human trafficking, gender exploitation, drug trafficking, etc. It is also axiomatic that the material shortages, coupled with the moral crisis, stimulate the spread of prostitution in Cuba.

However, beyond social “tolerance”, experience shows that there are survival options not associated with prostitution that were adopted by most of the women in Cuba, even in the worst moments of the crisis, and that a high percentage of prostitutes voluntarily elected that profession as the most expeditious, for profit and not just for “reasons of survival.” Thus, a large number of prostitutes do not feel the need to be “liberated” from an activity that offers them what, in their perception, is defined as “freedom”: purchasing power above the Cuban medium.

It isn’t about denying the existence of prostitution either, or the importance of anticipating its consequences, but about more accurately interpreting the facts. Assuming the inevitable, everything points to the certainty that prostitution has returned to stay: there is no tourist destination that doesn’t attract this type of profession. So what will matter is how we’ll deal with it.

In principle, any adult of sound mind is the owner of her own body and of her acts, as long as she does not undermine the rights of others, so being a prostitute or not would be – in the first place – a matter of choice, depending on whether the law determines if it constitutes a crime or not, and whether they pursue related criminal activities. Another issue is when a person is forced into prostitution, in which case it is a flagrant violation of her rights as a human being.

It is reprehensible that there are no institutions in Cuba capable of guaranteeing the rights of vulnerable social sectors, that prostitutes are unprotected, that the prostitution of minors is not prosecuted and condemned severely, that the roots of evil are not confronted, and that laws are almost always limited to punishment (the so-called “re-education”) of the prostitute, the weakest link in the chain. Cuban prostitutes, especially the “street” ones, are more likely to be victims of violence, whether by a pimp or by police extortion. On not few occasions the pimp and the police are the same person.

The issue of prostitution is hot, and it’s even part of the political agenda in many developed countries. Some current proposals focus on the regulation of prostitution, previously legalized, though a strong trend has also developed in favor of criminalizing the purchase of sexual services and not their sale.

In Cuba, unfortunately, we are very far away from instituting an effective strategy on the subject. It is known that the first step is to recognize the existence of the phenomenon, submit it for public debate and study its scope and social consequences, which requires the political will of the government: all of it a chimera

In any case, this could well be an important point on the agenda of many independent Cuban organizations interested in problems with a civilian edge. So far, there are no thematic programs on the issue in the emerging civil society. Starting and sustaining the debate will be the initial stimulus that will unleash the proposals.

*Jinetera: female jockey or horse rider, used graphically in the context of hustling.

**Jineterita: diminutive form sometimes used to describe an unimportant, insubstantial, or young prostitute.

Translated by Norma Whiting

21 August 2013

Alcoholism, Corruption and Other Demons…

Image taken from Miscelaneas de Cuba

(A version of this article was originally published in Cubanet [and is translated here])

The exclusive news was first offered by Cuban TV’s Havana Channel, in an evening program on Wednesday July 31, 2013: six people had died and 40 remained hospitalized due to ingestion of methyl alcohol (wood alcohol). According to official investigations, alcohol came from an Institute of Pharmacy and Food warehouse. Stolen by two employees who had access, the alcohol was then sold illegally by a woman from Arimao, in the municipality of La Lisa, where all the poisoned individuals also resided.

It unofficially appears that said illegal dealer is a marginal person of low and irregular income and that her son was among the disadvantaged people who died.

In the days that followed, the National TV News and the written press have continued to update some facts about the case, while taking advantage of the tragedy to highlight the niceties of the Cuban health system and to stress the efficiency of the work of the Integrated Medical Emergency (SIUM) and Toxicology. There have also been testimonials, more ridiculous than moving, of some survivors who have promised their families, “and the Revolution”, that they will stop drinking, as if, in tandem with the bad experience, they had overcome the existential miseries that have pushed them to alcoholism, or as if, ultimately, they were not victims of the illusion they insist on calling “Revolution”.

So far, there have been 16 deaths, several people remain admitted and others have been discharged from hospitals, while they are still reporting some additional cases of poisoning, even in other municipalities, and a combined operation of the National Police and the Ministry of Public Health continues to be active, with a command post set up in a school district to monitor the situation.

Beyond the Events

(Image from the internet)

At first glance, what transpired in a Havana neighborhood might seem like a single isolated event, but such an impression would be misleading. While the high cost in human lives conveys unusual sensationalism to the official press, in reality, it is just the tip of the iceberg, the most visible external manifestation of a generalized crisis arising from economic collapse, the failure of the system, the lack of prospects, hopelessness and loss of values. Only under Cuban conditions or under those of other societies as broken as ours could similar events take place.

In fact, illegal trade of alcohol is widespread in the capital, where almost all neighborhoods have one or several of these dealers of spirits of dubious origin and composition, both from clandestine stills and from thefts of legal networks of stores and warehouses. Though trafficking and consumption have always existed, they have proliferated since the 1990s’ crisis, when even the ration card, unable to keep up the hefty subsidies of previous years, guaranteed a monthly quota of rum for each family nucleus.

Cubans with better memories will certainly remember the weekly meetings of the leaders of the [Communist] Party and the Popular Power, televised every Tuesday, which the people dubbed “Meeting of the Fatsos” because of the participants’ glowing looks, in contrast to those of the hungry and emaciated population. In one of the reunions the then First Secretary of the Provincial Committee of the Cuban Communist Party, Jorge Lezcano, cynically stated that what the population could not lack was rum. Alcohol consumption was, therefore, an official policy aimed at dulling people’s thinking: alcohol to forget our frustrations in the midst of the worst shortages in the last century of Cuban history.

As a consequence, alcohol consumption has increased through the years, at the same time as the average age of its consumers has significantly decreased.

For years, Cuban wit has dubbed these concoctions with different names which, in the way of the marginal language, translate into the effects of their ingestion: mofuco, tiger’s laughter, man and earth, train’s spark and the like. Though trafficking and consumption have always existed, they have proliferated since the 1990s’ crisis, when even the ration card, unable to keep up the hefty subsidies of the previous years, guaranteed a monthly quota of rum for each family nucleus. On the other hand, in a country where life offers more frustrations than expectations, it is not surprising that alcoholism has reached truly alarming levels

Thus, the misadventure of several dozen drunks has fired off the official alarms and, this time, events have cut across to the media, but the overall decay of the system is evidenced in all areas and levels of national life, far exceeding the government’s ability to address the crisis. It is the metastasis of a terminally ill system, without the means to cure the nation’s moral unhealthiness

The continuous succession of events demonstrates the irreversibility of corruption under this government: officials who get corrupted, illegal markets that grow and diversify, increases in prostitution, alcoholism and drugs.

There is little left to defend of socialism Cuban style, let alone the kindness of a system where the reality exceeded the macabre and corruption is a means of survival. Today, Cuba is a country where it is possible for stolen human fat from a crematorium to be traded as if it were pork fat, where you can buy a school exam, a surgery or a dental prosthesis, where individuals can applaud an official speech, attend a “Revolutionary” march and steal from the very government they pretend to support, where dozens of mental in-patients at a hospital can die of hunger or cold weather, and where most of the objectives are enclosed in the perspective of an exit with no return.

Translated by Norma Whiting

16 August 2013

Alcoholism, Corruption and other Demons / Miriam Celaya

[Translator’s note: A longer version of this article, which appeared on Cubanet, was subsequently posted on Miriam’s own blog and is translated here.]

The surprising disclosure in the official media of something that has quietly taken place in the past (ethanol poisoning), could be due to several interrelated factors: suitability to meet the Government’s angle to provide informative coverage about the “fight against corruption”, interest in offering an image of a government sensitive to what happens in society, showing the purported effectiveness of health institutions and of the internal agenda in facing such adversities and taking advantage of the events making a point as a moral lesson, among other motives that I’m sure escape me.

Of course, news like this will always be disclosed in the press, in addition to second or third intentions relating to policy junctures and strategies of the government, only that it would be much more effective to delve into the essence of the matter and not only in its external and immediate effect, because what is at stake here is not simply a case of unscrupulous people who peddle toxic substances for the consumption of certain groups of individuals from disadvantaged sectors of society, but from the combination of many evils of the Cuban reality, expressed in a situation in which authorities and official media are also jointly responsible.

The event that took place in a Havana neighborhood places us at the tip of the iceberg of the widespread crisis of an economic downturn, the failure of our utopia, hopelessness, loss of values and the absence of perspective. The overall decaying of the system is authenticated in all areas and levels of national life, and it far exceeds the government’s ability to address the crisis. It is the metastasis of the terminally ill “model”, unable to cure the nation’s moral damage.

This time, there was the combination of rampant corruption, widespread alcohol addiction and low purchasing power of the poorest sectors of the population, all factors that contribute to the trafficking of various toxic substances, as well as other commodities, just as bad or even more macabre, such as the well-known case a few months ago of trafficking in human fat tissue stolen from corpses at the Guanabacoa Crematorium, marketed as edible fat in the illegal market, or of the sale of the meat of stolen lab animals, carriers of various diseases. Only Cuba’s deteriorated conditions, or in societies as distorted as ours could similar events take place.

The illegal trade of alcohol is widespread in the Island’s capital. Almost all neighborhoods have one or several of these dealers, from both clandestine stills and from theft of the legal networks of stores and warehouses. Cuban wit has dubbed these concoctions with different names which, in the way of the marginal language, translate into the effects of their ingestion: mofuco, tiger’s laughter, man and earth, train’s spark and the like. Though Trafficking and consumption have always existed, they have proliferated since the 1990s’ crisis, when even the ration card, unable to keep up the hefty subsidies of the previous years, guaranteed a monthly quota of rum for each family nucleus.

Alcohol affects memory
That’s why few Cubans remember the weekly meetings of the leaders of the Communist Party and the Popular Power, televised every Tuesday, which the people dubbed “Meeting of the Fatsos” because of the participants’ glowing looks, in contrast to those of the hungry and emaciated population. In one of the reunions the then First Secretary of the Provincial Committee of the Cuban Communist Party, Jorge Lezcano, cynically stated that what the population could not lack was rum. Alcohol consumption was, therefore, an official policy aimed at dulling people’s thinking: alcohol to forget our frustrations in the midst of the worst shortages in the last century of Cuban history.

Social expectations have not improved with the passing of the years, and alcohol consumption has increased at the same time as the average age for its consumption has significantly decreased. In a country where there are more frustrations than expectations, it is not surprising that alcoholism has reached truly alarming levels

For now, the case of La Lisa drunks is already out of the media, and it will soon be forgotten among ethyl vapors and other essentials. We don’t know if the cuckolds and abused ones du jour will be the surviving victims and, as such, will be charged with the crime of receiving. It may be that workers who stole methyl alcohol from a warehouse owned by the State and those responsible for the management and administration thereof will be the scapegoats more severely punished this time. Responsibility will be refined only to a reasonable level. At any rate, everyone will again drink whatever they can and the saga of unlawfulness will continue its unstoppable march, while the chief culprits of such disastrous events will go on, unpunished.

Translated by Norma Whiting

Translated from Cubanet

12 August 2013

“General Sunhat” and the Moncada / Miriam Celaya

HAVANA, Cuba, August, www.cubanet.org- A few days ago, I decided to to explore around my neighborhood, Centro Habana, about people’s opinion on the evening of the general-president’s speech to mark the 60th anniversary of the assault on the Moncada Barracks.

Neighbors, parking attendants, taxi drivers, forklift drivers, self-employed jewelers, hallway drunks (their votes also count) and known neighborhood persons, individuals spanning several generations were the chosen sample to sound out opinions “from the bottom” They, the “beneficiaries” of the violence of the past six decades, which has become a source of legitimation of power, should have been the most interested in the official dictate.

In vain. Of those questioned, none had seen the act, heard the speech or witnessed the artistic gala. The wittier ones told me they had just turned on the TV without the sound, waiting for the entire ceremony to be over, so they said they had seen “Raul in uniform and a sunhat”. “Don’t ask me anything, just tell me what you thought of General Sunhat”, one of the surveyed countered. It’s marvelous what tact the man on the street has to always discover the most obvious of any event.

Many of the members of the opposition and of independent journalism, however, often listen to the official speeches. It is an exercise in discipline or self-flagellation, depending on your point of view, in which we train ourselves to read signs or to interpret the coded language of the Druids in olive-green. Given the secrecy and the erratic nature of official politics, there are few options left for us, so, at the very least, we speculate about the intentions of the [ivory] tower. However, this time we were left wanting: General Sunhat’s speech contributed nothing at all.

Obviously, only the attendees — guests or those obligated to attend — under the punishing hot Santiago sun, and dissidents, set up at home in front of our TVs, had the infinite patience to listen again to the boring fable of what was really a clumsy attack on an army headquarters of the Cuban Republic, once again glorified as an unparalleled act of heroism in the most lackluster and deficient ceremony yet organized for the occasion.

The speeches of the “friends” who attended the event, some presidents and other individuals representing countries in the region, were also at the height of the date: in the subsoil. Ignorance about the history of this country, about the reality we live today and of the most painful footprints on which Cubans walk today was obvious. It was no wonder, for example, that the President of St. Lucia had the unfortunate idea to remind us of the participation (interference) of the government of Cuba in Africa during the war in Angola, according to him “an example of solidarity and a feeling of racial equity” on the part of the Cuban people. Some political leaders in the region can’t understand that, sometimes, the more proper thing is to remain discreetly silent.

As for the closing speech, its flatness stood out. Without any achievement to celebrate, plans to announce, or ideas to propose on the part of the government, this was, without a doubt, the most nondescript of all speeches made in the history of the ritual embodied by the revolutionary liturgy, held, this time, in a Santiago wrecked after the passage of those other non-uniformed hurricanes, the natural ones that have devastated the city in the past four years, and in the midst of the embarrassing undeclared diplomatic crisis stemming from the detention in Panama of the North Korean ship

Perhaps it would have been more propitious to delegate again the uncomfortable task to the Dauphin Díaz-Canel, in his role as the emergent du jour, in order to disguise, with the “freshness” of the relay, the decadence that filtered through the commemoration, but maybe the pressure of a closed anniversary forced the mandatory presence of one of the protagonists of the epic. “There are still some of us left…” said the general president himself, with a certain justified melancholy. And those “some” have the difficult task, amid the national ever-darkness, to continue selling the Moncada as a luminous dawn.

Thus, in the twilight of the lack of political or economic projects, the chronic lack of productivity of the system, the failure of the reforms and the general apathy, perhaps Castro II wanted to divert the attention of public opinion by premiering his sunhat that contrasted sharply with the well-pressed epaulets of his general’s uniform. Something had to be done, a touch of nonchalance in the midst of so much barren memory, so those present would not fall asleep during the speech. Too bad that, judging from the comments out there on the street, the results fell short of the efforts.

But there is no need to be skeptical. Beyond the ridiculous, let’s be grateful: that unusual sunhat was the only novel touch throughout the ceremony of the consecration of the past in a nation increasingly strapped for the future.

Translated by Normal Whiting

5 August 2013

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