Translator: Hank


A couple of years ago I wrote about an event I learned of from someone very close to and emotionally attached to it, about how two Cubans who had fought on opposite sides at the Bay of Pigs, this sad military conflict between brothers, with the passing of time had reunited outside our territory, one as a member of Brigade 2506. and the other as a pilot at Playa Girón, as the event is called in Cuba.  By then both of them were exiles.

These two Cubans melted in a forgiving embrace in Miami and one of them, years later, died in the arms of the other. This is the reason that I decided to re-post fragments of this story because I find it so touching. Some of the offspring of both protagonists live now in Florida.

“One night, during one of the usual occasions when they would get together, as they were all seated at the table having a delicious Creole meal, the pilot became ill and excused himself to go to the bathroom.  A few minutes later, the host ran to the bathroom after hearing a noise.  When he got there, the pilot was on the floor. He gently held the pilot in his arms and watched him die.”

All these events, with the passing of years and the frustrations suffered by each other, have made us reflect about how much we were manipulated and how much history has been distorted. For decades, they tried to “sow” in us a false sense of hatred and resentment, which even if it did exist at some point, was dissipated with our everyday lives, with the disenchantment, and especially with the sad experience of having fought for a “future” that never came, watching ourselves forced to separate from our families and friends, an issue that ultimately has been the most painful, in the balance of all that has happened.

“Many years had to go by, many confrontations, disagreements, misunderstandings and defamation campaigns, so that finally two Cubans who no one should have ever converted into enemies were united forever in an embrace.  Two twists of the same flag.”

Translator: Post quoted was translated by Hank.

17 April 2013

Yesterday afternoon while I was with some friends, I listened to a story told by someone there, an architect by profession.  She told us that last Friday, the 23rd of April, about 20 men with hammers and tools showed up at the offices where she works early in the morning as though they were technicians working for ETESCA.

Before the curious gaze of all of the people who worked there, these guys started a comprehensive display of technology.  One of the segurosos commented to another in front of my friend – “we have a good view of the entrance to the theater from here.”

One of the architects said “They’re going to break someone’s legs!” And someone else mentioned Los Aldeanos.

On the same day, the head of personnel went by all of the departments to let the employees know that no one was allowed to stay after work. My friend said “They just about kicked us out.”

When she left work that day, she saw that the entire building on the corner of 26th and Kohly Avenue, where she works, was completely surrounded by security.

As she passed through Acapulco park (in front of the theater with the same name), she saw groups of young people with expressions of hope on their faces looking at the entrance to the theater; they were being observed simultaneously by a similar group of people, cell phones in hand, whose reasons for being there were made obvious by how they were dressed.

Now, I have to ask myself:  If this display motivated a group of kids who were born here and who are very well loved and who acted without any kind of prescripted propaganda media, What would happen if The Madonna were to come and sing on our planet?”

Translated by: Hank

A few days ago at a friend’s house, we had a very emotional conversation, during which our hostess told us about a trip that made a big impression on the life of the father of her children: he was a pilot, one of the seven who fought in the Bay of Pigs and who faced his fellow Cubans in that battle.

As time passed, this disenchanted pilot decided one day to go to the United States and settle in Miami. There he found many of his companions who had also deserted Cuba.  They began to unite, spend time together and share amongst themselves, knowing full well that within the confines of this new friendship, some of them had fought against each other many years ago.  But Cubans at the end of the day feel their hearts beat for the same country, and so they forgot the differences that divided them.

One night, during one of the usual occasions when they would get together, as they were all seated at the table having a delicious Creole meal, the pilot became ill and excused himself to go to the bathroom.  A few minutes later, the host ran to the bathroom after hearing a noise.  When he got there, the pilot was on the floor. He gently held the pilot in his arms and watched him die.

Many years had to go by, many confrontations, disagreements, misunderstandings and defamation campaigns, so that finally two Cubans who no one should have ever converted into enemies were united forever in an embrace.  Two twists of the same flag.

Translated by Hank

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