Veronica Vega’s diary

It’s not that we Cubans have lost an opportunity to speak our minds at that improvised grandstand, at that square that was hastily emptied by the authorities. The government has lost a great opportunity to demonstrate to us and the world that it isn’t lying about its intentions.

The reaction of many people to the sudden official announcement of a rapprochement between Cuba and the USA brings to mind a line from a popular reggaetón song: “A mí me gustan los yuma.” [“I like the yumas”]

Watching the joy with which people embrace the unfettered opportunism known as “planned obsolescence”, I ask myself how it’s possible that civically minded citizens educated in the democratic systems haven’t yet formed spontaneous mass movements to force companies to fabricate durable parts.

The post written by my colleague Irina Echarry entitled “Animal Abuse in Cuba, a Round Table Discussion”, reminded me of the first and only trip I made to the legendary Zoonosis animal shelter, in the Arroyo Arenas municipality.

Every time I see a group of people concerned about Cuba’s future, I feel a breath of hope. Every time that debate reaches the point of “are you a leftist…or just the opposite?” the conversation becomes tainted, and my hopes for Cuba trickle down the drain of exalted egos.

Reading the Havana Times interview with Carles Bosch, director of the documentary Balseros, I remembered the impact the documentary had on me. As for any Cuban marked by the experience of emigration, every character became a kind of alter ego whose destiny I could not be indifferent to.

El post de Ia colega Yusimí Rodríguez “Un pretexto para hablar de racismo”, me recordó una conversación que tuve hace tiempo, con una amiga. Ella, que por ser negra había padecido desde su infancia manifestaciones de segregación, al final del debate estuvo de acuerdo conmigo en lo relativas que pueden ser las causas de discriminación.

I thank Yasser Farres Delgado for having taken the trouble to read and reply to my post Where’s our common sense? The simple fact of debating about this regrettable reality is a way of pulling ourselves out of the apathy we suffer.

Death is such a taboo for us that any news of it takes us by surprise. If the deceased was young and, to the best of our knowledge, healthy, our stupefaction is combined with a sense that they were cheated.

When I interviewed a Babalawo [a priest of the Yoruba, or Santería, religion] a few years ago for Havana Times, I was alarmed at the murky vapors emanating from the religious offerings that are common sights in Havana.