Four or five years ago, daring to speak openly in Cuba of political change or transition, as some call it, was tantamount to self-crucifixion and virtually nobody dared expose themselves to that. But now, it is striking how many fellow citizens broach the subject with the greatest nonchalance.
Euphemisms (which are of course words and expressions used for replacing other ones that are considered bad sounding, distasteful or inappropriate), are commonly used in Cuba, especially by those seeking to avoid “annoying interpretations.”
The campaign against the Aedes aegypti mosquito is the priority of our country’s Department of Hygiene and Epidemiology, which is under the Ministry of Public Health. Hoards of work crews are engaged in the campaign against this carrier of dengue fever, yellow fever and other diseases.
US professor Ted Henken, who is doing work on gender and the online media, developed a questionnaire for some of us Havana Times bloggers to give our opinions. I want to share with you some of my views regarding certain focuses in the professor’s survey.
Catholic symbolism is being erected for the visit of the Pope to Santiago de Cuba, with crucifixes and machetes superimposed in such a paradoxical visual context that Christians and revolutionaries seem to have never held any antagonisms.
“People who work honestly, whatever their jobs, they deserve to be well regarded. No work is denigrating!” Those were the words my brother and I used to hear from our late grandfather.
This time Enrique Pineda Barnet presents us with Verde Verde (Green-Green) an atemporal and a-spatial plot, but with obvious references to a chimerical Cuba. The story line develops from the gay flirtation between Alfredo, a sailor, and Carlos, a trendy and go-getting computer technician.
Double standards are almost an inherent condition of Cuban life. The visceral fear of the truth, as well as our getting used to things seeming what they aren’t, have become practices used by many people to avoid the classic social stigmas of “standing out” or “asking for trouble.”
A goldmine of memories lie amidst the wreckage of what was once a great theater, the Teatro Oriente of Santiago de Cuba.
As children, when my brother and I went for a walk with our mother, we would always ask her to take us to the park where the “little” orchestra played. Our innocence was such that’s what we called the “Municipal Band,” which performed on Saturday and Sunday afternoons at Santiago de Cuba’s Cespedes Park.