Martin Guevara

Today, I had something of a domestic dispute with an on-line acquaintance who asked me what I thought about my uncle Ernesto “Che” Guevara having been a “butcher.”

I would love to look at those who would beat their chests and yell “socialism or death!” straight in the eye and question those who would deprive those of us who admired countries in the West for their freedom of expression, plurality and culture. What could they possibly tell us now? That Paris Hilton represents the exploited workers of the United States, that she is a shining beacon of progressive thought or an icon of the counter-culture vanguard?

My nephew, Canek Sanchez Guevara, son of Hildita, my oldest cousin and one of the best in the Guevara family, no doubt, has passed away. I am speechless.

In this timid first approach between Cuba and the United States, what makes me almost more indignant to watch all those two-bit opportunists, the world’s most obsequious and pusillanimous figures that could be found in the market of cowardice.

During my first years in Havana, I lived in the Habana Libre hotel (the Havana Hilton before the revolution). Every morning, I would head down to the mezzanine to have breakfast at a posh restaurant. I would order a pair of fried eggs that came with thick slices of warm ham beneath, and ask for a serving of fresh cheese on the side.

Now that Cuba has decided to definitively (though surreptitiously) change its social model and the structure and foundations of its economy, and the novel figure of the national entrepreneur, stemming from current hierarchies and the corporate parameters to be established by these, will soon begin to flourish on the island.

“Folks, get a nose-full o’ this!” my friend Nene said, prompting the passengers that thronged at the front of the bus to laugh and nod their heads in agreement, while the group of Russians who had gotten on at the previous stop continued to talk with the driver and ask him something to do with the address they were heading to.

In the course of years – and for different reasons – I’ve ended up living in First, Second and Third World countries. The first label continues to refer to developed capitalist countries, the second was used to refer to developed or quickly developing socialist nations and the third is still used to describe underdeveloped or slowly developing societies.

Most weddings in Cuba used to be celebrated by throwing a big party at the house of one of the newly-weds, with enough food and drink to keep anyone from going home hungry, thirsty or critical of the spread. That’s what Maria and Oscar’s wedding was like…

They gave us the keys to our new apartment in Alamar. The year was 1987. Even though the property title was the same as that of the other apartment in that sprawling neighborhood, even though it was located in a five-story tenement (without elevator) like the other place, the area it was in was significantly different to Zone 6, where we had lived until that point.