Category: Miriam Celaya

In a recent conversation during an evening visit to a friend of my generation (let’s call him Michael) I had a revelation that surprised me: “I’ve never been able to overcome the oppression that stirs in me on Sundays.” I inquired about the reason for the strange rejection for a holiday that’s usually shared with the family at home, and he explained. Every Sunday, from the time I was 11 until I was 17, he was forced to return to his intern camp, a kind of boarding school in the countryside. Sunday was thus engraved in his memory as the day that, inexorably, reluctantly, one moved away from home and his parents, grandparents and younger siblings, with a hanger in one hand, where an impeccably laundered uniform hung, having been washed by your mother, with a plastic garment bag over it to protect it from dust. In the other hand, the schoolbag –when you opened it, already at the camp’s ugly dorm- the familiar smell of a steak sandwich would escape, which motherly care had placed there to ease your hunger and comfort you in your separation, at least on that Sunday night.

“I can’t help those sad memories when I see the students now, going, hangers and uniforms in hand, toward the pick-up stops. Every time I think about all the time they stole from me, in the compulsory removal from the family, the sacrifice that was made because they told us that if we studied hard we would have better lives, and that where you could really study was at the camp schools, with a perfect educational system, I feel an unbearable impotence. “

I was never an inmate in these boarding schools because I was born several years before my friend and was able to attend urban schools through middle and high school, tried to imagine a child’s feelings at the onset of his adolescence, separated from his elders just when he needed them the most. In my case, I had to attend the Escuelas de Campo**, but at least my stays were relatively brief, though the conditions were those of a forced labor camp, promiscuity in the dirty sleeping quarters and even dirtier latrines. Michael stayed long stretches at the academic internships of the revolution for six whole terms. My friend tells me that he spent those weeks dreaming about Saturday’s arrival –classes were held from Monday through Saturday back then- when the “pass” at noon would commence and he would soon be in his bed, in his room, finally enjoying the privacy of a clean bathroom, his mom’s seasonings and of his family’s love and protection.

I allow my friend’s mind to reminisce: “I was one of those innocent kids, still playing with toys. My uncle had brought me an electric train from the German Democratic Republic which I was never able to enjoy sufficiently because I was away at the boarding school. I spent the week among those delinquents of all backgrounds, pretending to be fearless and repeating profanities and bragging with vulgarities never uttered at home. It was a way to survive the internship because we were all a mixture of those from decent and functional families next to the ones on the edge, offspring of violent homes, of alcoholic or criminal parents. If you put it in perspective, the camp schools were jungles where the weakest perished, victims of bullying and hassling by the abusers. If you became a softie, you would be slapped around, in the best of cases. In the dorms, a prison attitude reigned, with gangs and social castes clearly established. Dorms and bathrooms were the more dangerous places, because there was less policing and control from the teaching staff.

What always saved me was this tough armor God gave me, because you had to think twice before messing with me, but, in truth I was always a quiet kid who avoided problems. I had been brought up in a harmonious family environment and was very polite. Those six years were traumatic for me. However, I never commented on it at home, because I did not want my parents to worry. While at the internship camps, I pretended to be another fearless kid. At home, I pretended to be happy at the camps. When you spend your adolescence that way, there comes a time when you don’t know deceit from truth in your life. You create a kind of armor and distance yourself from your family because you learn to survive without them and, since they are not around you at the worst moments, you make do without their help and advice. When I finally finished the internship stage and returned to bosom of the family, I had changed. It’s as if something dear from your past had broken beyond repair. That’s what I sense in me when I remember those days: a sense of uprooting, of loss, of doom.”

Miguel speaks fluently. He is a qualified and intelligent man. I have transcribed here an approximate reconstruction of his conversation, which I did not record (conversation between friends is never recorded, of course), but he can attest to the accuracy of my portrayal of his personal experiences and memories. I know many adults who received these “scholarships” in their teens, but few recognize as sincerely as he does the deep tracks that experience left in their lives. It usually happens to those who suffer from rape or assault, women abused by their husbands, or other humiliating events, whose damage victims rarely openly acknowledge, as if, somehow, they were guilty, as if talking about it constituted a sign of weakness or made them involuntary accomplices of their tormentors for bringing out memories that they would prefer to keep buried. There are even some interns who tell the story of their experience as a cheery and happy time, as the best thing that could have happened to them. Those individuals are not even aware of what they lost. Personally, I think you have to live in a very hostile or repressive home to prefer an internship; I can’t but sympathize with those who found the separation from their family their better option.

To end the topic, Miguel smiled, part accomplice, part mischief. The nature of Cubans drives them to joke even about things that cause pain: another way of coping we have learned. “You know what? I assure that there were two Pedro Pan Operations: the interim plan that separated 14,000 children from their parents to send them to the US and the one that has been separating hundreds of thousands of families for decades to send them to government camp schools. I can’t tell which one is worse, but I’m inclined to think that the one here is.”

I think I agree with him.

Translator’s notes:

*”Operation Pedro Pan” was a program by which thousands of Cuban children were sent to the United States in the early years of the Revolution, without their families, as a way to get them out of Cuba. Many of the children had extended family in the United States, and/or were reunited with their families when their parents later made it to the United States.

**Escuelas en el Campo — Schools in the Countryside — was a shorter program where students went for a small part of each year, to similar boarding schools where they studied and worked in agriculture.

Translator: Norma Whiting

May 28 2012

One hundred and ten years since that May 20th, 1902, it appears that the Republic is only a beautiful woman of proud bearing, covered by a Greek tunic, with long curly hair and wearing a Phrygian cap and a bright red single star. Or maybe some Cubans here think that the Republic is a huge bronze statue cloistered in a space too small for that monument to national vanity which we know as Havana’s National Capitol. At any rate, the sculptural symbol seems opportune, because Republic, until today, is a kind of abstraction that always been too big for our breeches.

I say this because, for over a century, the Republic remains a pretext for nostalgia (the Republic we lost!), for criticizing (the “hindered” Republic), for boasting (we had the most advanced Constitution of its time during the Republic) or for hoping (Oh, the day we once again have a Republic!).

The Republic has been and continues to be an essential reference for its proponents as well as its detractors. In that short 47-year dream, Cuba’s greatest civic and economic strides and worst social evils are cited by both sides. Again and again, each May 20th memories are rewritten, and every time it seems that the best representation of our Republic is just as fragile, ethereal, ephemeral and elusive as a soap bubble. And, like any dream, the lost Republic was born wrapped in a series of myths that are even repeated today and in which many believe: myths that enshrine the historic fate, like heavy burdens on our destinies, the myth of heroism, sacrifice and revolutions as avenues for redemption.

Risking general animosity, it is for all our past and present whims and national myth mania that I have decided to honor this new anniversary of the Republic with this radical statement: I don’t want a return to a Republic that was, with its sorrows and its glory, the one that was not able to protect us from barbarity. I want a new one, where the podium is occupied by its citizens.

I am not going to deny the history of my country through its epic poems, its traditions and its portraits, but I prefer to think of heroes as men and not as titans. Titans produce legends, not republics, that’s why prosperous nations call their founders MEN, not titans, apostles or messiahs, and they do not call their children “soldiers of the Mother Country”, but citizens.

I want a republic, yes, but not one that is born of failed revolutions and the perpetuation of historical lies repeated a thousand times by one or another harmful messiah. I want a republic in which Cubans do not feel compelled to invent heroes to defeat an ancient and ill-concealed inferiority complex, imagining themselves as heirs of a patrimony of pure warriors, naked and holding a machete on spirited horses, sacrificing their lives or delivering their blood to the altar of the Country. I do not want a republic that appeals to mothers who send their children to supposedly holy wars, but wars, nonetheless –full of hatred, death, violence and cruelty– or emerging from “redemptive” revolutions that end up snatching rights and perpetuating injustices; but one that stems from conciliation and peace, from consensus, from inclusions and from respect: a place for citizens. It must be so, or we will, once again, be orphans, without a Republic. Right now I can’t think of a better tribute.

Translated by Norma Whiting

May 21 2012

At 2 P.M. last Saturday, May 12th, I started out to participate in a rally organized by members of “The Critical Observers Protagonist Web”, whose declared objective was to support the outraged group movements of the capitalist world – referring to foreign capitalism, of course — that was due to take place at a park on Belascoaín and Carlos III Streets, just three blocks from my house. Since we have so many reasons for being angry in our own country, and there are a growing number of the unemployed here who can’t decide whether they should be angry or open a chips stand, I thought that something must be up the sleeves of self-proclaimed protagonists and anyone who believes they are the defenders of the rights of the proletariat. I would not miss this for the world, I thought.

So I decided to stroll down to see what “true” socialists might be up to this time. They have, on occasion, criticized the government from their website, and have suggested some proposals even more reforming than those of the General, at least in theory. To be truthful, I confess that on my way to the park my curiosity was beginning to stir at the prospect of seeing a group of young people brandishing slogans and positions right out of the first two decades of the XX Century. For me, it was like visiting the Jurassic Park of ideology. I love feeling close to antiquities. After all, that is why I chose Archeology as a profession.

Unfortunately, I didn’t even reach where the group had gathered. It turned out that about half way into the park, the little comrades of the political police stopped me and thwarted my very good intentions. I was so extraordinarily lucky that my friend and colleague, Eugenio Leal, who had already arrived, came to my support on seeing me with such dubious company, so the Tropical Gestapo decided to have him take part of the tour, and so I was not at all bored: after placing us in the patrol car, they dispatched us around 42nd and 35th Streets, in the Playa municipality, where they informed us that we had reached the end of our excursion. I’m sure they had already spent too much of their allocation of Chávez’s gasoline.

Here I want to make a fair comment: we were taken by blue-uniformed police, that is, they were law-enforcement, not Gestapo. They were respectful. They did not hand-cuff us, did not search us, they didn’t even take my purse. Eugenio and I, during the drive, were commenting about some details of the Biennial shows and performances that are taking place now in Havana. The silent officers did not interrupt us. At the end, they gave us back our cellular phones without looking at them, and they had us leave the patrol car. Both Eugenio and I had the impression that the cops never understood why they had been ordered to take us away from the gathering, and neither did we.

Meanwhile, other friends were able to attend the event, so I have first-hand information, no less than from a true journalist, Reinaldo Escobar, who filled me in on the details. This is what went on: The four lonely guys from the Critical Observatory that were there unfurled a banner reading “Down with capitalism” (not specifying whether the introduced state capitalism in Cuba was included in that command, since they seem to be a bit more cryptic than critical) and another one that read “If you think like bourgeois, you will live like a slave” (with this, I understood that the olive-green theocracy is just a bunch of slaves, and I felt a great relief). They read a kind of communiqué and sang the Internationale. It was all over in about 15 minutes. No kidding.

First thing today, Monday, I went onto their web portal and found out a few other details, such as the so-called support they got from the secretary of the municipal PCC. I did not hear from any witnesses about the “joy and courage” that the speakers were going to show. Anyway, no great amount of courage is needed if you have the support of the PCC. I was also surprised that some of them were a bit ill at ease with the moderate expectation that was created around this event; one must suppose that when they summon you from the web, the expected response should be your attendance. Conspiracies are not advertised political practices. That’s what the Internet is about. When you buy a head, you should not fear its eyes, or maybe it’s just a case of stage fright.

In the end, I think the saboteurs of the event – I’m talking about the combination Gestapo-Policía Nacional Revolucionaria — did both Eugenio and me a great favor. If we had attended such an event, I think I would have felt the same sense of anachronism and shame on their behalf as when they play the Pimpernel Duo over the PA system at the Carlos III Market. Instead of suffering through such a spectacle, I enjoyed a couple of cold beers in the company of a good old friend.

I must also admit that I expected more from the Observatory boys. On occasion, I have read truly interesting and courageous articles in their bulletin, though I do not share in their political sympathies and their Marxist longings. I firmly believe that everyone should have a place in our country and that a bit of political folklore never hurt anyone. However, I think that they should revise their handle, because “Critical Observers Protagonist Web” comes out a bit pompous (just saying). At least, judging by last Saturday’s turnout, they are not exactly a web, not so observant, and not as critical. And if they were the protagonists of anything there, it was of breaking the record for the least to show up among their own brothers in arms. Come on, you guys, a bit more modesty … and more enthusiasm!

Translated by Norma Whiting

May 14 2012

Evidently, the dispute between left and right in political affairs is becoming too narrow to make any progress in resolving global conflicts today. More than narrow, it is absolutely simplistic. If the statement is applicable to worldwide levels, we are millions of years behind, judging by a contradiction that borders on the absurd: the inability of the so-called left to propose or participate in the politics of a totalitarian government that has declared itself a “leftist”, i.e., that defines itself from the overall direction of the nation by a single “communist” party.

And here we are. Any manifestation of thought which does not conform to the leftist persuasion is immediately disowned, ignored, silenced or even imprisoned, though it may not be exactly a “rightist” ideology. But, if the left doesn’t unconditionally subject itself to the will of the elite, then it doesn’t have a voice either.

It must be noted that one single thought does not exist inside the opposition, and that there are many variables within the Island’s left as well, from groups that are wholly subjected to the official thinking, mere parrots of government directives, to the more advanced sectors, suggesting bold proposals, not only in terms of economic reforms, but also with regard to the inclusive social and political transformations that should accompany changes in Cuba.

Between the two ends of the same rope — and we are talking about just the left and only about the left — there isn’t a very wide range of intermediate voices. The latter belong to those who want change, but not too many; they advocate journalism with an opinion, but still “socialist” and “revolutionary” journalism — let’s remember again that fascist dictate “Within the revolution, everything …” parting the seas of cultural and intellectual Cuban life since 1961, gagging all freedom of thought — that constantly appeal to “what Fidel said” or “what President Raúl stated” as legitimizing and sufficient sources that replace, all by themselves, the need for arguments. These are the ones who do not believe the need for any opening; a few cracks are enough, preferably protected by mesh to prevent any evils that always accompany freedom from slipping through.

But there are no nuances for the lords of power. People are either from the left or from the right, and this principle transcends all social life in the country. After this macro-classification, the rest is a breeze. Thus, those on the left supposedly have as their common denominator their adherence to the verses of Das Kapital, the Bible written by Karl Marx, the practice of hate towards imperialism, and the recognition of the undisputed guide of the Communist Party to rule the country, while dissidents, the opposition in general, and independent journalism in all its variables are part of an alleged block “of the right”, the betraying mercenaries working for the U.S. government so they get juicy funding from the US Treasury Department, not to mention advice from the CIA, though no one can figure out how it’s possible that, with such credentials, these individuals are not all in prison.

Seen from such a common view, it would seem that Cuban political thought is marked by ideological lobotomy: either you are on the left — and fully assume the roles dictated — or you are of the right, with all the consequences that entails. If you won’t define yourself in this primitive way, you simply “AREN’T”.

That’s why my friend, a foreign political scientist with whom I correspond fairly often, has told me that when he visits Cuba and meets with representatives of the official academics, he gets the impression of facing “lame thought.” So, while the world seeks new political solutions to meet the challenges of modern times; while globalization moves on, leaving behind old concepts of finding regional remedies against universal ills, and the technology of information and communication lend human thought and development an urgent pace, the Cuban political scene weakens at the same pace as the system and the whole country.

If we continue at this pace, we are eternally doomed to be a miniscule hamlet lost in the whirlwind of changes revolving around us, but not touching us. More than a wreck, Cuba threatens to become the ghost ship of postmodernism: without port, destination, leadership or crew.

Translated by Norma Whiting

May 7 2012

The official press has been announcing the parade this May 1st with a newly added component to the “army” of workers that will march in support of the revolution and socialism: the self-employed.

I’ve been reflecting on the theme (I’m showing an alarming tendency to reflections) and I cannot quite understand the issue. Aren’t the self-employed a sector that represents private enterprise? Haven’t we been taught in school that private property is one of the “evils of capitalism,” a source of exploitation for the proletariat? Has the Cuban system created a new species, the owner-laborer? Something else is really bothering me: What union does a restaurant or cafeteria owner, or a street vendor with a vegetable and fruit cart belong to? Will they parade in favor of high tax rates and in support of the lack of wholesale markets for the procurement of the materials they need? Are they the new cuckolded and abused?

I can’t begin to imagine, for example, the wealthy owners of certain important “eateries” in Havana — and I beg readers to allow me to omit names, I am not trying to point at the more successful Cuban entrepreneurs — walking in the sun towards the Plaza Cívica, chanting slogans for the proletariat, or singing that song that says “let’s change the world’s stage by sinking the bourgeois empire.” It’s too unreal, too perverse.

Nevertheless, this is Castro’s Cuba, so, mocking the poet, don’t thee be surprised of anything. I know that many self-employed individuals, those engaged in the crafts trade from the stands that occupy space leased from the State, such as the once elegant department store Fin de Siglo, have been ordered to “become members of a syndicate” — as has been stated in the official press — including the payment of union dues and have recently been asked to attend a meeting to sign their commitment to attend the march. I haven’t been able to confirm this fact, but we know that it is also common practice for any state employee.

Paradoxically, employees of a restaurant or any other privately owned business do not have the possibility to organize their own union capable of facing an employer in order to defend their interests, though many work longer hours than stipulated by the country’s labor laws, can be dismissed by their employers without the right to compensation, and lack almost all labor rights, demonstrating that “self-employed unionism” is another false formula of the system to maintain the oppression of individuals beyond their relative economic independence from the state.

It is obvious that, when convening “independents” to this parade, the government has the intention to continue to monitor the supply of slaves, even the sector of freedmen, i.e., those who are in the first phase of buying their freedom through their economic activity, independent of the Master. Official control mechanisms deem important that those individuals who turn autonomous do not become independent or associate freely, and, at the same time, the government needs to offer the world the impression that private businessmen and manufacturers are aligned with the revolution, thus legitimizing the “renewal.”

Worst of all is that there is a representative sample of the self-employed who will lend themselves to the new farce. So then, the self-employed will march this May 1st under the banners of socialism, and maybe soon a “union of revolutionary self-employed” will be established. This won’t, even remotely, be a march on anyone’s own account.

Translated by Norma Whiting

April 30 2012

In recent weeks, I have noticed that the theme of reconciliation and forgiveness among Cubans is surfacing in various opinion forums. Speakers from various areas as well as alternative digital media –including independent bloggers- seem to pay particular attention to the matter, which points to a general feeling that we are already projecting to conflicts we may have to overcome in the near future, and a consensus on the spirit of harmony that must prevail for the purpose of the dreamed peaceful transition between the different tendencies and interests of Cubans from all shores.

Without wishing to close the subject or to presume to offer the magic and perfect solution, I would like to present some personal views on this subject. First, it is necessary to establish clear definitions. According to the Aristos dictionary, to reconcile is for disconnected values to come to an understanding. Coincidentally, in common parlance, to reconcile is to make peace. Note that in any case the meaning involves a disagreement prior to the action of reconciliation.

So, in the context of today’s Cuban reality, heir to a long dictatorship, it appears that reconciliation should be resolved primarily between the government and its repressors (the offenders) with the rest of the Cubans (the offended). I say this because, to my knowledge, Cubans here and “out there” have been demonstrating their ability to relate with each other, despite differences for a long time now. Though I don’t want to stretch the point, suffice it to recall a simple detail: the former “unpatriotic-traitor-worms” became the saviors of their “revolutionary” families with their remittances and other aid, as well as the increase in the number of visits to their native land, providing the added benefit that it inevitably implies for the government. Family discord has been contained in many cases, and offenses from either side have been superseded in favor of harmony. On the other hand, in the past two decades, a large number of Cuban families have faced the splintering of emigration without resulting in falling-outs.

However, I am convinced that many will agree that, by now, far from showing a spirit of harmony with its “governed”, the dictatorship persists in its stubborn entrenchment in the denial of full recognition of all human rights for Cubans, and in the application of repression to try to suppress any manifestation of civic resistance. As far as I’m concerned, I do not conceive a plausible “reconciliation” in those terms, nor do I wish to reconcile with the henchmen.

But perhaps the key point is that of “forgiveness”. I must admit I do not share the Christian concept of forgiveness. Moreover, I’m not even Christian, so I don’t lay claim to any supposedly moral superiority or expect any divine rewards. I do not profess any religious faith and do not share in the parable of “turning the other cheek.” Frankly, I would not even offer the first one.

These days I have been hearing phrases calling for forgiveness because “we must stop the hate, the spiral of violence, grudges …” etc., etc., and I can’t stop thinking about the thousands and thousands of Cuban families thrown into hatred and resentment from the bastion of power, about a ravaged people, stripped of their wealth and their rights, about the dissimilar humiliations, the lies, the dead in foreign wars, about the missing in the Florida Straits, about those who were shot against the wall, about those who have suffered in prisons, about the UMAP*, about the rapid response brigades, the repudiation rallies, the victims of the tugboat “13 de Marzo” and about the ideological indoctrination of children and adolescents of several generations of Cubans. I ask myself why we should renounce justice in favor of a fraudulent pardon that will not allow us to heal our wounds.

I’m not asking for vengeance or summary judgments; no one should take justice into their own hands. I don’t want any more firing squads or lynchings. I prefer to think of a Cuba in which everyone, even the most evil, has a fair trial with all the guarantees, as this government never offered other Cubans. I hope that ours is a nation of citizens and not of savages and vandals, because I could not take pleasure in a republic built on the dispossession of rights of other Cubans, no matter how vile they are. I don’t encourage hatred or rancor either, and I am against all manifestations of violence, but I will argue that crimes must be punished, and that’s why I strongly object to forgiveness, which requires “wiping the slate clean”. Let’s be generous but fair, because the bottom line is that forgiving is forgetting, and too many thistles have been harvested already by the Cuban people, forgetful for their unfortunate tendency to forget.

Translator’s note:

*Military Units to Aid Production or UMAP’s (Unidades Militares para la Ayuda de Producción) were established by the Cuban government in 1965 as a way to eliminate alleged “bourgeois” and “counter-revolutionary” values in the Cuban population.

Translated by Norma Whiting

April 26 2012

On Saturday, April 21st, 2012, Granma published an angry article on page 3 with the title “Yankee Oligarchical Press was disrespectful to the President of Argentina”. The article restates the opinion of The Wall Street Journal and The Washington Post criticizing Mrs. Cristina Fernández de Kirchner’s decision to nationalize 51% of the shares of the Repsol Oil Company, a subsidiary of the YPF Company.

The Wall Street Journal maintains that “Argentina should be taken out of the G-20*** until Fernández has the dignity to behave as a real head of state and not as a bully” and believes that ’”By stealing Repsol, Mrs. Kirchner seeks to take advantage of nationalist sentiments “and to use oil supplies and the media to feed the machinery of political patronage.” Meanwhile, according to Granma, The Washington Post “disrespected Fernández, calling her a populist, and accused her of distancing herself of the economic progress of her neighbors”. (Quotations taken directly from Granma).

Despite the limited and out-of-context information, I have the impression that the ones over there are not as mistaken in their considerations about the Argentine president, though, as usual, the most important newspaper of the olive green oligarchy deprives us Cubans on the Island of the opportunity to see with our own eyes the daily publications of the “Yankee financial oligarchy”. Especially as far as “populist” is concerned because, now, as Leopoldo Galtieri did when he was president de facto 20 years ago, with tragic results for the Southern Cone Nation, the arrogant and wholesome Cristina is stirring up nationalist feelings about the issue of the Islas Malvinas (or The Falkland Islands, depending on your point of view) while at the same time she is trying to export the British conflict to all of Latin America.

Anyway, it’s likely that I wouldn’t even have noticed such a “Yankee disrespect” highlighted in the Cuban press, were it not that just the day before, on Friday, April 20th, Granma had published a not-at-all friendly article on page 9 about Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, entitled “In the wrong place? Clinton Partying Hardy in Cartagena”, by reporter Pedro de la Hoz, which passes judgment on the fact that 63-year-old Mrs. Clinton had the audacity to drink an “Águila” beer and dance a few salsa steps (rhumba steps, according to the official writer) in no less than a disco club named Havana during her stay in Colombia for the Americas Summit.

I do not know about you, but beyond radical political sympathies or considerations, I found pretty funny the image of Hillary enjoying herself. Far from ridicule, as was the obvious intention of the yeoman of the regime, he achieved exactly the opposite effect: a woman who, at the beautiful age of 63 forgets the importance of her public office and allows herself the freedom to enjoy a beer and catch a few Caribbean rhythms cannot but arouse my support. I get the sense of a happy image, and even the acknowledgment of a culture different than hers. I will be 53 this year, and I also like to drink a cold a beer every once in a while and shake my booty to the rhythm of salsa, dammit! That does not make me less respectable, but more human. And let the forever rule-makers, the embittered, the censors and detractors say whatever they please.

I just cannot imagine a person so stark and stiff as Kirchner partying, not even at the beat of a lively merengue or a delightful vallenato*, even in an elegant room dancing to the rhythm of a milonga** from the Río La Plata. But I won’t judge her, because not everyone is obligated to dance, but all this reminds me that we don’t have any reference that the Castros have ever moved to the rhythm of a cha-cha or a mambo. At the end of the day, this thing about criticizing the American seems only about musical preferences, because both the Argentinian president and the Caribbean brothers have applauded joyfully at such times when the donkey from Barinas [Hugo Chávez] has taken over microphones and brayed Venezuelan songs.

P.S.: For the Venezuelans who read me, I have absolutely no objection against their songs, only against the singer.

Translator’s notes:
*Colombian dance similar to the cumbia
**Argentinian dance similar to the tango
*** G-20, G20 or Group of Twenty Finance Ministers and Central Bank Governors (also known as the G-20, G20, and Group of Twenty) is a group of finance ministers and central bank governors from 20 major economies.

Translated by Norma Whiting

April 23 2012

An open letter is circulating around the web these days. The letter was written by cinematographer Ismael de Diego and addressed to Camilla Vallejo, the Chilean communist student who recently visited Cuba as a guest of the Union of Young Communists. Of course, we Cubans don’t know what sources of income the organization might have that allow it to fund invitations to foreigners, but now this comment is not about that … deep down we know that we are the ones who pay.

I would subscribe to every point on Ismael’s letter, and would also sign the one that I am duplicating here, which I want to share with you. The referenced document is also an open letter, sent to me via e-mail, directed at General Raúl Castro, Cuba’s so-called president (lower case intentional) by a Cuban doctor residing in Canada, a regular reader of this blog. Since he had posted it on Facebook beforehand, I will assume it’s OK if I post it here. At any rate, I think it’s good to disclose all the abuse and humiliation to which we Cubans are all subjected, both inside and outside the Island, in order to pierce and destroy the false image of justice, democracy and generosity of the Cuban government.

Dr. Rafael Ángel González Pupo has not been allowed to visit Cuba, but businessman Carlos Saladrigas has. All Rafael wants to do is to visit his elderly parents, not to invest money. And, for the record, I support, with all my being, the right of entry of all Cubans to Cuba… and also permission for their departure. These days spy René González has also been in Cuba, under controlled freedom, while thousands of Cuban exiles have been unable to visit relatives in Cuba over the years. The terrible Empire allowed him to leave the United States for humanitarian reasons.

Some time ago I published another letter, similar to Raphael’s, that of a doctor named Osmel. I will never tire of denouncing these events, and I consider it a civic obligation to multiply our claims against government abuses, though it’s clear that humanitarian appeal to a regime like Cuba is to hope in vain.

I therefore apologize to Rafael for having taken the liberty to present his case, but this is my way of showing solidarity with him. I respected the structure, grammar and spelling of the original he sent me. Above all, I thank him and Ismael de Diego for asserting their voices in a public and valid way: they fill me with hope for the Cuba I dream about. May all Cubans here and in exile decide to do the same. Increasingly, it is more criminal to remain silent: let’s not become part of the plot.

Here is Rafael’s letter:

Toronto, March 21, 2012
To: Mr. Raúl Castro Ruz, President of the Council of State and Ministers.
From: Dr. Rafael González Pupo, a Cuban citizen residing abroad.
Subject: Circumstances for entering the country on humanitarian grounds.

I am Dr. Rafael A. Pupo González, and I graduated with honors and as a student of exceptional academic performance in 1994, specializing in general and cardiovascular surgery. I served in that capacity at the Hospital Hermanos Ameijeiras from 1999 to 2007. That year, I came to Canada for cardiac surgery training, fully funded by the University of Toronto, and in 2009, at the end of the course, decided not to return to Cuba. My reason? Economic emigration, like so many hundreds of thousands of Cubans who now number 1.5 million living in exile. Exile was once the worst punishment for Cuban emigrants, or those expatriated for political reasons, and today has become the greatest desire of our best citizens…. who are asphyxiated and disillusioned.

I had a salary equivalent to 20 CUC in Cuba, and that was not sufficient to support our family and my 90 year-old parents, whose only income was 100 pesos a month, and this situation became untenable to me.

According to the obsolete, rigid, inhuman and anti-constitutional immigration laws in force, you have denied passport-authorization for me to visit Cuba, my country, the country that belongs to all Cubans and not the private island of the caste in power.

Faced with this refusal, His Excellency, Mr. Raúl Delgado Concepción, Consul of the Republic of Cuba in Toronto, explained to me that my family could initiate proceedings for an entry permit on humanitarian grounds, which is negotiated in cases of serious illness or the death of a close family member.

My mother died a year ago, and my elderly father is now 94 and very sick. He has prostate neoplasia, ischemic heart disease, aneurysm of the Valsalva sinus, bilateral glaucoma, with loss of vision in one eye and, of course, severe depressive anxiety, because he wishes to see me, his son, before he dies. In accordance with your immigration regulations, my family initiated those efforts in June of 2011.

For nine months they applied in the city of Holguín, where they presented their documents, and at the National Emigration Department, and they were told that our request had been sent to a higher level for evaluation, and they were even told to be very patient, because the negotiations could take a year. Logically, we answered that, in that time, a sick person might die, and they replied that, in that instance, we would have to provide them with the death certificate. We ask ourselves if those procedures have such an implicit long delay with the purpose of prolonging our suffering. What objective do undertaking these applications have, created by the same official body that creates false expectations, if, at the end, nothing gets resolved? What humanitarian value do they have?

Today, March 21st, 2012, my family visited the National Emigration Department and they were informed that MY ENTRY TO THE COUNTRY HAS BEEN DENIED as of March 14th. When they asked why, they explained that it was because of my status as “deserter” physician, and that I was out of the country for only three years. I ask myself where your humanity is, and what is the treachery against emigrating doctors, when you are the ones who have forced us to take this decision.

We continue not to understand so unpleasant a situation. On more than one occasion you, in particular, referring to the peak emigration issue, have indicated that current regulations fulfilled their target in previous decades, that they were established for reasons very different than today’s, and that changing them is currently under consideration. When will those promised changes take place?

I want to point out the importance of some of the articles of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, adopted on December 10th, 1948 by the United Nations, all of which you are in violation of in this case in particular and against the people of Cuba in mass. There are many more.

• Article 9: No one shall be subjected to arbitrary arrest, detention or exile.
• Article 12: No one shall be subjected to arbitrary interference with his privacy, family, home or correspondence, or to attacks upon his honor and reputation. Everyone is entitled to the protection of the law against such interference or attacks.
• Article 13: Everyone has the right to freedom of movement and residence within the territory of a State. Everyone has the right to leave any country, including his own, and to return to his country.
• Article 16.3: The family is the natural and fundamental group unit of society and it’s entitled to protection by society and the state.
• Article 18: Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion: this right includes freedom to change religion or belief, and freedom to manifest religion or belief, individually and collectively, both in public or private, teaching, practice, worship and observance.
• Article 19: Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression: this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek their opinions, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers, by any means of expression.
• Article 22: Everyone, as a member of society, has the right to social security and realization, through national effort and international cooperation in view of the organization and resources of each State, of the economic social and cultural rights indispensable for his dignity and the free development of his personality.
• Article 23.3: Everyone who works has the right to just and favorable remuneration, ensuring for himself and his family an existence worthy of human dignity, and supplemented, if necessary, by other means of social protection.

I am a deserter? I find that description very inappropriate. Knowing that Cuba is a signatory to the Universal Declaration I decided to establish my residence abroad. If Cuba signed these agreements, why, then am I labeled so contemptuously? Why do we have to endure such maltreatment and the violations we are suffering?

Is it that, in Cuba, the resolutions dictated by a Ministry are above the constitution and the RIGHTS (recognized by Cuba) under which life is organized in the civilized world? I have not betrayed anyone. I am not a worm. Thinking differently is not a crime, it’s a right. If I am a Cuban citizen, why then do I need an entry permit? Why could I not attend my mother’s funeral? How is it possible for you to deny my humanitarian entry permit to visit my elderly and ailing father, or to cry on my mother’s grave, dead for over a year?

I don’t understand how the world’s most “heinous and ruthless” government (the US, according to you) has authorized René González, hero and convicted spy, to visit his sick brother in Cuba under conditional freedom, but you, “the paradigm of human rights” will not allow me to see my father?

I have not committed any act of aggression against Cuba. I just wanted to provide our family and my parents the essential resources which I could not acquire while earning a token salary, the token salary of almost 12 million Cubans for 54 years of post-revolution.

I believe that political issues should not be mixed with those that are purely humanitarian. I think you have established a regime so inflexible and callous that you have forgotten the real HUMAN reasons the Revolution took place. In order to maintain power at all costs, you have betrayed yourselves and, worse yet, you have betrayed our people. You are like Saturn, devouring his own children, and your destination is the same as all totalitarian regimes: disappearance. Look at yourself in Libya’s, Syria’s or Egypt’s mirror. Why are you waiting to change? Can’t you see that the people are suffering, needing, and in the thrones of death? You have created a monster that is devouring and choking us, but worse than that is that you lost control of your own Frankenstein.

Our plea is the same. History will absolve us…. from you.

Most disappointed with the world, and praying to our lord Jesus Christ for a better Cuba, in your absence:

Dr. Rafael Ángel González Pupo

Translated by Norma Whiting

April 13 2012

A press release signed by Orlando Márquez Hidalgo was published in Granma under the title “Havana Bishopric Calls the Occupation of the Temple Illegitimate*” (Thursday March 15, 2012, page 2.). This is merely a genuine sermon from the director of the popular magazine of the Archdiocese of Havana, Palabra Nueva, against thirteen dissidents who remain in the church of La Caridad, in the capital, as he states in the same note, referring to Pope Benedict XVI’s imminent visit of to Cuba.

Given the importance of the facts stated by Mr. Márquez Hidalgo, as well as the appearance of the note itself in the newspaper that, as we all know, is the official organ of the Cuban Communist Party and, consequently, a political venue, it would have been valuable and appropriate for all readers to determine the news article’s other relevant aspects. For instance, the article makes references that the complainants carry “a message” and “a series of social demands” to the Holy Father, without stating the contents of the message and of said demands. Publishing without informing seems to be the journalistic style that the Catholic Church shares with the official press through its spokesperson. Márquez, of course, assumed that Granma would publish his admonishment against the bad Catholics only if it did not specifically contain the most important part of the event. However, what was not removed from the Archbishop’s note was a cryptic line devoted to the conciliatory attitude of governmental authorities, “who pledged not to act in any way”, which reminds us that the Cuban dictatorship has previously allowed itself the right to unceremoniously violate sacred spaces of worship, and has never apologized for it nor has it publicly been reprimanded by the Catholic authorities.

In the absence of details, we also had to rely on Orlando Marquez’s sagacity when he assures us that we are facing “a strategy developed and coordinated by groups in several regions. It is not fortuitous, but well thought out and apparently aimed at creating critical situations as the visit of Pope Benedict XVI to Cuba nears”. (The emphasis belongs to this irreverent writer). The only thing missing, for a greater resemblance to the official language, was that they were directed and financed from abroad. I thank Márquez for being at least kind enough not to succumb to such a temptation, but, who can overlook that Cubans have been in critical situations for decades, not just created by our own will, and even without inconvenient dissidents occupying the places of worship?

Now then, the Templo de La Caridad remains open for religious service with these thirteen still protesting inside. Without disclosing the content of the demands, and with such controls as have been set up at the entrance to the church, it should not be said that the location is being used as “place of public political demonstration”, but rather a possible mousetrap for the petitioners as soon as the authorities decide to tear off the mask of kindness. It also occurs to me that, rightly or not, maybe this is the most effective way some Cuban groups have found in order to be heard, since they cannot count on the media to express themselves, as both the Catholic Church and the government are able to do. This signal, in itself, should be viewed by the Cuban Church’s Hierarchy as a cry for help and not as sacrilege.

I confess that perhaps because my religious circumstance makes it difficult for me to understand some of the accepted Catholic official discourse, or maybe I suffer from a kind of allergy when faced with all official discourses. For example, I don’t understand how you can serve Christ, defender of his people and indeed dissident in his time, while protecting only the powerful. Doesn’t the Cuban Catholic Church grant privilege to those who suffer the most? Aren’t dissidents precisely who are most in need of protection under dictatorship conditions? Why haven’t senior representatives of the clergy never dedicated a Mass in memory of such a worthy and admirable Cuban, Laura Pollán, or to Orlando Zapata or Wilman Villar, and have instead made fervent wishes for the health of that other bellicose and foreign leader, Hugo Chávez? Doesn’t that amount to taking political positions?

At this point, it is too hypocritical to pretend that all is well in Cuba, whether the Pope visits or not. It is also a childish lie to deny that the church is a political and not just a religious institution that has survived, though not in vain, powerful for nearly two millennia. The Bishopric’s note seems to respond more to an official demand of the Cuban government than to a feeling of true Christian faith. And just in case I’m wrong and faith calls for remaining quiet and look away; if, by virtue of that faith, Benedict XVI’s visit should be surrounded by a solemn choreography and by a cloak to hide the reality of our country, I don’t think that is the faith that Cuba needs, and may God forgive me.

Final note: March 16th. Last night, at the express request of Cardinal Jaime Ortega, the Templo de La Caridad was cleared by police forces. Testimonials from some of those involved say violence was used and the dissidents were shackled, threatened, and dragged. This is evidence that belies the supposed dialogue between the Church and the government about the latter not taking any action against the occupiers of the church. The Cardinal has not only once again unequivocally taken sides with the government, but, by the way, has left the editor of the Catholic magazine Espacio Laical in very bad standing.

*Translator’s note: The original press release does not appear on Granma‘s English language site; the link is to the follow-up press release after the protestors were removed.

Translated by Norma Whiting

March 16 2012

These days of rest, when I have not even had the nerve to open my machine and write, have instead been used to think about the Cuban reality, present, future and my own assumptions. Friends and enemies have branded me as inflexible on more than one occasion, or at least as excessively caustic. And they’re right. Not in terms of my usual bitterness about the government: I reiterate every invective and criticism I have dedicated to the autocracy, and multiply my bitterness towards it exponentially. I do not like it, do not approve of it at all, and will fight against it in my surly style as long as I am alive; I have a deep contempt for this and other dictatorships, and I refuse to serve or obey the regime.

But I’ve also been a bit unfair in my judgmental ratings towards my countrymen, especially when I attack what I consider to be the people’s excessive passivity and docility. Permanent helplessness has a dulling effect on the senses that prevents any clearly formulated proposal. In conversations with some friends that I’ve been nursing these days, I have been pleased to see that people are neither so weak nor so blind; they just have not found the way. Many are not permissive, but fearful. The characteristics of dictatorships are magnified in the people’s imagination; they look larger and more powerful than they really are. Now that image is beginning to crack.

One example is a friend of mine, who, without my suspecting it, is a regular reader of blogs on the Voces Cubanas platform. I did not even realize that, for years, she has known what I do, and is a regular fan who urges her son, — a twenty-something young man — to put everything in digital form that is published in the independent web, including sites of Estado de SATS and recordings of Razones Ciudadanas, among others. For my part, I had not spoken to her about my political views or of my dissident activities, though my opinions are well known and are even shared among all my friends. I do not like to scare people, but the opposite effect was evident in her: “since I’ve read your posts, since I found out all about and what you do, I’m less afraid. Each time I’m more convinced that the only way to fight this government is to stop playing its game. I want my children to know something besides this, a Cuba different from ours”.

So, I made a mistake too. I have underestimated the power of freely expressed opinions, I have underrated the scope –- limited, yet inexorable — of the independent press and the individual will of the disobedient, and I have overestimated the fear of Cubans. This friend is a member of the Communist Party, one additional faker, but she has also been, for a long time, a silent activist who has taken to her workplace, her friends and family nucleus, recorded on disks and flash drives, the whole spectrum of opinions currently stirring in Cuba, especially anti-government views.

Additionally, I have recently become convinced of the power of believing in our own strength. We, the disobedient, are not an “underground” phenomenon. We walk with our heads held high, and make public our meetings, aspirations and opinions. The government is the one underground, locked away in its palaces, plotting its own conferences and laws. Hidden are the power lords, fearful that people might find out what they are scheming, terrified in the presence of the effects of whatever measure they might propose, disconcerted at the slightest possibility that Cubans might have access to information. It is true that people are afraid, but the masses are generally more ignorant than cowardly. The ruling Cubans are actually the real pack of cowards who hide behind the force that gives them absolute power to suppress and prevail. However, they survive in a permanent state of shock, mistrusting even their own followers. Therefore, I ask Cubans, at least those whom I misjudged, to forgive me. You are in hiding, we are in the open, but, at the end of the day, we are all on the same side.

Translated by Norma Whiting

February 10 2012

Anyone who still harbors any hope about the niceties of the health system in Cuba has only to get sick and go see a doctor. It’s not hard at all, taking into consideration the number of rare diseases circulating among us these days, just within reach. And there are other illnesses, already endemic, such as dengue fever, that are here to stay and thrive in our environment, reinforced year after year by the arrival of returning missionaries, laden with new diseases to share, and those students benefitting from the rapidly dwindling ALBA programs, who are still bringing us new strains of diseases that are becoming endemic on the Island.

In recent days I was one of the “lucky” ones to receive the collateral benefit of the Castro comradeship. I acquired — I don’t know how or where — a strange virus that caused me three days of high fever and a total of 10 days of nausea and vomiting. My stomach barely tolerated a bit of water and some cold juices, and just three or four days ago I resumed my normal eating habits. Of course, my healthy constitution, my size and my good diet allowed me to firmly support the onslaught and survive the experience with sufficient strength: I scarcely lost a few pounds. Others have not been that lucky. I inquired among friends and acquaintances and learned that there are dozens of people who have been admitted for dehydration and were given IV’s. No one has obtained an accurate diagnosis for this disease and everyone is exposed to contract it, since no one knows for sure how it spreads. In the consulting rooms, doctors look at you with almost commiseration and pronounce the ever-cryptic same old sentence: “it’s a virus”.

I suppose that studying and practicing medicine in Cuba has become a game both mystical and very simple at the same time: everything that is not dengue, is “a virus”, and everything, including dengue fever, is treated in the same way: plenty of fluids and rest. So here we are.

In any case, a quick visit to the Calixto García Emergency Teaching Hospital finally convinced me that the dazzling showcase of public health, a bastion of the regime’s propaganda, is definitely broken. The building, recently repaired, has the same chaotic look as everything in the country: patients lying on stretchers in the middle of the waiting room for everyone to see, empty consulting rooms, doctors with expressions of bewildered astonishment and confusion, talking among themselves as if patients were merely basic means and unfortunate diagnoses, such as what I got, when the little doctor who barely looked at me ventured to pronounce a diagnosis without labs or any other additional tests: kidney infection. I don’t have to tell you that I did not follow his indications for antibiotics, and I ended up where I should have started, asking my doctor friend to accompany me to which she kindly agreed, to order blood tests so dengue fever infections could be ruled out and conclude with the same enigmatic little word “virus”.

“Stay home. Don’t go to hospitals unless absolutely necessary. Thank God you’re strong and you’re getting better. No one knows what and how many diseases we now have, and for seven months there is a dengue epidemic that hasn’t been declared nor will it ever be declared. The health system has collapsed, medical ethics is in the process of extinction, and the only hope is that all this too shall pass. Stay home, friend, and may God protect us so we can see how this will all end, because what we need to do, is survive it.”

My friend is a very wise doctor.

Translated by Norma Whiting

February 6 2012

A European friend who recently visited Havana asked me what my greatest wish for this year 2012 was. Of course, she expected me to express to her the same old litany: the end of the dictatorship, democracy, peace, freedom, etc. The wishes that tens of thousands of Cubans have made each New Year’s and that, despite all the sorrows, have yet to come true. Maybe the propitiatory spirits, those that presumably participate or influence human aspirations need to perceive something more than the resolve in those who make the wishes… a signal indicating a little more vigor to make dreams achievable, something that can fulfill that old saying: “Help yourself, and God will help you.”

So I simply said to my friend that, for 2012, I wish to see Cuba full of angry people, for it is on that day that we will be closer to such longed for rights and democracy. I’m not referring to childish protests of indignation on any corner or line, in different tones of voice and willing to be silent when some guy who looks like a political cop stares us down; for State transportation problems, or for the increasing reduction of so-called “subsidies” the national method, distributor of the parameters of poverty. Neither do I speak of the more or less biased comments about “how bad this is getting”. For at least 20 years I have been listening to the phrase “what’s so good about this is how bad it’s getting”, or “never is the night as dark as before dawn”, and in all that time, there hasn’t been the slightest improvement or light. What’s more, everything around us is sure to be getting worse and darker, so it is obvious that a change is needed, but not on the part of an autocracy that clings to power and naturally resists change. What is needed is a change of attitude among Cubans.

My greatest desire for this 2012 is, therefore, that ordinary Cubans, those who in all the speeches are grouped under the generic term “the people” decide, once and for all, to make their outrage public and evident. We could, for example, protest in the streets, or in front of government headquarters, to demand an end to the dual currency, since wages are paid in one currency and most products are marketed in another. By the way, it would also be relevant to demand that wages dignify the job, be a source of well-being and not the object of a joke printed on paper money. We could demand the repeal of the retrograde exit permits and all limits on emigration that keep us prisoners, slaves of the Island-plantation. We could reclaim the sacred right to information, the right for the flow of ideas, to participate in making decisions about our destiny, to choose what kind of education we give our children. We could make demands, in short, about how and by whom we wish our country to be governed.

If you think that such claims exceed the heights of indignation of some, perhaps we could start by protesting the unstoppable rise of food prices, or stand up to the abuse of most public officials, or publicly denounce corruption, which ends up striking the needy the hardest. We could just ask to have the CDR’s disbanded, (those that are still members of the CDR’s [cederistas]) or stop attending accountability meetings and the utmost caricature of democracy: the constituency “elections”. Because — beyond the protests taking place in the First World which the official media have the nerve to disclose here — and if there is one thing we don’t have a shortage of in Cuba it’s a reason to be outraged.

So I modified my wishes for this year, believing that, for democracy to finally emerge, we Cubans need to stop looking outward and upward, waiting for solutions from the solidarity of others, from the Cuban government, or from God, and assume our share, through responsibility and law. Recent statements by the President-General — on the occasion of his counterpart’s farewell, the Iranian dictator visiting Cuba, to our shame — that the Communist Party’s National Conference, to be held on January 28th, will be just the organizing of the inner life of that (political?) organization, presumably to comply with the guidelines of the past VI Congress, lends the coup de grace to the aspirations of large sectors that still had moderate expectations for a public debate about the decisions of the government, including some Catholic Church sites that have been voicing for an “inclusive and transparent” dialogue between the government and the Cuban people. It will be interesting, given the circumstances, to follow those sites’ editorials to find out what new proposal they make us.

So, what I want for 2012 is this: indignant people. Thousands and thousands of Cubans angry about over half a century’s worth of fraud, outraged, if only to salvage the spoils of our national shame that still remain after decades of dictatorship.

—–
Work originally published in Penúltimos Days (http://www.penultimosdias.com) on January 13rd, 2012

Translated by: Norma Whiting

On the night of Tuesday January 17th, 2012, an uninhabitable but lived-in building at the corner of Infanta and Salud streets in Centro Habana collapsed, taking with it the lives of four teenagers.

If the disaster had occurred on a side street, away from the capital’s busiest traffic, it is possible that only those of us who reside in this municipality would have found out. After all, these incidents have become commonplace in the city. But it took place there, loud and undisguised, in the middle of Calzada Infanta, one of the busiest roads in the capital. For this reason, and because, thanks to Cuban twitterers, the event was public knowledge for the entire world to know, the Cuban press covered the news. They did so neither to mourn the death of the teens, nor to explain the reasons justifying that there are entire families occupying buildings on the verge of collapse in the entire realm of this battered city. No. The revolutionary press took advantage of the tragedy to highlight the importance of the involvement of the Fire Department, the National Revolutionary Police, the Emergency Medical Services and the authorities of Centro Habana and Plaza de la Revolución province and municipalities. They were, judging by the media, the true central characters. Human tragedy was dwarfed and paled in comparison to the greatness of the revolutionary institutions.

Summary of Granma‘s article of Thursday, January 19th, 2012, p. 2: “Intense and coordinated action” of “the forces of Fire and Emergency Medical Services in the rescue of victims and in the effort to save the lives of those who were trapped”, as if those were not exactly the expected roles of such organizations, or as if building collapses were an act of God, or just an architectural whim; something by chance, unexpected, unpredictable or capricious.

The most painful thing, besides the always tragic deaths of young people, is the indifference of the onlookers crowded around the rubble. Most people’s faces, beyond the superficial impact and compassion for victims and survivors, only amounted to reflect their relief: “thank God it did not happen to me”, as if this were not everyone’s tragedy. Selfishness is one of the most genuine products of this system.

At this stage of the game, we can attribute to the revolution the peculiarity of having contributed to this nation what can be summed up as just three of the main causes of death of Cubans in these last few decades, not to delve into other causes: the thousands of deaths from drowning or shark attacks in the Straits of Florida, the deaths reaped in foreign war campaigns waged in other countries, and Cubans (also in great numbers) buried by the rubble that once were their homes.

Let no one be surprised. The case of Infanta and Salud is not, even from afar, just the collapse of another building.

Translated by Norma Whiting

January 20 2012

Last January 10th on the Havana Times website (www.havanatimes.org) was published an interview that journalist Yusimí Rodriguez conducted at my house a few days before. I wish to acknowledge my thanks publicly to Yusimí, who not only honored me with her attention, but gave me the opportunity to appear in alternative spaces, beyond the usual platforms Desde Cuba and Voces Cubanas, the cyber-homes I dwell in with other independent bloggers the past four and three years respectively.

I would also like to attest to the veracity of everything Yusimí published in said interview. Although, for reasons of space and requirements of the website she works for, it was necessary to edit and maul the extensive recording – which she gave me a copy of, a welcome show of ethics which I admire — I must say that the interviewer adhered to the spirit of my words and nothing that was published was either untrue or a misrepresentation to any degree. It is true that, as some friends who know me have noticed, certain issues seem incomplete, hence the odd commentator at Havana Times — perhaps not very well-intentioned — accusing me of “being superficial” in my analysis, but we know that it is impossible to summarize in a short space everything concerning the complex issues of the Cuban reality, which were answered more fully in the original interview. Yusimí herself had anticipated that the final version would be a brief excerpt of what was recorded. However, the essential ideas of the answers to her questions are reflected honestly in the Havana Times published version.

I can only hope that we continue to draw closer in the future, like in this instance, citizen forums of Cuban civil society, against the grain of anyone’s ideas, tendencies or political sympathies. Who knows if other faces will begin to appear in the Razones Ciudadanas and greater diversity of authors in the digital magazines Convivencia and Voices, for example! In fact, in this sense, there are already new faces in the latter. May there be further consolidation of those contacts from the Estado de SATS meetings, and that this spirit might spread and become generalized throughout the Island to banish, once and for all, the hatred fueled by the authorities to keep alive the isolation and suspicion.

Yusimí has proven to be a brave person, and, better yet, she has decided to make her own inquiries among the “demons” of the opposition. I am pleased that in her interview, in addition to focusing on what a controversial and dissenting blogger I am, she has revealed my human side. I’m sure that, thanks to her work and the work others, ordinary Cubans will continue traveling the bridges of communication, sharing venues and weaving common interests. To my readers who have not read the interview, I invite you to enter and participate in the dialogue.

Final Note: While writing this post, on the afternoon of Sunday January 15th, 2012, I found out, through a message from my friend Dagoberto Valdés that the Ladies in White in the Pinar del Río province were subject to violence from the “repudiating” hordes, and even a two year old child was hurt, the victim of this criminal event. It is time we raise all our voices to condemn such practices and to end the government’s impunity and its repressive forces. We want no more fascism in Cuba. No to violence, to discrimination, and to exclusions of any kind.

A hug,
Eva-Miriam

Translated by Norma Whiting

January 16 2012

“ALL THIS WILL BE YOURS!” — Picture from La Nueva Cuba on the Internet

A recurring theme among the last days of 2011 and early 2012 by Cubans and foreign individuals interested in the Cuban reality has been about the outlook for the year just begun, given the chronic nature of the national economic crisis, the ongoing measures (reforms) of the General-President, with his Galapagos kind of pace, the announced increase in the worldwide recession and the political events that will have an important influence on the situation in the medium term, namely, the presidential elections that will take place in the United States and, fundamentally, those in Venezuela.

The warning signs that constitute the tip of an iceberg floating adrift erratically became more pronounced in Cuba in 2011: the removal of some subsidies, the end of the monthly lifetime allowance in hard currency (50 CUC) to staff having completed health “missions” in other Third World countries, the shut-down of several work centers and other silent layoffs, the reduction in ALBA (Bolivarian Alliance of the Peoples of Our Americas) student programs, especially at the Latin American Medical School, increases in food prices and other staples, worsening economic living conditions in the poorest sectors of society (the majority), in contrast against increases in the standard of living of a small sector of the new middle class, among others. This, coupled with the general apathy and the growing feeling of helplessness on the part of groups that will not benefit from Raulista measures, is a picture that points to the further deterioration of social situations and the potential increases in crime, among other adverse factors.

One of the strongest contradictions is the slow pace of government reforms, which, so far, has been unable to stop the deterioration of the system, compared to the rapid social impoverishment that is directly reflected in the disappointment, uncertainty, and lack of confidence in the future, especially a future dependent on the power group that controls both the macro economy and national politics. There don’t seem to be many flattering indicators, or reasons for hope. If the welfare of Cuban families hinges on setting up a kiosk or an eatery, on remittances received from relatives abroad –those who have that luxury- or on expectations that hang on the generosity of the government, we might as well start turning out the lights and closing the doors: that is not a future.

On the other hand, none of the new economic “rights” has been matched by social and political rights, as is logical under totalitarian regimes. Cubans have been so thoroughly disenfranchised and have been subjected to such “paternalistic” controls that even we in the opposition factions and independent civil society have sometimes unconsciously wished that freedom of expression, of association and of the press be “allowed”, as if they weren’t natural rights inherent to the human condition. What can we expect from others who have let discouragement win!

Nevertheless, 2011 was also witness to a surge in alternative and civic groups and to obvious links between the two. A spontaneous process of modest but visible growth has been taking place within the independent civil society, which could be consolidating gradually. Undoubtedly, though it is a small sector, corresponding to the conditions of the dictatorship, this is the reflection of the will of Cubans with emancipated mentalities, determined not to ask permission to be free, convinced that it is vital to transform reality within ourselves. A few years ago this was unthinkable. Similarly, along with the growth of civic spaces, we can expect strong resistance from the authorities, and an eventual increase in repression.

The fate of one and all in this 2012 will be marked, among other situational factors, by the interests that have already been outlined more clearly, which, in very general terms, are: the olive green elite and all of its caste, by virtue of recycling itself in order to maintain power; the great entrepreneurs, members of that same caste or associated with it, for maintaining an economic monopoly and increasing their private capitals; new small businessmen and owners, for increasing their profits, making use of the meager reforms, and perhaps for fighting for other reforms; the ever-unfortunates, for surviving another year of shortages; we, the disobedient dreamers, for increasing activism in order to promote awareness of democratic changes and for seeking new ways to foster them.

Some readers may think I’m pessimistic, but that is not the case. My greatest optimism consists precisely in viewing reality face-to-face and continuing to wish for changes. Today, the despair of tens of thousands of Cubans is one of the main allies of the regime. However, we must not give up. We might find the opportunity and perform a miracle in the midst of all this dark, murky and imprecise present. Nobody knows how much time we have left, but it is not the time to throw in the towel. Those of us who are alive and want to achieve will not allow fatigue and defeat to win the game.

Translated by Norma Whiting

January 9 2012