Category: Translator: Raul G.

It was pouring on the morning of February 23, 2003.  The independent journalist Pablo Pacheco and I had arranged a meeting at the Central Park in Havana.

Pacheco, a resident of Ciego de Avila province, nearly 500 kilometers from the capital, was passing by the city.  We would talk a lot by phone about our families and about politics, but mostly about sports, for we would write about it in our respective alternative press agencies.  The heavy rain did not allow us to meet up.

When he called me in the first days of March 2003, I told him, “During your next visit to Havana we’ll meet each other.”  It didn’t happen.  On the morning of Wednesday, March 19, Pablo Pacheco was detained by the political police, put on trial, and condemned to 20 years of prison.

He was one of the 75 prisoners of conscience of the Black Spring.  The world already knows about the absurd jurisdiction of those cases.  They were peaceful men whose only weapons were their pens and their words.  And as time passed, they became precious coins of trade for the Castro government.

On the afternoon of Saturday, February 21, 2009, nearly 6 years later, my phone rang while I was writing a post about the next baseball series for my blog, Desde la Habana (From Havana).  Surprise.  It was Pablo Pacheco calling from the prison of Canaleta in Ciego de Avila.

He was in good spirits, as if six long years had not passed, especially for Pacheco, who nightly slept behind bars.  He told me about his wife, he read me some poems, most were about his son, and also read me something he wrote about Cuban civil society.

He even had time to read me something about the baseball series, which he wrote in the boring and slow hours of his life in prison.  And I thought that no newspaper or website in the world would publish his stories or poems.  Just like most other prisoners, they write for themselves.  If anything, they write for their families or companions in struggle, also.

When I hung up, the tears came up to my eyes.  The last time I had cried was on November 25, 2003 when my mother, my sister, and my niece, all left for a hard exile in Switzerland.  I cried at the time because I thought that it was possible that I would never again see my mother alive, for she was 61-years-old when she left Cuba.  It was a trip with no return.

Now, I cried because a 40-year-old man could not see his only son grow up, all thanks to an intolerant government.  And also for the ill fortune when the rain impeded me from personally getting to meet my friend, Pablo Pacheco, on that 23rd of February 2003.

One year and five months later, on July 7, 2010, I received the great news that Pablo Pacheco was going to be released.  He would travel to Madrid together with his wife and son.  “I will finally be able to personally meet him,” I thought.  I prepared my bookbag and went off towards Ciego de Avila.

But bad luck followed me.  The trip was in vain.  The authorities of Havana are going to put Pablo Pacheco aboard the plane without being able to say goodbye to anyone.  It’s probable that I won’t even be able to hug him.  The appointment continues to be postponed.

Ivan Garcia

Photo:  Since I couldn’t photograph myself with Pacheco, I decided to take pictures of the books which he will take with him to Spain.

Translated by Raul G.

Saint Fermin, the patron saint of Pamplona, is not a saint of devotion in Cuba.  But this July 7, 2010, the 52 political prisoners of the Black Spring of 2003 and their relatives will never forget him.

After many days of prayers and uncertainties, today something has happened.  A statement by Raul Castro himself has declared that the Spanish chancellor, Miguel Angel Moratinos, has been informed that the 52 prisoners that remained from the Group of the 75 and which were jailed 7 years ago, will be released.

The news that has been going around the world, while I write this post, had not yet been known to the majority of the internal opposition nor to the remarkable Ladies in White.  A very important part of this victory is due to them, and also to the name of Orlando Zapata Tamayo, which we will dedicate it to his mother, Reina Luisa Tamayo.

And if this news came just in time for someone, it is for Guillermo Fariñas, who we hope will abandon his hunger strike and will commence the slow recuperation process of his damaged body.

The names of the political prisoners who will leave Cuba are still unknown, as is whether it will be immediately or within the next few months, and if they will leave alone or accompanied by their closest relatives.  But today, in a telephone call from his son Jimmy, 11.

In and out of the island there have been, and will continue to be, many different opinions, in favor and against the negotiations between the government, the Catholic Church, and Spain.  Debate is healthy.  Let us continue debating.  Let us draw lessons from this and let us attempt to leave irreconcilable divergences aside, both in the opposition and in the exile.

Differences aside, for the family members of these 52 prisoners, July 7, 2010, the day of Saint Fermin, will be unforgettable.

In order to reach the end of a long path, it’s not always the best option to run.  Most of the time it is better to walk slowly.

Step by step.  And today, whether we like it or not, Spain and the Catholic Church, along with other mediators, have taken the first steps to empty the jails of this island of Cubans whose biggest crime has been to think differently.

Ivan Garcia

Photo:  joseliusgildela, Flickr.  Saint Fermin in the Cuesta of San Domingo in Navarra, Spain.

Translated by Raul G.

Summer vacation is here.  This means joy for children, adolescents, and young adults.  But many parents will have to take some aspirins.  If they managed to save some money in the moneybox during the last year, like 45-year-old Mario Guillen, then they might withstand the blow.

Guillen, a steel mill worker who works 10 hours a day in a factory on the outskirts of Havana and dedicates his free time to making steel windows and doors, is a cautious man.

When he shattered his red piggy bank, he counted 438 convertible pesos (that is nearly 330 dollars).  Sitting with his wife on a humid and rainy night towards the last days of June, they made some plans.

They have two sons, one is 10 and the other is 14.  Both are on summer vacation from school.  Guillen and his wife made their plans a month ago.  “We are thinking of taking our kids to the theatre, to the theme park, a quality restaurant, and the pool.  No beaches, they have told me that with oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico there have been numerous predatory marine animals that have migrated to our shores”, his wife, Mariana, worriedly states.

Rumors of fierce sharks and giant seals circling around the coasts off the beaches East of Havana really worry the parents.  According to specialists and the official press, all these rumors are false.  But some parents still harbor these fears.

The Guillen couple will also purchase provisions for the two months of vacation that their sons have.  Now, instead of feeding them once a day, they will need to also be given lunch and snacks.  “We’ll have to get some pork meat on the black market, in addition to fresh fish and chicken, rice, beans, oil, ham, sausages, and powdered soda.  We’ll spend nearly 150 convertible pesos (120 dollars) on that,” points out Guillen while he makes calculations on his old Chinese-made calculator.

At least the Guillen family has enough money to plan their kids’ vacations.  But if you ask Rogelio Ortega, a black man with huge eyes and a protruding belly, what recreational plans does he have for his 5 children, he’d stare back at you as if you were a strange creature.

“Same as always, lots of television. The boys could go play baseball or soccer on the streets, without shoes though, so they won’t ruin the few they already have. As for the girls, they’ll have to help their mom and grandma and play with their dolls.  If I get my hands on some money, I’ll take them to the coast on a random weekend so they could go for a swim between the rocks,” he explains in a very calm manner.

“You are not scared of a possible wave of sharks?”, I ask him. Ortega pats me on the shoulder and says:  “Those sharks are gonna have to be scared of my kids instead.  If they see it close to them, it’s most probable that they will probably eat it, fin and all,” he says while laughing.

Families like that of Rogelio Ortega are already familiar with what summer vacation means. More of the same. TV, one meal a day, and the kids having to deal with it whichever way they can. Their finances don’t produce enough for any other option.

For Junior Mendoza, 20, a university student, vacations just mean work.  “My parents don’t have the resources, I usually end up working in whatever clandestine job I can find for those two months. Sometimes I end up working at a cafeteria, an illegal cigarette factory, or even selling clothes and pacotilla (cheap merchandise).  I’m the salvation of my family during the vacations,” points out the young man with a piercing on his right ear.

For now, the World Cup serves as entertainment for the majority of Cuban families.  When June 11 comes around the series concludes, then that’s when the good stuff starts.  An abundance of worries, lack of money, and lack of provisions.  The government promised a wide variety of recreational options.  A wide billboard announcing TV programs, including 55 new series and nearly 500 films.  There will be sales of books, parties, fairs in public squares, and even some food offers.

Those who were able to save some money, like the family of Mario Guillen, will be aware of such events.  Those who don’t have even a cent, like the smiling Rogelio Ortega, could not care less about what they offer for the 2010 vacations.  For his family, summer is not a special event.  On the contrary.  It is a headache.

Ivan Garcia

Photo:  johnhope14, Flickr

Translated by Raul G.

There are particular stores in Havana to chose from.  In some, you will find arts and crafts made by hand.  Others are better sorted than the Cuban outlet of Adidas or Zara.  This is the case with the “shopping” establishment of Rufino, age 45 and retired because of an illness.

In his house he sells everything.  In fact, he even orders things.  His wife receives you in their living room with a Colgate smile.  She’ll lead you to a spacious and well-ventilated room where there is a closet that takes up an entire wall.  In it, hang numerous articles of clothing.

In a mahogany shoe-rack there are over two dozen pairs of shoes.  For all preferences, too.  Nike, Adidas, New Balance.  There are even leather Italian and Brazilian shoes.  There are even Guess and Levi shirts and jeans.  There are Lacoste shirts and Mango dresses.

Without ever letting her smile fade, the lady then shows us another room where there is a wide range of toys and electric appliances.  “Always cheaper than the store,” she tells us.

In the patio of the house they display hardware supplies. In his square shorts and Hawaiian sandals, the owner of the illegal shop, Rufino, asks us if we are satisfied.

This kind of private store, without authorization from the government, has surged throughout the entire capital during the last few years.  They compete in price with the State stores and many times they are better in quality.

Ernesto, 39, also dedicates himself to the pacotilla business.  He is a man who speaks well and is smart.  He graduated in History, but his degree resides in a drawer somewhere in his room.

“Pacotilla,” in the singular, is what Cubans call one or more cheap merchandise articles.  Many times they are copies of name brand products, a field where the Chinese are specialists.

“Selling pacotilla makes more money,” assures Ernesto.  “One day I told my family in Miami that, instead of sending me 200 dollars monthly, I would prefer if they lent me 5 thousand dollars to set up a clothing store.”

Two years ago, his family finally lent him that money.  In a year and half, Ernesto paid them back.  “I sell clothes for all sorts of price ranges, and if someone wishes to purchase something exclusive, then I simply order it for them.”

Since 1992, the allocation of industrial products on the ration book disappeared and so too did the practice of Father State yearly granting each Cuban citizen a pair of shoes and two articles of clothing; now Cubans had to find their way however they could.

And if you want to be trendy, you have to have lots of cash.  But they get their hands on it.  Especially in Havana, where the majority of young kids want to go about dressed similar to those in any other Western city.  They want to carry their iPods, iPphones, Motorola cells, etc.

It’s known that the money necessary to purchase pacotilla mostly comes from all the financial assistance sent to Cubans by families in exile, especially those in the US.  Lots of the money also comes from prostitution.  With hard currency, prostitutes spend crazy amounts on clothes, shoes, and perfume.

In 1993 the dollar was legalized.  Since then, variety stores, commonly known as “shoppings”, sprouted up throughout the country selling pacotilla by weight  For an even more select club, boutiques were created with sky-rocketing prices.

Similarly, in the clandestine market a handful of people are dedicated to buying and selling clothes, shoes, perfumes, jewelry, toys, and even computers and plasma TVs, began to appear.

Thanks to massive collaboration of doctors, teachers, and sports trainers in Bolivia, Ecuador, and Venezuela (amongst other countries), a good number of those who are carrying out “solidary missions” from the strict salary that the Cuban government pays them, they save money and acquire pacotilla in significant amounts.  Later, they sell them when they return to the island.

Rene, 32, is a lucky guy.  He is the auditor of a company which does business with Venezuela and he travels to South American countries four times a year.  When he is in Cuba he buys dollars in bulk, at 0.92 cents U.S. for each Cuban Convertible Peso (CUC).  He pays better than the state offices; they give 0.80 cents U.S for one CUC.

He always leaves for Caracas with at least 3 to 4 thousand dollars in his Samsonite suitcase.  He uses nearly all of it to purchase pacotilla in commercial centers in the capital of Venezuela.

Business has not been bad for Rene.  He has been able to repair his house and is even thinking of buying an American car from the 50’s.  Truth be told, his pacotilla share the quality of those sold by Rufino, whose slogan is “good, pretty, and cheap.”  Even though the “cheap” part will be determined as time goes on.

Ivan Garcia

Photo: yanroux, Flickr

Translated by Raul G.