Human Rights in Cuba

Time To Change

March 2017
« Feb   Apr »
Waiting for help
Waiting for help

Requiem For My Havana / Somos+, Grettha Yedra

Island, what happened to you?
Who changed the spring?
Who shut the door?
What ship left you alone?

Island, they have changed your clothes
They have distorted decency
They have trafficked your innocence
They have shit on your equality and mine.

Island, by Lien Y Rey

Somos+, Gretther Yedra Rodriguez, 29 March 2017 — A few days ago I
arrived from Cuba. I was there about a month. Havana was where I spent
most of my time. I hadn’t seen it for almost two years, two years of not
feeling the breath of the Malecon which enchants even the most
skeptical. I suffered the spectacle. The most controversial capital in
the world felt to me like a Dantesque chaos. In a few years, I thought,
it’s going to look like a pile of trash where there once was a city.
Cardboard houses proliferate on the periphery and spread throughout the
country. Havana, my beautiful Havana, what happened to you?

I saw something that I had not seen before and that, in the country
where I now reside, caused me great sorrow: I saw beggars, tons of them.
Beggars and children wandering aimlessly along the Malecon and the
historic center. Old people with lost gazes, filled with despair and
empty hands. Irritable people, alcoholic men… and even women. State
companies in a lamentable state, indolent workers who say NO for the
pleasure of saying it.

I saw Havana as a raggedy old man, lying in a doorway while a copy of
the Granma newspaper pretends to protect him from the cold.

On my way from Matanzas to the city I could see idle lands, plagued by
the invasive marabou weed, and I thought enviously of the Ecuadorian
earth, deeply cultivated, filled with cattle, of the rows of plants
created by the indians and native people. I thought with sadness that
there was a time when Cuban land did not suffer by comparison to the
beautiful Andean land. It is not necessary to be a specialist to see the
decline in agricultural and livestock, to notice the huge expanses of
idle farmland, the volume of imported continually increasing,
making up for the deficit in national production.

While most of the Asian and Latin American countries lagged behind Cuba
in the 1960s, they have now overtaken Cuba in the diversification of
their economies, the development of competitive manufacturing sectors
for export, and the decline in their dependence on a limited group of
export products. And knowing this data and returning to Cuba, it
hurts. It forces you to rethink many things, to not remain silent when
the instinct of self-preservation demands it.

As I was walking along Montes street, I looked in disbelief at how the
building collapses multiplied in only two years of absence. A man,
seeing my puzzled face, told me: “Looks like they threw bombs, right?”
My silence was agreement. And the bombs exploded in my head. Nothing
they promised was fulfilled, economic failure has made a beautiful
country into an arid land, cold and dirty, where people fight to survive.

How to wake an entire people from their slumber? How to tell them that
humanity said “Enough” and got up and walked, and that we should do the
same if we want a future?

We cannot remain with the masterful lines of Gabriel García Márquez,
where an omniscient narrator asserts that those condemned to a hundred
years of solitude do not have a second chance on earth. We are not
García Márquez’s fictional Macondo, we are Cuba. We come from the line
of Maceo, Gomez and Martí, Jose Antonio Echeverria, Frank and
Camilo. Let us honor these men by rescuing what we have all lost. Let us
awaken from this lethargy and, without shaking off the dust of the road,
let us act. These are times to act.

It would kill me to say that Cubans are afraid, that it is difficult to
reveal ourselves to a totalitarianism that constantly represses and
annuls. In Cuba today, fear no longer exists, what we lost was faith and
with it shame. From the ashes of Havana we must rescue her.

Source: Requiem For My Havana / Somos+, Grettha Yedra – Translating Cuba

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Zapata lives
Zapata lives
No place to live
No place to live