On the Virgin’s Day, The Poet Was Listening to Boleros / Iván García

I saw him. I’m sure it was him. He didn’t recognize me, absorbed in himself as he was, sitting in a bar on Belascoaín Street, listening to Olga Guillot on a decrepit RCA Victrola.

It was four in the afternoon on September 8th. A desert sun seemed like it was going to melt the Havana asphalt. Not a drop of breeze was flowing. Nearby, in a dirty cafe, some people were trying to refresh themselves with an insipid orange juice.

It was the Day of the Virgin of Charity. Many people walked hastily — almost all of them dressed in yellow, the color of Ochun, her equivalent in the Yoruba religion. They were headed toward the church that bears her name, at the corner of Salud and Manrique, Havana Center. They were going to participate in the procession and Mass in honor of Cachita, as the Cubans call their patron saint.

To pass the time, I sat in a bar with a bar made from blackened mahogany, and when I turned my head, there he was, with two friends. The victrola, rescued from some warehouse, was playing, one after the other, some boleros by Olga Guillot, Blanca Rosa Gil, La Lupe and Freddy, the fat one who gave me goose pimples.

The friends were drinking from a Caney rum bottle lazily, in their crystal glasses. He, with his eyes closed, was enjoying the music, while a cigarette threatened to burn his fingers.

I didn’t want to call out his name, so as not to break the spell. But I swear, he who I saw sitting with his friends was the poet who lived on the third floor in a building on Peñalaver Street, in the Victoria neighborhood. He had come incognito to this Havana that has less brilliance and enchantment each time.

That afternoon I saw Raúl Rivero, one of my journalistic icons, who, from the end of 1995 until March 2003, was my boss at the Cuba Press Agency. Then I was a rookie with ambitions of setting the world on fire. I have recorded in my head the journalistic advice he’d given me. Thirty minutes of talking with Rivero was for me like three years of university classes.

In that fateful spring, the Poet of Victoria was sentenced to 20 years imprisonment by an arrogant and closed government which did not want — nor does not want — ideas to flow freely.

One winter afternoon in 2004 he left the Canaleta prison, in Ciego de Ávila, the land that had seen him born in 1945. A few months later, he went into exile, with his vices and manias in tow.

In splendid Madrid, he misses his friends. Because of that, on Charity Day he dropped in on Havana. I saw him. Listening to boleros in a bar on Belascoaín Street. It must have been a miracle of the Virgin.

Translated by: JT

September 9, 2010

Cuba: Where Real Politics Are Cooking / Iván García

You can’t imagine the quantity of pacts, commercial treaties and political deals that are planned over mojitos, cubalibres, and daiquiris. Perhaps you don’t know a part of those who risk investing in the island took their first step when their heart was trapped by a mulatto woman with an insatiable sexual appetite.

Robert, an Italian impresario with slicked down hair and the life of a playboy, wasn’t convinced by the Castros’ ideology, nor the precarious guarantees made by laws about investments to open his wallet and take on a deal in Cuba. No. It was his people. Above all, his women.

“In the mornings, while I’d drink coffee, I would talk with people. A good deal, honor, and material poverty convinced me to start a business. I’ve contracted some Cuban friends of mine under the table. It’s the best way to help them”, comments the Italian.

Helping person to person works better than many think. Entrepeneurs are few on the island. Almost all are married to Cubans, or have a side thing going with a stunning black woman. Local bedrooms have a certain share of responsibility for signing commercial deals with the government.

The special services know it. And one of their strategies with businesspeople, politicians, and foreign journalists is to wrap them up in the arms of a good looking young man or an irresistible woman. Testimony to that peculiar form of doing business is the National Hotel. And not just now, rather from its foundation, 80 years ago.

This mass of facades and windows was inaugrated in 1930. Situated on Taganana Hill, across from Havana’s Malecon, it has hosted hundreds of famous people: Ava Gardner, Marlon Brando, Rita Hayworth, Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Maria Felix, Libertad Lamarque, Agustin Lara, Ernest Hemingway, Romulo Gallegos, Jean Paul Sartre, Pierre Cardin, Naomi Campbell, Steven Spielberg, Kevin Costner, Pedro Almodovar and Juanes, among others. And also gangsters like Meyer Lansky and Lucky Luciano.

Captivated by the magnificent sea view have been personalities of the stature of Winston Churchill, Nelson Rockefeller, the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, or Alexander Fleming, discoverer of penicillin.

On its colonial style patio, where in the 18th Century the Spanish situated the Santa Clara Battery, which formed part of the defensive system of the city, you could see politicians and empresarios walking around Havana, in informal chats with consultants and assistants to the creole leaders.

Between glasses of beer, mojitos, and rum Collins, real politics cooks; after which the governors or ministers will probably give their approval.

On occasions, bed will convince those doubtful businesspeople. Politicians escape by the skins of their teeth. They come for a few days and are used to being in the public eye. “Even still, some fall to the temptations of big butts or brown dicks”, says an employee.

The National Hotel was declared a National Monument in 1998. A simple room costs 150 dollars a night. The suites, 510 dollars a day. Modest or luxurious, its rooms guard many secrets.

In Cuba, some drinks or a bedroom sometimes has more power than official speeches. Believe it or not.

September 12, 2010

A Shared Guilt / Fernando Dámaso

  1. In recent years the topic of global ecology and global warming has been on the table. Unfortunately, no decisive results have been achieved, despite the number of meetings and countless hours devoted to the problem. It appears the solutions are not as simple as they appear in articles and books.
  2. To solve a complex problem it is essential to have a frank dialog, free of prejudice, between the parties involved. This was not the tone in the global meetings. Since its inception we have defined two opposing positions: the rich and developed countries and the poor and underdeveloped countries. The latter, aiming at all times to download all the blame on the first and also resolved to demand compensation.
  3. Let’s delve into this a little. It is true that developed countries have produced and produce more pollution, consuming more fuel and producing more products, but these products are used by all countries, developed and undeveloped. That is, the producer pollutes more and the receiver less, but if the receiver produced what it needed it would also pollute. Therefore, a major share of the pollution falls on them. The blame, as we see, is shared and responsibility for the deterioration falls to both.
  4. If both groups are responsible, and they have been throughout the history of mankind, measures to solve the problem must be implemented by both. Indemnifying either from the implementation of measures is as opportunistic as it is dishonest. In addition, there is no single measure, as some demagogues assert, dedicated as they are not to the real solution of the problems, but to using any platform to add fuel to the fire in their ideological confrontation with the so-called first world.
  5. In this absurd context they have raised all kinds of nonsense to change the system, asserting that coal and oil are the fuels of capitalism and the sun is the fuel of socialism. Gentlemen, more seriousness please. It is forgotten, on purpose, that the former socialist countries, with the former USSR at the forefront, were (and still are) some of the biggest polluters and destroyers of the environment, with their huge old industrial plants and reclamation of land and unlimited logging, without any environmental regulation. We only need look at the polluted Lake Baikal and the regions of Ukraine affected by the Chernobyl nuclear disaster. Also the recent oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico and the mercury in Hungary. As you see the phenomenon affects us all. If we want to solve the problem of global warming, we must discard the political opportunism and require the governments to act responsibility. This is the task of citizens and civil society in all countries.

December 2, 2010

Responsibility With Information / Fernando Dámaso

  1. The publication by Wikileaks of thousands of classified and highly sensitive communications from United States government officials, has created an international stir. And no wonder. Faced with a fait accompli, there are those who agree with what happened and those who do not.
  2. The search for and transmitting of information about enemies, potential enemies and friends, has been done by officials from the embassies of all world governments, without exception. It is accepted practice and has nothing to do with espionage, which also takes place, albeit disguised. It is undertaken to add to the elements taken into account when discussing policy. They are personal opinions and assessments of officials, not state policies.
  3. To welcome the publication, as some do, is to play with a double-edged sword: it can cut all players because everyone practices it. The problem stems from someone in the know. Wikileaks is symptomatic that, so far, it has only been published documents from the United States and not elsewhere. It could be due to serious weaknesses in the control of such documents by the various departments of this government, or because those of other governments are very well protected, although this assessment is doubtful. I think there is a strong interest in harming one particular player.
  4. I understand that there is information that should be in the public domain, since it relates directly to citizens, but there is others which does not have to be, since it relates only to the states. Freedom of information is one thing and irresponsible debauchery of information, with the intention to shock, is another. Setting limits is not easy, but it is possible and desirable.
  5. If this practice is accepted, and no steps are taken by the concerned agencies in the world to halt it, chaos will invade international relations, making it even harder for peaceful coexistence among states, in a globalized world. Irresponsibility can not be the road map to follow.

December 3, 2010

To Be of Use / Fernando Dámaso

  1. With some of the great historical personalities something very worrying has happened to me: the more I know about them the less they impress me.
  2. On delving deeply into their lives and acts, I have discovered greatness and baseness in almost equal parts, according to the interests of each moment.
  3. Presented to us in school as extraordinary and special beings, anointed by fate to achieve great feats in different areas, we learn to consider them unattainable for the common citizen.
  4. Perhaps because of this they seem so distant and become strange Olympian gods, material for books, painting, sculptures, music, film, et cetera, over the span of time.
  5. Although it is not healthy to stare at the sun looking for spots, I understand that besides paying attention to its light, it is important not to forget the spots. So, at least, we can see they are not so different from us, we will be more fair in our assessments and, perhaps, they will more useful to us in our daily lives.

December 6, 2010

Of Danger and Other Miseries / Miguel Iturria Savón

Weeks ago, in the municipality of Cotorro, southeast of Havana, dozens of photos of girls engaging in sexual acts with men and with each other were leaked by means of compact disks, flash memory, cell phones and digital cameras. Although some of the girls surprised the “curious” by their irreproachable prior behavior, the most questionable part of this story lies not in the exercise of sexual self-determination of such persons, but in the unscrupulous person who put the images of these practices into the public domain.

This, in itself, converted the girls into victims of the crime of sexual outrage, perhaps because those involved did not give consent to the release of the images, which damages rights inherent in personality, privacy and self-image, although we know that the right to one’s own image — a part of the right to privacy — is violated in many places.

The photos published not only converted the girls into victims of their acts, it affected boyfriends, relatives, neighbors and others. One of the girls, aged 17, was convicted of dangerousness, on the charge of the presumed practice of prostitution. The trial was conducted with open doors, instead of being held in private as appropriate to the sensitivity of the matter.

The most unusual part of the hearing was that they took the photos — debated publicly in the courtroom — as evidence, something unnecessary as there was no denial of the practice of prostitution.

To make matters worse, the girl was subjected to a thorough interrogation, very indiscreet of course, about the intimate details of her practices, which reminded me of the witch hunts of the Inquisition. I never saw, with my own eyes, anyone so humiliated.

As if it were nothing, the girl was sentenced to four years in a specialized center for work or study, the maximum sentence for the crime of dangerousness. I have heard that these centers are nothing more than prisons.

I do not know the girl but I am sure that right now, without counting upcoming sanctions, she has more than paid the consequences of her reckless immaturity. She is a victim of the person who devoured her honor. I went to her parents, who were present at the trial, to express my regret for what awaits them. What will become of her in prison with this kind of help?

Translated by ricote

Share

The State and Me / Iván García

A few weeks ago, I called different ministries of the economic sphere asking for facts and figures. In a humiliating manner they told me that these issues were not my concern. “Trust Fidel and Raul, they always do the best for the country,” replied a technocrat in a lecturing tone.

I was born in 1965 and since I learned to read, all the textbooks contained the worn Marxist slogan, that the people were the true and sole owner of the property and means of production.

That made me feel like an important child. When I was a high school student, I naively thought that I was entitled to seek information on the economy and finances of my country. It was all a scam. As an adult, I realized that in a Marxist socialist society, the state’s role is similar to that of a 18-century feudal lord.

To me, democracy means that leaders are elected and removed by the votes of their citizens. And a president, parliamentarian or minister must do his public work as  transparently as possible, and is obliged to render accounts.

In “proletarian dictatorships” like Cuba, this is not the case. The leaders are above good and evil. They are a kind of deity.  They report half. Hide numbers. Tweak the tally. Or do not inform us about anything.

If a guy, supposedly brighter than an entire nation, is considered superior to the rest of its citizens, and believes it is possible to design a new economic and social model, outlandish and better than any other known, and once in power thinks that he individually can meet the needs of the people, would it not be easier to proclaim a monarchy and rule the destiny of a nation forever and ever?

In Cuba, because the State is the owner of all industries and assets of the country, it ruinously imposes taxes and heavy burdens on money, property, and consumption.  Without explanation.

I’ll give examples. First, they raise prices for high-demand products such as oil, soap and gasoline, without consulting the population. “Damn, I’m the owner of the farm,” they think.  Thus, pondering like ordinary landowners and without blushing, they impose a consumption tax on items that the State considers luxuries.

“These economic illiterates do not understand my strategy,” they contemplate. Now, in the case of new taxes on self-employment, they can be up to 40%. They have arbitrarily decided, arguing that this will improve the performance of the state bureaucracy and streamline its colossal expenses.

It has been demonstrated. The Cuban State is highly inefficient. It fails to generate profits. And in pursuit of maintaining certain social achievements, it puts the enterprising people who create wealth between the hammer and the anvil. It punishes them for their talent.

Politicians rule the world. They are a necessary evil. But it should be clear that they owe their people, and not vice-versa. And I remember what this bureaucrat told me, that I must trust in Fidel and Raul.

I’d rather go the wall on that.  Demand that they not conceal figures or financial budgets. Otherwise, I can not believe in the good intentions of the Castro brothers. And that is what is happening. Starting long ago.

Iván García

Translated by ricote

December 6 2010

Hanukkah.cu / Regina Coyula

Very interactive, our current president, with religious denominations. Now he’s a special guest to a Hanukkah celebration. As far as I can remember, an unprecedented event, taking into account the official government position regarding the Jewish state and its historical solidarity with Palestine. If I were to speculate, the Cuban Jewish community could serve as a bridge to significant international Jewish capital, an injection our people need for reasons of exhaustion, and that the government needs for reasons of governability. Raul was colloquial, almost intimate, delighting the people of Israel gathered in the synagogue, if we are to judge by the faces of those present. Shalom!

December 6, 2010

A Passport, A Safe-Conduct / Yoani Sánchez

2010-12-06-cubapassport.jpgIt’s only thirty-two pages in a blue booklet with the shield of the Republic engraved on the cover. This Cuban passport looks more like a safe-conduct than an ID, with it we can escape from insularity though it still doesn’t guarantee we can board an airplane.

We live in the only country in the world where acquiring this document to travel requires us to pay in a currency different from that in which they pay our wages. Its cost — fifty-five convertible pesos — means that the average worker must save his entire salary for three full months to be able to buy this filigreed booklet with the numbered pages. What should be a credential that can be obtained for the mere fact of having been born in a given nation, in our country is a privilege for those who have hard currency: the colored notes obtained by doing the exact opposite of what the official discourse tells us to do.

Here, at the beginning of the 21st century, however, it is no longer unusual to meet a Cuban with a passport, something extremely rare in the seventies and eighties. In that era only a select few could display a credential that allowed them to board an airplane and fly to a foreign airport. We became an immobile people, and the few who did managed to travel were either being sent on a foreign mission, or departing into the finality of exile. To cross the barrier of the sea became a prize for those who had climbed the structures of power; the great mass of “unreliables” could not even dream of leaving the archipelago.

Fortunately, that began to change in the nineties. Perhaps it was the huge influx of tourists who infected us with curiosity about what was “outside,” or the fall of the socialist camp, but they could no longer restrict travel to “incentive trips” won only by the most loyal. The truth is, in those years the mechanism for leaving the Island began to loosen. The access to convertible currency, either through remittances from family abroad, or earnings from self-employment or the black market, also encourages us to begin exploring new horizons. Most often this is achieved through the help of a friend or relative living in another country, who pays the excessive cost of the trip. If we depended solely on our own pockets, few would ever manage to board a flight.

It’s true that travel is no longer a prerogative enjoyed only by the elect, but the government maintains an ideological filter to avoid allowing its critics such a succulent gift. There continue to be strong restrictions on leaving and entering the national territory. For those of us inside the country, the padlock is called the “exit permit” and is awarded based on political considerations. Those who have emigrated must endure a similar process that culminates in their acceptance — or not — to re-enter their own homeland as tourists. The final decision on both types of permits is made by a military institution that reserves for itself right to offer no explanations. Thus, the offices in Cuba where one solicits the exit permit — the so-called “white card” — or the Cuban consulates abroad where our exiles must seek approval to return home for a visit, are staging areas for human dramas, where the arbitrary is the order of the day.

Those who express critical opinions, belong to an opposition group, or have dared to engage in the exercise of independent journalism, rarely receive a travel permit. Another tightly controlled sector is those people who work in public health professions, who need a license from the appropriate minister himself, to be able to travel.

The situation takes on dramatic tones among those exiles who have lived abroad for decades, unable to visit their families or see their already grown children. Some die far from home, having never been able to return to kiss the forehead of the mother they left behind, or to take a last look at the house where they were born. A Party, an ideology in power, has claimed the power to regulate our migratory flow, as if the island platform was not home, homeland, refuge, but rather prison, fortress, trench.

For those lucky enough to get their exit permit, then comes the second stage of the ordeal which consists of arriving at the airport abroad and showing the passport that so many look upon with suspicion. The high number of Cubans who, every month, remain illegally in some corner of the terrestrial globe, makes us targets of great skepticism when it comes time to apply for a visa. Thus, when they finally settle in and become citizens of another country, my compatriots breathe a sigh of relief to have a new identification document that gives them a sense of belonging somewhere. A few brief pages, wrapped in a cover with the coat of arms of another nation can make all the difference. Meanwhile, that little blue booklet that says Born in Cuba, remains hidden in a drawer, in the hopes that one day it will be a source of pride, rather than shame.

December 6, 2010

Cell 16: Another of the Sewers Through Which Those from the Real Cuba Pass / Luis Felipe Rojas

Photo: Luis Felipe Rojas

Raciel

Dark, burly and with that untamed something of the typical eastern youth who has emigrated to Havana in search of a better life. His grandmother raised him because his mother abandoned him. He was hauled in front of the court in Guanabacoa, charged with “Pre-criminal Dangerousness,” that Cuban legal monstrosity that lets them charge you with behaviors that show you are “prone to crime,” even though you haven’t done anything. The sanction should have been to find work but there is no work. His alcoholism and drinking had got him in various brawls. The night they brought him in his face was swollen by the “spray” they used on him, he said, and his eyes teared up all night. He told me that in the Department of Technical Investigations (DTI) a cop sprayed him and the others in the cell with pepper spray. Now he was in the Operations Unit because the police alleged they’d received death threats from him and his son. Raciel told us the whole time, but I don’t know. I don’t know if he has kids, a family.

When I left he gave me a hug and asked me to tell people a bit about his story. He’s been deported from Havana — “The capital of all Cubans” — six times. He’s managed to get four temporary documents allowing him to stay there, but every time they send him back with the pretext of being a “socially dangerous pre-criminal.”

Alfredo

I saw him on the bare bunk, no mattress, with his large, frightened eyes. Not even ten minutes passed before we began to chat. He met Jordis García Fournier and Abel López Pérez, political prisoners who had been there the previous night. He is a quiet-looking young man, a lover of baseball, movies and home life. This was his first stay in a cell, he was never fined or cited by any authority.

He said that he left his job in the accounting unit of the Post Office in August; it paid very little and the boss was an ex-military, a bit of an extremist. Three months later, they went to search his house because some documents were missing that guaranteed more than 38,000 Cuban pesos. When he told us this story, we asked him if he had handed over all his documents to his superiors before he left and he said yes, he had, even drawing up a document guaranteeing the handover and, what’s more, it was signed by his boss, secretary of the local Communist Party of Cuba and principal accountant. He said that a week ago he asked the Criminal Investigator to look for this document in his house, and at some point he was allowed to speak with his wife and he told her where to find it. But before each interrogation, the investigator would promise to go to his house and look for the document. The night before I arrived, they had picked him up at 2:00 in the morning and now they were threatening to impose a fine of 2,300 pesos for not having told them earlier about this document, now accusing him of having hid information from the authorities and obstructing the investigation.

Carlos

He’s a Guantanamo native, from the Eastern part of the city.  He is somewhat unsociable at first, but as it turns out, he proved to be the most talkative and the most intelligent.  Before he was changed for Raciel, he was ranting against the government all night.  They had surprised him a week ago, more than 80 kilometers from the Guantanamo Naval Base — more than 80 kilometers.  Some auxiliary country peasants from the Border Patrol Troops woke him up from a lazy afternoon’s nap and took him more than 5 kilometers across the land towards the well-known “Posta 16”.  There, they turned him in and locked him up.  He says that during the first few days they were accusing him of “trying to exit the country illegally”, but later, due to lack of proof, they threatened to  sentence him for being the one who assists people to exit Cuba through that region of the country.

These men are three examples of the beauty that can be seen within this horrific scene known as “The Other Guantanamo”, the Abu Ghraib of the Castro Brothers.

December 5 2010

Challengers Gala / Miguel Iturria Savón

On Sunday morning November 21 you could hardly walk down Galiano Street in Central Havana, as expectation reigned in front of the American Theatre, home of musical and comedic performances, now converted into a Coliseum of muscles by the Cuban Association of Bodybuilding, which held its gala Challenge of Champions, broadcast on the sports channel of national television, something unusual since athletes who cultivate the aesthetic of the body are not yet officially recognized.

Those of us who could not get to the ticket sellers window of the theater went to the scalpers, who offered them for two CUC, equivalent to two dollars, an acceptable amount due to the rarity of the spectacle, distinguished by the initial parade of athletes, finalists of the previous year who took the stage together and then, to the beat of the music, everyone did their performance, while the jury made notes and the audience clapped or whispered.

Since in Cuba there is both a provincial and a national competition, which designates the winners by weight class, (65 kilograms, 70, 75, 80, 90 and over 90), all the champions have the right to appear at the Gala of the Challengers, with the goal of appointing the best amongst them, making the event the most important and colorful as it will select the Absolute Champion, recognized as the most comprehensive body builder on the island.

Between the National Championship and the Challenge of Champions is a time of preparation, as these athletes depend on fitness, a specialised diet, will and self-esteem as the essential elements.

Competitors are not measured by strength, size or age, but by a set of requirements such as muscle mass (volume), definition, symmetry, harmony and vascularity.

On Sunday the 21st, the jury appointed by the Cuban Association of bodybuilding chose five from among the champions presented at the match of the Challengers. First place went to Tony, who also won in 2009 and retains the scepter of Absolute Champion. He was joined at the top by Trinquete, Miguel Castro, Tomás and Alburquerque, winners of the 2nd through fifth positions, respectively.

Leaving the American Theatre, while photographing the Champion and trying to ask his last name and other details, I thought of the enormous challenge of these athletes of the sculptured bodies, excluded from official competition, lacking a national team and representatives within or outside the island, without travel or help to support their small gymnasiums, and classified years ago as lazy and narcissistic.

They lack support but compete for love, obtain public spaces, self-finance their training and events, have their own NGO (ACF) and legendary figures such as Miguel ‘Smorgasbord” Cambolo, Maximo, Ariel Flores and the legendary Sergio Oliva, Cuba’s most emblematic bodybuilder, former member of the national weightlifting team, who emigrated to the United States, where he won the Mr. Olympia prize between 1967 and 1969 and lost in 1970 to Arnold Schwarzenegger, a paradigm of success and a patron of the sport in North America and the world.

Translated by ricote

November 30 2010