HAVANA TIMES – A foreign friend expressed her apprehension before accepting a trip to Cuba as a tourist. It was a country she had never visited before, and now her daughter was inviting her to go with her. She had received news about the island—unfortunately accurate—regarding the poverty, a result of the extreme economic crisis that has dragged on for decades without resolution, and about a despotic government that eradicates rights, freedom, and justice from society, along with all the sad consequences that the lack of these elements brings to the social fabric.
This foreign friend said that, having experienced a lack of freedom in her childhood, knowing that in a country people are not allowed to enter or leave their homeland, for example, affected her deeply. She didn’t want to witness the level of misery she’d been told existed in this land. Her son had already visited Cuba and recommended she bring lots of small gifts, and to be careful when handing them out, because the population was very eager for material things and would snatch them away just like that.
Because of these reports, she was hesitant about taking this trip. Also, she said her mindset was grounded in freedom and money, and in this country, there was neither (I would say none of the three, four, five…). But faced with her indecision, her son—wanting her to experience the other reality that also exists in this same territory, such as its beaches, landscapes, and significant places—told her: “Mom, they’re also a kind, joyful people who love to dance.”
This last comment made her reflect, and in the end, she agreed to go. When I heard this story from a woman beyond our shores, I had to smile. How can one say it isn’t so? How can one contradict these fears and these truths? This is how we are—and perhaps, including the Mystery, it’s what saves us.
Our kindness, our music, and our joy. That is how a dictatorship of the proletariat, which from its very origins internalized the belief that all that was needed was to uphold a particular ideology (communism) at any cost—because the world must be saved from imperialism—markets us to the world.
But this situation—the good and the bad we carry as a people, as a culture—should not and is not the end point of life’s narrative. That’s why we are always in the process of rebuilding ourselves. Personally, I trust that with all our joy, kindness, and music, we will know how to build a country that is free, responsible, and just.
Because without those three human conditions, what is the rest that’s being sold really worth? Who is it for? Is that product, sold at the cost of so much suffering, even valid? The caste that has skillfully and indifferently managed to shape us into a (crude) product to suit its interests and needs cannot prevail much longer. When many of us are born merely to function according to the determinations of a few, life loses its meaning.
Yes. Cuba could be the most beautiful land human eyes have ever seen—for those of us from here and for those born far away—but I believe that only if, in addition to its beautiful and noble nature, it is home to women and men who experience real dignity—not just in speech—and know how to build the social values that have taken our civilization so much effort to conceive.
