In the ‘90s, a poem satirized the disappearance from Cuban tables of several agricultural products.* Its author never signed the friendly verses, but the caustic style pointed directly to a well-known writer. Those were the years when CAME [Council for Mutual Economic Assistance, or Comecon] was going to hell in a handbasket along with the… Continue reading A stray monosyllable
The reprimands of Wednesday
At nine in the morning an official looks, with boredom, at the citation we have presented at the door of the 21st and C station. We are left waiting on one of the benches for about 40 minutes, while Reinaldo and I take the opportunity to discuss all those things the dizziness of daily life… Continue reading The reprimands of Wednesday
First round
I swear I haven’t run a green light, nor have I bought cheese on the black market for more than two months, and I have not walked out of any store without paying. I don’t recall having violated the laws–too much–these last days, not even by passing myself off as a foreigner to use the… Continue reading First round
Missing the marches
<> There is a glaring absence in our daily landscape. Those calls to march, so frequent two years ago, have become rarer, leaving behind the impression of a city permanently on edge. It used to be a rare month that Habaneros were not called to a demonstration to shout slogans and applaud passionate speeches. They… Continue reading Missing the marches
Prazos Traiçoeiros
Lembram-se daquela pousada conhecida como “las casitas de Ayestarán”? Pelas causas que todos conhecemos, converteu-se um dia num albergue para pessoas sem casa e, por essas mesmas causas que não vamos repetir aqui, veio abaixo a sua construção. Desde meio ou final de 2006 que se planeou construir lá um grupo de casas. O prazo… Continue reading Prazos Traiçoeiros
Goodbye to the tutu
Diplomacy is one of those arts that makes me itch, one of those dances where watching the performance makes me seasick. However much I try to understand the ambassadors, foreign ministers and that whole stripe of cunning characters, their actions only manage to confuse me more. They embrace and smile, exchange promises and take pictures… Continue reading Goodbye to the tutu
What more could one ask?
In reference to the jury prize for Best Weblog and the award for Reporters Without Borders in The BOBs contest. Well yes, but there is still much that I lack. Not exactly prizes, but rights long neglected, like the ability to be read within my own country. I must be able to say all this… Continue reading What more could one ask?
It’s a nail biter
Finally the excitement around the BOBs awards comes to an end. We know that Generation Y came in first in the public vote in the Reporters Without Borders category, but we still have to wait for what the jury says. Whatever happens we are going to celebrate it, because we don’t need much of a… Continue reading It’s a nail biter
Convite aos historiadores e “cubanólogos”
Quando alguém pretende contar a história de Cuba da forma mais breve possível, pode recorrer a uma periodização de carácter geral que se reduziria ao seguinte: Seis mil anos (aproximadamente), em que a ilha foi habitada por aborígenes; 388 anos debaixo do sistema colonial espanhol; 4 anos de governo de intervenção norte-americano; 56 anos de… Continue reading Convite aos historiadores e “cubanólogos”
I’d love to choose
For weeks, there are words like “ballot box,” “votes,” and “candidates” that persecute us everywhere. First there were the elections in the United States and now the issue has been revived with what happened on Sunday in Venezuela. It’s as if at the end of the year everything conspires to remind us of our condition… Continue reading I’d love to choose