Choking it Down

When I say metaphorically to my friends that my mouth is dry, they think that probably I have diabetes – because of my weight gain since I quit smoking – or a thirst to drink the vital liquid. They don’t understand that fifty-two years of the same party (the only one legally approved) ruling Cuba is a huge amount of time. “Maybe the ones who will come after will be worst”, they tell me, resigned, and convinced that a small group of people has dominion over our country.

For a long time we’ve worked to “quench the thirst” for democratic values, national and personal freedom, the respect for all the civil and political rights and democratization in general, but we are stuck because of the lack of such attributes in the power elite and the lack of a democratic culture among Cubans. However, we had been and continue to advocate for these values of benefit to our motherland and nation. So far, I will have to continue “choking it down,” while we fill the glass with that fundamental matter for Cuba’s democratic health.

 Translated by: Adrian Rodriguez

July 8 2011

The Anti-Bread

It should be done with wheat flour, but is often reinvented with sweet potato starch, is supposed to have grease, but it’s missing in the recipe, and salt, but because it causes the modified dough to collapse nobody uses it: the result is the anti-bread — one a day — which is the quota assigned to Cubans by the imposed rationing card.

With its ugly appearance of a Middle Ages crust of bread, in “the middle” of the stench and unhealthiness, the bread is one of the areas where the government timeservers show their contempt towards the people. It is the pandemonium of the underestimation and disrespect of cuban society. If you try to eat it the day after, most probably you will have two obnoxious experiences. The first one is that for sure you will have to pinch your nose or hold your breath to ignore its acrid smell, and second, you may chip a tooth in the process. The acridity is because it is made with bad quality yeast and because it has too much water added to ensure the proper weight just in case an inspector “shows up”, he won’t be able to verify the ingredients adulteration — in which case ‘the dough’ to silence him would rise;  the hardness, because the lack of grease in it. In addition you have to bring your own bag to buy your bread, the employee snatches the pen from behind his ear to write in your rationing card the one and only bun that you are entitled to buy for that day. He takes your money, shakes hands with all the people who greets him, swipes the sweat from his forehead and then, he serves your bread using his bare hands (without using tongs or gloves) and without washing them.

A few years ago the State made an important investment in modern bakery technologies acquired overseas. In that chain of bakeries the bread is more expensive — ten Cuban pesos a pound — and in the beginnings the quality was noticeably better; but now days it is almost as bad as that for sale in the bodegas but the price didn’t drop as the quality did.

On many occasions and because of consumer complaints, the TV news did on-site interviews with the managers of such bakeries, they had been questioned about the production failures and urged to make public statements promising the solution to these and other problems. But the media news involvement has not been effective and the result is the same: the anti-bread.

The core of the problem is systemic and happens because the lack of control, the low salaries and the dearth of civic awareness provoked by the “grab whatever you can” way of life brought by the deceptive concept of the social property, because it is very well known that the Cubans are not allowed to own any kind of real estate. The local small leadership is struggling to survive when there’s no choice: either survive taking the “bread” home to sustain their families, joining the generalized corruption and unlawful activities, or live a poorish life in the legality of a virtual Cuba outlined by the only party and its unsuccessful government model.

Those who like to invent trash, or to reform what is already invented and works well, have to be reminded of that old Cuban saying: “It’s better to copy from something good than to create something bad”. We, the Cubans of the generations after 1959, could never be accused of being copycats.

 Translated by: Adrian Rodriguez

July 8 2011

XY, Axis of Coordinates or Chromosomes of Survival

A little while ago I left my house and a neighbor in my sector (whom I shall call ‘X’) signaled me to come to the sidewalk in front. The attitude of her corporeal whisper intrigued me. I crossed the street to go meet her, looking all around, because her conspiratorial gestures put me on alert. There were only a few kids playing football in the street, and on the corner, a mysterious man with short hair was walking in small circles. Nevertheless I calmly approached her and her expression changed to one of admiration when I reached her: “Mi’ja, you didn’t tell me you have a blog!” ‘X’ only knows how to send and receive mail on “the appliance” which for her is the computer, as her youngest child (Y) showed her how before emigrating. So she regularly goes to an internet cafe to exchange messages with her offspring. In ‘Y’s’ most recent email, she commented that she’d found my journal via Google, that she subscribed to it and reads my works. She also sent X the link so she could visit me.

After a few minutes of talking, in which her flattery rose up into my face, I humbly thanked her and told her I’d write about this. She reacted with fear and the insistence of someone verbally begging on her knees and made me promise her I would not do it. She would not even agree to the option of changing the names, as she is in the phase of “behaving better than ever” to avoid problems and be able to reunite with her family in the United States.

During our farewell I turned my face and saw that coming towards us was the man on the corner who I was suspicious of, with a woman who appeared to be his wife and who carried a large purse. As they passed close to us, she told him–looking back secretively–that she was late because she had to walk about to avoid the police, and she feared they would confiscate the merchandise. ‘X’ and I looked at each other–with the indifference that tedious and repeated stories awaken–opened our eyes and with a sarcastic and silent smile we said goodbye that day.

I’ve come across her two or three times more, and after assuring herself that no one is observing her, she greets me with affection and she gives me the thumbs-up sign, the “V” of victory, or the “L” of liberty. I saw her again last night and she had an expression of repugnance. She greeted me coldly–like some revolutionary CDR* spy who knows my dissident activities–went toward the group that was gathering a few meters from us, where the CDR president’s house is and in front of which they were going to celebrate the National Assembly of the People’s Power.

The repressive agencies of the regime have implanted over decades, in regard to political matters, an osteomiedosis–a “fear in the bones”–that has penetrated deep into Cuban sociogenetics, generating frustration and forcing habitual pretense as a survival strategy. Regardless of everything I am an optimist, so I am sure that those problems that now seem hopeless will not be permanent in our society.

*Translator’s note: CDR stands for Committee for the Defense of the Revolution. These neighborhood-by-neighborhood and even block-by-block watchdog groups are one of the key mechanisms through which the state controls every individual.

Translated by Julietta Appleton

June 15 2011

PS 2

Image taken from http://www.joystickdivision.com/2009/12/15_games_defined_playstation.php
The group I was speaking with got involved in a baseball discussion about whether it was a sport, pastime, or both, the game of balls and strikes; in the poor defense the national teams have shown throughout the series and the bad state of the terrain. The reasons are many and we really don’t need the “accommodating and advisory” quality of the sports commentators, who show their faces on Cuban television so that the fans, knowing the multiple reasons that could be affecting our athletes, can toss their uncensored opinions around like an expert roundtable.

So as not to be missing the usual things, the masculine voices began to rise in tone and impeded me taking my mental aqualung to abstract myself from the passionate racket that seemed unnecessary to me. But in spite of the raised voices, I managed to submerge myself “in apnea” in my thoughts and I made a parallel with the popular Play Station video game I’d seen the daughter of a friend playing a few days before. I asked myself how much it would advance in a few more years and if they would continue counting the new consoles in the saga the Sony brand is making. Evidently, competitiveness will prevent no. 52 of the new game  from coming out with the same name and technological development will make them better all the time. What I don’t want is for them to prevent the possibility of piracy, to be able to play with burned CDs and to even introduce our own version of MVP-Cuban Government Leagues (forever). In particular, I can’t imagine some old folks running the bases time and again in an endless game. I beg on the healthy, clean, and authentic competition where quality and whoever does the best in the 9 standard innings prevails. After the 27th out, it is not legitimate nor ethical to make use of ruses to avoid the sign that says “Game over.”

May 18 2011

Nostradamus in a Gypsy Cab (Almendrón)

I was on my way back home in a collective gypsy cab or almendrón which I took at the intersection of Linea and G streets, in the Vedado neighborhood, where there is a popular route of these cabs going towards La Vibora. Before arriving 23rd Ave. the old car was already full. The last passenger that got in the vehicle commented “how rough is the life out there” and that was the fuse which set off all of us, including the driver, to channel our opinions. We expressed different judgements and new projects and political ideas, as well as, sociological, economic and even philosophic, over the things that should be done to rule the destinies of our country in the future. We exercised our freedom of speech in that rolling piece of junk and we were engaged in an amused and productive debate for most of the trip, in which the one who started the conversation showed a wide political culture that was praised by some of the riders. He also said that all of us in the archipelago were prophets in the political, social and economic scenes that inevitably will prevail in Cuba in the near future.
When we passed the traffic light on Santa Catalina and Vento, the debate’s protagonist raised his voice in an authoritative tone and said:

– Driver, take this car directly to Villa Marista*, because you are all arrested.

We were astonished and for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, a thought came to my mind of the upcoming trouble I would have, if, at the headquarters of the political police they dig through my long and old record as a dissident. I wished more than ever to have a cell phone at hand, to warn my family about how difficult that circumstance could be. However, in face of the silence of the rest, I replied very upset:

– What’s the reason why ? We only exercised our freedom of speech. What’s the problem ? Driver, don’t go anywhere, because this supposed officer didn’t identify himself yet!

-Lady- argued the driver in a whiney tone – Are you suggesting I should disrespect the authority ? I am a revolutionary, although I disagree with certain things, but I give my life for the Cuban Revolution and Fidel.

Just when I was expecting another intervention earmarked by fear, we turned towards Mayia Rodriguez street and the young Nostradamus ordered the owner of the vehicle:

– Stop at the next corner.

When the old car stopped he extended his hand with a ten pesos bill, got out of the car laughing, and started walking on San Mariano St.

Some of the passengers remaining in the car shouted all sort of insults, but he didn’t answer to anybody. He kept on walking, meanwhile there was a scattering of nervous laughter all around, and turning back his head every now and then as if he was a chased maniac. After that, there was a long silence that lasted until the place where I got out of the car.

I am not quite sure if we the passengers on that trip lost our sense of humor or we gained humor in the sense, but the fact is, it happened the same way as I am telling you right now.

*Translator’s note: Villa Marista is the headquarters and jail of the Cuban political police.

 Translated by: Adrian Rodriguez

June 16 2011

A Note

To all visitors of “The Barefoot Rose”:

Because of the limited access to the Internet, I needed to complete the publication of a work in different days once more, then the super-slow connection from where I accessed before prevented me from adding the image of the writing “Nostradamus in Shared Taxi” and completing the same edition; loading of the page of the WordPress text took almost an hour. I apologise for the inconveniences and thank you for your sympathy.

Translated by: Ivana Recmanová

June 19 2011

Jurassic Politics

The Internet came to break many clichés and some of the journalistic and news obscurantism in which the Cuban authorities had submerged our society. It has been the attentive pin that has been puncturing the inflated balloons of fallacy that sustain dictatorships, and directed the air towards rights and, among them, the freedom of information.

The Cuban government, that boasts about having made our people literate and having raised the level of instruction facilitating the education for all, contradicts itself when it limits or prohibits its citizens’ free access to alternative sources of information from the official propaganda. It intentionally subjects Cubans to an informational illiteracy; because in Cuba there’s no press, only the media of propaganda.

The sociopolitical chess devised by the highest government hierarchy, substituted the knights for dinosaurs and it moves by age-worn squares, too repeated on the chessboard. The long castling isn’t enough, invented after the king already moved, nor does the color of the pieces matter; it seems that biology and modernity will win this match.

 Translated by Adrian Rodriguez

June 27 2011

White Meat Crumbs

I turned the corner located half a block from my house and I heard somebody yelling to another neighbor, ” Mercedes, they are giving out chicken instead of fish.” The piece of chicken that the Cuban State sells us at subsidize price and by their orders we must consume it in one month, is only a pound per person and anybody can eat it in a single meal. When they send chicken (I prefer this) in substitution for fish, the amount is eleven ounces per person for the same period of time.

Cuba is an archipelago and for this reason seafood shouldn’t be scarce, but because of the State’s indifference and ineptitude, we are suffering of shortages and rationing of these and other essential food items. Moreover, is it (the Yellowtail, the one always offered) the only marine species in the sea? And the lobsters, and the shrimp? And the high seas fish like the louvar, the kingfish and the tuna, etc? And the fish raised in the aquaculture dam lakes? And the freshwater ones?

It is like suffering from a prolonged and antagonistic irony of living on a poultry farm and keeping to a fish diet. In addition we are assigned half a pound of ground beef a month — it is more like a paste mixed with soy — half of mortadella (if we put it on a piece of bread, we can eat it as a snack) and 10 eggs per capita monthly. And the beef and the pork? And the lamb and the goat? So much inefficiency and manipulation didn’t affect our memories, because we know that there are a lot of species in the seas, and there are also varieties of poultry and different types of edible quadruped mammals.

It’s true that there is a parallel State market which retails some of the released products in national currency. But the prices are abusive and only a minority can acquire them. Also coexistent are the ones selling in foreign hard currency — the workers get paid a salary between 500 and 600 cuban pesos — where there’s a variety of meats, and a kilo of chicken costs $2.75 and a kilo of beef $9.50, but these prices are equally high, therefore out of reach for the average Cuban, who has to acquire the hard currency at 25 pesos for one CUC (equivalent to a dollar) in the currency exchanges. On top of this we have to add that not all of the stores sell these type of products and moreover, they are not always available.

The butchers, who in spite of their mediocre salaries almost all wear heavy gold chains — they look more like last generation rappers or reggae performers — and drive cars that cost around the same (sometimes more) than the ramshackle and stinky State meat markets where they work, pass days or maybe weeks waiting for the merchandise to arrive at their empty and impoverished retail establishments.

When the store is replenished there’s a private party, because from the day’s work “by error of the smart scales” and “other moves” with the suppliers, they will have enough merchandise left to auction on the overpriced black market. But they are only the result or part of the problem, which is the responsibility or irresponsibility of the authorities. The same way they imposed on us the “walking catfish,” meant to reduce our carnivorous cravings and like a terrestrial reptile it “walks” into backyards, sewers and paddocks and feeds on, among other things, feces and rats. God forbid! I don’t consume it, but I know a lot of my compatriots who actually do.

Cubans, who with our “bread diet” look “healthily plump,” already forgot the taste of beef, because here the cows, like in India, look like they are sacred, at least for the common citizen. They not prevented “the mad-cow” disease and the population “is mad” to recover its right to eat meat in the daily diet or with the frequency they can afford to pay for it — as it was before 1959 — not when the Cuban State decides the frequency and the amounts we can consume.

It looks like beef and other delights, are lacking because of “the bad governments” preceding them; thus the leaders “screwed it up” so concerned are they about our health that they got rid of it to insure our quality of life. Therefore, it is an acquired reflex that we must prioritize the color red only to digest politics and ideology. These nutritional limitations awakened our voracity for this vital food, because all these years they tried to implant in us, with neither Yin nor Yang, a vegetarian diet or macrobiotic without the right to respond or to choose it; but as with the problems with the seafood and the fact that we are an agricultural country, we also have difficulties with vegetables, grains and cereals, they couldn’t completely tame our taste and eating preferences.

For that reason a lot of nationals don’t care if the chicken is genetically modified, if the fish was floating “meekly” on a black scum and they assumed it was a donation from the British Petroleum; if we women start growing beards or our husbands start having high voices, as Evo Morales, the homophobic Bolivian President, said. Maybe some fellow citizens, who look like they have their stomach in the frontal lobe and their intelligence in “the elbow”, when it comes to food, stress that ” it doesn’t matter if the chicken has scales or the fish feathers, the fact is that it is meat”.

 Translated by Adrian Rodriguez

June 27 2011

Tribulations of a Moviegoer

There was a trend in Cuban born some years ago that redefined the concept of film: el murcinema or murcinélago. In other words, “bat-movie-goer.”

Maybe some of the filmgoers who don’t visit the neighborhood or countryside movie theaters don’t know it, but there they are: those hanging rats, that like unpleasant nocturnal surprises are hung over our heads, with their threat of rabies, or a splash of  excrement-feces, sprayed in order to fertilize us like plants.

My experience with a big screen infested with these flying mammals, was in the Guanabo movie theater. At the end of the film I looked for somebody to warn and I found the same lady who sold us the tickets. I told her that the theater had a bat infestation and she acted as if I was saying that in Murcia, a city of Spain, there were a lot of lakes; she opened her hands in supine harmony with the express of indifference on her face. It wasn’t necessary that she say anything else.  Her, “So what?” slapped me on both cheeks.

That’s why I became a home filmaholic. This has a disadvantage, you have to wait and “digest” a lot of sociopolitical pro-government propaganda in the national television network before you can actually watch the film. We can turn the TV on, at the time frame assigned to the program you want to watch, but because there’s no respect for the schedule or there is not good timing for it, any way you have to endure the icy winds of this long political winter of Cuba. Then we have to kill time playing “True or False” waiting to enjoy the celluloid.

Some people say that the cinemas with bats are not new in our country; that from many years ago the temperatures of the movie theaters are not controlled because of their defective air-conditioning systems. The bathrooms are in totally bad shape and lack hygiene, but the authorities are blind to these facts, and if they do pay attention, it is to close it down. The ones that are the showroom of the Cuban seventh art, and where the festivals and different activities are celebrated, don’t suffer this lack of maintenance and disrepair. I guess that somebody already made an inventory of the great amount of closed down movie theaters in all the extension of our archipelago. What nobody can really count is the amount of people who stopped going to the movies for these reasons, not even the cultural and recreational pleasures that part of the Cuban society can be enjoyed because of the inefficiencies and indolence of the government.

 Translated by Adrian Rodriguez

June 19 2011

Almost Like a Trip to Mars

I long to take a trip around my country. Not a luxurious or comfortable one — although that is my right — but a road trip, in which I would have to make stops to satisfy basic needs, and follow my road with a bread, cream cheese and jam sandwich in one hand, and a container with liquid “to down” in the other.

I remember a traditional Cuban song that suggests in its refrain: “Know Cuba first and foreign parts later.” It is a musical maxim that for a long time has no longer been realistic or viable. I would like to take an excursion through Cuban towns and the countryside and I imagine I would follow a list of people in the emerging independent civil society, who for lack of resources cannot come to the capital and who deserve our solidarity. I could bring them human and material support as a way to show reciprocal altruism or the ethics of reciprocity and fraternity, that we owe to all those involved in patriotic destinies.

this is how I saw myself climbing into a car for stretches, in a tractor for others, and even a cart: one drawn by a horse and another pulled by a yoke of oxen. Let my imagination go! But beyond that, I have a real and latent interest to follow this continually postponed path and to live with each one the day-to-day reality that hits Cubans living far from Havana.

I would like, for example, to go to Villa Clara and visit our compatriot “Coco” Farinas, and personally involve myself in his shattered health and recuperation. After the death in suspicious circumstances of another Villa Claran, Juan Wilfredo Soto, this last May, “Coco” was again on a hunger and thirst strike, demanding that the government publicly announce and commit that it would not use violence against opponents; something that has not yet occurred.

In short, I don’t know if I can carry out my plan for the journey. For now, I am busy continuing to work for the advent of better times and leaving this scenario behind, in which I spend my time as am illusionist “undertaking administrative pirouettes” to try, each month, to pull “a rabbit out of the hat of my finances.”

June 19 2011

Anduriña’s Syndrome

In the ’60s the Spanish duo of Juan and Junior popularized a song named “Anduriña”, that still can be heard today on some radio programs in Cuba and on pirated CDs, and also you can hear other versions now and again on television and in those nostalgic cabarets of the so-called “Prodigious Decade.” The theme is about a young girl called Anduriña, who escaped from her town, and in part of the lyrics of the song they make note that “she flew” and asked her to “turn quickly to port.”

The Revolution of 1959 brought us the flight of Cubans to everywhere; that is no longer news for hardly anyone, nor is the conjugal agreement that matches and prioritizes a great quantity of our young females with the goal of emigrating. So, many countries increase their populations with our compatriots, those who as Anduriñan emigrants escaped from their land to have a better life in freedom. It has been a long process for the Cuban people, and at highly elevated economic, political and social price. But the Cuban demographic scattered throughout the world can be a boomerang that helps to rebuild our country and reconcile our nation.

I hope that in the future nobody is forced to emigrate because they lost their rights and freedoms in their own country. Also, I hope and desire that some day our Anduriños can look towards their own country’s border with all the legal guarantees and “turn quickly to port” to help us rebuild the disaster that the pirates of the dictatorship have added to Cuba for more than a half century.

“My dead father you are in a photo (in many)”
and in many Springs
–in the living dead of the wide narrow place
and in the lives dying for inequality;
in the dream of liberty that never happens
and in the continuous denial of the visa of freedom.
In a long wish list of a country
and a lethargic prison country that hopes…”

Fragment of my poem ‘Dead Father’.

Translated by: BW

June 1 2011

Telenovelas and Teleprejudices

Cuban television debuts at its usual time of 9:00 in the evening, on the Cubavision channel, a telenovela–soap opera–titled “Under the Same Sun,” which is already generating a buzz. Although they haven’t provided much information about it, it’s said to consist of three stories. In the first one being aired, are the taboos and intolerance that still exist in society against homosexuality, among others. Some time ago an interdisciplinary team, taking advantage of the reach of this mass media, television, and with the support of the press, began influencing people with a different view of human sexual diversity. I celebrate the intention and the task, even more because a long time ago international organizations, such as the United Nations, and coalitions of countries, such as the European Union, jumped the barrier of segregation for sexual preferences and established legal mechanisms to prevent discriminatory practices in this and other aspects. We perceive in our country that perception is gradually changing in this regard.

Societies, which over the course of history have been governed by heterosexual men, supported through the ages the macho attitudes with marginalized visions and social standards that have fallen into disuse. Thus discrimination against women was such that no one considered lesbianism as a sign of homosexuality in them, while in men it was regarded as a disease. Thus, a lesbian inclination in women was actually suspected, it was subject to double or more incisive discrimination.

Cuba was no exception in regard to this evil. Since the beginning of this process–which increasingly is less than revolutionary–it is customary to belittle and devalue those who are different. To be gay is to suffer humiliation, along with continuing detentions and restrictions on travel to avoid to meeting with like-minded people and related groups. Everything was questioned and questionable, except for the bearded manhood who had fought for this model. Beyond that, machismo and militarism were the medals of those times which marginalized people of different sexual orientation. They saw them and looked down at them like flies in the soup, and so they were treated …

Today, Dr. Mariela Castro, Raul’s daughter and Fidel’s niece is trying to clean up the images of her uncle and father from decades ago, and vindicate the rights of the gay community in a crusade against homophobia. Marches are held each year in the streets of the capital by bringing together several hundred homosexuals to demand that their rights be recognized. I support Mariela’s campaign, although it reawakens in me the logical question that surely has attracted many. “Don’t heterosexuals have rights too? What about the rest of society? What about freedom of expression and association? And the multiparty system?”

It is incongruous that the daughter of Cuban President be allowed to demonstrate in our streets with a large group of people who advocate sexual freedom that we, as part of alternative civil society, may not do so, having had for decades other valid demands, legitimate and humane that are also covered by international legislation as a part of modernity. There should be consistency in the rights issue, you should not recognize some and ignore others.

Taking this work as a departure point, it strikes me that is just and necessary to hold a day against diversophobia, or fear of political diversity, from which the Cuban authorities and their supporters suffer.

For now, I think we can start an “International Campaign Against Pluriphobia“–rejection or fear of plurality–to prevent totalitarian systems from washing their hands of contradictions, and manipulating them to look like the rule of law. In justice and legitimacy, it is necessary to paint the entire house, not just the facade.

May 30 2011

“Table“ Without a Tablecloth

The relentless attack, the deep antagonism (philosophical?) and the extreme criticism–constant and unrelenting–of capitalist countries, marks the “Roundtable” program Cuban television broadcasts every day for an hour and half starting at 6:30 PM on Channel 6 or Cubavisión.

It’s worth mentioning that in Cuba we have only five TV channels and that the super-politicized program–overseen and directed by the senior management of the government and only party defending only the interests and points of view of the Cuban State–is broadcast simultaneously on three of them; rebroadcast later the same day, and then shown again as highlights of the week on Sundays. Thus, they continue simplifying and manipulating our options and leaving us with the caustic, reductionist and frustrating taste of “take it or take it,” that Cuban society is subjected to and that characterizes our national life. Paraphrasing the old adage that “it never rains but it pours,” in my country, Monday through Friday, we do not want the Roundtable and we have to see if on three channels.

May 18 2011

The Hackneyed Expression

Yes to Love, No to Terror

It has cost the historic circles of power in Cuba a great deal of work to maintain a balanced discourse with regards to their sensitivity and solidarity with the terrorist attacks on the United States, or any country with which they have marked differences. It’s part of a rhetorical double standard to both accuse the U.S. administrations, and to do the same thing here.

There is no point in sending messages of condolences on the one hand to antagonistic governments and the victims of terrorism in their societies, and to defend, in a veiled way, the perpetrators based on the old saying, “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” This behavior has become so common in Cuba, sadly, become the style as it is pervasive.

Perhaps that is one of its objectives. Every time they send a condolence message in the name of the Cuban people, they ride roughshod over and later question, as an automatic protocol requisite, what they say is the concert of democratic countries in the world.

At the same time we have witnessed the ambiguity with which they refer to the Taliban and Bin Laden on the TV Roundtable show–a program whose reason seems to be to constantly criticize Washington and the fierce and endless battle against their successors–of allegations that the 2001 attack on the Twin Towers was a deliberate internal action, and long snake of et ceteras, that hangs from Cuban fundamentalists like a long tale of falsehoods. I’m not saying I have a monopoly on the truth, but this conduct seems like media terrorism.

The Cuban government claims that the United States consistently applies, with respect to Cuba, a double standard of good and bad terrorism according to their interests. And they themselves don’t?

I would add that in our country we annually commemorate the death of the revolutionary martyr Sergio González, The Band-Aid. A man known for planting bombs before 1959, who established the record of a hundred in one Havana night.

The arrogant hypocrisy of “do as I say, not as I do” from the spokesmen of the single party echoes the speeches and propaganda like “plastic explosives,” and offers feedback and bombardments of hate and injustice, but what really worries me is that I am splashed with that rotten stew.

It seems that as a Cuban citizen I am not being represented fully by those in power for over five decades in my archipelago: leaving me no option but to save my anti-terrorism reputation by placing these little media firecrackers to draw attention.

May 9 2011