I watch my fellow citizens go to the bodega like automatons, meekly vegetate at work and cast hopeless ballots at the polls. Their lives pass by while they shop for ever shrinking bread rations, collect their symbolic wages which don't stretch far enough for even a bad life, and raise their hands at the meetings to nominate candidates. None of those chosen in the current electoral process will manage to solve the daily problems that weigh upon life in Cuba. Of the candidates my fellow citizens know almost nothing, barely recognizing their photos or their biographies, which are stuffed with "accomplishments" and the almost universal statement that they are "of humble origin." Yet not a single word is devoted to their programs or intentions once they assume their new post.
Tonight is the meeting to nominate candidates for the area of concrete blocks where I live. The citation arrived a couple of days ago, meanwhile on TV they are calling for us to choose the best and most capable. I have not one iota of faith, however, in a mechanism that has proven itself unworkable and discriminatory. I would like to raise my hand for the neighbor of strong words and concrete projects who lives across from me, but there are orders to forestall any nomination of a "dissident," including those who may only seem inclined toward change. It is highly likely that the nomination will go to the same delegate who has, for more than ten years, promised us solutions, knowing full well it is not in his hands to deliver them. He is the comfortable candidate of these useless elections, while we are mere figurines who must raise our hands or mark our ballots.
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