Leonor Mesa
Dora Leonor Mesa, Translator: Unstated
The idea is widespread of a Cuba that opens its doors to foreigners. In
my judgment, the presence of a unknown foreign accompanying our young
people causes any family more concern than pleasure. Reasons abound.
The visit and statements in Amsterdam's Red Light District of Mrs.
Mariela Castro, director of the Center for the Study of Sexuality
(CENESEX), have added fuel to the fire of prostitution in Cuba.
I'm pretty sure my childhood friend, G, agrees with me. She had the
bitter experience of receiving a foreigner in her home, who from his
car, was trying to give a massage to her daughter who at that time had a
contract to work in Madrid.
Cuban to the core, G's blue eyes turned to steel on seeing the
"character" — she told me later — and instead of politely greeting him
shouted from the doorway:
"Where the F… is my daughter?"
With such a greeting even the Dalai Lama would lose his composure, so
the individual, stunned, ipso facto remembered the words "good manners"
and "decent family." He had to get out of his rented car, explain
everything in detail, call Spain on his cellphone to speak with the
girl, abundant apologies and excuses, while G told him what evil he was
going to die of.
I commented that her attitude seemed exaggerated. G, still bristling
over the incident added:
"When I saw him coming I thought it was the pimp who'd come to take my
other daughter."
L went with her daughter on the bus, and with no respect for her
presence, a "yuma" — American — insisted on talking to the girl, on the
point of crying from shame. The mother was furious and the passengers
insulted by the nerve of the man. Luckily the two women got off soon.
The collective anger was taking an unpredictable turn.
The young profession T, approached by someone from "abroad" whom she
barely knew, who wanted to try "my heaven, my love." The anecdote isn't
complete although I imagine the end… T is one of those who doesn't put
up with things, even from her colleagues at work.
There is a little brothel near by house. The lovely neighbor, recently
arrived in the neighborhood, created it years ago, always "dressed
chastely" like a famous Harlequin romance character. One part of her
suit had the color of "good person" and the other, active informant.
The costume she wore was worthy of Mata Hari. But to keep the tradition,
she also involved some of her family, who were still young but who had
had their own clientele for some time. The nationality of the clientele
didn't matter when the time for "hosting" them came.
The turned the music up high, encouraged the young people to imitate
them, and nobody saw a thing. For years moral blindness has become an
epidemic, until several went abroad and those who showed up for them
had, it seemed, better vision because most didn't deal with them.
There were those who accused them of jealousy and another colleague of
the "trade" was the one who took the blame. No one had any pity, nor the
necessary courage to defend her, not even considering that she
prostituted herself to feed her young son. Straight to jail for being
like the character "Suet Dumpling Butterball" in a story by Guy de
Maupassant.
Anyway, I endorse the idea of a red, pink, violet neighborhood. To be a
worker in the oldest trade in the world is each person's decision. There
is not always a helping hand or good advice nearby in difficult times.
Suet Dumpling Butterball was a good person, but the price she paid is
what made the story and its author famous
In truth, I want to receive visitors in my house without fear of
becoming "prey" to the neighbors. I wish people would not confuse decent
people with others from the sex guild.
Since the arrival of Christopher Columbus, the island "Key to the Gulf"
has always shown kindness to visitors. We Cuban women and men are, for
the most part, decent, but equally we are tired of the humiliating
confusion. Cuba is virtuous, let's not turn it into a pigsty. Trying to
clean with our hands and mouths bound.
November 25 2011
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