The Return to Origins

Several years ago my downstairs neighbor called and told me he had received a surprise visit, from the daughter of the former owner of the building where we live.  She showed great interest in visiting only my apartment, so he had given her my phone number.

The next day I got the call, and we arranged to meet. Still a young woman, she was very excited when I gladly received her. She was apprehensive because of the stories they told her that everyone here is afraid that those who left will come again to take away what had belonged to them. She realized immediately that I had no such fear, and immediately there was a surge of empathy. Of course I showed her the whole apartment and the garden we had built on the roof. She was very emotional and told me that her father had designed the building with three apartments, one on each floor, for the enjoyment of the family. The building was finished in 1958 and two years later they were already in exile, which was very hard for the family. This floor was of particular interest because it was where she lived since birth. Her grandparents lived on the first floor and her uncles on the second.

It was I who really felt excited, and at the same time embarrassed, at seeing with what sacrifice and love a family had saved money and built something so they could always be together; suddenly, by the circumstance of a social phenomenon, they were forced to abandon everything.

Today I heard from her and this time I owe it to my blog. She has become my reader, and I hope, with time, my friend. In short, she and I have been puppets of destiny.

Translated by Tomás A.

 

What the “Wind” Took Away

Here in my small planet, it hasn’t exactly been the wind which has taken everything–or almost everything–away. It seems to be the work of a crazed tornado. And what remains is in such a poor state that it is nearly unsalvageable.

In 1897 Cuban cinema took its first baby steps. Along with its appearance, the first posters were born, then handmade on small printing presses, and photography was also developing. Then movie theaters quickly started appearing, receiving us on their doorsteps with flashy posters or photographs, which gave us an idea what was going to be projected inside. It was a clear invitation to enter. Cinemania was happily taking hold of most of us.

In 1959, we already had more than one hundred thirty movie houses, many of them very modern and comfortable, like the Warner Theater (later called Radiocentro, now renamed Yara), the America (also a live theater), Acapulco, Riviera, Los Angeles, Payret, Miramar, La Rampa, etc. etc. etc. All this, to the delight of about a million people who lived in the capital at that time. We also had three modern drive-ins. Moviegoers had to run to see the more than four weekly releases that were shown.

Half a century later, with almost two million people, only a dozen theaters are operating, most of them in an advanced state of disrepair. Neglect turned many of them into ruins, others have become shelters for various families. Each year, except for the month of the Film Festival, there are fewer options – the films shown are old and many of them have already been seen on television. The wind can still take away what little remains, if nothing is done to stop it.

Translated by: Joe Malda and Tomás A.

 

“Havana SOS”

Portion of a Talavera mosaic that covers an entire wall, Infanta Street. Doorway of the former airline, KLM, Paseo del Prado, Havana.

Peerless Antique Shop, today a hardware store. When I took the camera out, an employee came up to tell me that taking photos is prohibited. Apparently the elegant old store has become a component of national security, Manzana de Gomez, Habana Vieja. At right, former entrance of a shop in Obispo Street.

Other store entrances on Obispo Street.

Please excuse the grime, they are simply shown in their current natural state.

Translated by: Tomás A.

 

Retire? Why?

In most countries, retirement age is between 65-70 years for men, and 60-65 for women. This covers almost all occupations, except in the field of art, where an individual beyond that age can continue working as long as their intellectual abilities haven’t diminished.

I’ve always wondered why so humane a practice doesn’t apply to politicians, especially in totalitarian countries, where these notables — oblivious to the years they have lived, and to the errors they have committed — remain in office until the grave, inflicting their gradual loss of physical and mental capabilities (a natural part of the aging process) on their unsuspecting citizens.

So we find true old geezers, who ought to be in a nursing home, proposed for leadership positions, and what is worse, accepting them. It seems that there are no other people more physically and mentally capable than they in their respective fields. This situation is exacerbated in those regimes where the existence of a single party and rubber-stamp elections installs them, in perpetuity, in the halls of power.

I intend, in good faith, to devote some attention to this anomalous situation, too often repeated in recent years, in order to rejuvenate the political sphere and give a well-earned rest to these ancients, who also have the right to a fair retirement.

Translated by: Tomás A.

 

To All Cuban Mothers

Tomorrow, early in the morning, begins the endless pilgrimage to the Columbus Cemetery. You have to buy flowers the day before from the few private sellers, because during the holiday only state vendors are open and, as usual, demand far exceeds supply.

For those fortunate enough to have a living mother, the trip to Mom’s house also starts early. No one still wears the once-classic red or white flower in the lapel, indicating whether their mother was alive or dead. That, like almost all the traditions in my world, disappeared many years ago.

From here, I want to send a greeting and a hug to all Cuban mothers. Most notably to those who suffer the still-fresh wounds from the loss of a child. I hope that God gives them strength to face the pain of seeing them in prison, or on a hunger strike to the point of death. To the Ladies in White, who come boldly into the streets to demand the release of their husbands and children, most especially I salute all of them today.

Translated by: Tomás A.

 

“They married us with the lie…”

Apparently, this was a church wedding: until death do us part.

The truth is that today, May Day, I woke up very early at the first bleat from the fold; sorry, I meant the bustle of people heading toward the square – they were students from a nearby school.

Unable to go back to sleep, I prepared to honor the day, giving my house a good cleaning, and finishing a patchwork that I display here.

Through my window came the echoes of the slogans repeated by hysterical choirs, that is, the enthusiasts. After a while, my rear window showed me the endless parade of buses of all kinds that, full of students and mobilized workers, returned them to the assembly points. The 1,200 special guests returned in cars and other vehicles.

I have no idea how much a parade like this costs, where in addition to transportation – the gasoline to move the whole motorized fleet – there are picnic lunches spread throughout places of work and study, different colored t-shirts and caps given away to control the groups, plus all the expenses of lodging, food, and transportation for the 1,200 guests invited to the proletarian event. It makes me think that we are not as short of money as we are constantly being told, in order to get us to save.

” . . . and they forced us to live with it, so the world seemed to collapse around us when we heard the truth.”

Translator’s note – the quotation is from an early speech by Fidel Castro.

Translated by: Tomás A.

 

Without Sugar, There is No Country

This was said many years ago, when I was a child. We were proud of being the world’s sugar bowl. All this is now ancient history. There it lay, preserved along with the memory of a Republic, which if it was not perfect, at least we could be proud of it, because it was still very young, and it was located in a very good place in our hemisphere. True, some things needed to be changed, and others improved, but we had one of the most advanced constitutions of the time, so much so that ours was even a model for the UN charter.

Sadly, today in our country the sugar consumed by the population has been rationed for many years. We lost our factories, and the few that are still functioning fail to produce enough to meet the scant international commitments. Many mills were demolished and others serve as museums, where they show foreigners how sugar was made. Something like Greece displaying the ruins of the Parthenon.

But we are daring, so much so that we have now sent Cuban sugar technicians, with their tremendous experience, to advise Haiti on its harvest. I wonder where these specialists were as our industry languished almost to death. Will they be able to accomplish in that country what they were unable to do in our own land? That is a question that the Haitians will be able to respond to only with the passage of time; we already suspect the answer.

Translated by: Tomás A.

 

Glory to Gloria

This morning, on the shortwave radio, I heard the news of the march that was called by the very Cuban Gloria Estefan in support of the Ladies in White, on the famous Calle Ocho. By all accounts it was a success. Cubans from here and from there giving their support and coalescing around one ideal: freedom for Cuba.

I would very much like to know all or some of the names of the artists who participated in that march, and I would be very pleased to compare them to those who have come here to sing in the Plaza of the Revolution, thinking that they are supporting us.

Everything that is done to unite our people and its diaspora is always welcome. We Cubans are one, wherever we are. Personally, whenever I hear of the triumph of a compatriot, wherever they are, I am filled with pride.

I want to thank Gloria and all those who have not forgotten those of us on this side of the pond enduring, fighting, or simply waiting. For you and for those Cubans who read my words, and who are scattered in the farthest corners of the world, a fraternal embrace.

Translated by: Tomás A.

 

Volcanic Eruption

Once during an interview that I gave to the Daily Listín, of Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, I told the journalist that revolutions, in relation to the family, were like a volcanic eruption.  When it starts to shoot out rock fragments, they fall spreading outward, some further away than others, each one taking a different trajectory, others simply swept away by the lava.

All the people that I love most are dispersed in different parts of the planet. If there is a problem in Madrid, I shudder to think that my younger son may be nearby. If there is a blizzard in France, I pray to God that it’s not where my other son lives with his wife and children.  If something happens in Rio de Janeiro, I plead with all my might that my oldest granddaughter is not there nor in the area. And in Chile, where just now an earthquake measuring 8.8 has struck, I go crazy if I don’t immediately get news, because my niece whom I adore, her husband and children, and a lot more Chileans who are part of my family, are in Santiago.  In the end, I spend my life praying to God to keep them safe and let me see them once again.

Today the first report of the earthquake in Concepción stunned me because it is not very far from Santiago and the magnitude of it was intense. Until I got news, I could not calm down even a little. I’m still not entirely calm, because communications are extremely difficult for me, I have to hope that they will communicate by any means possible.

Forgive me, but I had to have this catharsis. I have begun to receive news of my family, but I have many friends whom I love in that part of South America. I would like to know that everyone is safe, that if anyone is injured they recuperate soon, that they recover from any material losses as soon as possible, and that God has mercy on this nation as well as on Haiti.

Translated by: Tomás A.

 

Sliding Doors

Mary Carmen is a very nice woman, active, enterprising. She was a dancer before she was a bureaucrat, and a good one. She now lives, retired, in her home, which with much, much sacrifice could be rebuilt. She has good taste and is very hardworking, so that whenever you visit you will find everything in perfect order and cleanliness. She has enough time for everything: She reads, watches TV and even visits her friends.  Not long ago she went through a real nightmare caused by an invasion of termites in her apartment, due to a street tree that was sick and no one took care of it, so the unwanted insects made themselves at home in all the neighboring houses as well.  Mary Carmen discovered it one day when she went to open the door of the closet and, with a tremendous CRASH it fell to the floor.  This alerted her, and she immediate took on the task of finding and seizing the undesirables.  She discovered that more than four of her interior doors had been totally eaten away.

Now comes the hard part: finding a carpenter, who also has wood and is not expensive, as she barely has enough money from her retirement to get by. After several tries and frustrations, she finally got hold of someone who could frame doors. Her brother, who lives outside of Cuba, sent her some money to help; she got the rest by making some crafts to sell.

Good news! At last the doors were mounted in their new frames. But happiness, they say, stays but a short time in the house of the poor. Early one morning she discovered that the doorways were swollen shut, and she had new house guests. The carpenter had cheated her. Now penniless and disheartened, my friend found a most practical solution. She removed the frames again. Now all her interior doors are sliding doors. She herself runs them sideways as needed, they simply don’t have frames and are carefully propped against the walls.

Translated by: Tomás A.