The Five Reasons of a Blogger / Luis Felipe Rojas

Photo: Exilda Arjona

I’ve spent weeks developing today’s explanation. My colleague Miriam Celaya has given me, as we Cuban peasants say, “the forced foot”, a shove in the ass. I think I did it once, in my previous blog. Even now I fear that if other colleagues from the free and alternative blogosphere decide to explain how they post their texts and images, we’ll end up finally giving the compass to Military Counter Intelligence (G2). But as “he who has nothing to hide has nothing to fear,” here goes.

ONE. I am helped by a kind soul who from time to time once a month copies my texts from abroad; the money she spends on international calls doesn’t allow her to receive my dictation for more than three minutes. So because of this, three hundred words.

TWO. I send the photos at random, indiscriminately, and as the repressors are less and less original, at least in the Eastern part of the country, and almost always repress the same people, when they beat Caridad Caballero Batista, Rolando Rodríguez Lobaina or Idalmis Núñez in Santiago de Cuba, maybe a few months ago, I already sent their photos off into cyberspace. Sometimes I hit the target and report within 72 hours of an event, a real privilege.

THREE. With this I really can’t manage. I don’t denounce for the sake of argument, I reveal the images, the names of the violators “so that the shame may convert him(them)” in the words of Martí. One day they will be pointed out by the accusing fingers of the most ordinary citizens and it will be worth it to have a Constitution; you will see, be patient. I don’t reply to insults or provocations. I am a poet and actor in the theater of the street: that is, a provocateur par excellence. I’m satisfied with letting loose this chirp of trumpet-blasts in order to stir up the honeycomb a little. Among my standards of ethics and civility is the intention not to offend anyone, and I never will, I’m sure.

FOUR: This blog is divided into three pieces: one belongs to me, its intellectual author, here are my tantrums and doubts; another belongs to my good administrators, patient and sweet people as long as I deserve it, and if I behave badly it is not due to them, they don’t deserve it, because there they are, ready to serve me every day; and the third is you, my readers and friends. So everyone has the right to sustain me or threaten me with “cracking your face in two” as someone has said recently. Help yourselves to equal servings, don’t fight over it.

FIVE. Sometimes I travel over 120 miles to view the blog at an internet cafe. From San Germán there’s no place closer where I can get on-line. Is it a reward or punishment? I don’t know, but I feel like a great guy when I walk through the door of a hotel with a piece of my blog on a flash memory stick recently fished out of this stormy sea of the universal country that is the Internet. So, you have to believe me, these sacrifices are for my children: so that one day I can tell them without blushing the little that I did. I do it for the patience of my good Exilda, who prays every night “so that the beasts won’t come back to the garden” (sic), and I do it for you: in a few years when compiling these shreds you can see the face of a man who was often afraid, but whose desire to become a free man overcame all his anxieties. Thank you.

August 17 2010

Welcome to the Island of Rum! / Iván García


Drinking alcohol is one of the passions of the average Cuban. A true national sport. Next to baseball, sex, playing dominoes, and leaving the country.

Drinking rum or beer is known in Cuba as “bending the elbow.” Or “sucking the rat’s tail.” There are various groups of drinkers. There are hard and fast alcoholics. Those whose only thought is one liter of rum.

Really, “rum” is a euphemism for what they drink. They usually ingest a kerosene distilled from molasses and charcoal in a miserable still. So it is with Pedro Marín, 56, whose only aim in life is to drink.

When he gets up at seven in the morning, he rinses his mouth with a swig of bitter 90-proof alcohol. Then he goes to carry sacks of flour in a bakery, taking along a plastic bottle full of homemade rum, with an unbearable smell, known as “Superman.”

“The guy who can take a shot of Superman without doubling over is one of us,” said Marín, a black man with few teeth and bloodshot eyes, wearing old patched clothes.

These kinds of curdas (drinkers in Cuban slang) do not read the press or care what’s happening in Cuba or in the world. Nor are they interested in their wives or husbands, if they have any, or their children and family. Every penny that goes into their pockets is invested in one liter of distilled alcohol.

They are sick men and women. Rosa Aparicio, 65, is a grimy old woman who sleeps in the doorways of any street and gets in tremendous fights every time she goes drinking.

Most of these habitual drunks do not receive specialized medical care. They don’t want it. In the interior of the country, the situation is as bad or worse than it is in the capital.

The independent journalist Osmany Borroto, of Sancti Spiritus, reported the death of Omar Ulloa, a neighbor in Jatibonico, after he had drunk a moonshine known as White Horse, produced in central Uruguay, widely consumed because of its low cost.

But there are also social drinkers on the island, who drink regularly and don’t lose their composure. They usually have good contacts and buy good-quality imported or domestic beer. And rum or whiskey purchased with convertible pesos.

But they are in the minority. Most people drink to ward off the daily anxieties. We already know what they are: the lack of a future and the great national problem – putting two hot meals on the table every day.

They also drink to try to scare away ghosts and fears. They do not know how they will get money to take their children out on the town during the holidays. Or buy them clothes, shoes, and a backpack for the next school year.

The accumulation of problems makes them take the easy way out. Bend the elbow. “There was not enough money to repair the house, buy a car, or celebrate my daughter’s fifteenth birthday. So I don’t stress out, and when I can, I take four drinks,” says Mario Echemendía, 40 years.

“Four drinks” in Cuba means sitting with friends at a neighborhood street corner or in a dive bar, to drink cheap, mass-produced rum or beer.

The government provides a great distraction to the passion of the Cuban by means of alcoholic beverages. Every event ends with a beer truck and a kiosk for selling cheap rum.

The philosophy of the Cuban drunk can be read on posters hung in run-down taverns: “He who drinks, gets drunk. He who gets drunk, falls asleep. He who sleeps does not sin. He who does not sin goes to heaven. If you want to go to heaven . . . DRINK!”

On the island many things may be missing, but there will always be a rum drink or a glass of beer available. If you are creditworthy, you’ll drink first-rate. And if your name is Pedro Marín, ingest diabolical concoctions. This is the final step of an alcoholic. A true Hell.

Iván García

August 18 2010

Government Measures Raise People’s Expectations / Laritza Diversent

Self-employed

In his most recent speech, General of the Army Raul Castro Ruz announced a series of measures affecting the employment rights of the Cuban people. The most far-reaching of all was the extension of self-employment.

According to Castro, who is also President of the Councils of State and Ministers, the government agreed to extend the practice of self-employment as an alternative employment, and eliminate several existing prohibitions against the granting of new licenses.

The rise of individual economic activity on the island began in 1989 with the collapse of the socialist sphere, as a government measure to readjust the economy, given the lack of credit and the inability to obtain the cooperation of international financial organizations. Starting in 1997, the state began restricting licensing, to reduce the independent economic sector.

At present, self-employment is subject to control and supervision by the government, which considers it a supplement to state activity. It is done at the municipal level, on a case-by-case basis.

Permits are renewable every two years. They cover activities of producing and marketing goods and services, at the address of the permit-holder, and can only be offered to private individuals.

It is prohibited to conduct on the island any activity of producing, processing, or selling goods or services without authorization. The authorized activities are specifically listed in Resolution No. 9/2005, “Regulations on the exercise of self-employed person,” by the Ministry of Labor and Social Security. The law approves 118 activities, and authorizes the granting of new licenses for only 40 of them.

The law requires the self-employed to buy the raw materials in the retail market in convertible currency, but to offer their products and services for sale in national currency. This requirement impedes the development of private economic initiative on the one hand, and on the other it promotes the rise of lawlessness. The self-employed turn to the black market in order to continue their business and keep their license.

At the same time Castro, the Second Secretary of the Communist Party of Cuba, announced that the Council of Ministers approved the implementation of a system of taxes on this type of activity, presumably to ensure that the newly self-employed contribute to social security, pay personal income and sales taxes, and that those who hire workers pay a tax for the use of the workforce.

The measures – especially those concerning the marketing of new products and flexibility in hiring labor – have generated an expectancy among the populace. Their implementation will require the government to reform the legal system: the criminal law that prohibits the employment of labor or the use of methods or materials of illicit origin, also revokes licensure.

Laritza Diversent

Translated by: Tomás A.

August 17, 2010

Waking Up From This Lethargy / Voices Behind the Bars, Pablo Pacheco

At 40 years of age, I have finally understood that the international community does not see the sad ruin that today is CUBA as being a consequence of the inefficiency of a system of government that has promoted hate, intolerance, and an out of proportion level of evil. However, the blame has always systematically fallen upon supposed internal and external enemies. This is so because those who are the true culprits, those who have resided in power for more than 50 years through ostentation and impunity, have encouraged divisions and dislikes among Cubans, perfectly playing the role of Pontius Pilate as they wash their hands off of blame during each crisis.

The island is going through a total crisis in economic, political, social, and also humanistic, terms. There are visible clues that a witch-hunt may unfold in Cuba. It’s no secret that totalitarian systems that are on their final phase lash out and attack their own people, producing irreparable damages for families. That is how they behave and that, amongst other things, is what sharply separates them from the civilized world. It is the responsibility of all the Cuban people to avoid a human catastrophe of such unmeasurable damage, especially for the sake of those who live in the island. If we do not prevent such a disaster, we run the risk of making our children, our grand-children, and further descendants not forgive us.

With the grave problems that Cuba currently faces, the least important news hailing from within the island has to do with the former Commander in Chief. Yet, these news reports are the ones that dominate the most powerful media slots, further attempting to increase his inflated ego. Now, he is the new Messiah of the Apocalypse. What Fidel Castro doesn’t know, or wishes not to know, is that at this point in the game nobody pays attention to him, not even his followers or imitators. The time has come for us to stand up for the interests of Cuba, not have Cuba stand up for our interests.

Pablo Pacheco

Translated by: Raul G.

August 19, 2010

Solidarity / Juan Juan Almeida

Sixty-four days of hunger strike I feel a decline in vision, nausea, cramps, malaise; talking tires me quite a bit and ideas get lost in my head.

Curiously, yesterday (Tuesday, August 17, 2010), they should have sent me from the hospital where I was admitted a the medical summary and its recommendations but suddenly the doctor went on vacation. Luckily it’s been some time since I stopped believing in coincidences.

August 18, 2010

Prison Rats / Iván García

The first time Valentín set foot in a jail, he was fifteen years old. Up and down the narrow streets of Old Havana, together with a group of delinquents, he set out to steal the purses or video cameras of the unsuspecting tourists.

“I was sent to a youth reform center in 1996. From that point on, prison has been my home. I’ve spent 12 of the last 14 years behind the bars of a cell,” Valentín recounts to me during one of his brief stints of liberty.

When he entered the slammer for the first time, he was young, black, thin, and with a full head of hair. In 2010, I see in front of me a bald man who lacks many teeth, with two cuts on his neck from some sharp object, and with a face and physical make-up that would inspire fear.

“In jail, I have had more than one problem. The treatment of common criminals by the guards is violent and humiliating. We are non-persons. The Cuban jails are a jungle. Only the strong survive,” he points out, as he drinks a vile beer at an improvised bar.

When Valentín is free, he returns to his old adventures. He is a first-class anti-social. His way of life is to rob or swindle the unwary. He knows nothing else.

“I do not see myself living on a miserable salary. I like weed and rum, white women, and to dress well. My way of obtaining all that is stealing. For me, there’s no other way,” he said, without pretense.

Eighty-eight percent of the common (non-political) prisoners in Cuba are black or mestizo. These two groups make up 50% of the population of the entire island. In general, they have the hardest lives. Their families are madhouses. Violent crimes are usually committed by blacks.

The Martell brothers are also black. Two boys who speak rapid-fire slang. From age 13, their lives have been one transgression after another.

Six months ago, they were on the street. And now they’re next in line to visit prison. “We’re awaiting a hearing, where the prosecutor is asking for 12 years,” they tell me, in an almost jocular way. They add, “Our partners in jail are already saving us a bunk.” To be prisoners is the natural state of being for the Martell brothers.

The worst part is that in Havana, young black, marginalized youth, who believe themselves to be tough, abound. They are prison rats. Roberto Dueñas, age 22, has been in jail for 7 years. He carries a sentence of 43 years. He entered for a minor infraction with a sentence of 3 years.

But once in the system, he killed a couple of inmates, choking them with his own hands. And one afternoon in 2009, together with a group of prisoners, he rioted, trying to take over the jail located in the outskirts of the province of Camaguey, 600 kilometers from the capital.

If, one day, Dueñas gets out of jail, he’ll be 58-years-old. Without a wife or family. In a letter he mailed to a friend, full of spelling errors and in childish handwriting, he confessed that he does not regret it.

“Here in the tank (jail), what matters is force, to earn respect and the benefits that make life more bearable. If my life is to die in jail, so be it. I will never permit another man to be above me. The only person above me is God,” wrote Dueñas to his friend.

The government of the Castro brothers has never offered data on the number of common prisoners on the island. Nor on the number of jails. The environment in which these youths grow up is fertile ground for delinquency.

The worst part isn’t the silence. Rather, that the Cuban State doesn’t have a solution for the problem of a society that grows more unstable and violent.

Ivan Garcia

Translated by: Gregorio

August 17, 2010

An Island Without The Sea / Yoani Sánchez

From the wall of the Malecón there is not much to look at. A blue dish that gets annoyed now and again and launches its foamy waves over its bordering avenue. There are no sailboats, just a couple of patched vessels authorized by the captain of the port. In summer, teenagers throw themselves into the warm waters, but in winter they fearfully shy away from the salt spray and cold wind. A boat plies the route from east to west each night; a shadow on the horizon preventing potential rafters from escaping across the Straits of Florida.

Just now we are in the months of the year when the coastal avenue comes to its greatest turbulence. But everything happens between the reef and the street; this vitality doesn’t even dream of extending to the wide and salty expanse on the other side. When did we start to live with our backs to the sea? At what moment did this part of the country, which is also ours, cease to belong to us? Eating fish, sailing on a yacht, looking back at the buildings from the cadence of a wave, enjoying the contrast of blues along the beginning of the first ridge. Chimeric actions in a coastal city, sharp delusions on an Island that appears to float in nothingness and not in the Caribbean.

I have the illusion that one day, in order to rent even a rowboat, it won’t be necessary to show a foreign passport. The sails will return to take over this bay, reminding us that we live in a maritime Havana, born between the cries of the corsairs and the clamor of the port. The red snapper will displace the catfish and carp on our plates and from the wall of the Malecón — our legs dangling over the limestone reef — we will greet a flotilla of boats coming and going from El Morro.

August 18, 2010

Open Letter to Gerardo Hernandez Nordelo / Voices Behind The Bars, Reynol Vicente Sanchez

The following letter was written by Reynol Vicente Sanchez, a common prisoner who is currently in Combinado del Este.

To Mr. Gerardo Hernandez Nordelo:

To classify the conditions which you were subjected to as torture is not only irrational but also very cynical on behalf of the Castro regime, for these inhumane conditions we prisoners on the island live under are truly abusive and degrading, and this has been happening for more than half a century. Here I am sending you a short description so that you could draw your own conclusions.

In any of the three buildings of Combinado del Este in the city of Havana, as in any of the many prisons throughout the island, the regime condemns its prisoners with the poorest diet any prisoner could be subjected to. It consists of 30 grams of rice and, as the main dish, a mix of flour with soy ground beef in a portion that is approximately 15 grams, and it is handed out between lunch and dinner with an egg which you realize is just a piece of yolk with remnants of shell when you’re done peeling it. Furthermore, a watered down and insipid pea soup is given to us by force along with more bread flour. Every fifteen days we receive a small quarter of chicken.

I’ve been in Building 1-2 North, in Detachment 3 company 1223 of Combinado del Este for exactly 6 months and 21 days. I live alongside 8 other prisoners. We are all basically living on top of each other in a jail cell that is 3 meters in width by 6 meters in length and 2 meters in height. The three single-person beds, which are separated by a mere 50 centimeters from each other, barely even fit in the cell. They are so closely placed to one another that one could even try to squeeze in a fourth one, as is done in many other cells. Furthermore, there is a tiny space for the foods that are brought to the recluses by their relatives (through much sacrifice) in order to prevent death by hunger.

It is normal for us to share our living space with roaches, rats, and mosquitoes. The roofs are sealed up with nylon in order to prevent bathroom residues to fall down on us from the floors above. That permanent dripping sound follows us all night long, every night, as if it was a musical backdrop. All prisoners are full of all kinds of parasites and bacterias. The water is not drinkable and it is scarce, and lack of hygiene is immense. Cleaning the cell consists of cleaning the beds only. The small hall between any of the bed bunks is barely ever cleaned, and the times that they are, it is very little and with dirty old rags which are so worn out that they can’t even dry a body. Yet, here we value them (the rags) as if they were treasure and we lend them to our companions or we ask prisoners from other cells for them.

In the very tiny spaces below our beds we keep our belongings, which are kept in bags or suitcases that often do not even fit down there alongside with our shoes, sandals, plastic water bottles, and our plates and spoons that we use daily to eat in an atmosphere of the worst imaginable hygienic conditions where we are constantly pestered by flies, roaches, and rats.

At the back of the 6 meter long cell lies the bathroom, which is 3 meters by 1.60. It is divided by two walls that create three very small spaces- one for showering, a latrine full of filth and sediments, and a washing room which consists of a tube without a sink. The tubes are plastic and are the same ones used to pass electric cables and together they conduce water towards the space where we shower where there is an old tank that is completely rusted and has been fixed at the bottom with cement. That is where we fill up our bottles, which we guard with our lives due to scarcity of water.

We don’t have any disinfectants, for the authorities of the jail do not give us any and they don’t let our families bring them when they visit. They also do not engage in any form of pest control, just like there is no mass effort to collectively combat rodents. This explains the presence of large bugs, rats, and mice, and also is the reason why roaches crawl over us while we are sleeping or even while we are awake. All the excrement and waste from the bathrooms in each cell do not circulate through a pipe system. Instead, it falls on the ground by the back walls of the building. There they produce gases which are carried upwards, producing scents that we constantly smell minute by minute, day by day.

You were in the hole for only 13 days, subjected to temperatures of up to 34 degrees. We live under similar temperatures during all the summer months on this island- a climate which you are very well familiar with. They don’t allow us to have fans, and much less any radios, and even if we had any it would be pointless because the country is going through one of its worst economic crisis ever, and for approximately one year now, they have prevented any form of flow of electricity to us, keeping us in our cells in pitch darkness. They don’t allow us to have any electric razors, yet they want us to constantly be well shaved. They sometime take us to get our hair cut before the chief of the building. As punishment, they remove our sentence reductions which are normally 2 months each year, alone with the allowed visits we have every 45 days and the conjugal meeting that we are permitted every 2 months.

In such meetings our families finds themselves forced to use the little they have in order to bring us bags of foods which normally contain crackers, sugar, milk in powder, and anything else that can be preserved and that is allowed during visits. If they bring us cooked meat we have to eat it within the first two days because we have absolutely no access to any sort of refrigeration.

With all the sincerity in the world, I must tell you that you have not traveled to any country in the world to fight against terrorism, but instead you have gone with the purpose of collaborating with this state-sponsored terrorism under which 11 million Cubans suffer. We live under an awful dictatorship which attempts to perpetually remain in power. Neither many kilometers of paper, or liters upon liters of ink, can ever be enough for me to narrate, with much detail, just how much Cuban prisoners suffer in this giant prison, the largest one in the universe.

A true example of torture is the case of the Cuban-American Yamil Dominguez Ramos, who as of today, has been carrying out a 118 day long hunger strike as he protests his unjust confinement. With pure conviction about his dignity and his values he has declared himself innocent of a false accusation of “human trafficking”- an accusation which has caused him a sentence of ten years of prison. What they cannot accept is that Yamil accepted the nationality of another country that has lent him a hand and given him the chance to grow and feel like a truly free man, something that continues being just a Utopian ideal for all of us Cubans.

I just hope that you are able to read this letter which I have written in my jail cell, number 1223, where I reside along 8 other companions and together, we are witnesses of each and every one one of my written words.

Without further adieu,

Reynol Vicente Sanchez

Translator: Raul G.

August 17, 2010

Horror Report / Luis Felipe Rojas

Photos: Luis Felipe Rojas

And here is the report on human rights (derechos humanos) presented by the Eastern Democratic Alliance. Within a six month period in this Cuban region there have been reported 128 arbitrary detentions, 32 police citations without proper official warrants by the political police, 4 evictions, 49 beatings, 6 fines levied on human rights defenders, 23 cases of hunger strike and almost twenty cases of suicide attempts in jails.

The partial Report is available for reading where the names of t the victims and of the victimizers are recorded, and also private addresses and even phone numbers for verification. It’s a shame — and I never get tired of repeating it — that the great and lustrous international press agencies located in Havana never hop over to the East, the heart of the horror in Cuba.

The death of Orlando Zapata Tamayo, the beating of about 15 women in Camaguey on February 3, and later the abuses against Idalmis Nunez, Caridad Caballero and Mari Blanca Avila are signs of some horrible events. Before or during when his Lordship Cardinal Ortega, Raul Castro and Moratinos shook hands for the future Cuba that is being dreamed of only for a few.

There is physical torture and cruel and degrading treatment in Santiago de Cuba, Banes, San German and the Guantanamo of the olive-green government. The attachments to the document corroborate it for you.

PS: In the pictures Isael Poveda Silva, former political prisoner in Guantanamo Prison Complex staged for bloggers and the independent press showing how they apply the techniques of torture known as “The Bat” and “The Rocker.”

August 14, 2010

The Return of Castro I / Iván García

One week before turning 84-years-old, and after one month of public appearances, Cubans were not surprised with his appearance before the National Assembly of Popular Power, in an extraordinary session that he himself called and that, in addition to the mass of deputies, was attended by his brother the president, General Raul Castro.

As his health recovered, people accustomed themselves to seeing him in photos and videos. First as a host with diverse guests, then as a visitor himself.

The population had already gotten used to his absence. And was grateful for it too, because television programs were no longer affected by some appearance or a long speech.

Now, in seeing him again before the parliament with an olive-green shirt, the same one worn on two previous occasions, a mix of fear and uncertainty has assaulted people. “It frightens me to think that he has recovered enough that every now and then we once again hear him speak,” comments Jose Luis, 51, a construction worker.

Elvira, 45, a primary school teacher, does not believe that Fidel will return to the political arena. “At least not like before, even though he still maintains an important position, First Secretary of the Party.”

These worries arise among older citizens. Meanwhile, the older they are, the more convinced they are that “the Maximum Leader has not only returned to the national political realm, but also to the international realm,” emphasizes Mario, 66, retired.

The ones who lose no sleep over his return, temporary or definitive, are the youth. To them, who had practically forgotten his voice and his gestures, what has called their attention is his “look.”

Yendri, 25, chef, saves various photos of ‘El Comandante‘ with Adidas, Nike, and Puma active wear, among other famous brands. “If only I had a collection like that,” he confesses.

On the streets, opinions are divided with respect to his clothing, which evokes laughter among some. In private, of course. “Sometimes, he wears a very bad combination and when they focus on his feet, he’s wearing outdated tennis shoes,” says Javier, 32, unemployed.

What everyone can agree on, young and old alike, is that no one in Cuba with the sense that God gave a mule is paying any attention to his latest rant: that of impending nuclear war and catastrophe.

Some account for this by saying that during his period of convalescence he read books about the end of the world and watched films like 2012. I personally believe that Fidel Castro is not interested in those subjects. These are just a pretext so as to retake the role of protagonist that he was obligated to leave when he was on the brink of death four years ago.

Iván García

Photo: EPA

August 11 2010

The Powers of the Minister of Finances and Prices are Unconstitutional and Arbitrary / Laritza Diversent

The Minister of Finances and Prices, Lina Olinda Pedraza Rodriguez, ordered the execution of a process of confiscation against Teófilo Roberto López Licor, 66, based on Legal Decree 149 “on the confiscation of goods and accumulations made through improper enrichment,” known as the Law Against the Newly Rich and its regulation, Decree No. 187, both from 1994.

The state representative demands the confiscation of the goods and income obtained by the López Licor family, during a period of ten years (1998 to 2008). However, the resolution dictated in July 2009 is based on confiscatory record 1349, which does not specify the year of filing. This is a detail that creates doubt concerning the application of the legal decree with retroactive effects, on behalf of an organ of the state.

According to the Constitution of the Republic, non-criminal laws have retroactive effects when they deal with a matter of public interest or utility. Decree Law 149 is of an administrative character and in its operation does not mention that particularity.

The process also affected Pompilio López Licor, 61, and Teófila Elsa Ávila Gutiérrez, 60, brother and wife of Teófilo Roberto, who along with his son, Antonio, were named by the Ministerial decision, as third parties who benefited from the unjust enrichment.

The national deputy for the province of Villa Clara said that the three houses, two cars, a motorcycle and several other items, including appliances exchanged under the “Energy Revolution,” were obtained and legalised by Teófilo, and hidden through subterfuge, under the names of his relatives, without specifying which acts were illegal.

However, no legal action has been directed against members of the Municipal Housing Management of Arroyo Naranjo, in the City of Havana, who acted in the legalisation of the assets and property mentioned.

The confiscated goods amounted to 2,347,834 Cuban pesos and 24 cents. The value was certified by experts who did not specify, as they are legally required to, how the appraisal was carried out, or what the parameters were that were considered, nor the factors that were taken into account in the estimate.

López Licor is self-employed in the regulated activity No. 646 of “maker-seller of food and soft drinks at a fixed point of sale” and has documents from the income tax office substantiating an income of more than 500,000 Cuban pesos.

Teófilo Roberto can also establish receipt of 18,000 convertible pesos (CUC), 450,000 Cuban pesos (CUP), as received remittances from the United States from six brothers and a son living in that country.

However, the Central Committee member of the Communist Party of Cuba, Pedraza Rodriguez, dismissed the evidence provided by López Licor. He argued that the self-employed workforce engaged and the bank documents did not prove that he had actually received the money. The law considers it criminal to use labour that is not family. However, against López Licor, the penalty is not imposed for that reason.

The defendants appealed against the ministerial decision through the Reform Appeal before Pedraza Rodriguez himself, who declared it to be without merit, confirming his decision, in October 2009. On June 22, they appealed to the Head of Finances and Prices, the start of a special review procedure. However, the execution of the penalty of confiscation is not interrupted, although they have not exhausted all the avenues for appeal.

Decree-Law 149 places in a state of helplessness those affected by it by preventing access to the courts for justice against an act of the administration that is harmful. However, the Constitution of the Republic states that “the confiscation of property is applied only as a punishment by the authorities in cases and procedures determined by law.” The Penal Code applies as a specific penalty and accessory for a crime.

However, the Prosecutor, who is responsible for the exercise of public prosecutions on behalf of the state, decided to undertake an administrative proceeding before activating the court for the commission of crimes. In a criminal trial, the relatives of Teófilo Roberto never would have been responsible for the acts of others. The responsibility is individual.

The Cuban Penal Code, in force since 1987, provides that “the confiscation of property does not include … the goods or items that are essential to meet the vital needs of those sanctioned or their close relatives.” Therefore, in criminal proceedings, housing can not be seized.

The validity of this rule in the Cuban legal system does not protect general interests, destroying the trust and security that should surround the whole legal system. Its application violates the legal and penal guarantees offered to citizens and leaves them defenseless against the excesses of the government.

Lina Olinda Pedraza Rodríguez, Minister of Finance and Prices, claimed in her decision that the seized items “are not the result of honest work.” However, the Cuban Civil Code defines unjust enrichment as the transfer value of an estate to another, without legitimate cause. The Economic Control Minister was appointed by the government but is not qualified to administer justice. The powers under Decree Law 149/94 are unconstitutional and arbitrary.

Laritza Diversent

Translated by: CIMF

August 16, 2010

Breaking the Stigma / Miriam Celaya

JJ Almeida at graduation from the Blogger Academy

Just over 60 days ago Juan Juan Almeida started a hunger strike. His, in some ways, is the most solitary of strikes. It is true that many of us bloggers and his other friends have been aware of his condition and have followed the long-running saga of his pursuit of an exit permit to allow him to get treatment, not available in Cuba, for a severe health problem; it is also true that several digital sites have published his trials and tribulations (including his arrests) as he constantly pressures the authorities and demands his right to travel, to be reunited with his family, and to receive on-going treatment for his illness. But regardless, public opinion has not been sufficiently mobilized.

Reflecting on the crossroads where Juan Juan finds himself, I think of how difficult it is in his case and the stigmas he is burdened with at a time when he so greatly needs to rally support. First, because his fight, placed within the contours of a personal drama, lacks the heroic elements traditional solidarity demands; his dispute, according to some of the more ignorant, is not for Cuba and Cubans, but only to resolve a personal problem. Why don’t we just describe his drama as that of any Cuban, and therefore, of all Cubans. Second, because the most well-known and far-reaching of the international media pay attention to someone whose huge mustache or quantity of body-piercings earn them a Guinness record, but not to the tragedy of a lonely man who launches a desperate appeal to defend the right to freely leave and enter one’s own country. Third, the greatest stigma, is because JJ – as many of us call him – is the son of the Commander of the Revolution Juan Almeida Bosque, which brings with it a strong prejudice: being one “of them” and having enjoyed benefits and privileges that the most of us do not, he “deserves what happens to him.” A pattern repeated over and over when I’ve expressed JJ’s dilemma among friends, as if being born to someone in particular entails a curse, as if to each of us our parents were not always loved and lovable, or as if the coincidence of not belonging, as a birthright, to the anointed grants us some certificate of moral purity, without “the children of so-and-so” hanging over our heads.

For my part, I think it is precisely his origin that makes his struggle more difficult than mine. His rupture has been greater and the cost of his daring higher. From my vertical dissent I have not lost even one friend (in fact I have gained many new friends); I have had no ruptures nor family resentments, no one has separated me from my loved ones (neither living nor dead), nor have I suffered any rejection. This has not been true in his case.

I prefer to see JJ in another way: not as the privileged person that he’s not, but as another of my companions along the way. I choose to strip the name and pedigree from this man and see the human being who lacks the same rights we all lack on this Island – and as even some do who are outside of it – including the greatest right which is Freedom. This is a sick man who, thanks to his many friends who love him (but no thanks to the Revolution which, for some reason, detests him… and that makes him good in my eyes), has the chance to improve his health outside of Cuba; but the government prevents him from traveling and condemns him to die. This is a man prevented from being reunited with his wife and daughter for having committed the incredible sin of writing a book where he says what he knows, what he believes and what he thinks about certain topics that discomfort the warrior oligarchy, the master of all our fates. I choose to stand by this human being in whom I recognize so many gestures of solidarity toward others and toward us, the disobedient ones, with whom he has cast his lot.

Since August 10, 2010, Juan Juan Almeida has been hospitalized in Havana. His health has deteriorated and his body has been debilitated by the long fast. His demand to leave Cuba has ceased to be an individual claim; and although JJ himself has no pretensions of leadership or of carrying the flag, today he claims a right for all Cubans. We must not leave him to do it alone.

August 17, 2010

Translator’s note: JJ Almeida yesterday: Photos here.