A Difficult Cuban Woman
They say there are people who come into this life with a sign that marks all their acts, but they also say that it’s difficult for them to get out of the vicious circles by themselves.
They say there are people who come into this life with a sign that marks all their acts, but they also say that it’s difficult for them to get out of the vicious circles by themselves.
Protests are heard from time to time over the use of the word “Asere” – presently one in the most popular ways in greeting among ordinary Cubans in informal circumstances.
He lives in Miami but travels to Havana often. He left Cuba with his two brothers on a raft in the 90’s. However the stories of the voyage cooled the desires of more than one person here.
“You lose 20 and win 40,” touted this almost 50-year-old man. Nice looking and well dressed, he was standing at the stop for the “P line” bus, the heaviest trafficked route in the capital city.
According to fishermen who line up along the seawall, the contamination used to build up into a layer that was several inches thick – some even estimate that it was a yard or more deep.
This hardworking man who was so dedicated to his family had worked in dairies since his very first job. He was very attached to nature, but especially to animals. “We always had cats and dogs in the house, plus we raised pigs,” he said self-assuredly.
She looked at us sideways and continued transcribing information from a small piece of paper, as five other people waited to be seen at that pharmacy. She was the only clerk at the counter, while another one was occupied in a lively conversation with the cashier along with someone from off the street.
The Zanqueros — who we see walking on stilts among people through the oldest part of the city — owe their existence to the motivation of “Las Crudas”, a rap trio made up of Odaymara, Olivia and Odalys.
Hearing all types of stories that have occurred around the world hasn’t immunized me from the surprise of things that happen here in Cuba due to material shortages.
Except from my childhood memories and the same reference made in a story by the now-deceased Cuban writer Manuel Cofiño about the El Madrid Café, I had never felt what I did when visiting the grill of one of the new generation of self-employed workers businesses near my house.