Thursday, February 9, 2012

Very few…

Very few…
Published February 9, 2012 | By Translating Cuba

It is not surprising how many people go out in mass, before any
revolutionary summons. In Cuba, the State is the absolute owner of
everything; hospitals, schools, radio and television stations, hotels,
discotheques, restaurants. The State is the sole employer. At the
address of each one of these places, there appear the photos of the
State, "personified" in its commanders, like revolutionary "saints", who
sold the cornerstone of the social justice in exchange for their
survival. And to make sure that there were no returns, they
expropriated the owners of the companies, hardened capitalists, who
today might be alternatives [to the state]; shelters. Very few decide to
jump into the void to stop being mercenaries of the State and
accomplices in their own tragedy.

Nowadays, the house of Sara Marta has been surrounded by the State
Security in a 100 metre perimeter. Twelve people, until yesterday, held
a wake for the death of Wilmar Villar. My friend Augustine did not let
it pass.

Very few people declare themselves in opposition to the government
because people do not want to be dismissed from their jobs, be demoted
or land in more serious trouble. Having faith in their own consciences
(which most Cubans have lost) a few have decided to touch the door
knocker of destiny; in conflict with the laconic state which decides
destinies and fights against God in every person.

To give you an idea of the threat and criminality of State Corporation
poses, you have to remember the case of Laura Pollan. When she was ill,
with a disease that probably would not have caused death, she had to go
to the Calixto Garcia hospital, scary for everyone. Certainly, if
visited by State Security, which I venture to suppose, orders to the
medical staff could have been given, "mission" dependent, to allow the
negligence causing the death of the Lady in White, who was inconvenient
to the state.

The police who beat and punished Wilmar Villar are also state employees.
At the corner of my house, Lombillo and Boyeros, the Police Directorate
distributes live poultry and egg cartons to their tarnished servants
who, for the donation, do the colita (a doped-up dance) in the parking
lot. The political department of each unit has a policy to acknowledge
"the lord" of the state and to obey any order even if it means abusing
to death an unarmed human being who only was a part of a protest. No one
should be misled about these "people."

We are considered mentally destitute, deserving the benefit of
veterinary care. Except for those "ungrateful" like Wilmar who
ironically died of pneumonia in a country where two medical students
woke me up this morning to take my temperature, and before my denial,
asked me not to say anything.

The octopus of the state monopoly, keeps their employees at one of the
lowest poverty levels; earning less than 50 cents on the dollar (CUC)
per day. Because nobody wants to get into trouble, [the state] has
achieved the miracle of people applauding slave labour and slavery of
conscience. Very few are willing to die on a hunger strike to demand
freedom.

When I hear them say that persons who complain are "salaried" [that is,
"in the pay of the empire"], I think of the state as the employment
agency, with the power to grant permits to allow you a little pizza
businesses. That "checks" with the "Committees for the Defense of the
Revolution" to determine whether or not someone gets a better job. And
do I think Laura's nurses, Villar's jailers, who are only fulfilling
their ideological work, have no consciousness of the poor who do not eat
beans daily, where there is no other employer or homeowner so that the
"State of the caudillos is secure." Those who swallow the pill of
revolutionary hagiography what tyranny do they believe it is necessary
to fight?

Translated by: Hank Hardisty

January 30 2012

http://translatingcuba.com/?p=14916

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