Agent 000 / Yoani Sánchez

The saga of undercover agents, of moles within the ranks of opposition groups, far from alarming me, made me yawn. When they show one of those “heroes” on official television, I feel like I’m watching a fictional serial, where the characters are actors, the script has been written by someone with literary talent, and the scenes were filmed over and over until they seemed convincing. The strategy of the secret police has been overly exploited on our small Cuban screens, too common a part of our Cuban reality. The idea is to make us believe that any friend, family member or even our own children could be some kind of Mata Hari, ready to make a case against us; to convert distrust into a paralyzing element.

I met Carlos Serpa Maceira once when he came to my house because he wanted to open a blog, and wanted me to help him in the endeavor. He happened to tell Reinaldo and me that he had studied in the Journalism school at the beginning of the 1990s. We asked him about some of our friends who had studied the same specialty in those years and were met by painful confusion. He didn’t know a single one of the names we mentioned. When he left, my husband and I remarked on the poor devil who had invented a university diploma. I confess that I didn’t associate him with State Security, but I labeled him with one of the strongest adjectives I utilize for individuals: pathological liar.

Two years later, last Saturday, I received a brief text message from Serpa Macier. In just 90 characters with four misspellings, he said he needed to see me urgently, or to call him. I did neither. It was a final ploy, desperate bait to be able to record a conversation with me which probably would have been on the program that aired last night. His face on the television was not a surprise, his delight in how he spied on the Ladies in White and independent journalist seemed pathetic. As the credits rolled on the serial, I sent a brief message to his mobile: “Rome pays the traitors, but it despises them.”

I wanted to say more, but he has enough already, what with the contempt he receives from his own Caesar, that institution for which he worked considers him nothing more than another “snitch.”

Translator’s note: Following is the Cubavision TV show aired on 26 Feb 2011 — “Pawns of the Empire” — with English subtitles.

Social Garbageman / Iván García

Lithograph on paper, 1999, by Bezier, Cuban artist

Yamil, 22 years old, earns his living by rummaging through dumpsters. For him, a good day means filling three sacks to the brim with empty, flattened-out beer and soda cans, which he earns by walking 30 kilometers (about 18 miles) daily.

He gathers the sacks in a corner of his shack made of wood planks and cardboard. When he has 15 or 20 bundles, he puts them on a rustic wheelbarrow and takes them to a local junkyard where he exchanges them for packs of cookies, candy, chocolates, and plastic soda bottles.

The transaction ends once he manages to sell all the knickknacks. His earnings come to about 1,000 pesos (45 dollars). Half of this money doesn’t reach his poor home. On the way, he stops at a market to buy pork, vegetables, beans, and rice. At the black market he gets oil and soap, which his family uses for bathing as well as washing their hair and doing laundry.

Now I present to you his family. The mom sleeps ten hours a day on a dirty cot surrounded by cockroaches and mosquitoes. She spends the rest of her time drunk, drinking a rum so rough it’s scary. Once drunk she falls unconscious on her cot.

Because of this, Yamil is in charge of the house. He has four siblings: three girls, 7, 9, and 12 years old, and an older brother of 25, professional pickpocket serving 15 years in jail for forced robbery of an occupied home. “Thank God he’s in jail. When my brother Oscar was home, the fights were endless. He would hit my sisters and eat all the food.”

Yamil dreams of making money to be able to build a brick house. “For that I need to get together six or seven thousand pesos (250 or 300 dollars) and besides collecting junk material, start buying it wholesale. Then, I would gain 200 dollars in the exchange for candy. If I saved up half of that, in two years I would have 200 dollars. With that money I could start putting in the foundation for the new house.”

His 12-year old sister wants to help out; leave school and start turning tricks on the National Highway. But Yamil would rather wait until she’s older. “When she’s 15 she could start hustling. She’s not ugly and has a nice figure. That’s why I try to keep her and my other two sisters eating well, so their bodies will develop well. They are essential for building this house and having a better life in the future.”

Yamil barely managed to finish sixth grade. Life has made him tough. His latest struggle is against the government, which wants to have junk collectors pay taxes. “It’s abuse. If I pay taxes, I’ll barely have money to maintain my family.”

In his shack of cardboard and wet rotted wood, surrounded by thick shrubbery, with a single light bulb, without a radio, fridge, or TV, the mother wakes up and looks around. Without a word she takes a large gulp of homemade rum; “As you can see, she can’t be counted on to change our luck.”

February 26 2011

The Old Ties / Fernando Dámaso

A proverb says that man is the only animal that stumbles twice over the same stone. It could be added: With the exception of politicians, who never tire of it. Why bring this up? It turns out, watching the National Television News, something we rarely do, in various reports it appears that a major political leader in a working visit to eastern Cuba, first in one town suggested Raul as a delegate to the next Communist Party Congress, then another village, proposed Fidel, and finally, in another village, proposing himself. It’s not a Kafka story: it really happened.

It is known that the delegates to Party congresses should be chosen from their base. This is what the regulations say. If it were truly a democratic process, there would be nothing more to say, but the whole world, knows that it’s a formal process, where the leaders, to ensure their presence and permanence, are designated in advance based in areas of similarity (birth, insurrectionist struggle, etc.), where they must be nominated and elected. It’s the same system applied to the electoral process. It’s noteworthy that when they talk about eliminating anachronistic and bureaucratic methods, this one continues to be in use.

Another fact: in the meeting of the CADECAS (currency exchange) workers to analyze, discuss and approve the Guidelines for the 6th Communist Party Congress, some of them, perhaps motivated by having heard, “Do not fear differences of criteria or opinions, expressed preferably in place, time and form, that is in some appropriate place, at the opportune moment, and in the correct form, which will always be more desirable than false unanimity,” thought they could think freely. The Party official who, along with the managing director, presided over it, seeing that the opinions went beyond the set agenda, decided to suspend it, arguing that it wasn’t well-organized which was the fault of the director.

In either case, as it’s easy to check, for too many years they have applied primarily dogmatism and formalism, and it’s very difficult to eradicate it with a few speeches and, perhaps, good intentions. It’s a problem of a created mentality that needs deeper measures, if they want results and not to just keep spinning in place.

In order to have citizens, in the base, express what they really think and not what you want them to express, there has to be a dismantling of the entire system of organized social coercion, which is used to show there is a unanimity that in fact doesn’t exist and in which no one believes, starting with the highest leaders, when they establish: Reject the false unanimity, based in fakery and opportunism. I share the views that disagree with the regime: it is a right no one should be deprived of. Let us begin now to make it a reality.

February 24 2011

Go Bankrupt or Prosper… / Yoani Sánchez

For those who grew up in a country where the state, for decades, has been the monopoly employer, to be forced to make a living independently is like jumping into the void. Thus, workers are overcome with fear, lately, as they await the publication of the dreaded list of names of those who will lose their jobs. Not only do fears flourish, but also opportunism and favoritism. The decision of who will keep their places and who will not is made by the directors of each workplace and we already know about cases where it is not the most capable to remain, but those closest to the director. Ironically, the positions they are trying to keep are underpaid, and the loss of a quarter of the workforce does not mean — for now — a salary increase for those who stay.

Downsizing meetings occur in every workplace, even in such sensitive sectors as Public Health. These meetings decide something more important than monthly salaries or belonging to a certain company or institution. It is also a time when people’s eyes are opened to a different Cuba, where the premise of full employment is not proclaimed to the four winds and where working for oneself appears as a bleak and uncertain option. Some exchange the white coat for barber’s scissors, or the syringe for an oven where they bake pizza and bread. They will learn about the inevitable march from economic independence to political independence, they will go bankrupt or prosper, they will lie on their tax returns or honestly report how much they have earned. In the end, they will embark on a new and difficult path, where Papa state cannot support them, but nor will he have the power to punish them.

26 February 2011

Dungeons and Physical Blows on Patriotic Anniversaries / Luis Felipe Rojas

Photo/Archive ADO

The news of the arrests of more than fifty Human Rights activists throughout the entire country has only further confirmed the violent nature of the regime which governs my country.

Some people had illusions. Once again, those detained and beaten in their own homes were peaceful dissidents and their families. No voluntary actions, little solidarity among neighbors, and a great wave of fear which can be seen on the faces of people. It is a profound fear which “inspires even further fear.

“The arrests began during the early morning of February 21st, when activists from the Eastern Democratic Alliance, Francisco Luis Manzanet Ortiz, Omar Wilson Estevez Real, Annie Sarrion Romero, her husband Juan Carlos Vazquez Osorio, and Milagros Leyva were all taken to a police unit in the Villa Primada in Baracoa. From this group, Manzanet Ortiz and Estevez Real remained detained until the 24th. The main goal of the pro-Castro soldiers which guard the gardens of the Plaza of the Revolution was to prevent any tributes to Orlando Zapata Tamayo to take place on the 1st anniversary of his death on the 23rd of February, as well as tributes to the shot down pilots of “Brothers to the Rescue” on the 24th.

As usual, the homes of human rights activists, other dissidents, and independent journalists from Santiago de Cuba, Guantanamo, and Holguin were all extensively watched over by the combined forces of the political police (G2), the National Revolutionary Police, and the paramilitary Rapid Response Brigades. On the 21st, in fact, the independent Baptist pastor, Desmides Hidalgo Lopez, was brutally beaten by members of State Security in the town of Buenaventura, Holguin. While I was writing these paragraphs, Desmides had already been released but his house was surrounded by soldiers.

On the night of February 22nd, I received a call from Yanet Mosquera Cayon. She was telling me that her husband, Rolando Rodriguez Lobaina, the general coordinator of the Eastern Democratic Alliance, and other dissidents had been detained in the streets of Guantanamo.On the 23rd of February, after a strong military deployment, Reina Luisa Tamayo was able to visit Zapata’s tomb in the cemetery of Banes, but only with 11 other family members.

On the morning of that same day, Jorge Corrales Ceballos, Jose Cano Fuentes, and Isael Poveda Silva (all from the Eastern Democratic Alliance), were detained in Guantanamo. According to the testimonies of ex-political prisoner Fidel Garcia Roldan, in Holguin political police agents began to beat the journalist Maria Antonia Hidalgo, her mother Maria Mir, and the activist from FLAMUR, Marlene Pupo Font. Caridad Caballero Batista, her husband Esteban Sande Suarez, and pro-democratic activist Juan Carlos Gomez, were also all beaten in this eastern city.

Other arrests occurred in Palma Soriano. Raudel Avila Losada confirmed arrests of nearly 30 activists all of which, according to his testimony, were released in less than two hours. On the morning of February 24th, Avila Losada confirmed that Cauto Marino Antomachin and Reinaldo Martinez Rodriguez were still detained in that Santiagan city on the banks of the Cuato river.

Restrictions of movement, with special orders preventing dissidents from leaving their own homes, were confirmed in Antillas, Banes, San German, and Santiago de Cuba. In the latter (Santiago), there were reports of arrests of various dissidents in the town of El Caney, without having a clear figure of who they were or how many there were, because they were all detained while on their way to another point of the city. Idalmis Nunez Reinosa was in her home, but her telephone line would constantly drop.

I also received news that Antunez, just like Idania Llanes and others, also suffered arrests. The home of Antunez was also attacked by Castro forces. From Havana, where I am currently writing this post, a neighbor of the independent journalist Hector Julio Cedeno Negrin tells me that Hector did not return to his house after an opposition activity which took place on Neptune Street outside the house of Laura Pollan Toledo. Cedeno Negrin was beaten and still remains detained.

I have been able to write this short report after calling the few phones which had not yet been disconnected. It is the 24th of February and I do not want to wait until tomorrow to post a partial report. Surely, today there will be more arrests if any dissident goes near the ocean to toss some flowers in memory of the fallen Brothers to the Rescue. I am writing in haste because I am being followed.

My wife tells me that far away in San German there have been troops stationed around my house for more than 24 hours. She does not know if the purpose of this is to detain me upon my arrival, or because they are not sure whether I am inside.

Here, in the streets of Havana, I see a tense calm. But I walked to the cybercafe and went ahead and sent this post.

This time I have avoided walking into the trap of my captors in order to send out some tweets with the little credit I have left in my cell phone, and to write up this note for all of you. I fear that there will be a fight in the afternoon if they try to detain me.

Fellow activists and dissidents have asked me to send them messages through my cell phone. They all want news of what happens.I also had the illusion, or the dream, of Egyptian or Libyan streets lit up at night, of that same sound of the people’s demands which filled the middle-Eastern desert air. But the Cuban reality is different. There have been arrests and beatings, and there are fewer of us than those who filled the plazas of Cairo to demand freedom.

Photo/Luis Felipe Rojas

Translated by Raul G.

February 24 2011

Information Control / Regina Coyula

In recent days I’ve been able to understand perfectly the concern of the Cuban authorities because a breach has been produced in information control. I have been able to try it in these last days in trying to gather news about what’s happening in North Africa, and I’ve been given news that’s stale in a short while, like the confirmation of my suspicion that Muammar el-Qaddafi is a clown. With those poses, with that Praetorian Guard, with the limitless spending of State money, with that megalomania. It’s a news novelty for me, my newspapers always mentioned him as the Libyan leader and a friend of Fidel Castro by dint of his anti-American positions. Again the political allies of the Cuban government make me wonder.

After having compared so much news, they aren’t going to convince me that only the big media manipulate the news to present it according to its interests. Isn’t this the same intention of the Department of Revolutionary Orientation of the Cuban Communist Party? There exists a difference, nonetheless, an essential difference. A citizen of the world (a Spaniard, let’s say) if he doesn’t feel satisfied with the point in a notice in El Nuevo Herald, can consult BBC Mundo, La Jornada, or El Mundo to mention a few; and if he were not satisfied, he could look for more information in Telesur, Prensa Latina, or the selfsame Granma; and would still have the option of complementing those with opinion blogs. My Spaniard of the world could find among so many tendencies his truth to compare, to discern, to discriminate. But in Cuba, the country where we breed the most cultured human in the world, information poverty has brought as a consequence the absence of focus, the loss of blends, we have lost the culture of the dialog, the use of the reply, and its daughter controversy; everything has reduced itself to being with me or against me.

I am of simple expression and strike up dialog with whatever stranger. My commentaries on subjects of the international events don’t find understanding in the street. On the other hand, people show themselves ready to complain about transport, food, but careful, without being able to — or wanting to — identify the cause. This reactionary philosophy of this has no one who will fix it, but neither he who will knock it down, has soaked into many people with whom I interact. Not to mention fear. Someone must have written an essay on the subject, and if not, it’s a debt with our fragmented anthropological vision.

Translated by: JT

February 25 2011

Message from Leonel Brito / POLEMICA: The 2007 Intellectual Debate

I am writing to you at the wrong time perhaps, but better late than never, as the well-known adage says. The monastic life I have been leading in one of the programs of the Battle of Ideas has dramatically separated me from my usual contacts with the cultural world; hence the controversy unloosed around the disgraceful appearance of several of those responsible for cultural policy of the “black decade” and not the “Five-year Gray Period,” as Desiderio Navarro has shown lucidly in his “In medias res publica,” has come to me late.

I am young (barely in my twenties), and in part I’m responding to Arturo Arango’s just claim that it would be alarming if those of my generation didn’t participate in this outrage, even though we didn’t experience this atrocious and horrifying process, because, as Oscar Llanes says, the exclusion of our presence now would just reproduce, consciously or unconsciously (we don’t know), those repressive methods of silencing and marginalization, known in all its shapes and sizes. It’s time to talk, comment, discuss this issue, as forbidden as other issues were in those years.

Consider, for example, that those names (Luis Pavón, Jorge Serguera and others) are now heard by us for the first time. So I think, along with many young people who don’t want under any circumstances to suffer a second helping of pavonato (remember that second helpings are never good), that it hasn’t been pure coincidence that such a consecutive appearance of those sinister characters, directly or indirectly responsible for making lives and work so miserable for many intellectuals who championed pluralistic thought, as should happen in a truly democratic society that is responsive to its citizens.

Take into account, especially, the epic and apologetic television show with which they were presented. And not only was it a lack of the most basic ethics, and now I’m not talking about that humanist ethic that “pavonates” us before the world and ourselves, but it was also an aggression impervious to most of those who lived during that time, whether intellectual or not, (family, friends and people in general), who had to suffer forms of dogmatism, opportunism and the distortion of a certain ideology, manipulated to the limit, forms which are still new to many of us.

Publicly praising people who were involved in such barbarity leaves no room for the slightest doubt in today’s political and social context. It’s not only a symptom or a syndrome, in the words of one of the debaters, it’s without ghosts or pathological elaborations a very clear announcement of what might happen in an increasingly uncertain future, and that these, and new and worse, processes could repeat themselves. So it seems to me fair and irrevocably necessary, this protest you started. You can count on the support of the youngest, of those who begin their walk down a path that can be abruptly cut off, and we are not willing to submit, not for our parents, nor for ourselves.

Leonel Brito

Translated by Regina Anavy

January 2007

Baire, the Closest / Rebeca Monzo

This February 24th will be commemorated — behind closed doors — one more anniversary of that cry of independence that was given in Baire, a day like today then in the year 1895. This date marked the start of the War of Independence, its most notable authors Martí, Maceo, and Máximo Gómez.

Since 1959, this changed. Now flags only fly on the new homeland dates: Anniversaries on the 26 of July, of the Committees for the Defense of the Revolution, and even the Comandante’s birthday. No more do they fly for the Cry of Baire, nor that of Yara, the 20th of May, dates on which cities regaled themselves with a profusion of flags that proudly flew in government places and the fronts of Cuban families’ homes.

For the young people of today, those cries of liberty are now long past. Now, unfortunately the closest they hear in their homes are of their mothers and grandmothers, when in the day-to-day they have to face the culinary battles.

Translated by: JT

February 24 2011

Analogy / Rosa María Rodríguez Torrado

The paralysis of immobility continues marking the pace of the Cuban government, which distracts us with carrots consisting of insipid projects for unconsidered and accumulated needs of our people and which don’t satisfy our voracity for freedom. It is not enough that they grant that which belongs to us by right as if it were a gift which has been forbidden to us for decades.

If the world goes forward and Cuba, owing to the greed for power of the governing group, stays behind due to the denial of the government cadres that we should join the concert of democratic countries and modernity, isn’t this the same as retrogression?

Translated by: JT

February 21 2011

News of Information War / Ernesto Morales Licea

Few countries can compete with Cuba in the daily production of bad news. It’s a sad reality, which I wish I didn’t know, but a very true one: We have become competent exporters of unpleasant news, exceeded by only a small handful of nations.

So much so that more than one television station, more than one world newspaper, maintains its current news quota thanks to Cuba and its outrages. And we know that the good news of the world is not what fills the programs and opinion columns.

When I stepped on U.S. soil, for example, almost immediately the diligent producers of bad news sent me my corresponding dose: they suspended my mother’s email account that she had maintained for her duties in medical school.

Needless to say, her lack of communication with me, at the moment, is an effective weapon to punish me for my unacceptable attitude.

Now I have learned that the four letters that make up the name of my country, seen in headlines or pronounced by someone returning from a tropical vacation, rarely contain something like repeated scarcities, camouflaged dismissals, repression, prohibitions, strategies never accomplished.

This time, the dose of bad news comes to me from an incorruptible friend — a fearless chatterbox — who from a subsidiary of ETECSA (the only phone company in Cuba) in Santa Clara warns:

“They are taking away almost all the internet accounts of the workers. Not just in this company, but in others like Copextel as well. The argument is that there are too many staff with access whose work doesn’t specifically require a web connection. So as you already know, we probably won’t be able to talk any more.”

And I don’t know whether to be surprised, indignant, take it as a joke, or follow the most common route for those who don’t live on the Island: wash my hands of it while browsing, with complete freedom, any site I like.

But I still haven’t learned to do the latter, and therefore I say: What is frankly appalling is the capacity the owners of our Island display to change the pretext when the circumstances change making it necessary to rearrange the prohibitions.

Let’s see.

Until recently, the stellar argument to justify Cubans’ inaccessibility to the Internet was more or less: “We have limited and expensive access, via satellite, because the American imperialists don’t give us access to fiber optic cables. So we must prioritize those most in need.”

It was never clear who determined the actual level of need between one citizen and another, or how to explain that only foreigners could contract for a legal connection on the Island, while a Cuban with money to pay for it could not.

But there we were.

But as it now happens, the “expensive satellite — limited connection — imperialist blockade” factor is about to disappear thanks to the work and grace of our sister Bolivarian Republic: From Venezuela a fiber optic cable has been docked in Playa Siboney since February 8, which will presumably solve the former problem.

What is the discourse now? What precise words, timely, studied, are repeated at the time of giving a social connotation to this new redeemer-cable?

Let’s look at the statements to Prensa Latina of Waldo Reboredo, vice president of “Caribbean Wide Telecommunications,” the Venezuelan-Cuban company that undertook the operation.

“The submarine cable will increase the current data transmission speed by three thousand times. However, laying the cable alone does not increase the Internet capacity in Cuba, since the deployment of connectivity is not resolved overnight because of the high cost of other needed investments.”

So what does this mean?:

“Our priority is to continue to create collective centers of access, in addition to strengthening the connections in centers of scientific research, education and health.”

Clearer than water: Let no one rub their hands thinking of normal access, for example from home. Let no one believe that this cable will offer free navigation for the disconnected. Let Yoani Sanchez hold off on launching fireworks from her 14th floor apartment.

Previously, the operating theater is prepared with full intentions: the new bad news, that more Cubans will lose their access to the network of networks, is not coincidence. As nothing is coincidence in my coincidental Island.

Let’s say it in plain English: The Electronic Battle has begun in Cuba, and the army is ready. How? Closing the cracks, the possible breaches, that the enemy could take advantage of. Andy account that is not demonstrably necessary, completely secure, must go down or it could be turned into enemy ammunition.

It doesn’t matter if it’s on ETESCA or Infomed. The priority is to secure the flanks. God save us from uncomfortable bloggers taking advantage of an account that’s not deactivated.

The broadcast — fortunately — of cyber-cop Eduardo Fontes’s lecture to the yawning Cuban military should not be interpreted as an isolated or unconnected event: It is the preparations, the preamble that tells us that the new battlefield (in his own words!) is the Internet. And in this direction they march, combative.

Yes, don’t you doubt it: Cuba is a strong contender in the world market for ugly news, bad omens. Little is heard of a million and more laid off workers. Little of stoning peaceful women dressed in white. Little of silencing, excluding, sanctioning, exiling. Now, the unusual: My Island in the Caribbean makes news because it has decided to use the Internet to not communicate.

Sometimes I wonder where such ingenuity, such wealth, comes from.

February 24 2011

Analogy

The paralysis of immobility continues marking the pace of the Cuban government, which distracts us with carrots consisting of insipid projects for unconsidered and accumulated needs of our people and which don’t satisfy our voracity for freedom. It is not enough that they grant that which belongs to us by right as if it were a gift which has been forbidden to us for decades.

If the world goes forward and Cuba, owing to the greed for power of the governing group, stays behind due to the denial of the government cadres that we should join the concert of democratic countries and modernity, isn’t this the same as retrogression?

Translated by: JT

February 21 2011

Preludes / Claudia Cadelo

There are two Cubas, one in which nothing ever happens, and another in revolt, boiling over, which never stops sending me signals of change. My life moves from one to the other and I can never be sure which of the two is real. In any case, the dome over our heads is shaking. And to know it, you don’t need any proof other than the fear that permeates Cuban Television, the Nation Television News, the streets full of State Security agents, the strange blackout in the Chaplin movie theater — site of the Young Filmmakers Exhibition — on February 23, the first anniversary of the hunger strike death of Orlando Zapata Tamayo, the numerous arrests of short duration, the absolute paranoia of those trying to hang on to the ownership of the island where I was born.

They look with bewildered eyes on the Middle East, the teetering — once again — of the world’s dictators, and here the fright of those on high reaches even us. I watch the TV in horror as they don’t condemn the assassination of civilians, accuse the protesters of being “young people manipulated by the west,” justify the murders committed by the army, and end by supporting the world’s dictatorships in their killings to maintain control.

You don’t have to be overly suspicious to catch the rhythm of fear: they have called together young people from the Communist Youth League and read them the riot act, and at night the vans of State Security troll the streets of Vedado and ask to see the ID of every suspicious boy, which turns out to be every boy, because for the elderly who wield control in Cuba anyone under thirty is considered dangerous.

I always thought fear was our sword of Damocles and that the government looked upon us like trembling and defenseless lambs. I have discovered that the trembling of the shepherds is greater than that of the sheep. That in the Central Committee the paranoia and fear have become State policy. Although they try to appear comfortable in the chairs of totalitarianism, they know the wood is rotten and is going to disappear. The Dinosaurs are going to disappear.*

*Los Dinosaurios, by Charly García

The Day Orlando Zapata Died / Iván García

Photo: Laritza Diversent. Symbolic vigil at Laura Pollán's house, 23rd and 24th February 2010.

An event of such magnitude always leaves its mark. The death of Orlanado Zapata Tamayo, at the age of 42, is indelibly engraved on my memory.

In the afternoon of 23 February 2010 I was at the home of the independent lawyer and journalist Laritza Diversent, reviewing some legal cases which might be of journalistic interest.

I already knew about Zapata’s hunger strike. About the physical abuse he had suffered. About the reports that spoke of his rapidly deteriorating health, after more than 80 days without food.

My mobile phone didn’t stop ringing. On the 20th of February, three days before his death, I got a text message from another informant, letting me know that Reina Luisa Tamayo, his mother, had been summoned urgently to Section 21 of Cuban Intelligence. They wanted her to talk to her son to get him to give up the hunger strike.

The sequence of events was very rapid. That Tuesday, while I was discussing work matters with Laritza, I received a deeply moving text. It was from the blogger Claudia Cadelo. She said that at 3:27 in the afternoon, in the hospital Hermanos Ameijeiras, Orlando Zapata had died.

Laritza and I were dumbstruck. Then, everything happened very quickly, like scenes from a video clip. I tried to get a plane ticket for Banes, a town in the province of Holguín, more than 700kms from Havana.

José Martí airport appeared to be under siege. A foreign journalist told me that he had not even been able to get a ticket by bribery. Incredible for Cuba. Politely, the woman at the information desk gave out that there would be no tickets for Holguín for a week.

An airport worker called me to one side and told me in a whisper, “Brother, this is a tough one. You won’t get a ticket for a thousand dollars. Some guys from Security said that if you get on a plane, all of us who work this shift will be sacked.”

I tried to get a bus ticket, I worked out that the journey would take 14 hours, but I couldn’t manage that either. All the options were closed.

I don’t want to be self-important and imagine that Security was responsible for my not being able to get to Banes. The opposition leader Martha Beatriz Roque, and Laura Pollán one of the leading members of the Damas de Blanco, hired a car to Holguín, but when I called Martha, they had already left.

I felt beaten. As a journalist I couldn’t get the latest news out. And as a man, I wanted to be at his family’s side at that terrible time.

Walking through the city with Laritza, we met the independent journalist Jorge Olivera, one of the 75 dissidents jailed in the spring of 2003. Olivera told us stories about Zapata, they were together in some godforsaken prison, and he said that at Laura Pollán’s house, on Neptune Street, a book of condolences had been opened.

It was almost twelve midnight when we reached the house, headquarters of the Damas de Blanco. Next to a Cuban flag and a photo of Orlando, around twenty people were gathered in the small room.

There we spoke with members of the movement that Zapata belonged to. Outside the house we could see the political police.

When I arrived home at about 4 in the morning I was nearly exhausted. Before I was overtaken by sleep, I went over the notes I had taken that day about Orlando Zapata Tamayo. We had a great deal in common. Our love of baseball, and our race. I wish I had known him.

Photos: Laritza Diversent. Symbolic vigil at Laura Pollán’s house, 23rd and 24th February 2010.

Translated by: Jack Gibbard

February 24 2011

The End Justifies the Means / Laritza Diversent

One of the exemplary punishment methods used by the island’s government during the 90s was to turn criminal rules into administrative ones. This is the case with Law 149 “On confiscation of assets and income from unjust enrichment”, which was enacted in 1994 by the State Council.

The rule was enacted to apply “effective and exemplary action against those who obtained an illegitimate wealth thus accumulating wealth and property … the result of theft, speculation, the diversion of resources belonging to a state agency or other officially constituted participation in shady business, black market activities and other forms of enrichment. ”

In 2003, the same government body enacted Decree Law 232, which imposes on owners confiscation or forfeiture of the premises or homes, when they are practicing corruption, prostitution, pimping, trafficking and smuggling of people, pornography, corruption of minors, etc.. It also applies to those who lease their property without legal authorization.

It is not important to be aware of the law to know that in the background of these provisions that the commission of criminal acts will be judged not by a court but by an administrative authority. It appears that custodial sentences were insufficient for social prevention.

In the conversion of penal rules into administrative ones, the government completely ignored the respect it owed to citizen rights and guarantees. For example, the application of those two Law Decrees reaches out to third parties, who find themselves obligated to respond on their own behalf for the acts of others, when in a criminal trial the responsibility is personal.

Both outcomes ignored equally the principle of the presumption of innocence. In administrative confiscation, conceived by the founding directors, the citizen is he who has the obligation of proving that he is not guilty. To that, add that those affected have no way to defend themselves before the acts of the administration that might be detrimental to them, putting them in a complete state of indefensibility.

The Council of State entitled administrative authority to the Ministry of Finances and Prices, in the case of Decree Law 149, and to the President of the National Housing Institute in (Decree) 232, to impose confiscation and to review its decision when the victim appeals the act. They totally ignored the right that citizens have to be heard publicly and with justice by an independent and impartial court.

Both decreed laws impede claims of justice before jurisdictional bodies, when all people have effective recourse before competent national tribunals which protect them against acts that violate their fundamental rights recognized by the constitution or the law.

The State Constitution serves little when it guarantees “property over the housing that one possesses with just title of ownership”, if for the founding directors, maximum expression of the Cuban State and its revolution, this is “the result of revolutionary work”.

In this sense it is considered “unacceptable that unscrupulous persons should take advantage of these conquests and use them in activities of personal gain and enrichment”. So much so that they decided upon severe punishments for these opportunists, without caring that they were violating constitutional principles and citizens’ rights. The end always justifies the means.

Translated by: Multiple persons

February 23 2011