Veronica Vega’s diary

I was inspired to write this post by a recent conversation I had with other HT colleagues. We were talking about countries where people have freedom of speech in other countries and how it relates to Cuba.

Cuba is experiencing an awakening. During the mourning period for the passing of Fidel Castro (sincerely or pretending to do so), people began to question matters and there were unspoken or explicit displays of relief.

With the harmlessness that indirect references give us (films, comments made by emigre friends or relatives), Cubans make a god out of US citizens, even though they have great geographical, cultural and political differences.

Everybody knows that death sustains life and that life sustains death. Maybe it´s because of this undeniable fact that a group of friends gathered together to remember the poet Juan Carlos Flores on the day that he would have turned 54. We had an extraordinary experience.

Who doesn’t remember the emotions we had when we faced life at the peak of our youth? The discovery of requited love and the strength to dream which we find along with it, the power to go headfirst into the future…

My neighbor tells me that her son, who began studying at a pedagogical institute affiliated to the University of Havana, was taken aback when in English class (the subject he hopes to graduate in) the teacher asked them who didn’t have a smartphone.

On Thursday September 15th, the sea that washes up on “Russian beach” in Alamar, spread the ashes of poet Juan Carlos Flores, who couldn’t even wait for his end prescribed by natural decree.

When I notice that weeks have gone by and I haven’t been able to finish off an article for my diary, I examine my conscience and I’m forced to admit that I’ve fallen into the general apathy of the Cuban people.

If we see a place associated with so many happy memories, run down, broken, forgotten, it’s inevitable that we feel like something (or someone) is mocking what our past is worth, the hard work and resources that were needed to build it…

I’ve been witness to a doctor’s disabling prognosis on more than one occasion, which destroys in one phrase the concept of “tomorrow”. However, the worst thing is the sick person’s faith, which accepts this as something inevitable.