Osmel Almaguer’s Diary

“In Jesus Christ is the truth” – at least according to a sign on a door I pass by daily on the way from work. That message is written in brown crayon on the deteriorating entryway wall. Its strokes seem impetuous, giving the idea of having been scrawled out in a moment of passion.

Yesterday — during the half hour I had free between my machine in a cybercafé and a meeting set up with a friend — I used it to go sit on the malecon seawall.

Though I’m a fervent follower of most sports, soccer — which is one of the greatest and most profitable spectacles in the world today — doesn’t arouse great passion in me.

They say that only to participate in an Olympic Games is in itself tremendous of glory for any athlete. Winning a medal, then, must be something like sitting at the table with Olympian gods. However, for Cuban athletes there’s an equivalent privilege that few have ever experienced: the right to the “Olympic Dining Room.”

The bus stop in front of the Capitolio Building. Six o’clock in the late afternoon. A mob of people rush the door of a bus bound for Alamar. I think for a second. The day’s been bad and I don’t want to make it worse by ending up squished trying to get a ride home.

For a long time there has been talk of unifying the two currencies. I don’t think this will happen soon. To be honest—though it may seem like a radical thought—I do not think this will ever be done.

Before my father gave me his version of the story, for me the 1970 sugarcane harvest was a simple incident that gave people something to laugh at. “I haven’t been to a fiesta since the ‘70 harvest,” you could hear any Cuban say with a smile.

No one is a saint here. While we condemn our players who emigrate, banning them, they’re received on the other side as “victims,” and those who accept these “poor fugitives” are seen as “saviors.”

Today Eduardo has spent almost 20 years cutting people’s hair. The money he earns, around 100 CUCs per month (about $110 USD), is enough to take care of himself and to maintain his sick parents.

Teresita sells peanuts at the bus stop. She and her only grandson depend on her earnings to survive. She’s formally retired but her Social Security check amounts to nothing.