So it did not occur to anyone that the Cuban Revolution, in a few years, would deny its reason for being.
14ymedio, Frank Calzón, Miami, 3 January 2024 — Then no one could imagine what would come next.
It was January 1959 and neither my friend Guillermo nor I were bothered by the “northern wind,” the winter front that had been lashing Havana for several days. The two of us, aged 13 and 14, were happily controlling the traffic at one of the capital’s most important intersections.
Fulgencio Batista had left, while Fidel Castro slept far away in the Sierra Maestra. It would take a week for the rebel leader and his bearded army, and those who joined him along the way, to reach Havana.
The police, both the traffic police and the other police, which had been pursuing those who opposed the Batista government, had vanished as if by magic. A few weeks earlier, the United States had approved an embargo on the sale of weapons and spare parts and refused to hand over to Batista the shipment for which he had already paid.
Fidel (now the whole world called him Fidel), from Santiago de Cuba to the other end of the country, advised calm and congratulated all Cubans for the historic moment we were living. In Miami, the anti-Batista exiles and the activists of the 26th of July Movement were preparing for their return to their homeland.
Traffic lights at that time were not automatic, and they needed a police officer to change the lights. Fidel asked the boy scouts to take care of traffic in the capital.
We were happy: the country, the people, even the little children sensed that something very good had happened.
We were happy: the country, the people, even the little children sensed that something very good had happened. The people of Havana laughed at seeing us so serious, in our shorts, directing traffic. The ladies in the building across the street brought us lemonade and ham and cheese sandwiches.
And hope was reflected in the faces, in the comments, in the expectation of those people who had read with approval Fidel’s statement when he was tried after the attack on the Moncada Barracks: “I am going to tell you a story,” the leader, still without a beard, had said at that trial. “Once upon a time there was a Republic. It had its Constitution, its laws, its liberties; a president, Congress, courts; everyone could meet, associate, speak and write with complete freedom.”
That was what Fidel had said. To restore laws and rights, they had fought in Sierra Maestra and in the cities, the young people had faced reprisals, torture and even death at the hands of the forces of the dictatorship.
But that was the past and the nation was living a new day. Cuba was a party, and Fidel, in that speech of 1953 that would later be titled History Will Absolve Me, had said it very clearly:
“The government did not satisfy the people, but the people could change it and it was only a few days away. There was a respected and accepted public opinion, and all problems of collective interest were freely discussed. There were political parties, hours of doctrine on the radio, controversial television programs, public events, and the people were full of enthusiasm.”
That’s what Fidel had said, and who would dare to contradict him, if it was a truth that was well known to all? To restore those radio programs, the Constitution and the discussions to the public light the Revolution had been made.
And now, while Fidel’s arrival was awaited, that enthusiasm was palpable. Flags were waving on the balconies, on the eve of the arrival of the heroes.
I remember it well, but it happened 66 years ago. At that time, no one thought that the Cuban Revolution, in a few years, would deny its reason for being. At that time, no one spoke of Marxism, or of the Soviet Union, or of Yankee imperialism, or of the Communist Party, or used words like the proletariat, surplus value, means of production and others that would take the stands by storm months later. The revolutionaries were patriots, they were democrats, and only the few involved in the old regime dared to insinuate what was clearly not true. “Fidel is not a communist; those are lies from the Batista followers,” was the general consensus.
And what about the Cubans in political prison who refuse to emigrate, who despite the falsifications of history dare to think of a better future?
Then, fairly quickly, came the threats, imprisonment and even the shooting of several of the heroes who accompanied Fidel on that triumphal march. Later, there were confiscations, not only of the large landowners and foreign firms, but of practically all the property in the country, including the social centers for Galicians and Asturians — the emigrants from Spain — their schools and clinics, although neither the Galicians nor the Asturians were allies of Batista, nor of the Americans.
Then the shortages and rationing would begin. We were told that it was a temporary and emergency measure in 1961. Then the State production company Acopio would begin and the guajiros sentenced to prison for selling a chicken, a pound of rice, or the milk from their cows to someone else. Later, the so-called UMAP camps (Military Units to Aid Production), where thousands of Cubans ended up without cause or trial: the young people with long hair, Jehovah’s Witnesses, gays and some Catholic militants who, over the years, would become bishops.
In the balance of more than six decades, one should include perhaps two million Cubans who left for other countries with a simple suitcase or even less. And the rafters who disappeared in the Straits of Florida trying to escape, those killed in wars and “internationalist” missions in Angola, Ethiopia, Grenada, the Golan Heights, the Congo, Bolivia and other Latin American countries. And the Cubans killed and wounded in Ukraine, who like the North Korean contingent today serve in Vladimir Putin’s army.
The terrible year that has just ended is also part of the indispensable balance of Cuban reality, of political prisoners, blackouts, shortages, epidemics, hurricanes, thousands of families who have spent years in emergency shelters waiting for the construction of the promised homes while five-star hotels are being built for foreigners.
And what can be said about the Cubans in political prison who refuse to emigrate, who despite the falsifications of history dare to think of a better future, and in the diaspora around the world, others who try to help them and obtain the solidarity of governments and international organizations.
The future is uncertain, but today the international situation does not favor continuity, neither in Baghdad, nor in Caracas, nor in Havana. Perhaps Karl Marx was not wrong when he said that those who try to stop the march of history are condemned to failure.
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