Official Citation / Iván García

On the morning of August 7th I found out that I was of interest to State Security. My neighbors in the area worriedly told me about two guys who looked like political police agents who were asking about me.

In Cuba, when the Special Services officially cite you, it is almost always with the purpose of sending a message of fear. A programmed relentless pursuit is set in motion to discourage people from continuing the work they have been doing, whether it be as a dissident or journalist.

Generally speaking, when someone is involved with these struggles they try to turn them into a rat. If they see that you continue standing firm with your ideas, then the task becomes trying to destabilize your beliefs through the use of tricks.

They might pressure your family, or shamelessly harass them. To be under the magnifying glass of Cuban Counter-Intelligence is a clear sign that the work that you carry out worries them.

I am a man who writes. I record stories of the decadent society in which I live, and I write about my perception of the situation in Cuba. I have a blog, titled Desde La Habana (‘From Havana’), where I spit out what I am thinking.

I also write for the online journal known as El Mundo America, a Spanish site that has over 24 million readers. That is something that really bothers those Cuban Security hard-liners.

Being a journalist in a closed society is the task of either an adventurer or a lunatic. In Cuba, there is a law, known as the “Gag Law”, which allows the government to jail you for up to 20 years for the sole reason of writing what you think.

I’m not a special guy. I’m not a hero. Nor a martyr. I have fears and phobias. Fifteen years of writing as an independent journalist has made me a lone wolf. A paranoiac sniper of people who surround me.

I don’t trust anyone. So much sickening distrust eventually wears me out. It is product of the patient labor of intrigue and hate carried out by the political police on the island so that you will never feel sure of yourself.

Being a dissident or a journalist without a boss puts you in a perennial state of siege. It stresses you out. Mentally and physically. You constantly try to guard what you love the most: your family. For you know that they might, and will, attack you through them.

I will be 45 on August 15th. At this point in my life, I am sure of what I want. I do not believe that an official citation (which demands that I present myself before a military counter-intelligence unit on August 9th at 9 AM, before Colonel Enrique) will change my personal decision of writing my thoughts about life in Cuba.

I don’t keep any secrets. I have not committed any crimes. In the meantime, I will continue informing. I am a prisoner of my labor.

Iván García

August 8, 2010

The True Home of All / Ernesto Morales Licea

One of the mistakes most often made by those who say they care about Cuba is what could be defined as taking the part for the whole. A kind of geographical and ideological synecdoche, which makes them assume, when they use the term “Cuba,” that they understand it correctly.

Too often I have heard something like, “I am a friend of Cuba,” on the part of many foreigners whose ideological positions, almost always on the left, bring them to the island in tight solidarity groups which they believe will allow them to know our reality.

I say they believe, and not idly: they believe they know it from their air-conditioned buses, taking pictures of Cubans who spend hours on the roads, scorched by the merciless sun, trying to travel from one place to another. They believe they know our reality staying in camps designed to sell them on the idea that they are haphazard, the same as any native might inhabit, when in fact their facilities and comforts are ensured with mathematical precision.

And they never tire of repeating, these pink-cheeked gentlemen, that they are “friends of Cuba.”

I must admit that the feeling that these naïfs inspire in me varies between pity and resentment. Pity because the blinders on their eyes prevents them from seeing that they are a part of a skillfully staged choreography; resentment because thanks to their excited reports of the marvels they have seen, they support, from abroad, a system they neither live in nor suffer.

How are they friends of Cuba? It is a question worth asking. First we must clarify if, in their own minds, Cuba is all of our Island, or if it is just the portion of paradise that the Government dictates they may learn about. If they are referring to the Cuba they perceive from their Transtur buses, always so shiny and nice looking, or that of the old people who sleep on station floors in hopes of getting some kind of transport.

But the oddest thing is when we actually put this question to them – Why do you call yourselves friends of Cuba? Or, What do you mean when you refer to Cuba? – their answers speak of ideological struggles, and thus, we understand something: these people with their cottony minds have robbed us of our country and have given it to those who govern us.

Of course it’s not too hard to understand the genesis of this mistake. A country that projects internationally an image of strict unanimity, that year after year elects the same Party leaders, that accepts what its mass media says with hardly a murmur (in public), must concede that for uninformed brains, Cuba is a single concept of rum, tobacco, mulatas, and Socialism or Death.

It is precisely for that reason, however, that I find the position of much of my compatriots illogical. Those who know better, those who have suffered to a greater or lesser extent.

A friend I admire recently posted a comment on this blog. It can still be read under La Felicidad del Corredor de Fondo. This friend now lives abroad, and on analyzing the conditions of my firing from the radio station, said, “It got a little out of hand (referring to me). We shouldn’t air our dirty laundry in public; we shouldn’t speak ill of our own home.”

That is to say: if one doesn’t agree with the way my country is governed, if one doesn’t accept the anemic freedoms they allow Cubans, and if one fights the hatred that emanates from the powers-that-be toward those who exercise their right to dissent, this is speaking ill of our own home.

I wonder what divine or earthly plan gave our leaders the ownership of this beautiful Island, such that those who don’t share their point of view are treated like those who speak ill of their own home. My home is my parents and friends. My home is Cubans of good heart, honest, smiling. My home is this beautiful country with its angry sun and its young, impetuous in their love. I also think it is the home of all of us. But under no concept can I identify The Battle of Ideas as my home, or the efforts of a few men to manage the whole country as if it were their private plantation.

In 1988, before a packed square in Santiago de Cuba, an Archbishop who, in the aftermath, many began to call, “His Excellency,” said a few works that still have a painful effect. His name is Pedro Meurice. Before Pope John Paul II summarized it in an electrifying way, brave and precise, what I could not say any better:

I see a growing number of Cubans who have confused the Fatherland with a party; the Nation with an historical process we have seen in recent decades, and culture with an ideology.

August 2, 2010

Post-Marambio Era / Yoani Sánchez

A week ago Max Marambio, alias El Guatón – The Fatso – was due to come to this Island, appear before a court, explain certain matters. The owner of the joint-venture company Río Zaza, however, has preferred the protection of his Chilean homeland, as he is an expert – like no one else – in the unpredictable results of putting oneself in the hands of Cuban justice. Accused of bribery, embezzlement, forgery of bank documents and fraud, he who was once the favored protégé of the Maximum Leader just received – instead of pats on the back – a warrant for his arrest.

I miss Marambio even without having known him, because with his departure the number of families on this Island who can drink a glass of milk whenever they like has been greatly reduced. The informal market that supplied itself from his warehouses collapsed as soon as he left, and the underground networks that diverted his products either dried up or doubled their prices. When the lieutenant colonel turned manager escaped to Santiago de Chile, we realized the role that this man – forged at the right hand of power – played in what we put on our tables. He didn’t do it for altruism, clearly, but at least he diversified the boring local production and managed to make a tetrapack something that was not a collector’s item.

Marambio’s fortune was amassed where Cubans cannot invest a single centavo: in those joint venture companies opened to those with foreign passports but not to those with national ones. His personal history was a preview of what we will see, a prediction of how ranking military will transform themselves – dressed in suits and ties – into ideology-free entrepreneurs. Despite his agility with yesterday’s weapons – a Kalashnikov, slogans, Marxist dogma – we remember him for other strategies: bank accounts, trading favors, investments. His former comrades in the struggle will show him no clemency when judging him in court, because the paunchy Chilean ended up turning himself into a commercial competitor, not to mention that he knows too many stories – secret ones – about them.

August 8, 2010

A Pause / Miriam Celaya

For some time I have wanted to pause to respond to some doubts from readers of this blog, a practice I would like to maintain but that I cannot exercise with the frequency I would like, due to my limited access to the internet. I am going to explain to you, because my readers deserve it, my general procedure for loading a post, making links, reading commentaries or answering correspondence, as well as my “political censorship.” Various opinions that could be confusing have come up and I like to clarify things.

Some readers believe that the blocking of our pages is a myth. That’s all well and good but the sites Desde Cuba and Voces Cubanas, the oldest and largest platforms in the Island’s alternative blogosphere, respectively, are blocked from here by the government, so that it is not possible to access them from inside Cuba, except from a place that has direct access to the satellite, or by detouring through an anonymous proxy at a public internet site. I can access my site sporadically, when some friends and supporters offer me a time when the first option exists (direct link without passing through the Cuban filters), in which case I administer the page myself and try to load posts, revise the links, and respond to some messages; or the times when I would buy a card to connect from a public place (usually a hotel), when I might be able to read my page and the comments (through an anonymous proxy) but I can’t administer my blog. Whenever I go try to maximize the short time available, so I bring the already-edited articles on a flash memory and even some messages I have written to those who write me, and I also download the commentaries to read at leisure at home. This is a primitive process, which explains the slowness and the reason I can’t update my blog more often.

Another option that I make use of is to appeal to a guardian angel who helps me: a Cuban who lives abroad and has the password to my blog and my complete trust. She has been a real support since shortly after the start of this blog and offers me more chances to get on with the work when I only have to use my email account to send posts and photos. At times, she herself looks for photos from the internet. This irreplaceable friend also “patrols” the site to remove the coarse and vulgar insults which at times – as some of the long-standing readers will recall – came to greatly contaminate the site, such that I asked her to do it. I’ve never removed someone’s comment simply because they don’t agree with me or for having a different political point of view. I don’t exclude even those who defend the system. That doesn’t seem democratic to me, truthful, nor do I believe it is healthy to censor anyone who maintains a respectful attitude. That would be inconsistent with the spirit of pluralism that I defend. If anyone of them (or others) has complaints about what they believe is the intentional omission of their opinions, they need to know that I don’t have enough connection time to devote myself to establishing filters nor have I ever revealed the identity (nor will I) of the commentators; for me that is strictly a question of ethics. I will ask my friend and “Cyber-Godmother” to review those details when she can, because she also has to work for a living and the hours she spends on this blog are taken from time she could be resting or spending with her family. I ask you, then, for your understanding and patience.

Someone has criticized my lack of participation in the comments. This is a choice I made because, in my capacity as hostess, I prefer to give my opinions in the posts and leave space in the comments for the readers, without interfering in the debate, with the intention of not imposing my presence or abusing my privilege as the owner of the site. When I thought it opportune to emphasize a theme or refer to the comments (as in this case), I have chosen to post a separate text and explain my reasons, which is the way I have to speak with all of you at once, although at times for various reasons I have singled out some and sent direct messages to them via email.

Finally, those who believe that perhaps I have other occupations, not just attending to this blog, are correct. I have a precious family to take care of (my number one priority), I work as an independent tourist guide to make some money from time to time, I read and research many things and am writing a novel for teenagers, an old project that I hope to complete in a year or a year and a half and that is more complicated than I thought it would be. My rare presence on-line however, is due to my lack of access. I greatly enjoy the time that I share with my readers; I hope the day will come in which a connection from my home is more than a dream. Thank you for coming to find me, for demanding more from me, and for your patience.

A hug,

Eva-Miriam

August 6, 2010

VOICES FLY TODAY FROM HAVANOTHING / Orlando Luis Pardo Lazo

1ndex:

Orlando Luis Pardo Lazo. Reports from the horde on the ground.

Claudia Cadelo. Leaders of an alternative revolution.

Eduardo Laporte. I do not know what the dogs have.

Melkay. The best selection of the world.

Wendy Guerra. Between Perseverance and Virtues.

Ivan de la Nuez. The Near East.

Reinaldo Escobar. The scope of cyber-dissidence.

Emilio Ichikawa. Paper and screen.

Jorge Ferrer. To write a Cuban blog (Decalogue).

Yoani Sánchez. That one will never return.

Antonio José Ponte. A childhood without comics, an adolescence without pornography.

Juan Abreu. Pissed / Anal bleach / Nyotaimori.

Miriam Celaya. Open letter to the BBC.

Maikel Iglesias. Pinar del Rio City.

Jesus Diaz. Requiem.

Luis Marimon. The death of Yumurí.

Mirta Suquet. Prosperity and goodness: the other side of the coin of the

Martí enlightenment.

Miguel Iturria. Martí: spirituality and political manipulation.

Ernesto Morales. The happiness of the long distance runner.

Ena Lucia Portela. Hurricane.

Dimas Castellanos. The limits of inaction.

Yoss. Close but far away: the universe next door.

August 6 2010

The Wait / Yoani Sánchez

My mother shifts from side to side. She stands first on one leg and then the other, while I wrap my skinny 7-year-old arms around her hips. What is the line for? I don’t know, perhaps we’re at the bus stop, or outside a shop where they had plates, or in front of the drugstore to buy some aspirin. It’s a long line in the sun and it seems that our turn never comes.

She fans herself. Keeps shifting from right to left. With this movement my mother – almost oblivious – is teaching me the art of waiting, the exercise of patience to deal with the long lines that are waiting for me.

August 7, 2010

In the Voice of the Victims / Luis Felipe Rojas

Thanks to friends of mine, I leave you with this:

The voices of Caridad Caballero Batista, Marta Diaz Rondon, and Mariblanca Avila. The three women have been victims of police brutality in Holguin and Banes. In the cases of Cari and Marta, what they are narrating in this clip occurred on August 3rd.

Mariblanca, in just one month, was victim of police beatings three times. Here she recounts the worst of the three times.

Here is the text:

Voice of Caridad Caballero Batista: Marta Diaz Rondon from Banes, and Gertrudis Ojeda Suarez, also from Banes, were walking towards my house when State Security officials impeded them from entering and dragged them on the street and threw them in a car. When I tried to intercede for them, my husband and I were then also dragged and beat. My husband, Esteban Sandes (?), and my son Eric Esteban (?), 17 years of age, and I, all tried to intercede for Marta and the agents of State Security dragged us all, beat us, and they threw me to the ground and they brutally continued to beat me and drag me. The same thing happened to my son who is full of scratches and bruises because he was shoved up against a fence. And well, they took Marta with them, and we were further victims of offensive words shouted at us by the agents of State Security.

Voice of Marta Diaz Rondon: Gertrudis Ojeda Suarez and I were on our way to the house of Caridad Caballero and there were some cars parked nearby, there were a few, I don’t remember how many. In those cars was Commando 21, whose members looked like giants. When we arrived right outside Cari’s house, they rushed up towards us and began to brutally push us and dragged us to the car. I’m full of bruises everywhere on my thighs and my legs, as is Gertrudis. Cari rushed out of her house in defense of us, when she saw us she began screaming anti-governmental slogans and they also dragged her on the ground, while some of the agents jumped on her and covered her mouth. We screamed “assassins”, and “down with the dictatorship” when we saw this, and they locked the doors of the car to prevent us from running out and defending Cari, for they were now beating her. They took us to a penitentiary (?) center and kept us in a cell from 6 pm to the next day at 2 pm. We protested, we didn’t eat anything, and we continued protesting. They accused us of public disorder. Public disorder is what they did because they were the ones who attacked us.

Voice of Mariblanca Avila: I think they are like an army (?). The dirtiest man in the world that any mother could have given birth to was that man. While we were driving towards Guardalavaca, that man took advantage that I was hand-cuffed, harassed me, and told me, “I am going to kiss you”, and then he kissed me on the neck, and the more I screamed the more he took advantage. He squeezed hard down on my left arm. I now have an incision there, my arm is swollen. The dirty things he told me scared me. There were 3 others in the car with us, but that man put the cuffs on me and went in the back with me as if I was an assassin. 3 others were in the car with me, and 2 others behind in a desolate road, there were woods everywhere. I was very afraid because I know that they are capable of anything. And because of that man I have not been able to sleep again.

Translator’s note: If anyone wishes to fix the ‘?’ which I could not hear too well, please add it in the comments, below. Thank you!)

Translated by Raul G

August 5, 2010

Mommy, what is “good”? / Claudia Cadelo


Photo: Claudio Fuentes Madan

With a rope and a piece of wood, three children were preparing a torture trap for a lizard. One of them held onto the victim which, with eyes wide and body rigid, awaited his martyrdom without much hope of survival. At that moment I passed by and intervened, as is normal, in defense of the poor animal: I explained to them about caring for living beings and grabbed the creature in my hands. Fortunately for my good deed there was a tree suitable for its welfare and I let it go among the branches. Up to that point, everything was typical, children experiment with birds and small animals and adults try to inculcate a love of nature.

The unusual came minutes later when the mother of one of the kids knocked on my door to demand an explanation. I decided, then, to use the same arguments with the mother that I had with her son, and she seemed to understand me though she didn’t say a word, but grabbed her son by the hair and dragged him away. I felt a little guilty, not expecting such a punishment for a lizard, but to intervene again in the moral issues of this family would have been excessive.

The incident puzzled me, not because the boys were playing at martyrdom with a reptile, but because they were so unaware of how bad this was; judging it “right,” they went to their parents for support. When I was little the kids in my neighborhood surreptitiously killed sparrows, knowing that what they did was wrong. What has happened that, fifteen years later, the simple notion of good and evil has disappeared?

August 7, 2010

The Power of a Symbol

Fidel Castro could convert his name into a registered brand like Adidas, Nike, or Coca-Cola. After death, perhaps his image will have more appeal than the Argentinian soldier Che Guevara. The anti-globalization advocates will repeat his phrases with his image tattooed on their biceps, while they launch criticisms towards some capitalist bank.

Specialists in advertising and marketing are already rubbing their hands together just thinking up all of this. They calculate how many millions of books, shirts, posters, watches, and other pieces of merchandise they could sell with the image of the bearded face.

Castro is for Cuba what Mao was for China, or what Kim II Sung was in North Korea. Not even Robespierre and Danton, key figures of the French uprising in 1789, could overcome the mythical and fascinating depiction that the Cuban revolutionary will reach when he dies.

Forget about Lenin or Rosa Luxemburg. The One and Only Commander will go down in history for being the leader of a skirmish army in the mountains in the Eastern part of the island.

Born on August 13, 1926 in the village of Biran, current province of Holguin, he was a professional lawyer. Fidel Alejandro Castro Ruz will become a legend. Whether we like it or not. For the simple reason that we humans have the tendency of wanting to point out people who are different.

They will ignore the coarse errors he committed as a statesman. As time passes, few will remember that in October of 1962, he wrote a letter to Nikita Khrushchev in which he told the politician to fire a nuclear missile towards the United States.

Perhaps collective memory will forget about the names of all the thousands of people who were executed by firing squad at the beginning of the revolution. Or maybe they will leave out the part about the more than 20 thousand political prisoners that have existed during 50 years of government. Or his failures in the area of economics.

The grandchildren of the political prisoners of the Black Spring of 2003, wherever it is they reside, Miami, Madrid, Malaga, or Havana, will let their beards grow after many years have passed and they will read his extensive and apocalyptic discourses.

Life is a handful of contradictions. That same old man who, on a hot July morning in 2010, warned us that the nuclear war between the US and Iran was just a few hours away, while writing ridiculous comments, will become a registered brand after he is deceased.

Perhaps a good psychologist could explain the reasons why we humans end up glorifying people who, in life, had a high dose of evil in them.

For some, their idols are Gods. For others, warriors like Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, or Napoleon. Or soldiers from small, less developed countries that challenged the big empires. There are those who prefer frivolous fetishes. Movie stars, musicians, athletes.

The human being needs heroes and mascots as if they were emotional gasoline. Certain dictators were forgotten after their death. I don’t know why I have the feeling that Fidel Castro will not be one of those. I hope I am wrong.

Ivan Garcia

Translated by Raul G.

August 5 2010

Coffee or Coffu?

The famous black nectar that once categorized us as one the countries with the highest production and consumption levels has, bit by bit, been converted into other various inventions that have nothing to do with all those marvelous kinds of coffee that historically were produced here on my planet.

“Untenable”, that’s how the members of the Agrofood Commission referred to the descent of coffee production.

The current harvest only reached the level of 6,000 tons, very far off from the 60,000 tons produced in years past.  (Granma Newspaper, Thursday July 29th 2010.)

The little bag (one per person monthly at the cost of 5.00 pesos), reads “Coffee 100%.”  The population of my planet has still not been able to figure out what it’s made up of, for it doesn’t have a scent and it tastes like tree bark or medicine.

Then the words rescue, recuperation, and revert, come up again.  It’d be very beneficial to see the documentary The Abandoned” made by the Serrana tv station, which clandestinely circulates on my planet.

People, we have spent more than half a century with the same system; which previous government are we going to blame now for this, and many other, failures?

Meanwhile, we survivors continue taking in this black nectar that is nothing like the previous one.  It doesn’t even look like coffee, everyone calls it coffu.

Translated by Raul G.

August 5 2010

The Return to Origins / Rebeca Monzo

Several years ago my downstairs neighbor called and told me he had received a surprise visit, from the daughter of the former owner of the building where we live. She showed great interest in visiting only my apartment, so he had given her my phone number.

The next day I got the call, and we arranged to meet. Still a young woman, she was very excited when I gladly received her. She was apprehensive because of the stories they told her that everyone here is afraid that those who left will come again to take away what had belonged to them. She realized immediately that I had no such fear, and immediately there was a surge of empathy. Of course I showed her the whole apartment and the garden we had built on the roof. She was very emotional and told me that her father had designed the building with three apartments, one on each floor, for the enjoyment of the family. The building was finished in 1958 and two years later they were already in exile, which was very hard for the family. This floor was of particular interest because it was where she lived since birth. Her grandparents lived on the first floor and her uncles on the second.

It was I who really felt excited, and at the same time embarrassed, at seeing with what sacrifice and love a family had saved money and built something so they could always be together; suddenly, by the circumstance of a social phenomenon, they were forced to abandon everything.

Today I heard from her and this time I owe it to my blog. She has become my reader, and I hope, with time, my friend. In short, she and I have been puppets of destiny.

Translated by Tomás A.

August 2, 2010

Governmental Glaucoma / Miguel Iturría Savón

A Spanish friend of mine who has come twice to Cuba told me that she read the official press while in the airport, and according to that paper it makes it seem as if, despite all the problems, deficiencies, and tensions she witnessed when she met with a wide range of people, there are no problems in the island.

“It’s as if there was no dirty laundry, or as if there were laws against washing it in public. The newspapers I read did not mention anything about the crisis, the lack of material things, or about all the collapses in Havana. Instead, they all pointed out success stories from the country and all the disasters that have occurred, and are occurring, in the rest of the world, which seems very exaggerated, just like the talk about victories against the enemy. Which enemy are they referring to?”

Upon finding it impossible to avoid the subject, I told my friend that this was all part of the vertical structure imposed by the single Party which carries out orders from a department that monopolizes the control over the media, while saying that they speak the truth, from a headquarters in the capital which lashes out orders from top to bottom. In addition, there are also radio stations that do the same thing.

“But it is the final straw in censorship.”

Yes, the media is gagged in favor of a propaganda plan that emphasizes historic celebrations, political indoctrination of the personnel who write for the media and who are required to be loyal party members and to fabricate a social mirage of an attainable utopia.

“But then it is a planned fraud…”

Yes, but masked by columns of smoke. In other words, they over-value the importance of pre-determined productive results, they present what is theoretically possible as something imminent, and to top it off they shuffle around the desired values as if they were facts…

“Truly Machiavellian.”

Machiavellian and authentic, for the information data, like testimonies by heroes and functionaries, outweigh what people actually should hear. And in that manner, everything we lack is attributed to the hostility of the enemy and to the foreign problems that affect our state.

“In a way where public expression in regards to the problem belongs to the discourse from those in power.”

Of course. The rest is done by the auto-censorship practiced by communicators, who praise the success of health, education, and economic sectors, even though these same sectors reflect the crisis of the system and of the style of rule and law practiced by the Maximum Leader for a very long time now.

For decades now, the government has suffered from loss of vision — which can’t be cured — towards the reality that the Cuban people face. In medical terms, this is known as glaucoma, a disease which can end in blindness. The rulers of this nation can be diagnosed with such a sickness.

“But aren’t there worthy reporters?”

Yes, the most worthy or ingenious ones “criticize” from their positions of political militancy, while they lose credibility and join forces with the simulators who comply with orders coming from the apparatus, and they do not defy the higher-ups.

“Can one speak of alternatives?”

The alternative lies in the independent press and in the civic journalism carried out by blogs and Twitterers. They are the ones who write without censorship, they denounce the crimes of the regime, and they debunk myths about the supposed social homogeneity mentioned by the ideologists of an apparatus that perceives sees the country through the dark lens of the government.

Translated by Raul G.

August 5, 2010

Here I Am / Voices Behind The Bars, Pedro Argüelles Morán


Photo: Pedro Arguelles Moran

This past July 10 I chose not to travel to Spain because I do not wish to abandon my country — I am Cuban, and very proud of it. I was born here, as were my sisters, relatives, parents, and my paternal grandparents. My maternal grandparents were not born here, they were Spanish, however, they are buried here, as are all my other loved ones, and I shall also be buried here one day.

I could have accepted to depart to the Iberian peninsula after that option was presented to me on the telephone by Cardinal Ortega, but due to the love that I have for my country, my history, my culture, my individual character, and my traditions, I have decided to stay and continue with this peaceful struggle for freedoms and rights that are inherent to the dignity of human beings, as long as I have the strengths to continue the noble and dignified civil struggle, or until that long awaited democratic transition occurs in Cuba. Perhaps, upon not accepting the offer of exile, I will be kept as a hostage of the totalitarian Castro regime as a form of punishment for not fleeing from my own country. Back in mid-1992 I joined the Cuban Pro-Human Rights Committee, and I was well aware of all the risks and sacrifices I would have to face, for I knew I was going to more than likely be a victim of all sorts of beatings, whether physical or spiritual. I could, and would, be treated as something other than a human by those who perpetuate themselves in power through terror and strength.

Here I am, and I will continue being here because this is where I belong. This is my totally sovereign decision and comes from my personal desire, which through wind or rain, will continue moving towards promoting the ideal shared by Marti, “Freedom is very expensive, and it is precise — either give in and live without it, or make up your mind and pay the price for it.”

Pedro Argüelles Morán
Grupo de los 75
Prisión Provincial de Canaleta, Ciego de Ávila

Translated by: Raul G.

August 4, 2010

To My Compatriots in the Diaspora and Friends of Promoters of Democracy and to the Emergent Civil Society in our Country / Eugenio Leal

Jehova is among those who help me. – Psalm 118:7

On Saturday, July 24, I received a letter from the Postal and Shipping Customs Center, belonging to the General Customs of the Cuban Republic. With that letter, I was notified that a process was underway to confiscate a package from the US that had been shipped to me.

The documents that I received were not the original ones, they are copies on carbon paper. Apparently, the objects which were confiscated are divided into three groups: 1) Digital equipment and media, 2) Office materials, and 3) Hygiene and Medicinal products.

In the section titled “Report”, they specified the causes for the confiscations on behalf of the Customs Department: “Upon carrying out the physical inspection, we found certain articles that go against the general interests of the nation, which is taken care of through confiscation according to the established and current law”. The Resolution of the confiscation is number 1130. The number is written with dark ink so that it can be legible. The Cuban system guides itself by resolutions that leave individuals defenseless.

The Resolution number 1187 also arrived written for Maida Martinez Perez, a resident of April 9th Street and Calzada de Luyano and Agramonte, of the 10th of October Municipality in the city of Havana. This lady is the mother of Joisy Garcia Martinez, a member of the Liberal Party of Cuba, who usually receives her mail in that address. The confiscation of the package under the name of the mother suggests that it seems as if they are doing so because of the data from the issuer in the US.

The government has found itself forced to release the last 53 political prisoners and prisoners of conscience of the Black Spring of 2003. It was made possible thanks to the internal and external demands made. Such experience should serve to unite us in a coordinated fashion, both those of us in the island and in the diaspora, together with international support, to shift our efforts to repealing the laws that make our nation an island prison. In that same manner, we must demand that they sign and abide by the Covenants of the United Nations.

With much gratitude for those who support us, these suggestions are for you:

On our part, we request that Dr. Wilfredo Vallin, president of the Independent Judiciary Association of Cuba, effect this demand with his organization.

Translated by Raul G.

August 3, 2010