Translating Cuba

Two of my independent journalism colleagues asked me from Havana about corruption in Spain and in particular the cases of Iñaki Urdangarin, son-in-law of King Juan Carlos, and Luis Barcenas, former treasurer of the Peoples Party and former senator from that political group, which seems to be in jeopardy after the discovery of their Swiss bank accounts.

Both colleagues explain to me that the official press in Cuba is highlighting the Barcenas case as a symbol of corruption of the governing party which, according to them, shows the cynicism of the Island mandarins, who have spread corruption and poverty as a way of life and their domination over the island they alone have governed since 1959.

As I already said to these friends, I just said that Barcenas and Urdangarin are two examples of a phenomenon that comes from Spain’s past and seems to multiply with the economic, social and ethical crisis. In the area of the politics of budget cuts, the millions of unemployed, the public protests and the expressions of uncertainty aired in the press to report with precision the more than 200 directors processed by the courts for defrauding their electors in four districts in the country. At bottom there are the structural problems that threaten democracy and the need for reforms to lead the nation toward a state of social well-being.

They are investigating the King’s son-in-law for appropriating money obtained from promoting sporting events in Palma de Mallorca. Luis Barcenas, who admitted having 38 million euros in Switzerland, on charges of bribery, tax evasion, and defrauding the public treasury. The judge is looking for the origin of so much money and the patronage implications of this conspirator in a melodrama that, along with stealing from the party, is in the public eye.

I made it clear to my friends that Spain has problems and is a difficult country to govern, like others in the European Mediterranean basin. In Spain, however, they air their dirty laundry and expose the politicians who forget their commitments to the voters and focus on their personal enrichment. Luis Barcenas, alias “the bastard,” is one example.

March 4 2013

The writer Angel Santiesteban-Prats is now in La Lima prison, located in Guanabacoa. He was transferred there on Saturday after spending a day in Valle Grande prison where he wrote this post, the first that we have from him in his captivity.

Each and every one of the posts he writes we will publish here in his blog “The Children Nobody Wanted.”

Behind Bars

Finally, the Cuban government has me behind bars. After 4 years of an arbitrary “legal process” where they have violated the most basic rules of the legal system and I have faced multiple charges, all of them with the clear intention of degrading my image before public opinion, and so my process will serve to intimidate Cuban writers and artists and I will close my blog, “The Children Nobody Wanted,” with which I’ve reached the light, that once possessed is irreversible.

Despite the suffering and the pain it has caused, especially for my family, I feel proud of being in the place where so many good Cubans have ended up.

From here I will try to write my posts and fulfill my modest role in achieving a democratic opening in Cuba, I will continue my struggle and resistance to the totalitarian regime. I’m just a citizen who decided to take off the mask and expose the truth of my country as as far as I can, in writing.

Now I find myself surrounded by men who committed various crimes but complain of racism, beatings and social injustices. When they hear that Cuba will soon change their eyes light up.

Other inmates have had the term ’’dangerousness*’’ applied to them, a supposedly legal term in our country. Individuals are sanctioned in advance, on suspicion that they might commit some illegality; the majority of them are black and do not have State jobs.

Today begins a new stage in my life and the path I have chosen. The hope of Cubans, their persistence in the fight will bring the change needed to become a prosperous and democratic state.

Without more from my “tall and slanted” handwriting I send you my hugs and thanks for all who have shown their solidarity and support for the cause.

From Valle Grande prison, 1 March 2013

Ángel Santiesteban Prats

*Translator’s note: The Cuban Penal Code recognizes the crime of “pre-criminal dangerousness” which carries a sentence of 1-4 years. The “crime” is the potential to commit a crime, not actually having committed one.

March 5 2013

The impact of the attacks Yoani, victorious against the “demons” paid by the Cuban Embassy in the Brazilian capital, have become something of a legend in Brazil. After the Cuban blogger’s brilliant presentation, and a standing ovation, the next day there was a program in the city of Salvador, the capital of Bahia state.

However, before going to the university auditorium Tuesday night, the 19th, there was a phone call from the Brazilian documentary filmmaker Dado Galvão, inviting Yoani “and her entourage” to visit National Congress (it was an invitation from the Federal Deputy Otavio Leite in coordination with Senator Eduardo Suplicy) for which we were sent the corresponding plane tickets.

As we had planned some sightseeing in Salvador, this invitation forced a change of plans, with the Wednesday, February 20th program being to “visit to the Brazilian Parliament, in Brasilia.”

The Salvador-Brasilia flight would leave around noon, which gave Yoani the chance to have another informal session of interviews that morning in “Feria de Santana,” in the hotel lobby where we were staying. Our hotel was also occupied by many of the journalists who were accompanying us everywhere, which facilitated, for example, privileged coverage of the previous day’s lunch, in a typical Bahia restaurant to which we directed our little bus, also filled with our journalist friends.

When people in the restaurant recognized Yoani there was a kind of flocking to her, to take photos, hug, apologize for the actions of the “bad Brazilians.”  The owner of the place brought his wife and daughter for the requisite photo and sang, on a small stage, traditional music in honor of Yoani and in addition, obliged the Cuban to dance with him, which Yoani originally declined, “I’m Cuban, but not a dancer,” she said. It seemed he was partnering a “Madonna” or a “Micheal Jackson” rather than a young brave Cuban blogger.

After breakfast in the hotel (with the obligatory photos of Yoani with its employees and their families) we traveled toward Salvador in the same minibus we used the entire time in Bahia. There were no demonstrators because the program has been changed to go to Brasilia. What we experienced at the airport was repeated at every appearance by the Cuban in previously unannounced places: great solidarity, photos, hugs, especially from women, who immediately sympathized with that fragile figure, smiling even in the midst of the greatest adversity.

At the entrance to the airport I separated from the committee to go with the “Feria de Santana” organizers to arrange the formalities for sending our bags and checking in at the airline offices and getting the luggage tags. All this was done at great speed, because “they were the belongings of the Cuban blogger.”

Despite my being delayed with the paperwork, when I entered the domestic flight area, Yoani hadn’t even made it half the distance. Everyone wanted a photo, a hug, to offer words of support, repeating, “I’m sorry Yoani, they don’t represent the Brazilian people.” We embarked for the main center of Brazil’s political power.

We got to Brasilia in the early afternoon. At the airport waiting for us was Deputy Otavio Leite, Representative to the Federal Chamber from the state of Rio de Janeiro, (and the classic battalion of journalists), with some of the deputy’s aides who immediately took care of our luggage. Without the presence of demonstrators we took another minibus, between hugs and photos of Yoani with those who were there.

From the airport we were taken directly to the formidable National Congress building, with police cars in front and behind us. Along the way Yoani was taking photos of the grandeur of Brasilia, the Avenue of the Ministries, its gorgeous Cathedral, the Supreme Court of Justice building, the Planalto (presidential) Palace, until we pulled into the emblematic building of the  Brazilian Parliament.

A multitude of parliamentarians, journalists, deputies and senators, who pressed in wanting to see her, photograph her, talk with her, the principal leaders of the National Congress. The path between the minibus and the Great Hall of Parliament (at that time in parliamentary session), was agonizing. A human current pressing on Yoani, pushing her through those corridors.  We couldn’t have walked on our own feet, that special “political” human mass carried us in the direction of the Session Room.

Behind me I heard one of the security officers surrounding us say to one of his companions, “I haven’t seen this in Congress even on the day Fidel visited us.” In reality, there was a large presence of security agents, but useless, because inside the building there are only deputies and senators along with their aides, and all of them wanted a simple photo with the Cuban.

The crowd that led Yoani entered the Great Hall of the Chamber of Deputies — in session at the time — interrupted by the crowd. Yoani was led by Deputy Leite to the main dais, where the blogger greeted and hugged everyone at the table. The journalists’ flashes didn’t stop recording images. A Leftist deputy, who had the floor at the moment of the “Cuban hurricane in Brazil’s” eruption into the room mounted a lukewarm protest at having been interrupted “outside the rules,” and was immediately silenced by several by various parliamentarians present at the session, asking for “a little education before such a distinguished visitor.” From the Main Chamber we went to the room of the Foreign Relations Committee, where Yoani was received by prolonged applause from the parliamentarians present. A complete symbol: the informal representative of the Cuban opposition received a standing ovation in the Parliament of the largest country in Latin America, by deputies and senators from the most diverse parties, all democratically elected.

Yoani was placed at the center of the table from which the meeting was chaired. I situated myself strategically, just behind the blogger. To the right of the special guest was Deputy Leite, who chaired the session; on her left would sit, for a brief moment, the principal leaders of the Brazilian parliament who took turns occupying the seat and embracing and congratulating the blogger, constantly telling Yoani to look in one direction (where the photographer was) for the precious photo. Senator Suplicy belatedly came and stood at the far right of the table, greeting Yoani from afar with a wave. The session started, but for Yoani, besides having to pay attention to what was being said (it was my responsibility to alert her if something important was said), for our Cuban the whole session was a parade of senators and deputies coming to her from behind the table and placing themselves on one side; hugging her and pulling her into the corresponding photo.

At the beginning of the session of Congress to welcome Yoani, we heard the cries and slogans of the demonstrators sent by the Cuban embassy. In this case, we could hear them at a distant, muffled by the wall separating the Congressional hall from the outside, where protesters from the Cuban embassy were held at bay by security agents. At one point in the session, apparently some of those sent by the Cuban ambassador managed to get to the door of the room (we noticed a movement of journalists covering the event, who focused their cameras in the direction of the front door) but they failed to enter the room to interrupt the session, as they probably intended, “to not let her talk.”

Deputy Leite gave a brief introduction of Yoani and immediately gave the floor to the “Cuban blogger Yoani Sanchez.” Yoani said little, as befits an illustrious guest of Congress. She made no political references to Cuba or Brazil. She spoke as “a simple citizen,” referred to her blog, her work, spoke of her hopes as an activist for freedom of the press as a right of all free men of the world, and very quickly finished her speech, which led to the most dissimilar interventions top Brazilian legislators. There were many requests for the floor. The hosting deputy, Otavio Leite, before passing the floor to the deputies, presented them to Yoani, pointing out the main party leaders present at the meeting, and their party affiliation. There were parliamentarians of all parties, after which the audience had the floor. The interventions, rather than questions, were speeches of welcome and were filled with praise of the blogger’s work, many apologized for the verbal attacks that had been made, one of them even said something like: “we are in presence of the future president of a democratic Cuba”…

Standing behind Yoani I whispered in her ear, “Did you understand what he said.” Yoani had learned a little Portuguese and answered me, turning her worried face–as a sign that something complicated could happen–and looking at me said, “Yes, I understood.” Many of the interventions were not questions to the blogger, but rather words of welcome to Brazil as well as gratitude for her visit to Congress.

After the words of the parliamentarian who called her “future president” a deputy from the left took the floor. He was a member of one of the most far-left parties of the local political spectrum. The deputy censured the words of the deputy who preceded him, expressing that such phrases could “occasion unnecessary problems for Yoani,” that she at no time had suggested such a thing–he said–and what’s more, “Brazil has diplomatic relations with Havana and that phrase could mean a request for explanations to Congress.” The deputy asked Yoani four questions of “concern” to the Brazilian left which did not agree with the “acts of repudiation” organized by the Cuban embassy against Yoani: first, her position on the embargo; second, her opinion on the Guantanamo prison; third, her opinion on “the 5”; and fourth, the source of the funding for her trip. Yoani took the microphone to respond.

Yoani said what she had been repeating since coming to Brazil, but this time, it was to the “upper crust” of Brazilian politics and she targeted and deepened her points of view. She talked about the three reasons she considers the basis for wanting to lift the embargo; she talked about the American Naval base not being a Cuban problem and that activists in the United States are fighting to close it; about “the 5 members of the Ministry of the Interior” she expounded explaining they weren’t 5 but 14, that 9 had made agreements with the U.S. attorney’s office, accepting the allegations and implicating the five convicted, so no one was innocent, following which she added an ironic phrase, which was later debated by the exile in Miami.

Yoani said something like: “For me, they could be released, thereby saving Cuba the huge amount of monetary resources spent on the island for propaganda, both in Cuba and abroad, because there are many needs on the island, we are lacking many things.” It was not a “request for them to release the 5 members of the Interior Ministry,” it was an ironic comment, unhappily for the opponents in Miami, of course, for which Yoani later had to apologize.

With regards to the financing of her trip she explained the sources, already detailed in numerous public appearances. While Yoani spoke, the deputy who had posed the question–in a friendly way and very considerate of Yoani–showed surprise at the extent and precision of the responses, such that when Yoani finished, the deputy, who continued to be amazed, rose from his seat and came to the table to shake hands with Yoani, offering her phrases of praise and solidarity. Senator Suplicy also spoke at the meeting, referring to the “bad time” in “Feria de Santana,” explaining that when he coordinated this session of Congress with Deputy Leite he sent a letter to the Cuban ambassador (he gave Yoani a copy of the letter to the Cuban ambassador inviting him to Congress that day) to ask him to come as a guest, with views of a “civilized” debate with “the blogger Yoani Sanchez,” something that the Cuban ambassador, with the arrogance that characterizes him, declined. Now in an institutional framework, civilized and politically high level, again Yoani scored 100 points.

On leaving the Congress, the characteristic battalion of journalists battalion confronted Yoani, who answered interesting questions about her future political ambitions.

“I hope to create a newspaper when I return to Havana. That’s my principal mission after this trip. I believe in the press as an effective fourth estate and my role in a democratic Cuba is journalism, to be able to freely criticize what I deem to be wrong. I dream of a Cuba where the president is one more personality in the national life. Not even the most important personality. I’m not political, I do not have sufficient cynicism to be political.” And with that Yoani capped a fundamental day.

(To be continued)

Articles by this author can be found at http://www.cubalibredigital.com

1 March 2013

It was a question of dates, of choosing a date on the calendar to announce what many of us had already imagined. The news of the Hugo Chavez’s death was produced on Tuesday afternoon, but for months his early end was predictable. The official Cuban media have maintained a version of his slow but increasing recovery, letting slip only in the last weeks the details of some complications. The matter was handled as a neat script, like a script written in the Plaza of the Revolution in Havana by two brothers who, with the death of their disciple from Miraflores Palace, have been left in a very delicate situation.

However, they could not delay they obituary any longer, because information is so hard to keep these days, like water in a bowl formed from two hands. So they finally found a day to tell the world the best kept secret in Cuba, comparable only to the secrecy surrounding the illness of Fidel Castro himself. Now comes the mourning, the black ribbons, the panegyrics over the deceased, but also beginning now is the airing of the incongruities between the published medical reports and the fatal outcome of the Comandante’s clinical situation. The lies will become more evident, the exaggerations will seem more coarse, and the bill for the truth will be passed to the Chavista leaders in Venezuela. The ancient Cuban leaders will also bear their share of responsibility for the lack of transparency with which they handled the convalescence of a foreign president treated in our country. Venezuelan citizens have the right to demand an explanation of how and when the death of their leader really occurred, and it remains to be seen if Raul Castro is disposed to give one.

6 March 2013

After Decree-Law No. 302 went into force on January 14, health professionals in Cuba could now travel, at least in theory. However, in order to practice in the medical profession in other parts of the world one needs, logically, to be legally licensed in Cuba, in order to be recognized abroad, later. But the cost of this license, from Cuba’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs Legal Department, is $1,200 (U.S.), and the average monthly salary of a doctor in Cuba is 573 Cuban pesos, equivalent to about $25.

Tomas Rodriguez, a 43-year-old physician, has been invited by a friend to live and work in a foreign country. Tomas does not have his own home in Cuba, after 18 years of working in his profession. One of the expectations he had with this trip is that some day, if he decides to return, he can buy a house.

“I’m on the verge of despair. My friend is going to take care of my travel expenses and, at first, to give me housing. But this assumes that I should bring the title to practice my profession,” says Tomas.

The money required has the character of a “Tax.” The application for “Certification” costs 250 convertible pesos or cuc (more than $250 U.S.), and its legalization is 200 cuc. The request for your school records costs 350 cuc, and legal endorsement another 200 cuc. The General Medical degree can be had for just 200 cuc, because the person brings the document themselves and only needs to pay to have it legally endorsed, which costs the same for all documents. This is also true for other degrees from different specialties studied.

If Tomas comes to legalize the General Medical degree, he would prefer to renounce the other two specialties he has: “This opportunity isn’t going to last forever. Fortunately, they give you the degrees when you graduate. If I ask for a notarized school record for another purpose, they give it to me with a footnote that says it can only be used in the national territory,” he explains.

And he adds, “At least now we are free (in theory) to enter and leave the country. Assuming I could save my whole salary (24 cuc) without even spending 40 centavos for the bus, I would have to save nearly six years’ salary. No one can convince me that my education was free. In fact, I have  paid with these 18 years of public service as more than a doctor.”

We are accustomed to laws being promulgated in Cuba, by and from the State, which from the beginning don’t represent the interests of the citizens, so most people are not shocked by the price they have to pay for the legalizations of titles that support different professions. Simply, people try to get the money and then leave, as always, without protest.

All human migrations have the common denominator of struggling for life. Thomas concludes: “I don’t have 20 years. I can’t go and quit my profession. What am I going to live on, if the objective is to leave in order to work? They have recognized our right to travel, but only partially, there are still many obstacles and impediments like this.”

Lilianne Ruiz, Havana

4 March 2013

In Cuba, where the average monthly salary does not exceed 22 dollars (or 20 CUC), eating in restaurants, paladares and cafes amounts to a major economic sacrifice. They are out of reach for the average Cuban. Access is available only to a small number of people who can get in through legal, semi-legal or illegal means, or to resident foreigners and tourists. In other words, the number of potential clients (let’s not use the word “users”) is very limited, so both state-run and private restaurants compete to attract them.

State-run restaurants and cafes – with their characteristic inconsistency in quality, quantity, variety and level of service, not to mention their inflated prices – are the losers. Their employees spend most of the time worrying about the effect all the empty tables will have on their wallets.

In contrast private restaurants and cafes – generally noted for theirquality, quantity, variety, range of prices and good service, as well as their own unique identities – are the winners, packing people in both day and night. Things are not rosy for all of them, however. Some are only marginally successful, while others have had to close shortly after they opened due to financial problems. continue reading

A February 24th with young talent, a breath of fresh air. Yesterday Cuba’s National Assembly of People’s Power ended its session, a session where new appointments were made: Homero Acosta as secretary of the Council of State; Gladys Bejerano as vice president of the Council; José Ramón Machado Ventura as controller general; Ramiro Valdés Menéndez; Lázara Mercedes López (first secretary of the Communist Party in Havana); and Salvador Valdés (general secretary of the Workers Union).

Ratified as members of this body were Inés María Chapman, Leopoldo Cintra, Abelardo Colomé, Guillermo García, Tania León, Álvaro López, Marino Murillo and Sergio Rodríguez.
They changed the facade, the membership of the Council of State now has 17 new members, something like reshuffling the deck. But I won’t dwell on them because the important thing is the investiture of “Compañero” Diaz-Canel as First Vice-president of Cuba, someone who many envision as the “promise of renewal and mutation.”

I want to share with you that Diaz-Canel, Miguel, or Miguelito–as he’s called in the closed circles which, to no one’s surprise, reelected the President of Cuba–has become the “number two” of the Revolutionary government not exactly for practicing the so-called hard line. continue reading

The despicable act in “Feria de Santana” was also executed against one of the most loved and respected senators, with the recognized militancy of the left.

By Jorge Hernandez Fonseca, Brasilia

If the repercussions of Yoani Sanchez’s coming to Brazil confirmed–according to the Brazilian press–the organization of the “acts of repudiation” by the Cuban embassy, materialized in the noisy welcome for Yoani at the Recife airport on the part of a little group in the pay of the Cuban ambassador (confirming the information in the magazine VEJA), then the attempted lynching in “Feria de Santana” by another claque brought from other cities in Bahia state, definitively settled Brazilian public opinion on the side of the frail and energetic Cuban.

The villainy of “Feria de Santana” was executed also against one of the most loved and respected senators among Brazilian politicians, Eduardo Suplicy, with recognized militancy on the left, the objects of insults and disrespect from the bloodthirsty mob. What happened was an act of unacceptable intolerance, not only against an supposed “CIA agent” blogger, as they wanted to see it, but an attempt by a foreign country (the Cuban government) to define the course of internal policy South American giant.

After the public presentation in “Feria de Santana,” Bahía, Brazil, which was meant to be a showing of the Brazilian filmmaker Dado Galvão’s documentary–an objective frustrated thanks to a band of protestors paid by the Cuban embassy in Brasilia– Yoani Sanchez’s
following presentations had the simple and only objective of hearing what she had to say about a wide range of topics, all focused on an island greatly loved by Brazilians of all stripes: Cuba. After that first night of intolerance, overcome by the courage of the blogger and the support of senator Suplicy, Yoani was offered dinner at the residence of one of the organizers of the activities in the city, where the Cuban blogger shared the evening with Senator Suplicy, an important participant in the acts of that day, founder and leading member of the Brazilian Labor Party, as is well-known. Yoani and Suplicy spoke at length. continue reading

What is different? The smells and the temperature, I think at first. Then come the noises, so unique in each place, the grayness of the winter sky or the dark shade of the water in a river that runs through much of Europe. What, really, is new? I keep asking myself while trying a taste here, or shaking some hands, for the first time, there. The music perhaps, the sound of the tram braking at the stop, the snow piled up along the sidewalks, the spring flowers struggling to bloom even though the worst, perhaps, awaits them from the frost. Where is the strangeness? In the church bells that seem to compete at the marking of every hour, or in certain houses of such antiquity that seeing them makes the constructions in Old Havana look young.

But neither the profusion of modern autos, nor the WiFi signal that lets me connect to the Internet almost anywhere, are the real novelty for me. Nor are the kiosks full of newspapers, or the shops with bulging shelves, or the dog who, on the Metro subway platform is treated like the lord and master of the situation. The strange thing is not the friendliness of the clerks, the near absence of lines, the gargoyles with their claws and sharp teeth protruding from the walls, or the steaming wine that is drunk more to warm the body than to please the palate. None of these sensations, first-time or almost forgotten, over a decade without traveling, are what marks the difference between the Island I now see in the distance, and the countries visited on this occasion.

The principal contrast lies in what is and is not permitted. Since I got off the first plane I was expecting someone to scold me, someone to come out and warn me, “You can’t do that.” I look for the glance of the guard who will come to tell me, “Taking photos is not allowed,” the grim-faced cop who shouts at me, “Citizen! Identification,” the official who cuts off my passage while saying, “You can’t enter here.” But, I’m not about run into any of those characters so common in Cuba. So for me, the big differences are not the delicious seeded bread, the long-lost beef that now returns to my plate, or the sounds of another language in my ears. No. The big difference is that I don’t feel I’m permanently marked with the red badge of the outlaw, the whistle that surprises me in something clandestine, the constant sensation that whatever I do or think could be prohibited.

4 March 2013