Being a Teacher in Cuba: Educating with Empty Hands
The bell rings at a school in Havana, but it doesn’t just announce the start of class — it signals the beginning of another day of endurance.
Read MoreThe bell rings at a school in Havana, but it doesn’t just announce the start of class — it signals the beginning of another day of endurance.
Read MoreI used to think that missing Cuba was something that only happened to those who left. Today I see that’s not true. I miss my country while living in it.
Read MoreWhat is at stake goes beyond scarcity: it’s the emotional memory of an entire society, the trust be-tween generations…
Read MoreHere in Cuba, about to suffer the passing of a major hurricane, you don’t know what’s harder — finding the hammer or driving the nail.
Read MoreSomeone said—half joking, that there are already places in Cuba where many people dream of civilization rediscovering us.
Read MoreI have a beautiful 5-year-old daughter and the desire for another child. The rest are obstacles that my objective reality imposes.
Read MoreRepeated disasters, yet the promises remain the same: the drains will be cleaned, the networks rehabilitated, and new machinery purchased.
Read MoreI believe that as one grows older, the world shrinks considerably, becomes faster, and everything that once seemed important ceases to be so.
Read MoreI have two friends, both over 80 years old. I visit them often and run a few errands for them because all their relatives live outside Cuba.
Read MoreThere are stories that touch me and leave scars. They weren’t my experiences, but after listening to them I feel forced to write.
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