So began the lyrics of a very nice song that was popular in our country in the forties, by a Spanish group whose name escapes me now. I was a child then and I loved listening to the absurdity of the lyrics. It told of a Baroness who left her palace to go on vacation, leaving her steward in charge of the property. Every so often they communicated by phone and he told her what had gone on in the palace.

These days my country reminds me of that song. Events are triggered one after another, and the long list of calamities seems endless, but according to the radio, TV, and the print press, the only places there are problems are beyond our borders. The only thing that has made news is the earthquake measuring 5.5 on the Richter scale, in the east, particularly in Santiago de Cuba, where people unaccustomed to these natural events fled their homes in fear, to occupy the parks and green areas. But it seems that it’s the only thing that deserves media coverage. I heard of a lady who upon hearing the news cried, “Noooooo! At last something is moving in Cuba.”