About My Frankenstein and a Friend’s Bike in Holguin, Cuba
HAVANA TIMES – I arrived at a friend’s house just as she had finished cleaning. I unintentionally noticed a corner where there was a computer chassis and a power supply. I asked her what she planned to do with those parts because I wanted to build a computer. She said they belonged to her son, who had moved away from Holguín, and that he no longer needed them.
“Oh, really? That’s great because I do!” I replied enthusiastically. “Alright, I’ll sell them to you,” she said. She called her son to confirm the prices and then gave me the details. “Deal,” I said, and we sealed the agreement.
She then told me her son had also been building that computer for a while, but she found out that someone was willing to trade a new laptop for a bed. Since they really needed a bed and could do without the computer, that’s exactly what they did. She informed her son, they found a bed, and they made the trade. That’s how she ended up being able to sell me the parts without any issue.
“Now they’re mine,” I told her, “I’ve been trying to put together a Frankenstein for ages.” That’s what we call a computer pieced together bit by bit. I brought the parts home and set them up on the little table I’d designated for them. I’m thrilled because now I have the chasis, hard drive, monitor, and mouse. I’m still missing the motherboard and keyboard.
You can no longer buy computers in Holguín’s stores with any kind of currency. We have to get them this way—through the informal market, from friends or family who can send them from other countries, or in my case, by assembling them together piece by piece. If only that were the only thing we had to piece together in Cuba. In this country, we’re used to inventing everything—from the food we’ll eat to the computer we’ll work on.
I remember another friend who’s building something, in her case, a bicycle. We’ve laughed a lot as she told me how, being unfamiliar with the subject, she would buy parts that didn’t fit at all. Her father lent a hand, but even so, she wasn’t making much progress. This had been going on for years. Every time she told me about it, I couldn’t stop laughing, and she’d share even more of the saga of the never-finished bike just to make me laugh more.
At least we have this—our sense of humor that helps us get through all our bitter moments. Many believe it’s been our salvation. For others, not so much. Some think it’s been our downfall because it takes the seriousness out of the hardships we’ve endured and continue to face. With this immaturity hanging over us, it feels like we’ll never solve anything.
Read more from the diary of Lien Estrada here on Havana Times.