The Neighborhood Spokespeople Are Repressed / Silvio Benítez Márquez

Punta Brava, Havana

According to statements of Emilio Pérez Correa, activist of the Voices of the Neighborhood project, on the afternoon on Friday the 17th, the President of the People’s Council in Punta Brava cited him urgently to the seat of said institution. Upon presenting himself at the required place, the activist noticed that the call was not a routine chat as the inefficient manager had informed him.

Pérez Correa assured that it was about a dirty trick organized by two groups, political police agents and the People’s Power Delegation. The strategy of the meeting was supported in joint action and persuasion of the democrat that he should disengage himself immediately from the opposition action in the area.

The agent charged with repression waited until the right moment to impose himself on the defenseless activist and later in an arrogant manner identified himself as the local representative of State Security (DG2). Correa, after the prologue, stared at him and insisted he raise his voice because he wasn’t hearing him well. The astute cop performed the interrogation inadvertently before the curious workers, fearing that the matter would spread and come to the ears of the other locals.

Emilio relates that the crushing harangue of the young cop lasted more than a half-hour if at all, leaving for the end the veiled warning that he was risking the sovereignty of the Revolutionary process which wouldn’t stop until he was sentenced.

Correa considers that the temporary arrangement to which he was exposed on Friday by the President of the Peoples’ Council and the Castro regime agent was no more than the beginning of a dirty and abominable campaign against the Citizen Proposal that was recently launched by the Neighborhood Spokespeople.

*Silvio Benítez Márquez.

Promoter of the Voices of the Neighborhood Project

February 23 2011

Poor Country / Rebeca Monzo

The wealth of a country is measured by different parameters: food, education, quality of life, culture, and in the end many others. But for poverty, the true measure is the lack of freedoms.

A country whose youngest, the future of the country, have to go to extremes like hunger strikes in order to unplug the deaf ears of their leaders, that country is poor.

Right now in Venezuela more than eighty-three students have declared a hunger strike. They are living only on water and serum, some of them for more than fifteen days, others started a week ago and five more are planning to join them. What has motivated them to go to this extreme, where they put their own lives in play?

Worse of all is that the government has turned a deaf ear to their demands: freedom for political prisoners is one of them. Opposition to the refusal to allow the Secretary General of the Organization of American States to enter the country is another. Gentlemen, if you don’t need it, what are you afraid of. And I thought with so much oil it was a rich country.

February 22 2011

Freelance Magazine VOICES 6 is just about ready… / Orlando Luis Pardo Lazo

Revista free-lance VOCES 6 ya a punto de caramelo…, originally uploaded by orlandoluispardolazo.

Very soon.

Hopefully next week.

VOICES with its usual 60 pages and twenty authors, plus a minimum dossier on THE BODY AS RESISTANCE AND INSUBORDINATION, dedicated to the martyrdom of the political prisoner Orlando Zapata Tamayo.

February 19 2011

Café con leche / Rosa María Rodríguez Torrado

I was walking down the street early in the day when the whispers and voices of a group of people coming my way surprised me. I discovered two police patrol cars in the next corner and I overheard the same group of people talking. I asked them what going on and they said the owner of the corner convenience store had been arrested because someone had broken into his store! The thieves had cut the vertical metal door into an oval shape, entered the store and walked out with the entire monthly quota of powdered milk, matches and coffee. For all those who are unaware of our “magical unrealism”, I tell you that in the last five decades our government has subsidized a few basic nutritional staples lacking in variety and durability.

Powdered milk, for example, is only distributed in the exceptional cases as a medical diet for the sick, the elderly and children, and in every case they must have and present documentation showing they are allowed to buy a 2.2 pound packet a month. Usually it’s also on display in hard currency stores, but the prices are prohibitive for the majority of the population. The knife’s edge of scarcities we Cubans navigate cut our chances of improving our quality of life and threaten our freedom, as we survive on the shore of illegality.

It is the ironic option that imposes on us a rarefied business where everything belongs to the state, where unfortunately transgression has installed itself as the standard of conduct in our society–except in politics– and it’s easier to break the law than to drink coffee with milk.

For the Cuban citizen it’s an assumed fact that according to procedures, the authorities have, in these cases, arrested the person in charge of the establishment because they allege that on previous occasions it has been they themselves who have planned the misdeed (the “self-robbery”) in order to make some money or to justify a shortage in their stock. I imagine that foreigners who hear or read stories like this are completely shocked by the absurdity of these tales of “true amazement” where “everyone is guilty until proven otherwise.”

Years ago, in the bodegas, they would sell basic food products at higher prices under the counter, commodities such as powdered milk and coffee, as what is allocated for thirty days doesn’t even last fifteen. At times, ironically I think, they would habitually ration, or in order to establish “a culture of rationing” that cemented another “of saving,” more as a way for them to “unite wills” and influences.

It’s incredible, given that Cuba is an archipelago, that they even ration salt. Often the shopkeepers will add salt to the rice to make it weigh more, already to grain is moistened with the same end as it is sold by the pound. Also, farm products are sold with the dirt still on them for the same purpose. I wonder, indignantly, if someone will run such a scam on our individual, family and national wealth, but I’m sure that once more I’ll be left without an explanation, which in itself implies “the answer.”

21 February 2011

Café con leche

I was walking down the street early in the day when the whispers and voices of a group of people coming my way surprised me.  I discovered two police patrol cars in the next corner and I overheard the same group of people talking.  I asked them what going on and they said the owner of the corner convenience store had been arrested because someone had broken into his store!  The thieves had cut the vertical metal door into an oval shape, entered the store and walked out with the entire monthly quota of powdered milk, matches and coffee.  For all those who are unaware of our “magical unrealism”, I tell you that in the last five decades our government has subsidized a few basic nutritional staples lacking in variety and durability.

Powdered milk, for example, is only distributed in the exceptional cases as a medical diet for the sick, the elderly and children, and in every case they must have and present documentation showing they are allowed to buy a 2.2 pound packet a month. Usually it’s also on display in hard currency stores, but the prices are prohibitive for the majority of the population. The knife’s edge of scarcities we Cubans navigate cut our chances of improving our quality of life and threaten our freedom, as we survive on the shore of illegality.

It is the ironic option that imposes on us a rarefied business where everything belongs to the state, where unfortunately transgression has installed itself as the standard of conduct in our society–except in politics– and it’s easier to break the law than to drink coffee with milk.

For the Cuban citizen it’s an assumed fact that according to procedures, the authorities have, in these cases, arrested the person in charge of the establishment because they allege that on previous occasions it has been they themselves who have planned the misdeed (the “self-robbery”) in order to make some money or to justify a shortage in their stock. I imagine that foreigners who hear or read stories like this are completely shocked by the absurdity of these tales of “true amazement” where “everyone is guilty until proven otherwise.”

Years ago, in the bodegas, they would sell basic food products at higher prices under the counter, commodities such as powdered milk and coffee, as what is allocated for thirty days doesn’t even last fifteen. At times, ironically I think, they would habitually ration, or in order to establish “a culture of rationing” that cemented another “of saving,” more as a way for them to “unite wills” and influences.

It’s incredible, given that Cuba is an archipelago, that they even ration salt. Often the shopkeepers will add salt to the rice to make it weigh more, already to grain is moistened with the same end as it is sold by the pound. Also, farm products are sold with the dirt still on them for the same purpose. I wonder, indignantly, if someone will run such a scam on our individual, family and national wealth, but I’m sure that once more I’ll be left without an explanation, which in itself implies “the answer.”

February 21 2011

News and “News“ / Iván García

Photo: hans hendriksen, Flickr

In Cuba there is no tabloid press following the famous, but many Cubans are up-to-date with gossip about artists, singers, and famous sports figures — national or foreign.

The news comes in by the “antenna”, as they call the illegal connections that permit programs transmitted by Miami channels to be seen. Lacking Internet, their access is fairly limited and expensive, a source can be magazines like “Hola” or others brought by tourists which circulate clandestinely. But the chief method continues to be “radio bemba,” also known as mouth-to-mouth.

When Fidel Castro arrived into power and eliminated newspapers and magazines, the State seized all the means of communication. With the stroke of a pen the police blotter disappeared, which had been very popular on the island. As well, on CMQ, each morning there used to be a radio program titled “The Happenings of the Day” conducted for many years by the musician and composer José Fernández Díaz, better known as Joseíto Fernández (Havana 1928-1979).

Joseíto always improvised on the same tune, the Guantanamo Guajira. Singing, he’d tell tales of blood crimes, romances, and patriotism; he would denounce social injustices, salute politicians, or promote commercial firms. In his peculiar style in 1953, Fernández pled over the radio for a general amnesty for political prisoners, finally conceded by Fulgencio Batista in May 1955, allowing Fidel and Raúl Castro to leave the Modelo Prison, on the Isla de Pinos.

Historically, Cubans enjoy knowing the insides of the artistic world and like being up-to-date with how many robberies, murders, and crimes of passion happen inside the country, including what are now the most gossiped about since before 1959. The explanation could be in the creation of the Committees for the Defense of the Revolution on September 28, 1960. The CDRs emerged to watch neighbors on their blocks and in their neighborhoods. The ‘cederistas‘ — as they are called — are experts in gossiping and snitching.

Every day, long lines form before the press kiosks, mostly retirees, who for 20 cents buy a newspaper and resell them for a peso ($0.05 dollars). But that doesn’t mean that the population is sufficiently informed; at least about certain news.

Like the relations with the opposition, for example. When we find out about them, it’s because State Security and the Communist Party have authorized their publication. Despite the manipulations and the offensive language, until now, it has been the regime charged with “popularizing” dissidence and independent journalism.

The citizenry is used to hearing about the visits of certain personalities to the island. But on occasion it doesn’t matter too much. “I saw in the news that this guy arrived who is in his own country I don’t know who. Sincerely, I’m not interested knowing who came. What I’m worried about right now is that I have to figure out food so my two children can eat lunch and dinner”, says Humberto, 38, bus driver.

Mileidy, 23, is a university student and prostitute in her free time. A good part of the cash she gets bedding tourists she dedicates to surfing the Internet from Havana’s hotels. She has a level of information above that of the media, “but as I am tired of our sufferings, I prefer to read about what’s happening in other countries and to be current about fashion, although I might not be able to buy that clothing.”

A neighbor with a son in prison for a common crime confesses that she only turns on the radio to hear music, “and the television to watch soap operas. The less one knows, the better off one is, above all if one lives with so many needs and problems.” Another neighbor, who also asked for anonymity, was more explicit:

“At times, when my family calls me from Miami, they ask me about a series of dissidents and political prisoners, about those women dressed in white or about those bloggers. And I tell them the truth, that here we barely know about ‘those human rights people’, as they call the government opposition in the street. I can’t complain, because they send me 100 dollars every month, but the immense majority of Cubans will do anything to survive. If the chief cause in your life is to track down a plate of food, a bar of soap to bathe yourself with, or a pair of tennis shoes for your child, that kind of news doesn’t matter.”

The day-to-day lives of Cubans on the island are very distinct from those of the Cubans who live in other nations. For some, the news could be the WikiLeaks cables about Cuba. For others, the news is that the television is broken, and you have to fashion some kind of cart to take it to be repaired.

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Translated by: JT

February 22 2011

A Transcendental Historical Date / Fernando Dámaso

On February 24 it will be one more anniversary of the Grito de Baire–Battle Cry of Baire–a date which marked the beginning of the War of Independence which defeated the colonial regime and allowed the establishment of the Republic and the emergence of Cuba as a new state. Throughout the first half of the twentieth century, this day was celebrated across the nation with pride and joy, waving the national flag and celebrating acts of remembrance in towns and cities. Along with the 10 October (Grito de Yara) and 20 May (Day of the Establishment of the Republic) these were the most important dates of the national civic holiday calendar.

From the early sixties, the only one left as a civic date of celebration was October 10, the May 20th date disappeared and the February 24th date was limited only to acts of a governmental nature, losing its deep popular content and national identity. They were replaced by other dates related to the process by which the new rulers came to power. This historic shift, despite the efforts and resources invested in its creation, has never reached the popular content or the spontaneity of the celebrations replaced. Maybe it’s because the traditions are reluctant to give way to decrees and regulations.

This February 24 the national flag does not decorate the facades of buildings and homes, and only brief press releases mark the date, but at the heart of every honest Cuban, wherever he is, is excitement about the 95 men, led by Martí, Gómez and Maceo, who were able to imagine a nation and, with words and weapons, were given the task of achieving it.

The country and the Republic, born of the struggle begun in 1868 and before, renewed in 1895, like all human works, were not perfect, but step by step from the beginning, they achieved prosperity and development in all areas, a source of national pride and foreign admiration, who saw in them a place worth living, becoming a nation of immigrants received from around the world, who settled and founded Cuban families and participated in the creation of our wealth.

I’ve never understood the hanging of Cuban flags on September 28 (Day of the Committees for the Defense of the Revolution), nor on October 10 or February 24. Is it that the first date is more important than the latter two? Nobody in their right mind would accept it. The current generations and the new, when, sooner rather than later our history is revalued, putting in its rightful place every fact and figure according to its actual importance, till reinstall the February 24 date as the important civic date it always was, again, spontaneously, and without anyone to guide it, will return the presence of the national flag in our towns and cities, waving proudly for all Cubans.

February 21 2011

More About Egypt and Cuba. Popular Uprising: Between “Papa” and Potatoes / Regina Coyula

Fidelism

Cuba emerged on the international map as a tiny little island threatened and blocked by a powerful neighbor. With an excellent lecture from Sun Tzu and Machiavelli; without forgetting Gustave Le Bon, Fidel convinced the majority that he was speaking for the Fatherland, and the Fatherland was the Revolution and was Socialism. Fidel was young then, he was charismatic, and his revolution of the humble, with the humble, and for the humble was irresistible for the international left and for those Cubans who, in the immense majority, didn’t possess political culture, and followed a leader, not an ideology.

The consolidation of totalitarianism counted on a majority approving. I am talking now of the generation which followed that which staged the Revolution, so permeated with its mystique that it even felt an absurd complex for not having been born earlier. That generation received the education of the New Man, where Morals and Civics — a subject in the formation of values — was abolished from curricula as a backwardness of the past. From that point and continuing today, education has a strong ideological component which displays itself from the earliest reading books.

How does the minority fit in this context? In various forms they are led to exile (… we don’t want them, we don’t need them!). The facts demonstrated that it was safer for those with divergent opinions to leave. There were, nonetheless, some who didn’t accept exile as a solution and decided to oppose. Many of them completed sentences for crimes against the security of the state for reasons that did not generally include violent acts.

The sensation of an omnipotent and omnipresent State was weaving itself into society. The institutions of society were replaced with organizations like the Committees for the Defense of the Revolution, to mention the most widespread. We are coming to the moment of the disappearance of the socialist camp, when against all logic, the Cuban government keeps itself going. It is the Special Period in peacetime: we had heard of the fall of the Berlin Wall talked about, and Cuba was going from blackout to blackout to the rhythm of bicycles with a stifling shortage of food. Everything they taught in the schools about philosophy and materialism had become doubtful.

It might have looked like the moment to develop an economic sustainability following the cutoff of Soviet support. The possession of cash was depenalized, and a timid little hole was opened to foreign investment and tourism. Nonetheless, ill will and the lack of perspective metastasize in society. Once more the subliminal feed to search for the solution beyond our borders. In this context on August 5, 1994 the “Maleconazo” happened: a growing group of people met on the Malecón in hopes of a boat to go to the United States, an absolutely spontaneous explosion of people who channeled their frustration down the path of violence. There they shouted “Down with Fidel!”, but they weren’t looking for democracy. If someone yelled “Freedom!”, they meant freedom to leave the country. There were other outbursts, I remember one at the University of Oriente rooted in the rape of a student by the abandonment of university areas, and most recently one in Santa Clara where youths mutinied for not being able to enjoy a football match of the Spanish League, the very same city in which Guillermo Fariñas had carried out his hunger strike just a little earlier.

Constant Repression of Low Intensity

Although I know Cubans who’ve lived repression at its ugliest edge, citizens in general perceive a low-intensity repression which is everywhere in national life. This has been a success of the government, which has brought aspirations of emigration to the immense majority of the discontented, and another good part will try to prosper while wearing a mask. Both groups are convinced that “no, you cannot” against the repressive machine of “Papa” who knows everything.

The control of information is the key to this strategy. The voices of dissent are quickly accused of working for the CIA, and they are held up as enemies of the people when they only aspire to be critical voices or political adversaries. Some examples of the accusations: Orlando Zapata (a common criminal), Elizardo Sánchez (el Camaján — the snake in the grass), Yoani Sánchez (a fabrication of the Americans, child of the Prisa Group — a Spanish commercial media group), and Guillermo Fariñas (a woman-beater).

The Media spend a lot of time showing poverty in other countries and the eternal crisis of capitalism. They appeal to generalizations and half-truths while pretending to convince us that we’re just badly off, but we could be much worse, and for that we should be grateful for what we have. This panorama is dominated by the overblown Embargo which should have disappeared a long time ago and serves the Cuban government as a justification for its deficiencies.

Fidel’s illness opens a parenthesis in the national context. Having stayed away for many months from public life, he reappears talking about climate change and other global subjects, while his disconcerted followers ask themselves when he will give the precise indication, the word that will orient them. His public interventions are very distant from the deteriorating national situation; it’s clear that this is not his subject of interest, to have it be so he would have to start with a self-criticism and by begging pardon for having said so much nonsense. Fidelistas disoriented on the one hand and a president who doesn’t seem to be fully in control of his faculties; the new year brings us the domino effect in North Africa and we Cubans ask ourselves if the moment has come here too from beyond the Atlantic.

In another post on this theme I mentioned three elements that have called my attention to the fall of Mubarak: spontaneity, the role of new technologies, and the Army. After having read something about the subject, I have changed my position. And although I find notable coincidences between Egypt and Cuba, there are also profound differences. Egypt was governed by a dictator, but it was not a totalitarian state; opposition parties and civil society found themselves structured and inside the limits of legality. The officer corps in the Army seems to be professionally trained, many graduated from institutions in the West, and when posed with the dilemma of supporting the government or the people, opted for the second. Islam is another cohesive influence, and Egyptians find themselves familiar with communications technologies, with the so-called Web 2.0, and through it they found themselves structured by affinities beforehand with the call of Wael Ghonim from Facebook.

For The Popular Uprising in Cuba

So is titled the Facebook page that encourages Cubans to imitate that which they’re already doing in Mediterranean Africa and beyond. I presume the good faith of he or they who, from abroad, launched this initiative, but at the risk of receiving more criticisms and accusations, I continue to think that it’s a flawed initiative. Since last Monday, I have approached a considerable group of youths with different interests — some I know. others I don’t, and I have asked them three questions. The first, if they have a Facebook account — that which surprised me, everybody (!) responded yes. The second, if they knew of the initiative launched from abroad or from other internal call for the anniversary of the death of Orlando Zapata, to which everyone answered no. The majority had gone days without being able to log on to their accounts. The others hadn’t received anything (I don’t exclude that some had indeed received it and hadn’t wanted to give themselves away). The third question was if they knew where potatoes were sold. Except for three men and a girl, the rest gave me satisfactory responses. I don’t know about those who read this, but that says something to me.

In this subject of the Facebook call, voices from inside and outside are not in agreement (which is normal and healthy), but from both groups darts have been thrown in the wrong direction. I have read opinions situated in ears opposed to the promoters of For the Uprising … and to those like me who show doubts of its success. Speaking for myself, my sympathies are with the call, although emotion cannot cloud reason. I don’t possess the information that will make others ready with a single click, but nobody can take the pulse on the streets like those who live in Cuba. That gives me a little advantage.

I can’t imagine a youth with a Facebook account in Cuba using his connection time to promote ideological affinities; neither do I visualize that young man from the UCI convincing a group of contemporaries to participate in the event in the Avenida de las Misiones and keeping his registration in said study center. These complications aren’t established at short-range, these complications aren’t established openly and with speed in university centers, youth bulletins but with the Pavlovian reflex of fear.

These are the scenarios: It’s possible that the level ground in front of the Museum of the Revolution might be the site this week for the University Students Federation (FEU) group in an activity organized by the National Committee of the Young Communist League (UJC) whose headquarters is across the street. It could be that the police might be threatening those called to the uprising to abandon the place. A third possibility is that the activity gets out of control, the police might intervene to protect the “small groups” of “indignant people.” It’s possible that the known opposition could be detained to keep them from coming.

What will happen in front of the old Presidential Palace? I haven’t noticed the magic spark, nonetheless I could be wrong about the power of suggestion of the news among youth. They will decide when and where.

Translated by: JT

February 21 2011

Cuba Bets on Japanese Baseball / Iván García

Responding to the alarming deterioration of baseball in the largest of the Antilles, the Cuban hierarchy that governs the sport of balls and strikes shouted for help from Japanese consultants.

This news has raised indignation among fanatics of the sport. No one doubts the quality of Japanese baseball. They won the championship in both versions of the World Baseball Classic, an event of the highest quality, where the best players on the planet compete. And in the Big Leagues, baseball players with slanted eyes play with great skill.

The local debate centers on the manner of interpretation of baseball in the land of the rising sun. The Japanese philosophy of play, its strategy, and training are completely distinct from those of the nations of the American continent.

According to sources within the Cuban Federation, the directors are most interested in Japanese style of pitching coaching and preparation. Although, the possibility was left open for instruction in areas of hitting and field play, as well.

After Fidel Castro abolished professional baseball in 1962, many players of paid clubs left for the United States. Those that stayed on the Green Caiman, like Gilberto Torres, Fermín Guerra or Conrado Marrero, began to coach new amateur players.

This assessment gave fruit. In the span of a few years, the amateur player elevated his quality of play, and towards the end of the 70s and through the 80s, possessed a level of play comparable to a AAA player in the United States.

But the old stars have died, or are home-bound, like Conrado Marrero, who will turn 100 on August 11, 2011. A significant number of valuable coaches, formed in the sporting institutes after 1959, have fled Cuba or are sharing their coaching knowledge in other countries.

Some experts see the Japanese assistance as an affront. It is as if the Spanish soccer league, La Liga, for the brutal difference in skill existing between Barcelona and the rest of the clubs, were to ask the assistance of The Netherlands to increase the competitiveness of the league.

All baseball lovers recognize that Cuban development methods and training are old-fashioned. The ideas of the managers are from the middle of the twentieth century.

Lack of information, bibliographic works, and internet access, and inability to follow the Big Leagues, the best league in the world, on TV, has created a lethal ignorance among pitching and other coaches, who, on occasion fail to recognize the latest techniques and statistics of baseball, in the United States and other elsewhere.

In light of this crisis that has rocked the national sport, with more than 350 baseball players deserting in the last 15 years, directors of baseball have approached the Japanese, who, in my opinion, have little to offer, in terms of history or methods.

I do not see a Cuban pitcher adopting the draconian methods of training to which Japanese pitchers are subjected. In Japan, a pitcher throws 120 pitches daily, with no regular downtime between sessions. Japanese pitchers have a limited shelf life, eight or ten years maximum. Those who arrive and perform well in the United States, in the span of five years, fall into mediocrity.

This rigorous work forms part of the Japanese philosophy, and the Asian philosophy in general. It has given them results, but on this continent there are different ideas about the game.

Cuba needs to adapt to the new techniques of baseball. We must look to the United States. The embargo impedes open assessment of the Cuban game. If the Castros would change their absurd politics and lift the clauses that prohibit Cubans from competing in the big tent, the story could be different.

This lack of vision has transformed the national pastime of baseball into a low-quality spectacle. Before 1959, Cuba was the country that sent the most players to the Big Leagues. That title is now held by the Dominican Republic, with nearly 400 players.

The culture of the island has always been one of sugar and of unbridled passion for baseball. Fidel Castro buried the industry of the sweet grain, and baseball is heading down the same path.

Photo: New York Times. Japan defeated Cuba in the first World Baseball Classic, played in cities of Japan, the United States, and Puerto Rico in March of 2006.

Translated by: Gregorio

February 15 2011

Orlando Zapata Tamayo: The Extension of His Body / Luis Felipe Rojas

Archive Photo: The Ladies in White

It is now one year since the death in prison of Orlando Zapata Tamayo, His death from the effects of a prolonged hunger strike was widely reported by the international media. A year later the body of this young black man has provided an excuse to extend the repression to his brothers in the cause, to those who sympathized with him though they didn’t know him, and to a large number of people who have seen their neighborhoods surrounded by hordes of police encircling peaceful dissidents.

The fact that Zapata’s death came about through starvation is one more piece of the hunger we have endured for over half a century. I speak of the spiritual hunger for the lack of freedom and the other, which hurts in one’s own body. I speak of the lack of food for a people because of the government’s apathy and lack of actions to meet our minimum needs.

That is the paradox, that is the legacy. When millions of Cubans wrack their brains every day to find something to eat, a man without freedom such as Orlando Zapata Tamayo decides to starve to death rather than to continue being humiliated and severely beaten in prison, where he was.

The acts of being black, a dissident, and from eastern Cuba were other sentences that carried him to his final torture. Discriminated against because of the color of his skin, like thousands of Cubans in this era of “equalities,” he refused to believe in this veiled, but latent, apartheid.

Pro-government academics and intellectuals have made their thoughts known about racism in Cuba, on that there’s no doubt. A law approved in 1997 prohibits and regulates those from “the interior of the country” from taking up residence in “the capital of all Cubans,” and so his punishment was threefold.

One day in the summer of 2009, I was stationed in front of the Holguin provincial prison in solidarity with Zapata on one of his hunger strikes. Eight months later, on 3 February 2010, I marched with thirty dissidents through the streets of Camaguey, and was outside the hospital where the black Zapata lay dying in his penultimate battle. The arrests for when I have tried to reach his native Banes, the days when my house has been surrounded by hordes of plainclothes and uniformed police to keep me from leaving and which have required my son to undergo psychiatric treatment, are an extension of Orlando Zapata Tamayo’s body.
The metaphor of the body in the body of another is not a pennant, a medal worn as a trophy of war, it is the consequences of the dream of freedom.

Hundreds of arrests have occurred in the space of a year. But the attempt to publicly humiliate him, using all the mass media under the government’s control, has not been enough to silence this simple and civic act of planting oneself firmly in opposition to the dictator.

The rebellion of the Ladies in White, the hunger strike of Guillermo Farinas, the stubborn decision of hundreds of Cubans to seek freedom, have proved that his death was not in vain. The clumsiness of the authorities in blocking those who want to go to Banes, to freely visit the cemetery, a place of national pilgrimage, is part of the extension of the body of Orlando Zapata Tamayo who is all of us.

23 February 2011

Brief Account of an Undesirable Demonstration / Miriam Celaya

While in Egypt hundreds of thousands of people decided the fate of their country by speaking out through strong and sustained public protests against a 30-year dictatorship, in a local Havana setting a dispute was being resolved by a diametrically opposite philosophy dictated by survival: the battle for the potato. The comments might seem like a joke, but they are about completely real facts that I was a witness to.

The location was the farmers market adjacent to Parque Trillo, a popular geographical site in Centro Habana. The actors were crowds of Cubans eager to acquire the favored root vegetable, virtually absent from stall counters since they were “liberated” — that is taken off the ration system through the announced process of state subsidies — while the plot was the bitter fights to negotiate the 10 pounds allocated to each buyer after standing on line for three hours, and all the pushing and shoving they had to endure before leaving with their valued purchase.

The incidents took place just over two weeks ago, when the potato distribution began at 18 locations allocated for their sale in the capital, and Havana’s population threw themselves after those potatoes as if it were the freedom conquest. As far as I could ascertain, the mentioned location in Centro Habana has been one of the most chaotic and crowded. The line was over one block long, and it was made up by a human mass in complete disarray, struggling to get ahead and cut the line in any way possible, which resulted in knocking down and trampling over several people, including some elderly persons, plus a fight that led to the intervention of several police patrols and one vehicle to stop the more combative. There were broken bones, contusions and lacerations.

In subsequent days, each truckload of potatoes has been followed immediately by law enforcement officials trying to prevent the fights from escalating. It is common, starting in the morning, to see how the more disciplined begin to line up, waiting to see if the desired tuber arrives, “just in case”. People are resigned to wait for hours, taking turns to hold their place in line, and patrolling the area until the awaited truck appears, if it decides to appear. This is the level of misery of spirit a great part of the population has allowed themselves to be reduced to. This explains how it is possible for a social explosion for freedom to occur in the most arid geography in this planet, while in a fertile tropical island, people hit and hurt each other over 10 pounds of potatoes. Can you perceive the “subtle” difference?

However, despite the sad spectacle, I allow myself some hope. I detected it in many other Cubans I saw come by the place, look reprovingly, almost with disgust, at the scene, and leave outraged. Many say they prefer to choke on yams than to undergo the humiliation of fighting other people over some potatoes. “Shame!” lamented an old man, “Never in my life have I seen such a slaughter over a few pounds of produce! How far are they going to drag us?!”

“As far as we let them, grandpa”, I responded. And I was surprised by the immediate support I got from most of the onlookers gathered across the street.

Translated by Norma Whiting

18 February 2011

Short Trip Down Memory Lane / Miriam Celaya


Recently, a friend and regular reader of our blog made a comment about a very controversial post in which he argued that the Mariel migration was triggered by the fact that “two Cubans launched a bus against an embassy in Havana.” In effect, that action was the public and visible event, but in any case, in my opinion, his approach, alluding to such a critical and controversial event in Cuba’s history in the last 50 years, tends to simplify an event marked by deep political connotations whose climax was the exodus of a quarter of a million Cubans.

That is why I decided to dedicate a special post to the subject, without attempting to exhaust the many complexities involved. It turns out that I was 20 by then, and these events marked a decisive turning point in my life, so they are sharply etched in my memory. The Mariel Boatlift was actually the last in a sequence of events that begun with talks between the Island’s government and a group of Cuban émigrés, agreements which took place during the Carter administration in the late 70’s, which led to the opening of travel for Cubans residing in the US to visit Cuba — popularly known as “Community Trips” — under which, relatives from either side of the Florida Straits could be reunited, after being long separated due to the politics of demonization which up to that point the Cuban government had maintained against the émigrés.

It is possible that some of my readers won’t agree with me, but I am willing to bet that when he accepted these discussions, F. Castro had underestimated their political cost. For the first time in 20 years the government was inconsistent, and those that until then had been “worms”, people without a country, pro-imperialists or traitors — epithets the revolutionaries used to describe the émigrés — were now returning as born-again, revalued and re-christened as “our brothers of the Cuban community abroad”, by the grace of a speech of the leader of the Revolution himself. Automatically, without the benefit of logic or explanation, maintaining relationships with family members who had left the country was no longer censured. Moreover, the re-encounter was blessed and we could jubilantly welcome them into our homes once again. Many began to discover that we had been scammed, and it became clear that the discredit towards emigration had been a clever manipulation of government policy.

Family ties that should be — and in fact, are — the most natural thing in the world, acquired for Cubans a special connotation due not only to the split between those who were leaving and those remaining in Cuba that had often marked irreconcilable antagonisms, but also because on this shore, for two decades, power had woven its ideological supremacy based on the rejection of certain values considered “decadent” and “representative of a dehumanized dead society” which were now returning under the guise of consumer goods brought as presents by the émigrés to their impoverished relatives on the Island. All of a sudden, Cubans here found out that their “northern” relatives, without communism, marches, voluntary work, without slogans or speeches, were more prosperous, better off, and had more possibilities for professional and personal success. The New Man, with his ugly khaki pants and stiff boots for the sugar cane fields, staggered first, and then fell before the charms of the consumer society. Jeans and sneakers, the greatest expressions of the “ideological diversionism” — a doctrine that hung like a guillotine over the head of any young person on the Island — were stronger than the Marxism-Leninism manuals that cluttered our heads in schools, and faith in the system underwent its first major fissure.

In 1980, the death of Cuban guard Pedro Ortiz Cabrera during the Peruvian Embassy events in Havana was the perfect excuse Fidel Castro needed. The incident occurred just when the government needed to create and nurture a situation at all costs that allowed it to self-retract, strengthen the patriotic discourse and fortify itself in the figure of confrontation against the external enemy. It became urgent to inject a strong dose of patriotism into the people, and for that, Carter’s conciliatory and friendly spirit had to be bombarded, mainly by creating an artificial crisis. It was urgent to offer the world an image of a Cuba perversely manipulated by the common enemy of all the peoples, which, with its siren’s song, encouraged delinquents and made the biggest softies, the ones “in hiding” and the false revolutionaries change their course. And so it was that, right after the event, guards at the embassy of Peru in Havana were withdrawn, which was broadcast intentionally through the media so that the “new worms” grouped under the epithet of “scum” (who shortly after would once again be “brothers of the community” and would come back to visit Cuba) could have access to the embassy grounds.

I don’t think even Castro himself was able to imagine the enormity of the masses that in just 72 hours swamped the Peruvian Embassy, let alone, when the Mariel-Miami route was opened, that the number of Cubans willing to emigrate would multiply exponentially. His surprise was translated into a furious indignation that seemed to have no limits. His speeches were more aggressive, bitter and angrier than ever before, only now it was directed against many who, until then, had been our dear friends, our neighbors of a lifetime or our fellow students, so the message lost its legitimacy. The revolutionary dream of a nurtured generation of youth born between the 1950’s and 60’s had broken. The age of innocence had ended and we would never be the same again.

Linked to the whole course of discussions-émigrés’ visits-events at the Embassy of Peru-Mariel exodus, were other associated phenomena, that happened simultaneously and affected the social psychology within Cuba, such as, for example, that which is known under the name Consciousness Study Process –- a purge that in 1980 expelled from the ranks of the Young Communist League and the Cuban Communist Party those who did not obey the requirements that communist model dictated, were suspected of “diversionism” or questioned the dogma; the shameful repudiation meetings, which publicly highlighted the essence of the fascist regime, and the so-called Combative People’s Marches, created to demonstrate the commitment of the people toward their government.

Castro assimilated the teachings of those events and managed to use them to his advantage: he broke the process of becoming close with a country that was more useful to him as his enemy, he opened an escape valve to relieve tensions within Cuba through the exodus of tens of thousands of Cubans, and he managed to reinforce terror in the population through the powerful repressive machinery disguised as “the angry people” trained to dole out beatings to the defenseless who dared to express the least displeasure or to even an intent to leave the country. Similarly, from abroad, it reinforced the support of the USSR and the socialist camp, and the Cuban government was able to improve the living conditions of the population, to some extent, with the creation that same year of the parallel market that widened significantly the supply of consumer goods and the emergence of non-state agricultural markets, which also elevated the food possibilities. The short years of false socialist prosperity were being born, just before the end of the Eastern Europe regime.

Apart from this account, I remind the reader friend who inspired these memories in me that the demonstrations of those years were never explicitly against the government, but in favor of emigration. It is true that a mass migration like the one that took place then is the most tangible expression of a peoples’ discontent in relation to their government, but none of those 200 thousand Cubans thought for a moment to concentrate all that critical mass in front of the Government Palace to demand the rights and opportunities they wished for, none shouted “down with the Castro dictatorship”. And there wasn’t — as there isn’t now — political or civic will in the Cuban people capable of changing the status quo. Such is our character, like it or not, which is why it is crucial to help create civic consciousness as soon as possible.

I agree that the current conditions in this country can cause any event, however insignificant it may seem, to trigger a popular revolt; I don’t know to what point it could become a massive uprising. We are approaching a real dead-end from which not even the government tricks could get us out of. Today, Cuba needs a miracle that I, in spite of everything, believe possible. I also hope that miracle occurs through peaceful means and that the new generations, free from the doctrines that slowed their ancestors (our parents and us), are the renewing power of a future Cuba. It is true that no one can predict when and how changes will occur, but if they are unleashed through feelings of hatred, revenge and violence, we would only aggravate the present and dangerously compromise our future as a nation.

Our dear reader can consider himself privileged in that he was able to experience an exceptional process in his country, since conditions were very different to ours — despite our cultural similarities marked by history — Francisco Franco, “Leader of Spain by the grace of God”, who failed to remove the republican sentiments in Spain despite the outcome of the bloody Civil War, died quietly his hospital bed, sickly and at a very old age, just as his Caribbean counterpart will surely die. The Spanish were lucky that Franco was not as long-lived as Castro. In Spain, unlike Cuba, at the time of the dictator’s disappearance, there were –- as always — owners, social classes with well-defined interests, opposition (including the Communists), civil society and an emblematic figure, Prince Juan Carlos — supported by Franco himself to counter the republican spirit — with enough intelligence and will to foster strong leadership to an agreed transition. All of this prevented a bloodbath.

Our situation is different. Politics in Cuba have historically been decided by a chosen few elite groups; Cuban people, by nature, have always rejected politics and have resigned themselves (settled for?) to having others carry it out for them. Since 1959, Castro took care to dispel any vestiges of citizenship and to crush any semblance of independent thought, annulled the economic capability of society and reduced individuals to the status of “mass.” He had on his side the proverbial political apathy of Cubans and a curiously infantile enthusiasm for leaders and revolts. It is thus that almost all popular manifestation of nonconformity in the past half a century have been reduced to escaping the country (let’s remember, for instance, the “Maleconazo” and the boat people crisis of 1994) and not to even ask for political reforms or changes. If only a few thousand Cuban felt their civic duty we would not have the dubious distinction of carrying on our shoulders and minds a half a century-old dictatorship. The end of the Cuban dictatorship is near, I don’t doubt that, but I am afraid that the new nation’s labor is going to be a slow and extremely painful one.

Translated by Norma Whiting

22 February 2011