Counterresponse to the Comments / Miriam Celaya

Photo: Orlando Luis

As my regular readers know, as a rule I don’t participate directly in the comments; my poor access to the Internet doesn’t allow me that interactivity. I prefer to return to the debates posted, after carefully reading every comment off-line, using the method of public rejoinder if it seems to be necessary to clarify certain aspects that shouldn’t be left without a response in order to avoid future misunderstandings.

In past days I allowed myself to comment on an article by an opponent of the regime, Darsi Ferrer, who, as is common when this topic is raised, has awakened in some readers certain considerations that would be useful to air here, in the space in which they were raise.

To do this, as usual, I will put my cards on the table. I have no intention of offending Darsi Ferrer; I use the virtual space rather than personal communications, in the same way he used it to publish his article where, among others, he mentioned my name, which calls even more for me to reply. In my capacity as a citizen journalist I allow myself the right to question any program, posture or opinion, come what may — be it the government’s the opposition’s, a national or foreign journalist or another blogger — with the same honesty with which I shine the public light on my own opinions with the intent to be questioned.

I do not understand how some consider this “an attack,” a “skirmish,” or something similar. That is, how long will we avoid transparency and debate for the sake of a poorly understood and worse interpreted “unity”? If an opponent, whomever it might be, feels it is damaging to have his views questioned, his leadership (if he has any), or his prestige, must be very fragile.

Are we proposing a perpetuation of the secrecy and conspiracies, in the image and likeness of the regime’s methods that so many of us reject so strongly? However, I know that the author of the article referenced has met occasionally with bloggers to whom I never stated such views, and I respect it: it was his choice.

The disagreements of some readers, however, don’t worry me — after all, we’re not a church choir — but some others display conceptual blunders that show how little idea they have about the nature of the Cuban alternative blogger phenomenon, for example, when they say that the mistake of the opponents is “not having been served by the blogosphere.”

I never tire of repeating that as a blogger I resist subordinating myself to anyone, that the essence of the blogger is total independence and I’m not a spokesperson for parties or individuals, making it impossible for them to “be served” by my journalistic activity.

I have no interest in “working in coordination”with any of the opposition groups I know, which has not caused the least offense to some friends who have spent years working within opposition groups.

On more than a few occasions I have submitted my opinions about some of their proposals, and, respectfully, I have expressed my views in private: I do not divulge political programs of any kind, nor do I sit down with anyone to develop a “common platform”; that is not my mission.

Oh! And do not be surprised if the day comes when this famous platform exists, and I also question it, as the free citizen that I am. On the other hand, I insist that nothing prevents opponents from opening their own blogs, as some already have done.

There are those who say that when I respond to what Darsi posed I am “diverting from the main objective” (I don’t know what this objective is; in fact, I am unaware that someone has attributed “objectives” to me that I myself have not enunciated). The same reader believes that if there are no objectives — I assume that he refers to the particular, supreme and sacred objective of “overthrowing the government” — then “I am writing just to write, as if freedom of expression was legitimate only when we criticize the Cuban dictatorship, and public opinion would have to have an orchestra in concert under the interests of the opposition.

I don’t feel myself authorized to speak on behalf of the blogosphere, given that we are not a homogeneous block, but as far as I’m concerned I don’t accept the simplicity encompassed in the hackneyed phrase, “They are fighting for the same thing.” It is a distorted view of reality. While the desire for a democratic Cuba is the shared dream of many Cubans, beyond those in the dissidence active in any denomination, we are not the same, we don’t project ourselves in the same way, we don’t “struggle” exactly “for the same thing.” And now I will say it again: Blessed be diversity!

Another reader rightly says that “everything is political.” I share that view, because each action by man in society in search of solutions is a political exercise. But it is one thing to have political opinions and something else very different to belong to a political organization. Especially in the case of Cuba, plagued by uncertainties and conflicts of every type of those who don’t escape some opposition groups; and where the lack of civic and political culture is a failing endemic to the social level.

In this particular, the blogosphere may, perhaps, be more related to the work of establishing bridges between different opinion groups and among the various sectors of society, than in political exercises itself with its corresponding ideological commitments.

Some bloggers, with our mistakes and successes, seek from the practice of virtual citizenship, to assist at the birth of true citizenship. It is a long-term effort, not an immediate one; it is a civic target, not an ideological one. A political group usually says: “think of me as a solution”; but an opinion blogger prefers to say, simply: “let’s think.”

As I see it, this can be useful to politicians if they are truly honest; because in the end, politics is a profession of SERVICE TO THE CITIZENRY, and thus the politician must be subordinated to it, and no vice versa. In this case, the citizen is me and the opponents are the politicians; where is the sacrilege?

There is no lack of paranoia about the ghost of State Security. The truth is that I care very little about what G-2 thinks about differences of opinion among dissident sectors. What’s more, that we publicly and respectfully disagree is a practice that greatly distances us from the frequent masked intrigues between people and groups of the nomenklatura, who are so accustomed to the State Security agents. What is their weakness can be our strength.

I love that in their “barracks” they are noticing the differences between their methods and ours. On the other hand, the supposed “gulf” between Darsi and I only exists in the minds of some readers with too much imagination. I wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to defend Darsi’s rights, like any other dissident or ordinary citizen; and I’m convinced he would do the same for me.

I think it is also important to clarify for the reader who says that virtual space allows those who write to hide their true identity. That’s true, but almost the all of the alternative Cuban bloggers use their own names.

Perhaps it’s surprising to know that some Cubans who have signed complaints about the opposition have refused to put their identity card numbers, much less to legitimize their signatures through a notary, as required by law to validate each document.

I know several of the signers of opposition projects who also signed, in 2002, to the irrevocable character of socialism in the Constitution of the Castros. This is not a criticism, they are both phenomena of countries ruled by dictators. I only mention it to point out that social dissimulation is not a characteristic inherent in virtual space, but in the entire Cuban society as a whole, a fruit of the despotic nature of this regime.

Nor do we write on the web to save ourselves from repression. The censors and their minions know who we are and where we live, ergo, we are as exposed as the opponents.

Finally, some reader referred to a phrase of Marti’s about the exercise of criticism which must happen “face to face,” The grave problem in decontextualizing Marti is that generally we forget that his Titanic political and patriotic labor — of astonishing force in many respects — took place in the 19th century. His principles are commendable and his example magnificent; but I am convinced that if Marti had had access to a tool as useful as the Internet, he would not have hesitated to use it as well to exercise his sharp (and often poignant) critiques.

That is the benefit of the technology is now within our grasp. So, my friends, forgive me if I suffer the mania of opinion; I have a critical eye and prefer to offer my points of view rather than remain silent. I don’t have the opportunity in life to go door-to-door telling each person what I think, so I have a blog. Don’t forget that in this case, neither did anyone knock on my door, nor was I the one who threw the first “stone.” I am in peace, there are no grievances.

April 11 2011

Bad Handwriting in La Joven Cuba (8) / Regina Coyula

For Harold, in relation to Tony’s post:

I am a lover of history, and history of the Second World War, the Cold War and the disappearance of the socialist countries of Europe, is for me like reading best sellers, especially when we can know what comes to light when archived are opened and manuscripts emerge from drawers. All of it supported with excellent audiovisuals because I am also a cinephile.

As the story has been uncovered I’ve become convinced that Cuba is too much a carbon copy of these structures that are maintained, even twenty years later, which leads me to believe its fate will be the same. And as Tony is not the only one who travels, I will tell a story.

I visited Germany (East and West) in 1979. I was staying at the Stadt Hotel in Berlin, steps from the Brandenburg Gate,  just in front of the television tower. Very comfortable, yes, but I couldn’t get over my amazement at the abundance the Germans enjoyed.

On the hotel’s facade, the whole length of its twenty something floors, there was an enormous number 30, corresponding to the 30th anniversary of the installation of Socialism. After that, I was anxious for Cuba to cover the remaining years to its 30th anniversary of Socialism, to be able to enjoy the same bonanza.

When we’re young we often come to hasty conclusions. Not only did our 30th anniversary not meet these expectations, but shortly afterwards, East Germany didn’t want to hear anything about Socialism.

I remember my impression of that country, knowing that unchecked, knowing that the reunification would be difficult for the economy because the East was considerably behind the West, I took that into account in my idea of development. Later, I began to understand the causes, and began to find the similarities with Cuba.

Everything indicates that material incentives are more persuasive and create more, working for themselves makes the self-employed put in extra effort to move their business forward, if the licenses weren’t so limited (they’re available almost exclusively for services), we would observe an increase in productivity, but the State doesn’t want to open its hand, and so a circular contradiction is created.

P.S. Princess Napoleon’s is real kitsch, the gift clock, another like what Sorolla gave as a wedding present to the Prince of Borbon. Nothing impresses royalty.

April 16 2011

Another Stretch of Sea Between Us / Ernesto Morales Licea

There is a question I’ve formulated on more than on occasion, and that I have recently revived. It goes more or less like this: “If I, who detests with every particle of my being the North Korean dynasty, for example, suddenly gathered my intentions and provoked an attack that killed dozens of North Korean civilians, would this effort be enough to call myself, from now on and proudly, an anti-Kim fighter?”

And if, for example, my firecracker in Pyongyang causes collateral damage and sacrifices a European tourist, then can I call myself anti-dynastic, a fighter against Kim-the-father or Kim-the-son, and be treated like a hero, even though I haven’t touched a single petal on the iron dictatorship, which continues on its course without the least disturbance?

It’s something that’s returned to my mind now that Luis Posada Carriles is in the news again. For some, a hilarious story. For me, bitter news: I do not like his immediate and complete acquittal, I don’t like it at all, and I say this with the verticality of one who is not trained in the art of silencing what I think.

I have two reasons for not celebrating even one iota of this news. The first is: I don’t like this character. I could never sympathize with those who have death in their background, and who brag about it. Whatever its cause might be. And especially: whoever has the death of innocents in his background, poor unfortunates who were in the wrong hotel, or the wrong airplane, the day Luis Posada and friends decided to realize their “anti-Castroism” sui generis.

As a teenager I remember the long Cuban television broadcast dedicated to the bombings of 1997, the trial of Raul Ernesto Cruz Leon, the despondent face of an old Italian whose son, Fabio Di Celmo, was hit by a piece of glass that inevitably cut his jugular in the Copacabana Hotel.

And, since my untainted adolescence, I keep the memory of those days fresh: in the midst of devastating famine, in the midst of dissatisfaction and disgust for a country drowning in nothingness, a silence of anger and pain reigned everywhere.

The bombings of Havana hotels, the death of an innocent tourist, not only failed to topple the regime of Fidel Castro, not only did not precipitate the collapse of the Cuban Revolution, but rather it caused the opposite effect: in those hallucinatory days the Cuban people (even those who opposed the government publicly or privately), closed ranks with the establishment and approved almost anything they did.

The reason is very simple: Cuban society was hurt, its nerves were electrified. And where protection is sought in these cases, as always, is in the State. Let the Americans say otherwise: the country never vibrated with a greater sense of patriotism, never had a greater affinity with an administration, just as with Bush-the-son after losing three thousand and some lives in two New York towers.

Posada Carriles tras ser absuelto
Posada Carriles after being acquitted

But in 1976 I had not yet been born. I could not experience, as in 1997, the national horror. And it wasn’t just any kind of horror: it had to have been much worse than the one I did know. Between an Italian, a young man for whom he mourned, but, at the end of the day, a foreigner, and seventy-three Cubans, some of them teenagers, there is no comparison in pragmatic terms. I’ve seen the painful television accounts, but I have no life experience of it.

And still, I know perfectly well that any people who lose so many innocents, massacred by fanatics, irrational people who in their delirious warmongering are not capable of differentiating between a fighter jet and an airplanes filled with a beardless fencing team; I don’t have to have lived those days to know that Luis Posada and Orlando Bosch, not only are by their own confessions responsible for this crime (enough of tricks and rhetoric: have they confessed or not? Do we or do we not know that it was them?) They are, also, responsible for ensuring that a society in mourning gave more respect and power to a dictator who, in the future, would have more justifications, more scapegoats, to engage in his business of hijacking the national freedom.

But I have a second reason to find this news of Posada’s total acquittal bitter: the ugly scenario it presents to those who believe that the reconstruction of unity, of our history as a country torn apart, must start with a coming together between exiles and the Cubans over there.

How to convince those on the island, as a part of this second, that many of the stories offered on the Roundtable TV show, in the newspaper Granma, about the exiles of Miami, are nothing more that clever manipulations to further widen the breach that separates Cubans from here and from there? How to convince, for example, a Cuban of my generation, who grew up hearing the title os “Mafia terrorist of Miami,” that this demonization, that encompasses millions of exiled people, is only applicable to an ever-shrinking handful?

A single example: whenever I say publicly, here, that one of the strongest fears held by Cubans on the Island today is that, if there is a reconciliation between the two parties, the former owners will come and reclaim their old properties, dislodging people, displacing schools and clinics, many look at me with a smile of incredulity.

The truth is: I don’t know of a single octogenarian who left his home in Cuba, at the triumph of the Revolution, who still wishes to recover it. Not only because after so much time everyone has forgotten these losses — though not their resentment against the perpetrators — but because they know well the conditions in which they would find these old properties would require them to dynamite them and start from scratch.

But let no one doubt: is this one of the arguments most repeated by the regime. And what is its purpose? Well, very simple: to divide. To widen the gap between the two sides. To continue to stimulate the conflict and divert attention from a vital issue: the Cuban exile has nothing against Cuba, against Cubans, against that country that they love as few natives in the world love their countries. Cuban exiles, especially the historic generation, what they have declared war against is the government of the Castros, who know this very well.

But how do I explain this to my friends, as a solution to the strategic error so favored by the establishment, if suddenly a nation of eleven million people discovers that the alleged anti-Castro fighters do not kill tyrants but fencers in short pants?

How does one explain to the millions of Cuban television viewers that this beautiful march in support of the Ladies in White organized by two worthy siblings, true pride of our land, when the Roundtable simply put Luis Posada Carriles in the picture with them, neutralizing with a single image the message of peace and solidarity emanating from that initiative of the Estefans?

What Castro, member of the Castro family, friend of Castro or henchman of Castro, did those recalcitrant fighters kill with their attacks and their planes? I only know of one. One victim who feeds their egos. A solo victim to justify the title of heroes, if such a thing could be justifies, for example, as with those who shot the dictator Trujillo, in an act of death that would save so many lives.

But no. These gentleman who are honored and freed of any guilt, have only damaged one faction of this story: those who determine nothing. Big favor they have done to the cause of freedom.

I accept neither stories no half-measures: When, on April 8, the El Paso jury determined, in just three hours, that Luis Posada Carriles was innocent of everything, the strip of sea between Cubans of both sides grew thicker. And that, for those who have faith in a future where most exiles will not die without being able to visit the house where they were born, and where we will erase from our consciences — as the Germans have done — this shameful past of distance and pain, is a motive for indignation.

And, in my case, reason enough to write.

April 14 2011

Ariel Arzuaga Peña Without the Right to Defend Himself / Luis Felipe Rojas

I’ve spent some nights now trying to talk to the wife of Ariel Arzuaga, a defender of human rights in the city of Bayamo, in Granma province. He is currently imprisoned because of the malice of the local military authorities.

Yakelin Garcia Jaenz worriedly told me that Ariel remains in a very poor state. He is now confined to “Las Mangas” Provincial Prison, and being kept in the area of those who have pending trials. He is being accused of “assault”.

Ariel Arzuaga’s suffering began on February 23rd of this year, 2011, when he was on his way to pay tribute to the memory of Orlando Zapata Tamayo.

“We had a funeral garland in the house, but the political police agents Julio Cesar and Abel violently barged in. They tore down the door and told us that we were not allowed to leave our house. That’s when Ariel went out to the street and told them what they were doing was a violation because there was a child in the house that had to go to school and they were stripping that right from us”.

“I ended up taking my son to school and they took me to prison. Ariel stayed at home taking care of our 2-year-old daughter and they started to accuse him. They were saying that he wanted to kill our girl, which is a huge lie. The Special Brigade entered our home through the bathroom window and seized Ariel. They twisted his arms in a lock position, they grabbed his neck, and then dragged him to the MININT Delegation located on the road to Santiago de Cuba. At midday, they moved him to the Instructional Police unit where he was kept until March 11th, where he declared himself on hunger strike from March 9th”.

“On March 14th, while he was out on the street again, he tells me that around 5 pm he was verbally and physically attacked by a paramilitary officer who had also been present during the February 23rd demonstration when he was detained. This man really attacked him and screamed at him: ‘Worm! Counter-Revolutionary!’ and other obscene words. Ariel, according to what they tell me, simply got off his bicycle and that’s all. He was later detained on March 17th and has been behind the bars to this day, which is soon going to be a month exactly. He has been kept in the Las Mangas jail in Detachment 1-2”.

“Today, I got to visit Ariel there. He told me that Major Joel had informed him that he could no longer use the phone every three days as is the norm established for common prisoners. They also informed Ariel that family visits will no longer be held in the salon but somewhere else and separately”.

Ariel Arzuaga Peña lives in 21 Street, No. 12-A, e/12 and 14, in the Ciro Redondo Housing Complex, Bayamo, Granma. He is the director of the local “Light and Truth” Human Rights Center and is the President of the Opposition Municipality. He is also an activist of the Eastern Democratic Alliance.

April 16 2011

Voices 3 About to be Released / Miguel Iturria Savón

Translator’s note: The translation of this post was delayed; Voices 7 is now out.

Friday night, November 12, was one of magic and joy for the sponsors and witnesses of the journal Voices, developed since last August by Yoani Sanchez, Reinaldo Escobar, Luis Orlando and other creators from the Academy Blogger in Cuba, who distributed dozens of copies of the third issue published by the portal Voces Cubanas, posted on
www.vocescubanas.com/voces
and vocesvocesvoces@gmail.com .

We are again faced with a challenging script with cultural pretensions, which promotes communication without censorship and commitment to freedom of expression. Internet as a medium for emerging voices, expatriates, those silenced or under suspicion, but with a civic sense and desires to cast off their fears and play in the big leagues; confident that the island is a mini interconnected universe and the nation a space for building and reconstruction with a seat for everyone.

The third issue of Voices, as the previous installments, breathes freshness and originality, and offers texts from 20 authors ranging from poetry, social essay, literary and cultural chronicles and newspaper interviews, narrative and texts that lead to dialogs and reflections in turn on literature and some of the daily problems of the country, although the collaborators avoid party phobias and concentrate on selected themes and figures, bringing their own polyphonic diversity to the magazine, where we can appreciate creators from “inside” and “outside” the island.

The index, true to the simplicity of the issues of August and September, have no sections, footnotes, author bios or editorial notes. The layout and design and play games with letters and digits, creating evocative spaces, use the illustrations of Claudia Cadelo whose female figures adorn the inside and back, in counterpoint with a photograph of the dome of the Presidential Palace, by Orlando Luis Pardo Lazo, writer and photographer, a friend of allegories and ruptures.

To Luis Orlando we owe “Is there Cuban Literature after the Revolution?” (P. 18 to 22), an essay of dazzling insight and critical sense, whose question — and obvious answer — seem echoes of questions embroidered by unease and calm unraveled by the author himself. In this tone of indignation is “Kcho Degas” by Néstor Díaz de Villegas, who enriches one of the angles of Cuban culture: the counterpoint of slave master, illustrated with black poet Francisco Manzano and painter-artisan Alexis Leyva Machado (Kcho), who “lends his mask to the dictatorship” and introduces in his discourse the “false consciousness of the overseer.”

Adding the cultural disquisitions Dagoberto Valdés (“Art and craft of making independent magazines”), Mirta Suquet (“The power and the grotesque”) and M. Gelsys García Lorenzo (“Underground: A trash article”), while Alcibiades Zaldivar (“Life is a dream and everything goes,” about Benny Moré), Ena Lucia Portela (“The chill and the laugh,” about Reinaldo Arenas) and Miguel Iturria Savón with “The creative work of Reinaldo Bragado,” an incursion into the spiritual memory of the nation.

Claudia Cadelo, Orlando Luis Pardo Lazo, Miriam Celaya

More tricky are three short essays that probe the sociopolitical situation in the islands. Its authors are Miriam Celaya (“Cuba: potential exit scenarios”), Dimas Castellanos (“Property: A fundamental problem”), and Rosa M. Rodríguez Torrado (“Dialogue in contention”). For sharpness, latest news, proposals and scriptural balance these reflections deserve attention from readers, especially the “approach to the subject” by Miriam, complemented by “The hypothesis most uncertain,” by Reinaldo Escobar, on the impossibility of the socialist utopia.

Poetry is represented by Maria Elena Blanco (“Hill of Dreams”) and Peter F. Báez (Cubanness), while the narrative, well served, bears the mark of Francis Sánchez (“Diary of Dreams”) and Amir Valle, who offers an unpublished fragment of “The roots of hatred.”

Of great interest are also the “Notes on writing and the nation,” by Salman Rushdie, an Indian writer in exile in England, and two pieces of journalism to recapture the Cuban reality, the “Interview with Oswaldo Paya Sardinas,” by L. Mendez Santiago Alpizar, and “Operation Blogger: An Algorithm for a failure,” by Ernesto Morales.

With its third installment, Voices faces the dual challenge of any periodical posted in cyberspace. What about the audience? Will is creators awaken the consciousness put to sleep by disinformation? Will the magazine maintain its professional level? There are reasons for optimism.

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November 27 2010

Carter, an Invitation to Start Back at Square One / Dimas Castellanos

In a context of allegations in the media about an alleged war in cyberspace against Cuba, the former U.S. President Jimmy Carter has just arrived on the island invited by the Cuban Government. The significance of the visit is that Carter, during his presidency between 1977 and 1981, obtained significant results in foreign policy. Among them were treaties, including the Panama Canal treaty, the peace accords at Camp David between Egypt and Israel, and the SALT II treaty with the USSR, and the establishment of diplomatic relations with China and opening of the U.S. Interests Section in Cuba.

After leaving the White House, Carter stood out as a mediator in several international conflicts, promoting democracy, defending human rights and promoting economic and political development of peoples, for which he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. He has also been the only U.S. President, in or out of office, who has visited the island since 1959. To this must be added that during his visit to Havana in May 2002, he held talks with the Cuban government and with political dissidents, and in his speech at the Great Hall of the University of Havana, he issued a mediation proposal: ending the embargo and holding free elections in the country. Then, in June 2005, he urged the closure of the prison at Guantanamo Bay. If to the above is added that the United States, less than 100 miles from Cuba, is the third largest country in the world by land area and population, and its economy ranks first, it is not hard to see what the normalization of relations between both nations could represent for all Cubans.

In a small reflection entitled, “Confrontation: A Strategy?” published in June 2010, I stated in one paragraph “Despite government resistance, the relevance of civil liberties obliges, sooner or later, a domestic policy change and from that projects foreign relations based on dialog as a principal and permanent strategy. Then, we must begin to release all political prisoners, ratify human rights covenants, develop the legislation to implement such covenants, and open a national debate on issues that affect us, so that Cubans can participate as subjects in the destiny their nation. It is simply an issue of timing.”

The Cuban model has failed in its principle purposes, with the exception of the “merit of resisting the enemy” and the country is immersed in the deepest crisis of its history. Once the process of releasing the prisoners has advanced, the possible exit from such a critical situation must, sooner or later, involve normalization of relations with the powerful neighbor to the north. It is, therefore, imperative, and without further delay, to retrace the paths forged from the political realism for the welfare of the Cuban people.

The foreign policy of States, which derive from their internal policies, in Cuba have been reversed since 1959. At that time, during the Cold War, the Cuban government was defined as follows: Between the two ideologies and political and economic positions that are being discussed in the world, we have our own position. However, the nationalization process undertaken with the Agrarian Reform Law in May 1959, affecting the U.S. geopolitical interests, led to the deterioration of relations until the conflict took center stage in politics. Thus began a career of measures and countermeasures that subordinated domestic problems.

In 1960, the U.S. President ordered the preparation of an armed force of exiles to invade Cuba, and Cuba’s government responded with the restoration of diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union and intervened with the oil refineries. The U.S. Congress authorized the President to cut the sugar quota and the Council of Ministers of Cuba granted special powers to the President and the Prime Minister to nationalize American companies. The United States dropped the Cuba sugar quota by 700 thousand tons and the Soviet Union announced the purchase of that sugar. Fidel Castro nationalized the majority of American companies based in the country and the Organization of American States condemned Cuba, while the U.S. government decreed a trade embargo.

In 1961 the United States broke diplomatic relations with Cuba in April and sponsored the Bay of Pigs landing, while Fidel Castro, who had already proclaimed the fulfillment of the Moncada program, declared the socialist character of the revolution. In 1962, President Kennedy ordered a naval blockade in response to the installation of Soviet missiles in Cuba, giving rise to the October Crisis that put the world on the brink of nuclear war. The presence of Cuban guerrillas in several countries of the region; the Torricelli and Helms-Burton Acts in the nineties; the creation of the Commission for Assistance to a Free Cuba and the Liberty Fund in this decade, are some of those moments derived from the original democratic project to another eternal resistance.

For Cubans, the main damage of the dispute consists in the contradictions between state and society, which facilitated the removal of civil society and determined the current impasse. After half a century of confrontation, beyond the material losses and limitations on civil and political liberties, the worst outcome is reflected in the thousands of Cubans who have given their lives in wars, trying to cross the Straits of Florida or to overseas military missions, which, together with the victims of family separations, the enmity generated by ideological reasons and traumas, have resulted in a totally negative balance from the anthropological point of view, which makes it imperative to turn the page from confrontation to enter the pages of understanding, dialogue, collaboration and reconciliation.

With the chapter of winners and losers exhausted, the new U.S. policy toward Cuba could be a great opportunity. For the Cuban government, rather than a response to the measures that have been dictated by the Obama administration to loosen restrictions previously imposed, the government should use the visit by Carter to take final steps in favor Cubans themselves, victims of conflict between the two countries that have regressed to rights from the colonial era. The thesis put forward so far to not change anything until the other changes, is out of time and place. A responsibility resides solely with the people in power right now, to try to start again from square one.

Published in Diario de Cuba 28 March 2011

April 4 2011

Terry Jones in Norway. Twenty Years Later. / Ernesto Morales Licea

In the early ’90s, the Reverend Rolf Rasmussen, minister of the Asane Church in Bergen, Norway, received an unexpected telephone call on Christmas eve. A mob of “Black Metal” music fanatics with clear satanic affiliations had set fire to his two-hundred year old church and reduced it to cinders and ashes.

The fact that no one died in the incident was a true miracle.

The testimony of Rasmussen was collected in a fantastic documentary by Sam Dunn and Scott McFayden about the history of Heavy Metal titles, “A Headbanger’s Journey.”

I think about it now that the incendiary torch has changed hands, and he who wields it doesn’t play the guitar or worship Satan. Rather it is presented as the continuation of the Christian word.

Personally, I see no difference between the barbaric acts carried out by the Norwegian rockers, and the show that is put on by the protestant minister Terry Jones, burning a copy of the Koran in his sacristy in Gainesville, Florida, careening new souls to his Lord.

Strictly speaking, it’s not the same. It’s much worse. The acts of those dark musicians only damaged the architectural patrimony of Norway, while the burning of the Islamic sacred text has caused, so far, some twenty deaths and numerous injuries in Afghanistan.

It was common knowledge. Mr. Terry Jones can not claim surprise. When he announced his intention to burn the Koran commemorating the September 11, 2010, the international and internal uproar seemed to make him desist from his crazy action.

The "Good Shepherd" Terry Jones.

But last March 20 he “condemned” the book in a symbolic trial, and presided over the cremation ceremony. A few days later, an angry mob broke into the UN office in Mazar-i-Sharif, Afghanistan, and ended the lives of seven innocent officials. In the days that followed, the protests have ended the lives of many more people.

Some analysts focus their attention on the overreactions of the Muslim fanatics, who haven’t even adhered to the instructions of Sharia, and the Supreme Law, making an “Eye for an Eye, a Tooth for a Tooth,” perhaps charring some edition of the Bible.

For me, it’s no more than stating the obvious. To censure the extremism of a handful of fanatics (calculating the handful: close to 1.5 billion people in the world profess Islam, and only this Afghan mob took justice into their own hands), is as futile as it is repetitive. We can count on that.

But the extreme irrationality of a westerner based on the words of a peaceful God, and living in one of the most plural and tolerant societies on the planet, is truly astounding and troubling.

Now, the arguments of Pastor Jones are the most interesting part of this unfortunate scene. He has said, “No one can stop me from expressing myself freely. The burning of a book is a form of self-expression, guaranteed under the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.”

And like it or not, he’s not mistaken.

No legal entity, government or religious, could stop this from happening, for a reason like a temple: in a country where freedom of expression is an untouchable concept, there is no way to stop an act like this, provocative as it comes, but harmless materially speaking: burning a book. It is not a human being, nor even a pet.

In democratic societies, respect for individual liberties, however controversial or objectionable they may be, is sacred. And the cause of this sacred respect rests on a humanist foundation: confidence in the ethics and good behavior of civilized citizens.

Should this right to expression be amended again, as a notable Muslim political analyst in the United States has suggested, in hopes of safeguarding security and keeping the peace?

And, with pain in my heart for the victims of this fatal act, and with anger awakened in me by this caveman-like conduct of the Christian Terry Jones, I say no. I say that the circumstantial modification of a section like this could be a gray precedent such that, in the future and with other interests in play, new modifications would begin to mutilate the freedom of expression that, speaking frankly, is strict or it does not exist.

Not even the shocking reaction of a group of blind fanatics, not even the anomalous conduct of a priest — whose action seems equally fanatic to me, though he does not wear a turban nor proclaim jihad, nor listen to heavy metal — should determine this crowning achievement of democracy that is expressed with true freedom.

It is the evil murderers who, in the name of Allah, wrapped explosives around their chests and went to blow themselves up in an airplane, who should be amended. It is the outrageous religious, who burn books and provoke distant deaths who should be amended.

The infamous Terry Jones carries in his consciousness the bitter weight of their dead, and those of us who assume  freedom of expression as a supreme commitment, are comforted by knowing that nobody, not even for worthy causes, can cut off that right.

That’s right: What I wouldn’t have done to have had the services of Mr. Jones (having been Catholic) as the pastor of that church burned in Bergen, Norway, twenty years ago. I would have been delighted if the midnight call received by the good Rasmussen, he had taken it.

Perhaps those innocent people in Afghanistan would still be alive today.

April 5 2011

Shoes in Cuba Have More Lives Than a Cat / Iván García

Photo: Used Shoe sale.

 

Buying a new pair of shoes is a real headache for everyday Cubans. There are two ways to get your hands on footwear in Cuba: buying them off of a private craftsman or paying for them in hard currency at whichever state store. There’s no other way.

Lately, there is a swarm of stores in Havana where they sell used shoes or shoes created by craftsmen. One of the most popular spots is located in Monte street, not very far from the National Capitol. It’s a two-floor bazaar which is always packed and where people bump into each other and breathe polluted air. They don’t only sell handmade shoes. They also have shoes of poor textile and of dubious origin.

Amid the constraint and chronic scarcity of the shoes, numerous craftsmen have spent years making money in the business of tailoring leather shoes. Like Osmany, for example. He’s a guy with bulging eyes who came from Yateras, Guantanamo, which is a thousand kilometers away from the capital, to escape his misery and lack of money and future.

Now he lives in a well furnished room in “El Calvario”, a neighborhood at the South end of the city. He has a workshop at his house in which he fabricates shoes for children, women, and men. “I always try to be aware of the latest trends in the shoe-world. I daily produce 10 to 15 pairs. I’m usually able to sell each pair for 130 pesos to a middleman who later re-sells it for double, or more, of the amount. I have a license, I pay taxes and three people who work for me”, Osmany tells me.

The models which shoemakers fabricate are eye-catching, but generally their quality is poor. If you want to prove it, just ask Ramon, who works at a steel factory ten hours a day to make 800 pesos a month (35 dollars). He has three kids and his wife is a housewife.

His problems begin when he tries to get shoes for his family. Handmade shoes cost between 12 to 40 dollars. These are some of the least expensive in Cuba. In stores which operate with foreign currency, they cost more. For many, this is outrageous.

Ramon’s children often go to the Havana boutiques and remain awe-struck upon seeing the variety of models and brands. But they can only stare. The prices are not within reach of their father’s pocket.

“The remaining option is to get them at arts and crafts festivals, and those end up being very bad quality. Just give them three months and their soles begin to tear off. Whenever they get wet by rain, the leather shrinks and its color fades. But we don’t throw them away. None of that. We fix them time and time again with the cobblers”, says Ramon.

In the island, the shoe-making guild was always popular, as well as furriers and shoe-shiners. Today, fixing shoes is one of the most widespread jobs. True magicians, like Luis who assures that Cuban shoes have more lives than a cat.

“I’ve fixed shoes which their owners thought were lost cases. Poor people, which is the majority, try to have their shoes last, at minimum, 8 or more years. A living hell for many families is when their kids outgrow their shoes. I have yet to figure out a way to make them bigger”, the jocular Luis says.

And it’s true: whenever parents have to buy shoes for their kids, they wish they could just disappear. In school, the kids destroy their sneakers in a matter of months, while on the other hand their feet grow by day. When it comes time to buy a new pair, there are families that actually pull out a calculator and discuss where they can get enough money from to buy a shoe that would last them the longest time possible.

Perhaps that’s why the main requests from prostitutes and hustlers to tourists are for shoes. Those who have family on the other side of the water escape this process. Their relatives send them shoes with “mules” (the term for those people who make a living out of taking goods from Cubans outside to their relatives inside) or with the dollars that they are sent they go out and buy them at some store.

The prices are shocking. Listen to this: a pair of Adidas that aren’t the latest model cost more than 120 dollars. Nikes are around the same price. Converse and New Balance range from 80 to 90. Leather, Italian, or Brazilian shoes can cost anywhere from 50 to 130 dollars. Remember that in Cuba, in the best of instances, a worker makes the equivalent of 20 dollars per month.

The cheapest option is to purchase hard and ugly shoes sold for 6 to 12 dollars in any store throughout the country. And there are those people, like the retired Ernesto, that wear flip-flops most of the time in order to try to conserve his shoes as much as possible.

Raul Castro has said that food is a National Security issue. But he forgot to mention shoes. This is an industry that had a long history before 1959, with an ample production of shoes, purses, and leather belts (and even crocodile skin belts).

Whenever a gang of bandits robs anyone on the street, besides taking their money, they also snatch their shoes. There are no statistics of all those young people who have been mutilated, and even killed, by the stabs of a knife just because their robbers want their Nikes or Adidas. It’s the way those living in the margins of society replace their broken shoes.

Translated by Raul G.

April 16 2011

“The Internet is the brainchild of the CIA,” the Cuban government tells us / Iván García

When I started working at the independent press agency, Cuba Press, in December of 1995, internet sounded like a science fiction concept. Very few of us knew anything about it. In that highway of information we just saw a complicated trick of interconnections destined only for computer specialists. And according to what the government would tell us, it was a monster of the CIA.

In 1995, the island was still not connected to the internet. In Cuba Press, we were only about 20 correspondents, some of who had experience in State journalism. We couldn’t even dream of having a PC or a laptop. We would look at that kind of equipment as if it were strange creatures. The tough guys from State Security were searching to see if we had computers to try to demonstrate that we were an active nucleus from the United States special services.

We would type up the texts with typewriters, some older than others. Meanwhile, some of us would conserve the Robotrons, that old fossil made in Eastern Germany. Those machines had such hard keys that they would sometimes produce strong pains in the tips of our fingers. One day, a foreign journalist passed by Havana and left us his laptop, and we actually traded it in for a portable Olivetti Lettera 25 typewriter.

My dream was to write with an electric machine with a soft keyboard, with sufficient blank sheets at hand, as well as carbon paper and black tapes. Nearly everyone prefered not having a computer. Using one seemed far too complicated. It required a lot of attention and they could easily accuse you of being a “spy”.

In June of 1997, three State Security agents searched my house for a computer. My mother told them that we did not have any, but that if we did have one we would have gotten rid of it a long time ago because a neighbor of ours had told us that State Security asked the Committee for the Defense of the Revolution (CDR) to keep a watch on us to see if they could catch us with our hands on… a computer!

Despite our technological backwardness, ever since Cuba Press was created on September 23, 1995, all the chronicles and articles — dictated by phone — would get published on the internet, thanks to the collaboration of Cubans living in Miami.

We would write for websites we had never seen and we couldn’t even imagine how they looked. Every once in a while they would send us printed copies of our works. The only way we were used to reading: touching and smelling the paper.

Granma International was the first government publication which used the internet, in 1996. They officially initiated this move during the Pope’s visit to Cuba in 1998. But the top leaders of the Communist Party continued to suspiciously observe the new tool. They carefully analyzed the pros and the cons. It wasn’t until the year 2000 that the ideological talibans understood that the internet could be used as an effective weapon in favor of them as well. In matters of new technology, Fidel Castro has always tagged along.

In that silent battle between official clerks and alternative reporters, the regime was the one that lost. And it wasn’t because we independent journalists were geniuses (we really weren’t), but simply because we were — and still are — free beings at the end of the day.

During the Black Spring of 2003, Castro was out of his wits with the opposition and the dissident press. He hated it so much that he took 75 opposition members to prison, out of which 27 of them were independent journalists.

The Cuban regime has always considered the internet to be a dangerous enemy. To confront it, it has created a special regiment within counter-intelligence and the University of Information Science, located in a former electronic espionage base which was used by Russia some time ago. There, amid sex and relaxation, 8 thousand young communists prepare themselves to sabotage blogs and web pages of those who think differently.

Although they existed before, it wasn’t until 2007 that island bloggers became popular outside of Cuba. But it’s only fair to point out that 12 years before, when internet was a rare word and having a laptop was a luxury, a group of journalists living at the margins of state control, who were technologically daring and novice, were already using the internet to publish their articles.

Postscript by Tania Quintero

In an interview with Rosa Miriam Elizalde, published in Cubadebate, one journalist spokesperson for the Castro regime affirms at the end that, “Cuba has taken a very hopeful step for the future of Cuban internet: the submarine cable which connects us with Venezuela. We know that the cable is not the magic solution for our connectivity issues, but we do know that it will improve our communications, and upon benefiting many people, it will also strengthen our internet values. And I sincerely believe that 11 million cyber-activists with values of the Cuban Revolution generate more panic for the United States government than the ghost of Julian Assange multiplied many times”.

The challenge is in motion. When Cubans finally have free internet access from their homes, and not only “intranet” with the possibility of logging on to international e-mail providers like Yahoo or Gmail, then we will see if it’s true that “the revolution” will have “11 million cyberactivists”. In today’s impoverished Cuba, maybe 1 % of the population have computers in their homes or possess laptops or “tablets” which allow them to communicate freely without having to turn to email offices, computer clubs, or state-run cybercafes where both users and their connections are controlled.

It would be wonderful if 10% (or more) of Cubans on the island had the opportunity to buy computers and be able to pay, in foreign currency, for their home connections. Perhaps half of those 10% are fervent defenders of the Castro brothers and their revolution. But I doubt it.

In fact, in 1998 when Rosa Miriam Elizalde was studying in the final year of her journalism career in the University of Havana, in order for her to train in television technologies they put her and Grisell Perez, a fellow student, in the editing office where I worked for Cuban TV. We made a point of view show titled “Ruling women, get in your place”. It was finished in Sancti Spiritus, the native city of Rosa Miriam. One night she took us to met her uncles — the ones who raised her after her mother died.

On Sunday, February 21st of 1999, page 5 of “Juventud Rebelde” (“Rebel Youth”), Elizalde wrote (or signed) an attack against independent journalism titled “Mercenaries in a Rush”. I responded with “Without Hypocrisy”, which was published in Cubafreepress on March 1, 1999, the same day I was arrested by State Security in Marianao while I was heading to the trial against four members of the Internal Dissidence Work Group. I was locked away in a dungeon in the police unit situated on 7ma and 62 in Miramar for 29 hours.

As a matter of fact, Rosa Miriam Elizalde and myself are the only two Cuban journalists mentioned by the Catalonian writer Manuel Vazquez Montalban in his book “And God Entered Havana”, published in 1998 (TQ).

Translated by Raul G.
April 10 2011

TOMAS PIARD: AND WHERE IS OLPL…???!!! / Orlando Luis Pardo Lazo

TOMÁS PIARD: Y OLPL DÓNDE ESTÁ…???!!!, originally uploaded by orlandoluispardolazo.

Finally, the half-hidden premiere of the documentary “Trocadero 162, Lower Floor” by Tomas Piard (which should have been released on December 19, 2010 for Jose Lezama Lima’s centenary), where Abel Prieto, the Minister of Culture, cowered in my presence and my words in almost a third of the film. I saw it. Pfff! It’s all chopped up and with ugly framing so I cannot be seen at the roundtable discussions about Jose Lezama Lima: I guess Daniel Diez, the editor, is culturally complicit in this chopped up trash and will receive the National Order of Censorship. You’ve got to see it, pal. Oh, what a sight…!!!

Translator’s note: Tomas Piard made a film about Jose Lezama Lima in which OLPL was a significant presence. The government refused to allow the film to be released with OLPL in it, so it was edited to remove him.

www.lajiribilla.cu/2011/n517_04/517_35.html

www.cubarte.cult.cu/periodico/noticias/trocadero-162-bajo…

www.tvcubana.icrt.cu/noticias/trocadero-162-bajos/

www.radioenciclopedia.cu/2011/marzo/30/Documentalezama.htm

April 13 2011

The Plural Legacy of Martí / Regina Coyula

Oil Canvas by Raúl Martínez

Last Friday, the 8th, the newspaper Granma, published an extensive anonymous two-page work taken from Olive-Green Editions*, about the plural legacy of Marti, titled: “The idea of ​​a single party is a legacy of José Martí.”

It is not a new complaint. The argument is that Marti created a party and only one party for the independence of Cuba. Marti put all his energy into organizing the ideal of independence, in taming the will of the patriots of the great war, drawing lessons from that defeat, facing reformism and annexation, which he considered inadequate and damaging to Cuba.

Once the objectives of the struggle were obtained, and the new republic achieved, it would open a space for the formation of parties that could channel the political leanings of the Cuban people. These quotes make clear the Marti’s concept of a republic with all and for the good of all:

“… Or the Republic is based on the whole character of each one of its children, the habit of working with their hands and thinking for themselves, the full exercise of and respect for family honor, the full exercise of the others: the passion, finally, for the decency of man…

“…Or the Republic is not worth one of our women’s tears, not a single drop of blood of our brave. A people is composed of many wills. The republic … will not be the unfair dominance of one class of Cubans over the other, but open and honest balancing of all the real forces in the country and of the free thoughts and desires of all Cubans. Every public party must fit with its people.

“The Revolutionary Party, whose transient mission will cease the day Cuba achieves its part in the war and there is an accord on the island, will have no leaders that rise up, nor old or new bosses that put themselves over the country, nor pretensions that would overtake the prior rights of the first republic and the new and supreme law of the land.”

These last two quotes are important for a man whose command of language is recognized, because they demolish the thesis that Martí supported a society with a single party. If there are politicians who have created more than one party, it would have to be a curiosity.

The will that leads to the creation of a new political force obeys the lack of the same, or a rupture within an existing organization. Marti created a pro-independence party, because no party existed that matched his objectives. To legitimize the current one-party rule through Marti’s ideology is nothing but a manipulation of history.

Translated by: L. Rodriguez

*Note from Translator: Verde Olivo [Olive-Green] Editions is an editorial house that is part of the Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias (Revolutionary Armed Forces) of Cuba. They publish books related to military topics.

April 13, 2011

Laughter and the Congress / Yoani Sánchez

Celia Cruz. Caricatura de Aristides

Laughter is still an effective cure for the daily trials. Thus, on this Island, we bend our lips into a smile more for self-therapy than for happiness. Then the tourists take our pictures and go home saying we are a happy people, that we haven’t lost our sense of humor before all the difficulties. Ahh! The tourists and their explanations! We tour the world with the instant of that laugh on our faces — a laugh that preceded a gesture of disgust — or with the image of satisfaction that overwhelms us on resolving, after a year’s effort, a pair of graduated lenses for a child.

Splitting our sides laughing can also be preventative medicine to avoid disappointments to come. Perhaps for this reason, every time I ask someone about the possible reforms likely to grow out of the Sixth Communist Party Congress, they answer me with a giggle, an ironic “teeheehee.” Next they shrug their shoulders and come out with a phrase such as, “Well, no one should have any illusions… and maybe they’ll authorize the purchase of houses and cars.” They end their words with another enigmatic grimace of pleasure, confusing me still more. It’s difficult to know if the majority of my compatriots today would prefer that transformations be approved at the Party Congress, or for it to be a fiasco to demonstrate the system’s inability to reform itself.

Although expectations have faded considerably in recent months, some part remains, especially among the most materially destitute and the most ideologically fervent. The image of a pragmatic Raul Castro has been replaced by that of a hesitant ruler, trapped by a situation beyond his control. The Congress some assumed would lead to reforms, has come too late and forfeited, with this waiting, many of the hopes it once unleashed. Behind the enigmatic smiles of the taxi drivers, pizza sellers, students, and even Party militants, is now concealed the insolence of those who know how little things change, and who use silent mockery to vaccinate themselves — in advance — against the frustration.

15 April 2011

Notes from Captivity XIV / Pablo Pacheco

Denying my Father a Visit

One afternoon, the weather abruptly changed. It seemed as if the fury of the gods was attacking “The Polish” and all its inhabitants. Suddenly, a heavy rain shower invaded my cell. If I hadn’t been awake at the time, all my belongings would have gotten soaked. The water entered through the roof of my cell with strength. When the storm finally concluded, I got rid of some water with the old shirt I used to keep warm each night. I had to use this article of clothing because I did not have a towel, and since the guards did not allow me to have a mop, I had to get on the floor to dry my cell as if I was some sort of four-legged animal.

When it was time to count the prisoners, Major Brito, the chief of Aguica Prison’s Re-education system, passed by my cell and sarcastically told me, “Pacheco, your dad passed by here today, but a visit was not possible.” My instincts reacted in the face of this soldier who had a reputation for being one of the worst henchmen of the prisons. I felt that he wanted to psychologically torture me, so I was bent on avoiding this at all costs. “Major,” I replied, “Don’t worry about it. My dad knows that today is not the visit day and I didn’t tell him to come. Besides, it’s good that this happen to him so that he can realize that he is wrong in defending a system which I oppose with all my strength. All of you with your abuses and crimes are proving to your followers themselves that communism is incompatible with humanity. Thanks a lot for the information,” I concluded.

Brito was cut short after hearing my words and told me, “You are all unpredictable and ungrateful. I would think you would get happy to hear about your father.” I laughed out loud and replied, “You would be happy if I became worried and started asking you why they didn’t let a father see his imprisoned son after traveling 300 kilometers. No soldier, I am in jail because of my ideas and not because of family visits. But regardless, thanks for your interest and for trying to cheer me up.”

I spent the rest of the afternoon and night thinking of my father. He had given part of his life to defend a revolution which jailed his son just for writing and dissenting without rules. The mother of two of his children had left the country. My father had little left to fight for and his ignorance made him see life in black and white. He did not want to accept reality. With time, I understood that he was yet another victim of the dictatorship.

During the next few weeks I suffered a lot in silence for my dad. I felt a sense of guilt about his failed trip. When I was finally able to see him he told me that he cried, and not because of the heavy rain which soaked him, but because he was not able to see me. But he understood that everything in life has a price and my life’s price was a sacrifice for my ideas. From that moment on, my father and I understood each other better and we respected the space which ideas has imposed on us with time. We never argued about politics again and I thank God for that.

Translated by Raul G.

April 9, 2011

NOTE: Pablo Pacheco was one of the prisoners of Cuba’s Black Spring, and the initiator of the blog “Behind the Bars.” He now blogs from exile in Spain and his blog – Cuban Voices from Exile – is available in English translation here. To make sure readers find their way to his new blog, we will continue to post some of his articles here, particularly those relating his years in prison in Cuba.

Addictions / Rebeca Monzo

I’ve always had reason for fear, especially after my children were born.

But I must confess that during my life I’ve suffered, as I recall, three strong addictions:

The Havana baseball club.

My first boyfriend.

Coca Cola.

I had to say goodbye to all three at almost the same time, after the year nineteen-fifty-nine.

My first addiction: I was a hardened fan of the Havana club. I cried, I chewed by fingernails, and when they lost a game I was spiritless, especially if it was a championship. As a little girl I went to Cerro Stadium dressed in red, like Little Red Riding Hood.

With the second one, my first boyfriend, it was the same as with the first, but in addition, he robbed me of my sleep. Even today I dream about him from time to time: I see him walking toward me, just like when he left, and I hide, because I don’t want him to see me as I am now.

With my third addiction, CocaCola, I was a compulsive consumer. It was all the same to me, the normal bottle, the familiar, or one of those machines that you dropped a coin into (5 centavos), and a cup dropped out first and then transparent soda, and then the cola. Sometimes I even cheated and removed the cup so there would be less soda and then put it back for the cola to make the taste stronger.

Years later when I went into the foreign service and met up with it again, it was like going back to see a relative. I was silly, and at a dinner I’d been invited to I ordered CocaCola, because in the half-light of the restaurant I confused it with the color of the wine. Until one day a waiter noticed and said to me, in front of everyone, Ah coke, the wine of the Americans.

After that, ooh la la! I started drinking wine and I loved it, but just as I was getting used to it, my diplomatic time ended and I returned to my planet and have never seen it since.

Moral: Try not to acquire addictions, they enslave you, I can promise you, and even if you wage a pitched battle against them, and achieve victory, you will always get hurt. Especially if they are the same kind as my second.

April 10 2011