– 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