Osmel Almaguer’s Diary

In the last six months, the tires of the motorcycle that my mother uses have had to be replaced three times. The most recent one didn’t last thirty days. It fell apart, worn out with huge gaping holes.

Almost everyone is charging and collecting for their work “under the table,” and any employee or official who hasn’t started doing the same will soon begin feeling the consequences of their principles when they sit down at their dinner table.

The driver lost his composure and started ranting and raving at the passengers. He then cursed a few words under his breath that I couldn’t understand from where I was standing, but then the bus started moving again.

The “Dog cemetery,” in addition to accommodating the bodies of the pets of people in the Alamar community, serves as a convenient place for criminals to commit and conceal their crimes. Though the facts I’m referring to don’t happen every day, they are in fact repeated and have been ongoing over time.

Concerning the recently concluded Olympic Games in the British capital, I’d like to point out some trends that characterized Cuba’s performance. This time, though, I’ll refrain from making judgments, drawing conclusions or proposing solutions; I’ll just be an observer.

An intelligent initiative has begun to bear fruit for the ill-treated bus passenger from the Alamar neighborhood. This involves a bus route, formerly known as the cuarentiñas (“forty little ones,” because the fare used to be forty centavos, or about two cents USD).

“What I’ve achieved in life I owe to my being a dreamer,” said Rodrigo. This was during one of those afternoons when it’s better to daydream than to deal with the harsh reality of a bus that never shows up or an empty refrigerator waiting for you at home.

Near my house there’s a woman who rents her eight-month-old daughter to people willing to pay in order to prevent them from having to stand in lines. Both sides — the mother and the customers — are acting in ways that are eroding the little bit of courtesy that still remains among people in Cuba.

In a country of utopias and paradoxes like Cuba, we dream about what we can’t have, and we reject what would allow us to advance. As for the much-discussed issue of transportation, it’s the same situation, and its effects on our lives are as follows…

No one complains. It seems like it doesn’t bother them – but it does me. Still, I won’t say anything. I’m too indifferent to involve myself in what could even turn physical.