14ymedio, Miriam Celaya, Havana, 11 March 2020 — They were an hour late. The two young men went to the bench where I was sitting in wait at the Police Station (PNR) on Calle Zanja, in Central Havana, and apologized for the delay: “There was a lack of coordination,” said the one who had obviously been appointed to speak and who, without my asking, later introduced himself as “Alexander.” “It is clear that punctuality is not one of your virtues,” I replied, ignoring his greeting. Because among the worn-out methods of State (In)Security is included subjecting those “summoned” by them to wait in order to produce nervousness or feelings of humiliation. Since I have a healthy and robust sense of self-esteem, those methods did not succeed.
Immediately, Socalledalexander and his companion – who had the role of an ice statue – led me to a small office adjacent to the reception area. The place was small, decadent, dirty, with walls that were once painted in a color that is now between faded blue and dusty gray, and whose furniture is crying out for relief: an old bureau full of old papers and notebooks that clearly no one opens or writes on, a pair of plastic chairs and a worn armchair with a filthy cover that, perhaps since it was the best piece in the room, served as throne for Socalledalexander. The chair assigned to me was right in front of him, while the ice statue took a seat in another chair, very close to me, to my left.
In fairness, we must recognize the coherence between the setting, the institution and the regime it represents
I looked around, making a quick inventory of the props: a fan on the wall blowing only on Socalledalexander’s half-torn black backpack, placed on a fourth chair – who knows with what purpose – a faded photograph of the Nameless and his younger brother, the odd slogan, a curtain of blinds, drawn, split in several places. In fairness, the coherence between the setting, the institution and the regime it represents must be acknowledged.
Socalledalexander took the floor, his face assumed an expression that tried to be affable and sympathetic, as if I were there of my own free will and not by a citation pregnant with threats: “Well, Miriam, the objective of this meeting is for us to have a conversation to understand each other, to reach agreements “(??????? !!!). Since I am so restrained, I replied immediately that in that case I should notify him in advance that I was not going to fulfill his objective because I had absolutely nothing to discuss with them. I confess that I am somewhat uneasy at seeing people waste their time so miserably, especially if they are young people living in a country where there is so much to do. Anyway.
“Well if you have nothing to say to us, we do have a lot to talk to you about.”
– “Am I under arrest?” I asked.
– “In that case I am leaving”
– “No, you cannot go, you are at a PNR (National Revolutionary Police) station where you have been summoned”
– “But I have not been charged with any crime or been detained. I am here under duress.”
– “No, you are here to talk”
– “I already told you that I am not going to talk to you, that you are not valid interlocutor for me and to conduct a conversation requires at least two interested parties.”
– “Well, I see here there are three of us”
At this point I understood that Socalledalexander had serious cognitive problems and I decided that I had already dedicated enough words to him. “Say what you have to say, start your monologue,” I said.
Then Socalledalexander began to complain to the ice statue, regarding my misconduct. The sphinx – whose name was Ricardo and who, probably not by chance, had been my husband’s interviewer last February 27th – barely uttered a whisper of approval in solidarity with his partner. Bad luck for a person as eager to “talk” as Socalledalexander.
“You see? She has the same defiant attitude as her husband, it is a negative attitude that is going to bring her serious consequences; instead of understanding what her situation is, look at what she does.” It was ridiculous. That individual, younger than my two sons, agent of the repressive bodies of the longest dictatorship in this Hemisphere, was trying to give me advice about conduct, mixed with threats. And so, he continued for a few moments while I went on scrutinizing the chaos around me, (I admit that disorganization bothers me a lot, even more so when combined with dirt) being careful not to touch anything with my hands.
Socalledalexander became irritated, but restrained himself and decided to change his strategy. He switched to his Freudian mode, going onto psychoanalysis. “Miriam, I understood that you were an educated person. You do not even look at me when I am addressing you. I had a somewhat different impression… that is not your personality or your character …”
And he came back to, “That is a bad attitude that does not suit you. Next time you will be the one who wants to talk to us. Because you can be sure that there will be a next time, and then we will not be so cordial”. He did say “cordial”, and I must admit that I was surprised that he knew that word. It is probably in the interrogator’s manual, but it was shocking to see that he was able to memorize it. It must have been a superhuman effort for a person whose vocabulary is so pitiful and meagre.
The next step in Socalledalexander’s strategy was to go on academic mode. He appealed to Cuban History, or whatever it is they have led them to believe as Cuban History. “Then we are like in Baraguá, we don’t understand each other,” he said, feeling very wise. And then I could no longer contain my laughter. Excuse me, my diaphragm was already hurting. That burly boy, who could well have been doing something useful, such as cutting the dense marabou that covers so many lands in Cuba or planting some food to alleviate the hunger of so many Cuban families, or looking for any real job, was there, sitting under my nose, acting as a History chairperson.
In his infinite pride, Socalledalexander must have thought he was another Maceo. And in his no less infinite ignorance, he did not know that the Baraguá Protest was actually a bluff that the distinguished Mambí came up with.
In his infinite pride, Socalledalexander was feeling like another Maceo. And in his no less infinite ignorance, he does not know – how should he know, having graduated from those insignificant schools – that the Protest of Baraguá was really a bluff that the distinguished Mambí chief came up with, wounded in his own love for having to bite the dust of the defeat after so many years of hard struggle, to leave Cuba a short time later, precisely on account of the good services of his worst adversary, Arsenio Martínez Campos, and the Crown’s treasury, leaving behind the few troops that followed him to the hills in revolt, that ended up also submitting to the Pact of Zanjón.
Meanwhile, Socalledalexander continued with the same old story about my evil attitude, though not having anything to hold on to. I kept looking at my watch insistently, and for a moment his face lit up. He thought he had me in his hands. “Are you in a hurry, Miriam? Because we are not. We have all the time in the world.”
“No, I’m just curious to know how long it takes you to realize that I’m not going to talk to you.” It took exactly 25 minutes. I have already told you that the guy was short in the brains department.
Several friends have been asking me to narrate this episode on the networks, and I stand ready to please them, but it would be too boring to continue discussing such a sterile subject, so, I conclude. Although, in violation of my own decision, I have inserted the odd phrase, surprised by the colossal arrogance of this handsome young man who tried so hard to look like an Antillean James Bond. I did agree with him in a couple of things, because I am absolutely convinced of both things, so I let him know:
1) “We are not enemies”. Of course not. Repressive agents like Socalledalexander are not up to the task, they do not have the capacity or the necessary skills to be my enemies, they do not have a voice, they do not have freedom, they are nothing more than the instruments of a dictatorship that only uses them and that will give them up in a second, as one discards any nuisance that ceases to be useful to them.
2) “Cuba is going to change, it’s going to change a great deal.” That’s for sure, although Socalledalexander says it in a very different sense. This is precisely what many Cubans work for, in the Island and from all shores, to attain changes in Cuba. Change is inevitable, in fact, it has already begun in the wills and dreams of many good Cubans. We are seeing it and the bosses of these young agents are also seeing it. It will undoubtedly be the change that most of us want and the one they try to prevent: a prosperous and fortunate Cuba, where young people like SocalledAlexander will never again betray its people for the paltry alms and deceptive perks of a dictatorship that, like Rome, pays its traitors, but despises them.
Translated by Norma Whiting
COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.