Suffering to Celebrate
My grandmother’s birthday is approaching, perhaps her last, and my mother is pulling out her savings. My grandmother asks for a cake.
My grandmother’s birthday is approaching, perhaps her last, and my mother is pulling out her savings. My grandmother asks for a cake.
Almost 10 years have passed between this and my previous publication in Havana Times. A lot can happen in a decade.
A friend’s father passed away. He was a young man, 66, but had many illnesses: diabetes, hypertension, and he smoked like a chimney.
The young artist Mabel Melendez built a wooden tank widely seen at the opposition march in Carabobo, Venezuela and on social networks.
In the long hours that remain until the Brazilian officials start attending to us at 8 AM, I talk with some of the people near me.
He was my coworker at the Botanical Garden. He had just graduated in Biology from the University of Oriente, in Santiago de Cuba.
Last week, seeking shelter from the rain, I took refuge in the front of a building on Amargura Street in Old Havana.
I’ve already mentioned in my diary posts the gatherings we friends in the neighborhood hold, on any corner.
Leading up to the presidential elections in Venezuela, many, like me, have predicted that Maduro will not recognize the people’s will.
Twenty years ago, when I was studying at the Matanzas Evangelical Theology Seminary, I got to know many theologians personally.