Rosa Martinez’s Diary

What Cuban doesn’t know that popular and eminently Cuban saying, “the squeaky wheel gets the oil,” and who hasn’t put it into practice at one point or another?

As of late, I haven’t been able to sleep all too peacefully, it must be the daily worries that have multiplied since I find myself out of work. The fact of the matter is that my nights are filled with strange dreams, sometimes nightmares, like the one I’m about to recount.

“Let’s go, time to brush your teeth and go to bed,” I say to my children from the kitchen, while I prepare their school lunches and drink a cola I got for my birthday. “Why do we always have to go to bed so early, mom?” one of them grumbles.

I have a little girl for a neighbor who has the great fortune of having a foreign father. Don’t jump to any conclusions: I don’t believe Cubans are worth less or generally worse than foreigners. On the contrary…

The city of Guantanamo has changed in recent times. People from other provinces say the whole of Cuba is changing. I hope that’s true. A short time ago I met a millionaire who was neither Italian, Spanish nor American. He was born and raised in Guantanamo.

As you know, I have been without work for some months now and, like any self-respecting unemployed person, am looking for a job (or pretending to do so, at least). I fear I will start liking this business of slacking off and begin living by my wits, as many Cubans do.

Ana is 27 years old. She is a typical mulatto woman with big brown eyes, long curly hair, a penetrating gaze, very white teeth and a broad smile. From looking at her, one would say this young Cuban woman has a whole life ahead of her, that the world could be at her feet.

It is not my intention to debate whether the irregularities of local, inter-municipal or inter-provincial transportation are to be blamed on the blockade imposed on the island. What I want to share with you today is what happened to me yesterday…

I have a friend who’s been living on an island in the Caribbean for four years now. From what I see in the pictures I found on the Internet and the ones she kindly sent me so I would see the place she’s spent the last few years in, it is a beautiful place.

In June this year, I joined the ranks of Cuban workers who, for one reason or another, have been left without a job. In my case, it wasn’t because of a “payroll reduction”, as the restructuring of the workforce is referred to in Cuba, the equivalent of “getting fired” in other countries.