Author: osmel

The Cuban national television network “Tele Rebelde” has again started showing prime time reruns of the legendary American series “Little House on the Prairie.” Rather than a marathonic soap opera deserving to be reshown twice in a span of less than three years, it exists more like a museum fossil.

He seemed more like a cartoonist, one of those who charge ten pesos or one CUC for a job that often isn’t even that good and only takes a few seconds. My first reaction was to ignore him and to continue the conversation I was having with some friends…

The landscaping could easily be that of any one of the many green spaces that often adorn our city. The sparkling water could be a river, a small pond or something of that sort. But it’s not. Rather, it’s a flood of sewage waste caused by a leak.

The Electric Company is changing the lines to every house on the block; but during this work, several explosions have occurred and several street lights have burnt out. One lady’s television tube in her house even went up in a flash of sparks and smoke.

Little by little, the fluorescent tubes that used to light my house and my father’s house have proceeded to burn out. He has, in turn, replaced them with energy efficient ones. Now his evenings watching TV are colored by a bothersome light he put in the dining room.

A few days ago I attended a literary presentation that featured writer Abel Prieto Jimenez as the guest. I stress the title “writer” because — although we all know that he was the Minister of Culture and currently functions as an advisor to the president of Cuba — his presence there was due only to his role as a scholar.

“There are two types of revolutionaries,” a friend of mine said to me, though I didn’t respond, since I completely disagree with him. “There’s one type of revolutionary — I’d like to tell him — that you can identify by their level of honesty.”

Berroa is a community to the east of Havana. And while it’s a “community,” properly speaking, its only current importance is as a commercial zone. In it is located Havana’s famous duty-free zone, within which lie numbers of warehouses.

“It’s good that at least that someone is still inspired by literature,” I said, thinking about the less than 15 people who showed up for the two poetry readings I’ve given this month.

A few days ago I turned 33 – the same age as Jesus when he died. Unlike him, fortunately, I haven’t been crucified or required to pay for the sins of humankind – at least not yet. Instead, I had a small celebration with a few friends.