by Claudia Marqués Linares, independent journalist
Published Monday, November 30, 1998 in Cubanet.
Havana, November, 1998. Obispo is one of those streets without which Havana would not be the city it is. This is where per chance I met a friend the other day. I watch him regularly on television every evening, where he eloquently maintains, without hesitation, that he speaks for and represents the young people of Cuba.
"Hey, you don't even look like you've ever done any sugar cane cutting in your life", I told him, remembering that precisely the day before, sweating and waving a machete, I had watched him reporting on the work of young volunteers during the sugar cane harvest time.
"That's just a journalistic trick. I'm not a sugar cane cutter."
"Yeah, that's journalism in Cuba – simulation, lies, manipulation", I told him without thinking twice and with a feeling of malaise.
Surprised, he answered: "It looks like you don't have a good relationship with the Revolution."
"With what? Do you believe in that thing called Revolution?", I asked him.
And he answered: "Yes, that's what it's called. I live and work here, and I know that mistakes have been made. But this can be fixed. Besides, we don't want the Yankees."
I could not help myself and told him everything I think about his Revolution. I told him about human rights being violated and about Cubans being sent to jail for thinking differently. I reminded him of those who are thrashed for wanting to leave the Island and of those who drown out in the open the sea searching for freedom. I reminded him of the March 13th tugboat incident and of many other things, including things that I have experienced myself.
And then I told him: "That's what you are defending, journalist, and you are an accessory to all of this wrongdoing."
To which he responded: "Now I know, you are one of those human rights activists."
After a while, I suggested that we sit down, and noticing that he was afraid, he said: "They must always be watching you."
When we finished our argument, we went to my house. There, I gave him a copy of "The Fatherland Belongs to All", a copy of the magazine "Carta de Cuba" (Letter From Cuba), and several independent press articles which he found very interesting. Later on I learned that after reading everything I had given him, he proceeded to burn all of it.
A few days later he told me that the State Security had paid him a visit, and that they had cautioned him that he should continue being a good boy. I asked him how soon could we have another talk, and he replied:
"Listen, I'm already in trouble, so, if possible, don't even breathe my way." It seemed to me that he was depressed.
Every evening my friend continues to pretend that he speaks for and represents the young people of Cuba. I have been thinking and have come to the sad conclusion that a large portion of our youth pretends to believe in the regime, and that the regime pretends to believe that Cuba's youth agrees with the regime.
Translated for CubaNet by Elena Treto