From that photo I keep the warmth with which he embraced me and my wife Exilda. He drew us near a table where they were drinking natural juices and then immediately asked us about our son, about the stones that could be heard hitting the windows in those days when they bestowed upon us an act of repudiation. It was very distressing.
Several times we tried to inquire about his health, but then the zipper of his pocket got stuck, making it difficult for him to take out a copy of the book by Mario Vargas Llosa, La Fiesta del Chivo, to give us, and then he did not pay attention to our question again. He wrapped the book in a plastic bag, knowing that this small gift was greater than any other object of value.
Coco has been hung on the cross that many Cubans did not how to carry, or which fear does not permit us to carry. His fight is not a self-flagellation, because he is not carrying it out as a kind of penitence, but as a liberation from that fear which was so well described in X-ray of the Fears in Cuba, that excellent edition that Voices of Change prepared some time ago.
Now the Cuban government is again against the wall. A single man has made the old propaganda machinery in Havana work overtime, doing “voluntary work” and using the reservists of the polygraphic Granma in the struggle to disinform the people 24 lies every second, as if we had not seen this movie before. Except that today’s viewers are outside in the fresh air and don’t have to buy a ticket to enter the theater whose walls have been broken down by the whirlwind of truths that are revealed to the public.
Translated by ricote