I’d begun a post commenting on Irina Pino’s “The death of my father.” I wanted to write about the brutal indifference in hospitals in Cuba, when processing a deceased person – something that also should be considered a service.
Cuba is returning to normal. What’s normal for Cuba is for people to struggle to survive, as Obama and the American Dream retreat, once again, to a distance of 90 miles.
That a foreign leader should speak of the real needs of Cubans for the first time in more than fifty years is much more than one of the numerous “surrealist” details of our history. It is the implacable victory of time and logic.
In Cuba, where emigration has been a pressing issue for decades, people tend to think that the solution to the most serious problems is to be found in a passport, a visitor’s visa, or a raft. Death, however, is a country more immediate than any other…
I am convinced that mediocrity does not actually exist. That is to say, I do not believe mediocrity stems from something we lack. It is, at most, a choice. We all have a unique gift, which could be as simple as having a pleasant personality, the ability to give others hope.
I want to thank readers for their comments regarding the post To Leave or Not to Leave Cuba. To my friend Rene, who appears to be sincerely worried about me, I would like to ask whether he’s offering psychiatric services.
In a conversation we had between the many of us who write for Havana Times, somebody brought up the topic of choosing to emigrate and the editor said that it would be a good subject for us to discuss: whether we would leave or not, and why.
My sister told me that her six-year-old grandson reproached her mother for practicing the Yoruba religion. “Those saints you talk about are not saints. Children go missing because of them in December.”
I would like to thank the readers who commented on my previous post, and clarify a number of points that may remain confusing, as I limited myself to narrating facts and expressing feelings that do not constitute a definitive verdict.
Entire generations who have developed a skills that prove useless in an organized system, sometimes holding degrees they have bought, lacking in or entirely devoid of training, in practice master no trades at all.