The word that is most repeated in the talks of exile is not blackout, hunger or misery, but an even gloomier one
14ymedio, Yunior García Aguilera, Madrid, 10 October 2024 — From time to time I meet with Cubans who have just left the Island or are passing through Madrid. The word that is most repeated in our talks is not blackout, hunger, or misery, but an even gloomier one: despair. A friend who recently went to Cienfuegos showed me the photos he took during his visit. The streets were practically deserted, and the few people who passed by looked lost, not like those who wait for a miracle, but with the resignation of those who no longer expect anything.
Social networks do not show a very encouraging panorama either. It is true that the Facebook avenues seem busier than the real streets of Havana, but there we all coincide, those who left and those who stayed. And surfing the Internet is not a sailboat ride; it is rowing in turbulent waters, where the currents of opinion throw us from one side to the other, against the rocks. Fights between opponents are more frequent than concrete actions against the Regime. Disputes, insults and “friendly fire” are more abundant than consensus and strategic agendas.
Probably, Hatuey had no desire to meet in heaven, either with the Spaniards or with his own people
There is nothing new under the sun, as Solomon would say. Reviewing our history, this despair appears more than once. We all remember the first hero, Hatuey, the enigmatic cacique who came to alert us about the ambition of the conquerors and who led the first rebellion. Our textbooks have emphasized his last words at the stake, rejecting the ticket to paradise and becoming a paradigm of intransigence. But what they never mentioned was his mood at the time. And he was not only a human being condemned to die in a frightening way, but a disappointed leader. It was one of his own men who betrayed him, revealing his location and facilitating his capture. Probably, Hatuey did not have the slightest desire to meet in heaven either with the Spaniards or with his own people.
The other great hero in a loincloth was Guamá, who resisted the conquerors for a decade, in what some call “our first ten-year war.” And after all that time, the great chief did not die at the hands of his enemies, but by someone who shared his own blood. They say it was a matter of “skirts” or rather of petticoats. Guamá had kidnapped his brother’s wife, and the brother was possessed by Cain. While Guamá slept in his hammock, his own natiao (brother, in Taíno language) stuck an axe in his forehead. After that it was relatively easy for the Spaniards to pacify the territory.
We all know the epic anecdote that turned Céspedes into the Father of the Homeland. The Bayamés preferred the death of his son rather than give up his fight. But, perhaps, that would be his last thought in San Lorenzo. Céspedes was haunted by the envy of other caudillos from the very cry of independence. And five years after the start of the fight, he would be betrayed by the House of Representatives of the Republic in Arms itself. It was not enough for them to remove him; they also needed to humiliate him.
They forced him to march in the rear of the troops for a month and withdrew his escort. They systematically violated his correspondence, denied him permission to meet his wife and twin children in New York and abandoned him in a remote area. Perhaps we will never know for sure if he was betrayed by his former companions or if his last shot was a suicide bullet. What I’m going to write could be politically incorrect, but, with Céspedes, that abstract illusion that we call Patria committed parricide.
With Céspedes, that abstract illusion that we call Patria committed parricide
Not to mention Martí’s last days and his unnecessary death in combat. Our story, read without patriotic hysteria, is full of despair. But the purpose of this article is not to disillusion you, dear reader, but to shake you.
I was recently talking to a diplomat, whose name and nationality I reserve, and he told me something alarming. According to his vision of Cuba, the degradation is so accelerated that there is a possibility that the damage will be irreparable. Perhaps, not even if it the dictatorship falls, will we be able to rebuild the body and soul of the country in a prudent time. In short, if the Regime survives for a further five-year period, we would be left with a permanently failed state, where it would be impossible to achieve the democracy and progress we so much desire. And this fatality worsens if we analyze the international context, because today’s world is not in a position to give us the help we would need to repair all the accumulated damage.
That said, tighten your belt, dry your tears and recover hope. We are not going to bequeath this fight to our children. It’s our turn… and it has to be now.
Translated by Regina Anavy
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