Trencadis / Rebeca Monzo

It was a peaceful, bright morning, the sea, as usual, shone splendidly with its habitual shades of blues and greens, the treetops swayed to and fro in the soft breeze.

The happy natives were all engaged in their daily work.  Suddenly, all the birds, in unison, took flight to the high sky, squawking.  Cats fled terrified in search of safe refuge while the howls of mongrel dogs and pure breeds were rising.

All the inhabitants of the beautiful city, astonished, raised their gazes to the sky. That enormous artifact landed to the wonder of all. It threw out fire and light from all of its circular openings that surrounded its enormous circumference “green like our palms,” which made it blend with the landscape.

Soon its rounded doors began to open and some green bearded beings began to come out, sporting necklaces of strange seeds.  Smiling, they raised their long extremities in greeting while they descended from the enormous apparatus which we much later supposed was a “time machine.”

At first everything seemed to go well.  Everyone was excited by the marvelous apparition.  They seemed inoffensive beings and even friendly, but this did not last long:  one of them, the greatest in stature, immediately turned the counterweight to manipulate one of the levers, and everything began to change.

At first these changes were almost imperceptible.  Besides, local men, women and children, as well as the visitors, were communicating well with the giant and all seemed normal.  Nevertheless, many of the natives, suspicious, preferred to stay some distance away observing what was happening.

That big green man did not stop turning the lever, and as he gave more turns, some objects began to disappear: fabrics, trucks, cars and even grand houses and buildings.  Afterwards, many animals, preferably of the greatest size, later money and finally people.  Everything was growing dark.  Now the hatches of the enormous artifact did not radiate light, also the fire was going out.  Night was taking over the countryside.

But that big man did not let go of the control.  Each time that some little green man or any other color approached to be heard, he raised his other hand and with a simple gesture made him disappear.  Little by little fear was taking over everyone and paralyzing them.  Many, who managed to react risking their lives, left for other worlds, availing themselves of any small boat or device that was still functioning.

The green fields began to cover themselves in thorny roots, which obliterated with their advance any other crop.  Even the air was petering out, and there had to be a rapid census in order to be able to equitably distribute what remained.  Cards were also printed where it was noted each month what each person consumed.  The green ones, who at the beginning had been apportioned the best houses, moved to live on the outskirts, where there were still trees, and they kept themselves out of view of the recently captive populace.

Thus, slowly, the locals, due to all these shortages, were mutating: new beings were born without thought, with a line for a mouth, a small stomach, long arms to stretch to reach the few fruits that remained in the tall and thorny tops of the new vegetation, big feet to be able to stay standing in the same place for hours and strong legs to cover great distances walking.

Sunk in the isolated dark, they were erasing from their minds the images of the happy time in which their ancestors lived, before the arrival of the enormous green machinery.  As everything was being exhausted and destroyed, the consequences of this began to affect, although in a small measure, many of the green men not so close to the giant.  Thus, there was no other solution but to open a little some other hatch, to allow in some fresh air from the outside.  Due to this, finally they had to authorize the entry of foreign carriers of a little breeze.  In spite of the prohibitions and the harsh punishment inflicted, many of the mutants approached the recent arrivals, trying to create close connections to be able to leave with them.

Of course those that took most advantage of this new situation were the youngest. As a consequence, more old ones wandered alone through the occupied territory. Now a newborn was rarely seen.  The women, by force of precarious food and intensified work, agreed not to get pregnant.

So, little by little, that beautiful asteroid where they lived was becoming greyer and dustier. The plagues from the sewer waters flooded all the city with their fetid aroma. The farm animals did not manage to satisfy the food needs, because these in their turn did not have anything to eat and were dying. Now there was only left some green grass which all the inhabitants, terrified, covered with old canvasses so that it would not be detected, for fear that they would also be rationalized.  More mutants were escaping to other latitudes.  No one noticed the dangers of the crossing. They preferred to die in the effort than to continue living without hope.

One day as in the trencadis all the fragmented pieces of that ancient civilization dispersed through the universe will come together to again form a strong and beautiful social mosaic.

Translated by mlk

9 July 2013

Without Internet, Tweeting is the Way to Go / Regina Coyula

text
Now, when I haven’t had internet for three weeks, a recharge to be able to Tweet would be very good. There’s a special offer until August 2nd. Greetings twitterers.

From Translating Cuba:

Regina’s phone number: 535-323-6668

Recharge options (both are having a two-for-one promotion):

HablaCuba.com

EZETop

To recharge other blogger’s phones go here.

Kafka’s Stores / Rebeca Monzo

Yesterday, faced once more with the frustration of not being able to connect to the internet, my friend and I decided to go shopping in the stores of the area. She needed a faucet for her kitchen and I didn’t take any money as I went along just to look.

We got to the complex of stores at 5th and 42nd, the name it is known by. We immediately went to the hardware store and saw the few things on display in the show cases. Among them was one that caught the attention of my friend: a quick-opening faucet acceptable enough and reduced from 11 to 4 CUC. It fit within her meager budget, so she set out immediately to call the seller over to show it to her. Commenting on the price, he responded that the faucet had a defect, it leaked. So my friend rejected it and commented that she was looking for one because the one she had also leaked and she wanted to solve the problem.

After searching through the rest of the departments, all of them with so little merchandise it gave the impression there had been a huge robbery, which we commented on with one of the employees, who turned her face away to answer. It seemed more like a set to film the Cuban TV comedy San Nicolás del Peladero. We continued on, poking through the haberdashery department, where I usually buy some of the materials for my work.

I suddenly discovered in one of the display cases a brand new pedal for an electric sewing machine, and as I’d just bought mine a few year ago, it made me happy to know they still had these parts. Also it was reduced in price. The card marked 11.45 CUC had been crossed out and said 7.95 CUC. Great, I thought, too bad I didn’t bring any money, but next week when I come back here I’ll buy it.

I got home suffocated by the immense heat of the street and the delay of the buses, and ran straight to the bathroom to wash my face and hands and change my clothes for something fresher. When I commented to my husband about the electric pedal and the price cut, he told me, “Get ready, I think we should go now, because if there are only a few or only the one in the window, now is the time to buy it.”

We arrived at the store and when I asked the employee to show me the pedal that was on sale because I wanted to buy it, she calmly said, “Yes, it’s on sale because it’s broken and doesn’t work.”

“How is it possible,” I asked her, “that you put on sale in the display case an article that doesn’t work, and at such a high price in hard currency? Useless merchandise shouldn’t be put out under any circumstances, it’s misleading to the public and immoral to do so. This is absolutely Kafkaesque,” I added.

She remained silent, as she knows me as a customer, and we left there like souls possessed by the devil.

Sadly, this isn’t an isolated event, it happens with incredible frequency, being an almost common practice to sell articles that are extremely damaged or that don’t work for what they were designed, with price reductions which, even more than an attack on their customers’ wallets, show an absolute lack of respect for them.

30 July 2013

The "Yumas" Pay Between 80 and 120 CUC per Night / Leon Padron Azcuy

HAVANA, Cuba, www.cubanet.org Recently Cuban “parliamentarians” discussed the issue of prostitution among young people. According to the press official, they drafted strategies to face this evil, as well as pandering, widespread today all across the Island.

It is known that, since 1959, the regime openly proclaimed that women would not have to sell their bodies, since the revolution would provide work and wages. But it all ended up in the book of failure. Currently prostitution is a survival option in Cuba.

The maneuvers to eradicate it have only been from the repressive order, without hitting the target. Deportations to the interior of the island, temporary detention centers, police operations, jail for social dangerousness, and countless fluctuating measures have been implemented, but all are useless.

So I doubt that the alleged Cuban parliament has the solution in hand to solve this problem that corrodes Cuban society on a daily basis.

“No matter what profession we have, it doesn’t do us any good. Only through going to bed with tourists do we have the opportunity to visit the most famous restaurants, cabarets, clubs and hotels in the island, to buy good clothes and shoes, and to solve the pressing problems of our family, until one day we can get out of this country.” Thus spoke Yeilis, a young woman from Guantanamo, age 19, who has lived in the life for two years, in Havana.

Another prostitute, who declined to be identified, said, “La Cecilia, Dos Gardenias, the Salón Rojo at the Capri, La Mesón, Don Cangrejo, El Diablo Tun Tun and las Casas de la Música, among others, are our favorite resorts to link up with tourists. Here the payments of “yumas” (foreigners) to the prostitutes range from 80 to 120 CUC* per night, excluding payments for security and surveillance, police and custodians, and bribes for the staff at the rented home.”

It is noteworthy that at this point Gen. Raul Castro laments the gloomy Cuban outlook with regard to the crisis of values, especially among youth. And while it’s better late than never, the General wasted the opportunity to recognize the direct responsibility of the regime, whose only concern over the years has been to maintain its sole command, regardless of the deterioration of “moral and civic values, decency, shame and decorum” that the nation exhibits.

Maybe his daughter, the “parliamentarian” Mariela Castro Espín, unlike the supreme leader of the revolution, could propose something more profitable to combat this scourge.

Leonpadron10@gmail.com

*Translator’s note: Roughly equivalent to the same amount in dollars.

24 July 2013

Up To 12 Hours to Attend Medical Emergencies / Lilianne Ruiz

   HAVANA, Cuba, July 2013, www.cubanet.org.- When a Cuban family is afflicted by disease there are many who depend on the favor of some neighbor with a car to take them to the hospital. Moreover, the paramedics and nurses of the Comprehensive Emergency Medical System (SIUM) depend on the “thanks” for their patients to “resolve” a chance to eat a better lunch or a to get a few pesos above their salary.

Juan López (he has asked me use a pseudonym), in order to take his father to the hospital, called SIUM and waited three and a half hours for the ambulance to come. The Center Coordinator told him onthe phone: “Your case is the first on the list be we can’t resolve it.”

“After that long wait I was at my limit. I went to look for a neighbor with car, some way to get him there,” said Lopez. “Time passed and the disease was evolving.”

Once a medical emergency is reported the time stipulated to a rescue is 10 minutes. A young SIUM worker asked not to be named to provide testimony. We will call him Nurse X.

He has a license in nursing and counts on their being a key system, in communication with the Provincial Coordinating Center at 44th and 17th, in Playa. Key 1 means there’s an emergency call. Key 2 indicates they’re on their way and should be there in 10 minutes. From 2 to 3 is working with the patient. And 4 is on the way to the hospital. Key 5 means that the case has been admitted and they’re ready to take on another.

“In reality, we spend up to 12 hours to pick up a patient, but there are seven bases all over Havana and on occasions there are seven or eight cars (ambulances), no more. Other times there are 11 or 12 for the whole province. For example, the based in Plaza also covers the demand for Cerro, Centro Habana and Habana Vieja. There are days, like today, when we are working with just one ambulance.”

The delay experienced by the population is the result of a long list that prioritizes the most severe cases. But from the position of Nurse X the work is continuous.

“Often, we leave at eight in the morning and it’s three in the afternoon and we haven’t eaten lunch. People offer us a soda, some snack, even money. Others have nothing to offer. Some are upset by the delay and protests. Sometimes we’re notified of a case of hip fracture, but after 10 minutes we get a case of loss of consciousnesses and the fracture has to wait. If then a heart attack comes up, the fracture falls further behind.”
Few Cubans have car; you can’t even say that one member of each family has one. The salary of a worker is so tiny that it’s not even enough to take a taxi to the hospital even when it’s a medical emergency.

There are three categories of ambulances, intensive, intermediate and basic. But Nurse X tells us that “it is possible that an basic care ambulance arrives for a critically ill patient and all you can do is verify it and call back to the Coordinating Center. Then they send a second ambulance has that has electrical equipment and a defibrillator, but that isn’t equipped with artificial ventilator and the patient needs to be intubated.”

The look of incredulity on my face leads to, “It happens.”

Nurse X works in an intensive care ambulance, supposedly designed to assist the most severe cases of the city. But because of the deficit of cars, he has even had to take care of transferring patients between hospitals. “I have come to work with 14 or 15 cases in a day, not only life support, but whatever shows up.”

Many buildings of Havana, especially in the downtown area, are several stories, with very narrow stairs. After an exhausting effort, no time to rest, nor is there a coffee before the next call. The SIUM staff work 24 hours. They complain about working conditions and the lunch menu: “Many times you can find yourself with a tray of flour with boiled or scrambled egg, soup with rice. ’International Nurse’s Day’ seems like a lot of hogwash.”

Someone with a degree in nursing, with SIUM, working 24 hours on and 48 off, earns between 740 and 750 Cuban pesos a month, the equivalent of about $30. “There are like 12 or 13 shifts a month. You have to put your feeton the ground, you have to eat and I have a daughter. That’s not nearly enough.”

Like many of his colleagues, Nurse X aspires to leave on a medical mission (outside the country) to improve his economic situation, but to do that he should first leave the ambulances and work as a nurse in some hospital.

“The SIUM is my life, but there comes a Training Course and they won’t release you for lack of personnel. So you stay and unfortunately if Public Health personnel don’t go on a foreign mission they’re nobody.”

The system also serves a political purpose

At the SIUM National Base, based in Arbol Seco Street, Central Havana, things are different. From the outside you see a parking lot with several modern ambulances. The first impulse of the reporter is to ask the medical staff chatting at the door  how many cars the National Service has and what kind of cases they serve. A doctor’s response is blunt: “You have to go with a paper to the institution to which you belong, at the direction of the center, to get answers to those questions.”

We do know that people complain of the delay and the quality of service. ’’The population is poorly educated. This is not a taxi service,” he replies.

I insist, invoking the public interest in the matter. The doctor’s answer is a lie flung in my face with cynicism: “There is no conflict between the interests of citizens and the interests of the State.”

The national SIUM is responsible for performing institutional transfers between provinces, but mainly for covering international events or other events, as on May Day at the Anti-Imperialist Bandstand. They are sent to the airport, to the Palace of Conventions. To the Parliament and any activity that has to do directly with the government. It was employees of the Cuban Red Cross who, during the previous visit to Cuba of Pope Benedict XVI, took the stretchers on hand for the public that might “suddenly fall ill,” and as observed worldwide, used a stretcher to assault a peaceful opponent.

Provincial SIUM workers see the nationals as “people working with very few tools and delivering very good service.” But also “ideologically filtered.” A paramedic from the provincial service who has also requested anonymity explained that “even the driver of the national delegation has passed courses in political training. They are internal officials working for State Security.”

The national SIUM ambulances themselves are equipped with everything you need to face any emergency. He himself asked to be part of that service because ” these people eat well” and don’t have the problems of the provincial SIUM. “When people see these ambulances they believe they’re looking at SIUM, but they’re not. In those cars all equipment works.”

Lilianne Ruiz

From Cubanet

26 July 2013

Monument to My Father / Juan Juan Almeida

“Here, no one surrenders”

With tremendous size and a weight of 15 tons, in Antonio Maceo Plaza in Santiago de Cuba, on the size wall of the Heredia Theater, this Tuesday the lights were turned on to inaugurate a steel frame that recreates the image of my father, Commander Juan Almeida Bosque. I think so much vanity generates ridicule, not respect.

It seemed shameful, like common thieves reuniting in the complicity of the night, for the event to be presided over by Commander Ramiro Valdés (member of the Politburo of the Communist Party of Cuba and the Vice President of the Council of States and Ministers), Lázaro Expósito (member of the Central Committee and First Secretary of the PCC in the province), local leaders and a small number of obedient family members who were selected not for love of the deceased but for their closeness to the office of General Raúl Castro.

Long before this inauguration, friends and the not-so-friendly, some to inform and others to annoy, sent videos me and photos via e-mail or social networks, of how it was being constructed and what this work of art would be.

I would like to thank each and every one of the people who worked on it, masons, builders, and those who kept me informed throughout the duration of the assembly. The painter, sculptor and designer Enrique Avila Gonzalez, author of this giant poster. I also thank the members of the musical groups invited, especially the magnificent interpretation of my father’s music by the young concert band from Santiago’s Esteban Salas Conservatory. Also the management of the theater for the piece of wall.

I know very well every stone of the Heredia theater, an important cultural center I watched be built and open its doors. On one occasion, cast in a team performing shows and with a little help, I managed, on the boards of Heredia, to realize an old dream, to be part of a tribute to my father. Music was his bliss, and what made him happy.

My father loved with devotion the great Oriente, Santiago de Cuba was his passion, and by association the Heredia theater was part of his avocation. Notwithstanding that I have always had a certain apprehension about the act, such as imposing an image on a people, without knowing in advance whether they agree or not. What I liked as a child is one thing, and it’s a very different thing not to respect the opinions of local residents. I can safely bet that nobody was consulted.

Some time ago I realized that everything in the world is relative, which for me is honor, for others it may be offensive. With some friends I share the indescribable rarity of having as a father a human who, rightly or wrongly, the government transformed into myth. It is difficult to accept, especially when the object to idealize, or hate, is simply someone you love.

For me, personally, this show provokes indignation, more from knowing that Raúl Castro collaborated in the death of my father with malice aforethought, ruthless deception which to my relief I discovered before he died. So if now the señor General, on going to sleep, feels one more ghost and wants to release one more piece of his questionable past, I tell him that my family, more than a sculptural relief, deserves to hear him ask forgiveness.  Me, no, I want to see him before a judge, to see him condemned.

30 July 2013

CUBAN NEWRRATIVE: e-MERGING LITERATURE FROM GENERATION ZERO / Orlando Luis Pardo Lazo

From Sampsonia Way Magazine: There are many writers currently creating canon-defying literature inside Cuba. But in the United States, just knowing about most of them is a challenge and reading their work in English is almost impossible. With this in mind, we asked our Fearless, Ink. columnist Orlando Luis Pardo Lazo to compile a collection of short stories from writers who, according to his experience growing up and living inside Cuba, are creating new trends for the future of Cuban Literature. However, this anthology doesn’t aim to be absolute or complete; it is here merely to open a door to the Island’s literary movement.

For this anthology Pardo Lazo decided to focus on writers of Generación Año Cero (Generation Year Zero), a movement of writers who began publishing in 2000. He picked 16 short stories from 16 writers and suggested that we illustrate them with work from the Cuban visual artists El Sexto and Luis Trápaga.

Today Sampsonia Way presents the prologue, by Pardo Lazo, as the first installment of a series that, in the weeks to come, will include the 16 stories, accompanied by a profile of their author, some of his or her statements, and vibrant illustrations from El Sexto or Luis Trápaga.

New Cuban flag by El Sexto (Danilo Maldonado)
New Cuban flag by El Sexto (Danilo Maldonado)

Prologue by Orlando Luis Pardo

Translated from the Spanish by Mary Jo Porter

New narrative, or newrrative, is quite a challenging term. Especially if it comes out of Cuba, a rather claustrophobic island even today, in these post-revolutionary times, when general Raúl Castro is trying to reform most of the social life in order to keep it under his control (including culture, of course, including literature).

As such, Cuban newrrative emerges not as a passive reaction but as a creative resistance. It emerges from zero, unexpected, from the very margins of literary tradition and the mainstream, coincidentally starting during the so-called zero years in Cuba: The 2000′s decadent decade.

The writers of this newrrative do not belong to a single generation, but at some point in their meteoric careers they have called themselves Generation Year Zero. A rather urban phenomenon, interested in prose much more than in poetry, theater, or essay, they have occupied private and public spaces with their performance readings, which include other artistic expressions, such as music and video-clips.

Expelled or self-excluded from several Cuban institutions throughout their bizarre lives, in their texts many of them seem to mutate easily from irreverence to indolence to incredulity to iconoclasty, and are willing to deconstruct all previous discourses of what “cubanness” is supposed to be, whether erotic or political, ultimately betting it all on a kind of cubanless cubanness.

Thus, this newrrative comprises a wide range of topics that moves from the sordid, more than dirty realism of Lizabel Mónica and Jhortensia Espineta, to the science fiction of Erick Mota, and the intertextuality of Osdany Morales. Some of these writers even manage to express themselves directly in English (like the music lover Raúl Flores) in a kind of xenophilia that aspires to escape from scholarly Hispanic fundamentalism. Others, such as performance artist Polina Martínez Shviétsova or the translator Abel Fernández-Larrea, try to make music with their prose narratives using a post-Soviet language as if it came from another planet (or from a paleo-Revolution not totally passé, as our rulers are octogenarians who survived the rise and fall of real socialism). There are even writers who appropriate a French learned from watching European film festivals, like the blogger Lia Villares.

Some, like Carlos Esquivel and Gleyvis Coro Montanet, give space in their works to a subtle, socially-rooted humor. More than a few are exploring the digital format of the Cuban underground, developing clubs for controversy such as Espacio Polaroid (in Havana) and literary and opinion magazines (which are illegal in Cuba) in the style of: Cacharro(s) by Jorge Alberto Aguiar Díaz, Lizabel Mónica and Orlando Luis Pardo Lazo; 33 y 1 tercio by Raúl Flores, Michel Encinosa and Jorge Enrique Lage; The Revolution Evening Post by Ahmel Echevarría, Jorge Enrique Lage and Orlando Luis Pardo Lazo; La Caja de China by Lien Carrazana; DesLiz by Lizabel Mónica; and Voces by Orlando Luis Pardo Lazo with the renowned Cuban blogger Yoani Sánchez and her husband, independent journalist Reinaldo Escobar.

This rainbow of e-mergent voices has won almost every national award in Cuba, but it is virtually unheard of outside the island. Some new names have been added to Generation Year Zero (Jamila Medina, Anisley Negrín, Arnaldo Muñoz Viquillón, Legna Rodríguez, and Evelyn Pérez, for example), but they do not appear in this initial anthology, of which Sampsonia Way Magazine is now the exclusive publisher. However, the anthology does include the contributions of two controversial graphic artists from Havana: The graffiti artist Danilo Maldonado (otherwise known as “El Sexto”) and the painter Luis Trápaga.

by Luis Trápaga

We believe that anthologizing, as with translation, is a form of betrayal. To translate an anthology is, therefore, a double betrayal. But, in literature, only the radical positions are the creative ones. All authentic art takes off from disaster and, as we know, language exists because communication is impossible.

We should, then, think of literature literally as heresy; it is never derived from the aesthetics of cultural ecumenism. We should anthologize from anguish, decide from delirium, instigate from the impossible. In literature, pacifism is the worst sin: Every poetic panorama invites violation with a longitudinal cut, which is more effective if we think in terms of opening veins and arteries with every narration. And thus it is that every anthology is always a little prone to suicide (and, equally, to censorship).

All of Cuba behaves so. It is a ghetto of people half-patriotic and half-stateless. A clickless clinic, because in 2013 the government still hasn’t authorized its citizens’ right to information, which includes, of course, the Internet.

So, to create an anthology in Cuba—a closed fortress placed between internal feudal repression and being the earthly utopia of the international left—is the work of an almost heroic publisher. If, as is the case with this dossier exclusive to Sampsonia Way Magazine, we aim to offer the island’s emerging literary voices, then we no longer have a simple selection, but rather a bet that forces us to take risks (in numbers, names, topics, and styles). This is a bottle tossed into the future, which can explode like a grenade of infinite meanings or barely return to the reader like a listless boomerang.

Let’s be honest: No one knows what will happen tomorrow with the no-longer-that-young Cuban authors of the so-called Generation Year Zero, who are now anthologized from Pittsburgh, or perhaps PittsburgHavana, for the first time in Spanish and English.

Let’s even be cynical: It doesn’t much matter what happens. Literature and prophecy are not synonymous. There is no guarantee of success beyond the unique universe of each authorial text. Literature does not imply certainty—it’s just a symptom of the human experience, which is basically an imaginary experience: Fiction illuminated by emotional memory and expressed according to the limits of language. This is all the wisdom that fits within the literary. And wisdom often ends in dramatic failure.

Let’s go even further for once: These authors don’t fear that failure. They indefatigably seek it. A successful career is always suspicious, or ends up with the guilty feeling that we are collaborating with the status quo.

No, our anthologized writers do not fit within standardized notions of success. Nor do they fit well within the naive idea of the democratic in the minefields of the literary. In the literary world, the majority tends to be mistaken, asleep between the cliches of the canonical tradition and the miracles of market. Such that a kind of “private public” audience must be conceived again and again by each literary generation—especially if it is a generation of Cubans who seem to avoid the classic concept of the literary field, to provoke a literarid feel, while being held hostage by an obsolete State which aspires to replace them as the Ultimate Narrator.

Thus, between the grandiloquent fictions of Power and the minor literature of the newrrative from the Year Zero, or 2000, Cuban Culture gains nothing or, better yet, gains precisely zero. These writers have become the emptying-out of the author versus the violence of the State. This spontaneous nihilism—which prioritizes the histrionic over the historic, the hedonism of inner exile over revolutionary barbarism, the intimate over the institutional (a residual freedom domestic but undomesticated), and the rhetoric over the relating—is what this anthology is attempting to photograph: The New Man is tired not of being a committed intellectual; rather, he is tired of being compelled by forces foreign to his own work and will.

The world’s readers are now getting a peek at a literature that tries to distance itself from Cuban stereotypes without avoiding the terminal tedium of a day lived to the limit which, for the purposes of these authors, is an endless resistance on the margin of contemporaneity.

29 June 2012

Prison Diary XL: A Broth for the Dictator / Angel Santiesteban

My family sends me the underground solidarity of friends and neighbors toward my reality. If we add up the population that doesn’t support the regime, we would think the fall of the dictatorship was imminent; but I know first hand that those who reject the existing process, are the same people who then go to the Plaza of the Revolution because they fear having it worse.

I once told the story of Stalin, who standing in the snow, wanted to teach his functionaries how to  subjugate a people, and before the eyes of his companions, deprived a bird of its plumage and threw it into the snow. Immediately, the bird ran for cover between the boots of the assassin. Several times he pushed him away, and with no other choice to survive, the animal returned to his feet.

I assume his lackeys understood the example well. I would like to ass to that story that after they returned to the shelter of the palace, convinced of the bird’s plea, of its utter helplessness and unlimited surrender, the dictator asked his cook to prepare him a nice broth to satisfy his unlimited whims.

Of course Cubans have never been masochists or stupid, although in these more than fifty years we might well have won; but I understand that the logic of the Cuban is thinking that it could be worse.

The prisoners complain all the time, and every time they bring me a complaint I ask them if they accept that the complaint will be filed with their name, then they get scared, and tell me they’ll be deprived of their benefits.

“And therein lies the price,” I tell them, “change is at the cost of sacrifices.”

Sometimes they complain about the food, and I think rightly, the stink of it makes me think an animal wouldn’t eat it.

I tell them that the following day, June 9, will be four months since my arrival in prison and I have never entered he dining room, I have no idea what’s inside, I assure them that the day we agree to unite in not going to get the food, things will change, they will take steps to improve it.

“Political,” one says to me, “if it were that easy we’d do it with pleasure. The food, which is a stew, they will feed to their pigs, and they will send us to the other end of the island and our families will be hit the hardest, and with the lost of our credits, they will deprive us of every possible chance to get out before serving our whole sentence and everything will remain the same.”

Those who have emigrated know that is true, any rebellion is shut down, in the place where it is, with the worse experience, with the hardest of punishments, and most, therefore, turn their backs on our reality.

It seems that our internal problems will be resolved by international demands like the UN, and like the racist regime of South Africa, they will force respect for the Human Rights of Cubans.

As a start, the first big step of the climb to freedom, and in turn, the beginning of the fall of the dictatorship, will be with the ratification of the UN Covenants; which they are about to demand a the FIDH Congress in Istanbul in the month of May.  Congratulations!

Angel Santiesteban-Prats. Prison 1580, July 2013

29 July 2013

Estado de SATS Celebrates Three Years / David Canela

1.-Público-2-300x225HAVANA, Cuba, July 29, 2013, David Canela / www.cubanet.org.-The civic project Estado de SATS this Saturday celebrated its three years of existence with a children’s party. About 10:30 in the morning Rodiles’ house was full. At the party two clowns performed, exciting the children with games, dances, songs and puppets. Children’s music videos were also projected.

Estado de SATS was born as an event of dialog between the actors of civil society, who attended in many voices and independent groups (artistic, religious, legal, community) to talk about the the future of Cuba. It was held in Gaia House in Old Havana, between 23rd and 25th on 25 July 2010. As the meeting led to open debate, outside an established script, the project was censored, and no other State institution was permitted (or risked) to host it again.

For this reason, Antonio González-Rodiles, one of the principal coordinators, decided to resume it in his own house, in the municipality of Playa. The original idea of the project, of being a marketplace of social diversity, and a public space for alternative ideas–beyond the narrow limits of official discourse ideological–crystallized again on March 5, 2011, when Raudel Collazo and Adrián Monzón were invited to speak about their artistic projects. Since then (and with the exception of Festival Click), the sessions are no longer structured as a “mini-conference” but as a meeting for a specific topic.

Since then, in March 2011, it adopted the slogan Where art and thought converge. In its three years of work, they have held panels, interviews, screened documentaries and films–which had not been shown before in Cuba–poetry recitals and one of short stories (with the writer Ángel Santiesteban), parties, presentations and music concerts, independent project fairs, exhibitions of photographs, art, cartoons and publicity spots.

Over time they have created some spaces or specialized programs, such as Analysis Forum (FORA), for political, social and legal debate, Cinema at All Costs, for the display of audiovisuals, and recently CafeSatso, devoted to literature.

Other independent projects have collaborated with Estado de SATS: Omni-Zona Franca, the Endless Poetry Festival, Voces Cubanas, the Cuban Law Association, Cubalex, EBE (of Spain), Talento Cubano, among others. Many people in the diaspora and Cubans in exile, through speeches and videotaped interviews, media outreach, or the donation of works (for example, the exposition of CoCodriloSmile graphic humor). In addition, Radio and TV Marti and Cubanet have helped to broadcast some of their programs.

From March 2011 to June of the current year, there have been around 66 meetings (one of them when Antonio Rodiles was imprisoned in November of last year). Of these programs, 30 were held with the public and 35 with no audience. One had to be suspended due to police repression; those who could were able to get there recorded his testimony.

Estado de SATS is also the civil society project that promotes the Citizen Demand For Another Cuba, which calls on the Cuban government to ratify the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights.

CARTEL-SATS

Monday, 29 July 2013, from CubaNet

29 July 2013

Notes for the Transition / Antonio Rodiles, Alexis Jardines

ajindex
Alexis Jardines

HAVANA, Cuba, July 29, 2013: The political landscape of the island has been energized recently. In the international arena the event with the greatest impact is undoubtedly the death of Hugo Chavez and his succession embodied in Nicolas Maduro, a man with few political tools who, despite many odds, has managed, for now, to maintain a certain equilibrium. However, given the difficult economic situation being experienced by Cuba and the uncertain scenario facing the Chavistas in Venezuela, Cuban totalitarianism is forced to avoid placing all its bets on Venezuela.

arindex
Antonio Rodiles

For the elite in power, time, as a part of the political equation, becomes the most important variable. The relaunch of their position in the international arena has become one part of their priorities, and it shows that a new moment in relations with Europe and the United States is vital in the search for new economic and political partners who will provide them stability and legitimacy.

In the interior of the island, the transformations in the economic sector are not generating a new impression given the years of accumulated statism, decapitalization and the precarious situation in multiple sectors. A genuine process of reforms would involve much deeper actions that would stir up a reality already admitted to be a social disaster, as acknowledged even by Raul Castro in his latest speech. But the fear of losing control has become an obsession and the principal obstacle.

The ability of some regime opponents to travel represents, in this sense, the boldest step taken by the elite in power, a clear commitment to improve its image abroad and to rid itself of the stigma of lack of freedom of movement. It is highly likely that this move was taken under the assumption that some bitter pills would be no more than that, that reality would remain stuck in its usual straitjacket, because we opponents would not penetrate the media and, on our return to Cuba, State Security’s absolute control and lack of social expression would keep everything in its place.

Given this scenario, we have to ask ourselves certain questions: Is Cuban society in a position to push for greater freedom and independence? Can the opposition capitalize politically on these trips? And by capitalize we mean our capacity to articulate and project ourselves inside and outside the island as pro-democratic forces with civic or political weight in both venues; a projection that also allows us to end the nefarious cat and mouse game with which State Security, as the arm of the system, has kept us inefficiently occupied. It then becomes imperative to mature as an opposition and as civil society, to be able to widen the cracks in an exhausted system that holds onto control and exercises State violence as elements of social containment.

The experience of multiple transitions shows the importance of understanding the moment of change as a step in the process of national reconstruction and to see it not as a discontinuous turning point. In an extreme scenario like the one facing us, a successful transition will necessarily involve the active participation of skilled human capital with a strong social commitment and a clear vision of the nation that it wants to build.

Without a social fabric that represents least a micro-cosmos, of the mid- and macro-cosmos we visualize, it will be very difficult to build a functioning democracy. Unsuccessful examples are plentiful and it is irresponsible to omit them. The famous Arab Spring-become-Winter is the most recent case, and shows that the establishment of a political system requires a process of maturation and articulation of civil society. To imagine the change and reconstruction of a broken, fragmented country, not only in the physical sense but also in its social and individual dynamics, is an essential exercise if we aspire to construct a democracy that contains the ingredients of every modern nation

As the opposition we must break with paradigms that imply regression and a copying of what has been experienced, in which glorious symbols, epics and personalities play a significant role. An imagined future that places too many hopes on an expansive “spark,” and that often postpones effective work with visions of the medium and long term.

It would also be healthy to readjust the idea that has dominated our minds for more than half of a post-republican century: the desired unity of the opposition as the only path to effective pressure to promote change. We believe that the main role of the transition should fall on civil society, while the opposition, as a political actor, must push with discourse and coherent action so that civil society has the necessary reach and penetration.

Hegel was right in saying that “everything that was once revolutionary becomes conservative.” The words lose their original sense and are redefined to change the context that nurtured and sustained them, so much so that the logic itself of revolutions backfires.

The truly revolutionary act is an abrupt gesture, a moment of rupture that disrupts the established order.  All revolutions, including scientific, are designed to transform, to subvert, the bases of the model or previous paradigm and, in this way, to bring it down.

Thus, what is new in our time is to understand the possible abruptness as a moment in a process, which must be permeated with the ingredients that shape modern societies: knowledge, information, thought, art, technology. The revolution is a time of evolution, but not the inverse.

In the second decade of the present century we can not think of any social processes without taking into account the transnational nature of them. In our case it would be impossible to analyze a transition to democracy and a process of reconstruction without involving the diaspora and exile with its political actors. While they are not anchored in the everyday life of the island they are living elements of the nation and as such gravitate to her. About this, the ordinary Cuban is not wrong. In the Cuban imagination part of the solution to our problems is in Miami (as the diaspora is generically defined). The modern vision of contemporary societies must come from and consist largely through constant reinforcement between the island and its diaspora. The opposition and exile should be precisely the hinge that makes such articulation possible.

And this, in our view, is the other element that would end up framing the Cuban scenario: how, looking forward, the opposition overlaps with a transnational civil society so that the binary logic of the internal and external, of the figures of the “Cuban insider” and “Cuban outsider,” come to an end. For this to happen it is not enough to recognize, on the level of discourse (as the regime does as well), that there are no differences between us, that we are equal, etc. It is something more: we are one and indivisible and this single Cuban has to have the right to exercise the vote and to influence the political present and future of his country, regardless of where on the planet he finds himself or lives; this is, for the opposition and the exile itself, not only a political problem, but a conceptual one.

As political actors we must show that we are an option for governance, presenting the human capital at our disposal, the capacity we possess to generate a political and legal framework capable of filling the possible void that would be left by the one-party nomenklatura. To prove that we could ensure security not only for the country but for the whole region, and last, but no less important, the ability to overtake at the polls the campaigns of the Castro supporters in any eventual free elections.

This would be, perhaps, the most desirable scenario in terms of expansion of the transnational civil society and the corresponding constraint of the totalitarian State. Let us, then, be careful not to confuse succession with transition; let us learn to see ourselves as ordinary Cubans and to demand our full civil, political, economic, social and cultural rights as reflected in the two United Nations Covenants. Let us admit that for the transition the human capital dispersed through the State institutions is needed as badly as the skills, knowledge and financial capital of those who have had to grow up far from — but not out of — their country.

The problem of the Cuban nation today is the problem of the democratic transition and reconstruction, a process that will be possible only if it involves the largest number of Cubans, wherever they may live. We do not say that the country belongs to everyone, which is a de jure declaration; we say that all of us, together, make up the Cuban nation, which is already a de facto declaration.

Antonio G. Rodiles and Alexis Jardines
Monday, 29 July 2013

Published in Cubanet  and in Diario de Cuba

29 July 2013

Disconnected / Rebeca Monzo

I’ve been totally disconnected for days.  When I say this, I’m referring to the inability to receive news from abroad by shortwave, and especially the lack of Internet.  Of course, the majority of the Cuban population is in this very same situation… at least I enjoy a couple of hours online on Monday and another couple on Friday, although not always.  You take what you can get!

On these days of absolute information blackout, I’ve made a tremendous effort to stay in front of the television set in order to monitor Telesur and the National News Bulletin, as well as national radio, in hopes that they’d shed some light on the dispute about the North Korean ship that was transporting “obsolete armaments” (missiles and fueled planes), which were loaded in our country and hidden crudely under sacks of sugar.  The result: absolute silence.

If I’ve been able to glean some other new information now and then, I owe it to a friend who, in exceptional conditions, enjoys a daily session of Internet connection.  He’s the one who’s kept me more or less updated on the developments of the Panama Canal with respect to the ship, its captain, and its crew, as well as President Martinelli’s announcements.  However, upon not receiving any information from my country’s media, I consider myself, like any other citizen, as having all the right in the world to speculate on this sloppy incident.

This circus-like spectacle, put on by who knows by whom, eludes any type of coherent analysis.  We are in the midst of the 21st century, where the monitoring and immediacy of information is practically uncontrollable.  How did they expect to transport that “delicate merchandise” on a North Korean vessel (a UN-sanctioned country) which, on top of that, already had a prior record of drug smuggling?  What explanation are they going to give about this fact, that won’t be like the dull press statement already issued by Cuba’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs?

Could it be that they were looking for a crude pretext to abort any intention of political rapprochement with the neighbor to the north, in order to cover up the inabilities of the Cuban regime, as well as the lack of any true will to effect real and profound changes in domestic policy?

They should take care, because the harvest has been very poor and there’s not enough sugar to keep covering up such sloppy work.

Translated by: Yoyi el Monaguillo

24 July 2013

President of the CDR lives in misery / CID

A Cuban family from Holguín, desperate because of the precarious state of their home and the lack of any response from the authorities, went to see human rights activists to ask them to help and to provide a report on her case.

 In the video of Liberal Creole Productions and the Peoples’ Defender of Independent Democratic Cuba (CID), a woman named Luisa tells a group of human rights activists that she is living with her three children, her mother, her father, and two brothers in a house which is in ruins, with holes in the walls and roofs, and canvas doors.

Luisa, who lives in the house where the President’s Office of the Committee for the Defense of the Revolution (CDR) for her block is located, explains that although her parents had dedicated their lives to the revolutionary project inspired by Fidel Castro, hadn’t received any assistance from the government to help them improve the miserable conditions in which they live.

Luisa asked for help from the opposition following suggestions from her own neighbours.

“I want them to help me, so they don’t come and threaten me, nor put me in prison, because I m always going to say the same thing. I haven’t told any lies, they are the ones who have lied.” says he woman and shows some documents in which, according to her, she applies for a better place to live.

Luisa explains that in that house lives her mother, who belonged to the Association of Young Rebels (predecessor to the Union of Young Communists, (UJC) and the national vanguard of the tourism sector; her brother was a veteran of the Angola war and her father a “fighter in the war against the bandits in Escambray and a socialist militant.”

“They now have absolutely nothing, only a cheque for 240 pesos”, which gets you nowhere.

For their part, the activists who came to interview her and document her living conditions told her that although they couldn’t offer her a home, nor materials to repair it, they promised to accompany her when she decides to make a claim “to the party, the government … wherever” and they promised her they would make the case public.

Source: Radio Marti

24 July 2013

Translated by GH

Talk About “Improper Conduct”… / Miriam Celaya

The government is campaigning for the ‘loss of ethical and moral values’ in society, but what about the disrespect of entering into armament arrangements with the North Korean dictatorship?

The title refers to a memorable documentary that many of us Cubans everywhere must have seen, based on the testimony of those who suffered stark arbitrariness and terror introduced by the Castro regime in the purge unleashed some forty years ago. Improper conduct was an illegal crime figure established in the 60′s and 70′s of the last century by the Castro regime to suppress what was officially considered sexual deviations (homosexuality, “sentimentality”), ideological deviation or anything that could be interpreted by the authorities as politically incorrect. Many intellectuals, artists and ordinary people were arrested, ousted, sent to labor camps or simply made to feel as strangers in their own country.

Most of the anonymous victims of the witch hunt, which was established as State policy were men, for committing the serious offense of wearing their hair long, their pants too tight, not joining the “people’s harvests” or who preferred a certain type of music, among others. No one escaped the close scrutiny of the Inquisition and its olive green zealous executives. Anyone could fall out of favor against the rigid revolutionary parameters.

The repression continued for a time, but the methods changed.  Some of what was once condemned became tolerated, and, currently, schematic guerrillas have been forced to take on new poses and to even accept certain differences. Without apologizing for the damage, without admitting that the unprecedented persecution or the attack against basic rights of free people, that same government now pretends to be in charge of the defense of those rights, and, to prove it, it promotes campaigns, holds events and even organizes parades and festivals.

However, following the speech by the General President at the recent session of the National Assembly, in which he announced a crusade against rudeness and social indiscipline, he said that the wind of censure against “the loss of moral and ethical values” is once again blowing through our streets. Some people claim that fines are being applied to persons who “swear” or profess rudeness in public, who board the bus through the back door or who don’t pay their fares, those who are loud and disturb their neighbors, who throw garbage and debris on the road, etc. In principle, it would not be such a bad thing if it weren’t just one more campaign, or if there were just one Cuban free from all these sins in order to fine the sinners or, if applying these measures didn’t interfere with the rights of other citizens.

For instance, a few days ago, a teenager whom I will call Daniel, residing in the municipality of El Cerro in Havana, was returning home after his high school graduation. With the ease and ideas of spontaneity typical of his age, feeling himself without the responsibilities of schooling and under the harsh summer sun, he had rolled up the legs of his ugly and faded yellow school uniform, and his shirt was partially unbuttoned and hanging outside the waistline of his pants. Carefree, he walked while concentrating on the music blaring in his ears, so he was taken by surprise when a man, very authoritatively, abruptly stopped him in the middle of the street, after demanding the boy take off his headphones and unroll his pant legs immediately.

Instantly, Daniel doubted whether the man was in his right mind, so he demanded to know who he was and why he should obey him.  Then the individual identified himself, not by his name but as an “inspector of minors”, he accused him of incorrectly wearing his uniform, “a symbol of the mother country that the Revolution had given him” and because of that, his parents could be fined and he could be detained in a “care center for improperly behaved youths.”

Not allowing himself to be too impressed, Daniel explained that he was not in uniform because, in fact, he was returning from his high school graduation, so he wouldn’t have any more use for it, that he was going home after having stood in the hot sun in the schoolyard for a very long time, listening to the required speeches before getting his diploma, and that, as he understood it, the symbols of the motherland were the Cuban flag, the national coat of arms and the Bayamo* National Anthem and not an old pair of pants that -to be exact- the revolution had not given to him, but that his mother had bought at an excessive price in the black market after, a year ago, he had outgrown the one rationed to him. The man persisted with his threats, demanded the boy’s identity card and even tried to hold Daniel by the arm. Then, the teenager shook him off and, seriously scared, ran all the way home.

The event, unconditionally true, is based on the direct testimony of the boy and his family. But, in fact, the important thing here is not simply to determine if Daniel acted correctly or not. For many years it has been customary among our teenagers graduating from different levels to perform this kind of rite of passage which desecrates the old uniform, considered by them -and by previous generations, no longer so young- a symbol of the control that educational institutions exercised over their lives. It’s merely an innocent act of rebellion, typical of this stage in their lives, that results in disparate forms of expression: from having their shirts autographed by their classmates to intentionally tearing their uniforms into strips while they are wearing them, without any major consequences.

What this is about, essentially, is that no officer or agent of the government has the authority to coerce a child, whether in private or in public, thus transgressing the rights of that teenager, as well as those of his parents and of other adult family members. The significance of the matter is that, in different hues and in another scenario, official impunity and people’s defenselessness are repeated, counter to the supposed “changes” that the Government advocates, which should immediately set off fire alarms in the population.

And because this is about fines and punishments, the government is not able to take up the slack. These days, Cubans are the ones who should analyze what actions to take about the unspeakable rudeness on the part of their government of entering into arrangements with our other planet’s dictatorship, the North Koreans, cheating the Cuban people and offending the civilized world and the international organizations of which we are members. Castro II should explain this and many other violations that betray the government’s lack of ethical and moral values before attempting to apply enforcement action over his “governed”.

We should also have to include in the analysis the direct responsibility of half a century of totalitarian abuse in the loss of ethics and moral values of our society, not to mention the systematic violation of citizens’ rights throughout all that time. Too bad this same government has also deprived us, with the suppression of civic institutions, of the tools to demand explanations and ensure compliance. Without a doubt, the hour is getting close for the beginning of real reforms in Cuba, starting with policies.

*Cuban National Anthem’s original and traditional title

Miriam Celaya | Havana | July 26th, 2013

From Diario de Cuba

Translated by Norma Whiting

2018: Elections and Transfer of Powers / Reinaldo Escobar

Sixty years after having initiated the actions to seize power, General-President Raul Castro finds it opportune to emphasize that “the process of transferring the main responsibilities of leadership of the nation to new generations is ongoing, gradual and orderly.”

At a time when those who, as children, founded the Pioneers Organization are beginning to retire, the news makes it clear that “the principals responsible for leading the nation” are not as concerned with the nominations made by Nominations Committee as they are with establishing Articles 73 and 143 of the Cuban Electoral Act; and it is also evident that — given that it is all about a gradual and orderly transfer and not about democratic elections — there is no point to the vote of the parliamentarians who have to approve (or disapprove) such nominations.

Everything is already decided! All that’s lacking is some 1,700 days to produce “the baton.” In some drawer, particularly obscure, lies the list.

29 July 2013

Cuba’s Civil Society Is Transnational Says Rodiles / David Canela

From left to right: Antonio Rodiles, Roberto de Jesús Guerra, Yaremis Flores, Jorge Olivera, and Manuel Cuesta. Photo by the author.

HAVANA, Cuba, July 22, 2013, David Canela/www.cubanet.org — Last Saturday the independent Estado de SATS project sponsored a panel discussion among Cuban civil society activists. The participants included attorney Yaremis Flores, journalist Jorge Olivera (one of seventy-five dissidents imprisoned during the 2003 Black Spring crackdown), Roberto de Jesús Guerra, director of the news agency Hablemos Press, and Manuel Cuesta Morúa, a political analyst. The topic of the event was the current situation on the island following the latest political reforms and especially after recent trips overseas by many independent activists.

In regards to the experience of trying to be part of a globalized world, Flores emphasized that “the issue for Cubans is the lack of information.” Referring to his work representing those involved in legal cases, whose rights have often been at risk, he said, “If you cannot travel (to Geneva), they can send you information.”

Guerra and Olivera emphasized the need to strengthen the intellectual and organizational capabilities of the peaceful opposition. We must “continue organizing and empowering opposition groups,” said Guerra. For his part Olivera pointed out that the government “tries to manipulate international public opinion and buy time, which means we must adopt a more articulate and professional approach.”

According Cuesta Morúa, “the government has moved the battle of ideas abroad, and in Cuba tries to present a friendly dissent or a loyal opposition.”

The trend to a more balanced and dynamic migration flow would be a catalyst in the modernization of the country, as there is now a “transnational Cuban civil society,” as Rodiles called it.

As for the present, not all agreed with the idea that we are in a political transition, — as the journalist Julio Aleaga said — although this has not been officially declared. He explained that the reforms in China had begun in 1979, although its results were visible a decade later, with the Tienanmen protests, and that the Soviet Union no one imagined, in 1985, that Perestroika would be the dismantling of socialism.

Olivera believes that in the future “there will be a negotiation between the government and the opposition, because the country is in ruins.” In this regard, the journalist José Fornaris enunciated that “we have to prepare a program of government,” and not be ashamed to admit that we want to be part of the new government.

When the panel was asked what recommendations would that give to those traveling abroad, the lawyer Yaremis Flores suggested bringing evidence and documents on specific cases that demonstrate the problems of Cuban society that are not exposed in international forums, and so give a new face to the society, that humanizes it, and belies the manipulated figures from official groups of the government.

Cuesta Morúa added to avoid saying “I speak on behalf of …”, “I am the voice of …” He said there are receptive people abroad, who don’t want to hear protests, but rather proposals. And with regards to his experience at the last meeting of the Latin American Study Association (LASA), he noted that for the first time they broke the monopoly and the image (official) of Cuba at these academic meetings, due to the actions of independent sectors of the Island

This coming Saturday will be the three-year anniversary of the Estado de SATS project.

22 July 2013

From Cubanet