English Translations of Cubans Writing From the Island
REPORT AT THE FOOT OF THE HORDE Orlando Lius Pardo Lazo I believed in the knowledge of writing. I believed in the power of freedom. So when a colleague called me from Mexico, inviting me to collaborate on a magazine entitled Letras Libres, I had no option but to accept on two accounts. The editors … Continue reading “TAKEN FROM VOICES 1 / Orlando Luis Pardo Lazo”
May the influenza not win over us! THE SOLUTION IS IN YOUR HANDS A message from the Cuban Public Health at the service… Photo: Orlando Luis When I was young, there was a very popular children’s song that made reference to a sick donkey whose ills always had a solution. “My donkey, my donkey, has … Continue reading “My Donkey, My Donkey… / Miriam Celaya”
Ladies in White in one of their marches down Fifth Avenue. Photo: Luis Orlando I don’t want to saddle anyone with adjectives they don’t want. In general, I, for one, have always been rather hesitant to accept labels, especially when the socio-official “taxonomy” is so prodigious in itself in ambiguous definitions that it turns a … Continue reading “We, Dissidents”
It is organized for the weekends in the city of Havana. It takes place in public spaces, avenues or wide plots of undeveloped land. Trucks arrive and improvise points of sales- some sell directly from their vehicles, on boxes, on the floor. The offers vary: viands (potato, sweet potato, yucca, bananas), fruits, vegetables, meat derivatives, … Continue reading “The Capital Dresses Itself for the Fair”
In the city of Havana, the number of mentally ill street people in their filthy and ragged clothing increases on a daily basis. The number of beggars is also going up — you can find them in just about any doorway lying on cardboard asking for change with their lost looks. And on any corner there are street vendors selling peanuts, cheap things, loose … Continue reading “Beggars and Mentally Ill Havanans”
Author: Sindo Pacheco On September 15th, 1980, at 75 years of age, Fabricio Campoamores’s heart got bored from so much beating. After going through the famous tunnel, the one those who have returned from death talk so much about, Fabricio found himself in an open field facing a steep hill, whose slope, covered in a … Continue reading “Fabricio’s second death”
There are things you never forget, even though they may seem insignificant. There are words that, like the tea of Proust, provoke the same memory, with the precision of a reflex mechanism. The word substitute, for example; I refer to the start of Bulgakov’s novel, The Master and Margarita. At first reading, the word stumped … Continue reading “The three faces of Soy”