Scrambled Pig Brains on Firewood Seasoned with Lots of Acid
Text and photos by Nester Nuñez
HAVANA TIMES – The drizzle smells rancid. The water stays cool but not enough to make lemonade. Brown sugar is all I’ve got left. The tomato paste is holding up, and so is the garlic paste, I think. Maybe the smell is from a potato going bad in the drawer. Nope. Sht! The claria fish fillets! That’s it. I should have fried them or at least marinated them in lots of salt and lime to see if they’d hold up.
When the power comes back, I have to rinse them well and boil them for the dog. Let me check how much flour is left. It’s been a while since there’s been sweet potato at the produce market. At 80 pesos a pound from the private sellers, it’s not worth it. Good, there’s enough flour for two or three more days…
I am a spiritual being. Health, joy, and abundance are my divine inheritance, and today I claim them, with gratitude.
Oh, my dog! What kind of life are we living? No, no, don’t bark, you’ll wake the neighbors. It’s almost two in the morning. I’m hungry too. We have to wait for the power to come back. It might not be long now. It’s already been… 17 hours. If only they were selling gas. I wouldn’t be surprised if they started selling it in dollars, with the justification “and with that money we’ll guarantee the subsidized demand.”
I said don’t bark! I don’t know why the sound of Yamilín’s baby crying bothers you. I can only imagine what that girl is going through. Let’s see if the flashlight battery lasts a bit longer so I can clean the freezer now. You know I love you, my good dog? That smell of yours around your ears. Not the tongue, don’t lick me… Soon I’ll cook you some claria. You’ll see—it might still be good. I’ve got to teach you to cross your fingers, make the sign of the cross, I don’t know, to ward off bad things and make the good things happen.
I appreciate the situations that challenge me and help me grow as a person. I fully trust that I’m on the right path and that the universe is guiding me toward my highest purpose.
To-do list:
- Watch for the street water / fill the tank
- Tear up an old T-shirt / change the kitchen rag
- Check the price of rechargeable batteries for flashlights
- Check the price of 20W bulbs / living room lamp
- Fix eyeglass frame
I think I’m going to work out now. If I fall asleep, I won’t get up when the power comes back and the same thing will happen as yesterday, I won’t get anything done. Twenty push-ups, at least. I always put it off. Procrastination. I hate that word. If I think about how many things we procrastinate on, and why… I procrastinate. You procrastinate. We procrastinate. We live in inertia. Don’t put off for tomorrow what you can do today. We should pay tribute to those who dare to start a new project. Yeah, man, there are people who still dare. Do I find it strange because I’m getting old?
If I don’t feel like cleaning, cooking, washing, what can I say about the broken tile at the house entrance that’s been like that for a while? Break up the old cement, sweep the dust, mix new cement, stick the tile in place, avoid stepping on it, tie the dog up so she doesn’t walk over it, clean again. And for what? So the patch stands out from a mile away. What it needs is all new tiles. If only we were like the Japanese who repair things with gold. What’s that technique called? Kint-something. Kint… Kintsugi! Glue and gold powder. Bring the pieces back together and fix ourselves.
Every cell in my body is healthy and filled with love. I live a wonderful day, full of pleasant surprises. I love being me, I love my life, and I deserve for wonderful things to come to me.
I can’t take the hunger. I’m going to eat rice and mincemeat cold. Or should I wait a bit longer? We ate picadillo de cobo (snail mincemeat) in the ’90s. It was so tough, and it stank, if I remember right. Just like shark smelled like urine when my mother cooked it. Before the ’90s, there was shark and milk. They sold squid. And when I was little, the butcher shop sold live hens. Some of them had eggs inside and my mom would make soup and throw them in. And even younger, they used to sell frog legs too. Remembering isn’t the same as eating again. What we never had was buffalo milk or buffalo meat or ostrich or guinea pig. So many imaginary alternative protein “solutions” have been invented…
Scrambled pig brains! Ugh, I used to eat that. I think I remember it having a slimy texture, like okra, or like this raw claria. Hopefully the dog doesn’t get diarrhea. Nothing smells rotten. Let’s trust. I’ll make coffee on the firewood to stay awake while I wait for the power to come back. It can’t be much longer. I better leave the fridge open so it can air out. My phone’s at 2%, otherwise I’d be watching something funny. I’m going to do twenty push-ups and then take a shower.
To-do list:
- Check wire that smoked in the shower
- Look for paint for the bathroom walls
- Get a bit of white vinyl to touch up the bedroom wall
- Fix gasket – kitchen faucet leak
Looks like Yamilín got the baby to sleep. The heat in that little room must be unbearable! First there were indigo children, then crystal children, rainbow children. Now they say babies choose their parents before they’re born, their family, and all that. The soul of the baby to be born has a certain degree of consciousness or instinct, maybe? Or they come to cleanse their ancestors’ karma and choose a family living in this dark country. Really? Pimpón is a very nice doll made of cardboard, and Toki wants to be your friend. I’m old, asere. Today’s Toki is a chemical powder you mix with water for snack time. It’s not friendship, not a cute catchy song, not a cartoon—it’s a toxic simulation.
Why do thoughts come in the order they do? You say guava, think green, red, lies, and suddenly a mental image comes of a military guy with a cap spouting stuff on the TV news. Thinking under these circumstances doesn’t solve anything. I don’t know what meditating is. Emptying the mind. Turning your mind to black feels a lot like a blackout. Better to read a book, watch shows, or reels on YouTube than to think. People who think too much are less happy—or at least more complicated. Let me do at least five crunches, so I can say I did something.
How many calories does a sit-up burn? A squat? A push-up? How many calories do we take in per day? The garlic paste is from a small business. The label says it’s made with rice, garlic, salt, vegetable fat, and preservatives. What kind of preservative, I wonder? If I put it on my skin or scalp, would it help preserve youth, good spirits, happiness?
My income multiplies in unexpected ways. I deserve a life of abundance, love, and happiness. Thank you for all the gifts, blessings, and miracles that are on their way.
Do people start bathing from the head or the feet? And if it’s the legs, do they bend down to soap them or lift them up? A study by such-and-such famous university proves that starting your shower from the back prevents cavities. The water feels amazing. Having shower gel would be even better. The ration store soap leaves my skin burning, dry. I didn’t make the coffee, and I’ve already showered, even my head. I need to check how much water is left in the tank. The power’s still out. Luckily the river’s nearby to get water and flush the toilet, if things go on like this. What kind of life is this, my dog? If I light the firewood now, I’ll smell like smoke. That’s the thing, every decision you make or don’t make has consequences.
Fifteen years ago, I decided not to leave the country with the rest of my family. A couple of my nieces and a granddaughter were born out there in two other countries. I’ve never hugged them, never laughed with them. The concept of “Out There” is pretty funny. Reminds me of The X-Files. The truth is out there. Island people that we are. The damned circumstance of water, and/or homeland is humanity. It always comes down to what you decide to do. The kid decided to jump off the bridge. That staircase no longer exists. It rotted worse than the claria fish. He was happy, euphoric. He overcame his fear. You could tell from the scream he let out while falling. I like that photo. Maybe I should print another and put it up too. This house isn’t minimalist—it’s hollowed out.
I imagined that up above, in the part outside the photo, God was there. That the boy arrived by his own will Up There, Out There, and God said, surprised, “What are you doing here? I didn’t call for you, your time hasn’t come yet,” and blew him back down to his origin. Not out of scorn—just surprised by the kid’s boldness. But then the jump wouldn’t be by choice. That would cancel out the risk, the courage, the self-trust and the gamble. I don’t know which version is better. That’s why nothing can be fully explained. Let those with a head think. Let everyone interpret the leap into the void in their own way. Let each person live the darkness in their own way. It can’t be any other way.
To-do list:
- Take out the trash
- Clear cobwebs in my room
- Take sandals to be glued
Kintsugi! Fix broken porcelain with gold. What kind of glue will be used one day to fix everything that’s broken here? I’m not talking about the tile at my front door, or the streets, the houses, or the power plants. That’s more or less fixable. I’m talking about national pride, corruption, how to relearn fighting for our rights, how to get over the fear of expressing what we feel… how to get people engaged again in building a social project, a new democracy. Will it take decades of civic education or discovering rare earth metals instead of gold? Is the glue in our national DNA, in our character? Is there any truth to the so-called anthropological damage we’ve suffered?
Does the crowd always need a leader, like Gustave Le Bon said in The Crowd: A Study of the Popular Mind? And what kind of leader awaits us? A Trump, a Milei, a Bukele, a Putin? When the hell will the electricity come back? When will this be a halfway normal country? I have to reread that stuff about the law of attraction, because I don’t think it’s working. I must be doing something wrong. We all must be doing something wrong.
I’m going to eat the food cold and head out to sit in the church park. I could write the saddest lines tonight. The stars shiver in the distance, blue… and so, bring on all the cheesy stuff. Sit! We’ll go out, but later. Don’t bark, my dog! Look at the time. The claria is going to finish rotting. Don’t look at me like that. I know you’re eager, but I can’t let you bite the first person who walks through the park.
Everything comes into my life with ease, joy, and glory. Everything arrives at just the right moment. Everything comes for my greatest blessing. The universe is abundant and provides.
First published in Spanish by Joven Cuba and translated and posted in English by Havana Times.