Recently in Cuba Category

Gimme Light

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Sunlight on a Cuban house
Photograph: Claudia Cadelo

Life in Cuba laid bare by Cuban blogger, Claudia Cadelo

Sell and leave

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A man looks out over a balcony from a house in Cuba where Cuban officials plan to let Cubans buy and sell their own homes for the first time in 50 years

Photograph: Ben, a Cuban in Europe. http://bendeasis.blogspot.com


At the beginning of the month Cuban officials opened up discussion on housing rights in Cuba, where people are not allowed to buy or sell their own homes. While citizens have welcomed the move it has also created suspicions. Cuban blogger, Yoani Sanchez, gives her thoughts


The Children

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Cuban conductor, Zenaida Romeu. Image taken from Yoani Sanchez's blog

By Yoani Sanchez, Cuba

Glancing at the TV I was caught by a phrase from Zenaida Romeu, director of the chamber group that bears her name. It's Tuesday and the energy of this woman, a guest on the program With True Affection, Two... had me sitting in front of the screen while the potatoes burned on the stove. She answered the questions skillfully, with a language far from the boring chatter that fills so many other spaces. 

The First Sip of Water

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Coco Fariñas takes his first sip of water, Santa Clara hospital, Cuba. Photo: Yoani Sanchez


Cuban journalist and dissident, Coco Fariñas, ended his 134 day hunger strike last month after the Cuban government agreed to release 52 political prisoners. Cuban blogger, Yoani Sanchez, describes the moment he abandoned his fast. 
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Get out of the fire of hypocrisy

from the edge of barefoot verse

Look for an avenue to throw down these necessities

and don't delay on the threshold of pearls and rain.

Enter like a shooting star.

Break the protocol

and teach the remnants of your soul

chained to the last collection of poems.

None will dare call you a marionette, wretch or fool

You will be - for ever more - safe

from gloomy reflections

from voices from beyond the grave

from the threads that support the mask

Escape from falsity and heaviness

At the end of the passage there is a door.

Escape this minute.

Before nightfall.

Before they trap you again

and force you to howl like a goat

or to jump like a fool.

- Jorge Olivera Castillo

translated by Cat Lucas

by 

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On the corner there is a hydrant which, at night, turns into the water supply for hundreds of families in the area. Even the watercarriers come to it, with their 55 gallon tanks on rickety old carts that clatter as they roll by. People wait for the thin stream to fill their containers and then return home, with help from their children to push the wagon with the precious liquid. Every two days these inhabitants of Central Havana make the water run, tired of waiting for the pipes in their bathrooms and kitchens to bring them something other than noise and cockroaches. They live in dilapidated tenements in the old mansions with ornamented walls and mold in the ceilings. It doesn't matter what the state of the housing is, or whether it's the rainy season or a drought, the problem lies under the ground, in the water mains that are as old and worn out as their grandparents.



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A few days ago, the Internet once again gave me a couple of pleasant surprises. I was in the middle of the process of trying to travel out of Cuba when my phone rang and a voice with a Madrid accent asked if we could plan to meet. I didn't know who the man was because the noise of a passing truck kept me from hearing him when he introduced himself. But I confirmed that at 4:30 there would be coffee waiting for him and his friends on the 14th floor of this mass of concrete. Half an hour later, I received a text message from a commentator on Generation Y, telling me that the digital forums had already published news of Rosa Diez's visit to my house. So I was able to complete the puzzle of who had just made that unintelligible call and pointed out to Reinaldo, with amusement, "Our real life is running a few hours late with respect to our virtual existence."

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Havana Has The Air of a Brothel...


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With a tight sweater and gel-smeared hair, he offers his body for only twenty convertible pesos a night. His face, with its high cheekbones and slanted eyes, is common among those from the East of the country. He constantly moves his arms, a mixture of lasciviousness and innocence that at times provokes pity, at others desire. He is a part of the vast group of Cubans who earn a living from the sweat of their pelvis, who market their sex to foreigners and locals. An industry of quick love and brief caresses, that has grown considerably on this Island in the last twenty years.

Havana has the air of a brothel at times, particularly if you pass through Monte Street where it meets Cienfuegos. Young women in their flashy - if a little faded - clothes offer their "merchandise," especially after night falls and the spandex doesn't look quite as baggy nor the circles under their eyes quite as dark. 
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"The Murmurs Overlap... Everyone Spies on Everyone."


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He had repaired all types of books, from Bibles to incunabula with pages on the point of turning to dust. He was very good at returning to their places torn-out pages, repairing covers, and spraying them with a chemical solution that made the ink stand out. Through his hands had passed nineteenth century manuscripts, first editions of the works of Jose Marti and even a couple of copies of the Constitution of 1940. To all of them he returned the elegance they had once had, and on salvaging them he read them, like the doctor who wants a peek into the soul of a patient whose viscera he already knows well.


Investors flee as Castro's promises turn to dust

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By Yoani Sanchez
With the mass stampede of foreign investors, the store shelves show the real statistics of our finances. My mother called early to tell me there is toilet paper in a distant market; she said I should hurry because word was already out and it soon would be gone. I go out looking to the right and left like a fan, to see if there is any kind of juice to put in Teo's cup for the morning.

 But the shortage of supplies is remarkable. Rio Zaza brand Tetra Paks have disappeared from the shops; the former joint venture that produced them is now mired in a corruption scandal. The black market has collapsed; it's no secret to anyone that it is fed by the diversion of resources from the factories and the theft of goods while in transport to the shops.



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