Pawel Smolenski, Gazeta Wyborcza

I would like to speak about my trip to Cuba with the other journalists from Gazeta Wyborcza.  We planned a few days trip with visits to people who are connected with the Cuban democratic opposition – but those not well known.  We drove to people who were the most “singled-out,” also the most jeopardized by the repression, which make them people of bravery and having an inner feeling of righteousness.  I would like to present three stories of these people in which one is very sad, and the remaining two are uncommonly happy. 

The first, this sad story took place in a small town in the west of Cuba (…).  We were supposed to visit a family there – one of the 75 dissidents jailed and sentenced to 20 years of  imprisonment for collecting signatures for the Varela project a few years earlier.  Streets in Havana or in smaller Cuban towns are marked quite poorly, if at all.  If we want to get to someone, we have to ask people on the street, look for tracks because of the lack of house numbers.  That is why we were going around the small town for about an hour and a half without any result.  It was an unpleasant experience, because we asked for the address of a political prisoner and people on the streets turned away from us; they did not want to talk.  Then I had a feeling that between the Cubans and me is a glass, non-transparent sheet from which I rebound, not having an opportunity to make a step further.  Rather in poor spirits, we drove 25 kilometers south to a [certain] village.  This type of village in Cuba is called a slavish village.  They are to a certain extent work camps, a bit of a milder rigor, in which it is not allowed to leave.  There, we got to the indicated address.  We entered the house asking first about the possibility to hide the car in order not to attract the attention of the security service and not to endanger anyone with any unpleasantness.  The host of the home said:  “You do not have to hide anywhere.  Here everyone is our friend.”  It was the first signal for me, that something which seemed only a dream, that is a civil society in Cuba, is slowly being created.  The signal that there is a bunch of brave, just, and courageous people in Cuba who are able to speak at loud about human rights.  Thanks to this visit, we were able to see how the solidarity of humanity helps to survive this horrible time under a horrendous government of the regime.  As it slowly emerges, it slowly becomes stronger.

Berta Artunez from central Cuba tells me about the actos de repudio incident – it is a form of repression regarding the opponents when this organized band of a tenfold or a few bandits arrive to the person’s home, who is not afraid to say or think differently than it is allowed, and then insults him, writes some kind of lousy slogan on the wall, steals, and hits him – horrendous things happen.  Well, Berta Artunez’s friend experienced the same and after he got beaten up, returned after two hours, and saw something which he never in his life would expect.  He saw his neighbors who were scrapping off bits of soap, in which is in deficit supply in Cuba, and were throwing them into a bucket, and later, were washing off the slogans on the walls of the house which were written by the organized government bandits.  One of the repeated slogans was “Long live Fidel!”  These people were washing off this slogan with extraordinary inner joy and a conviction that suddenly here they can show their neighborly solidarity.  They can make up for the many years of fear and indifference that can pierce through an atmosphere of danger into a community atmosphere.  It was a new experience – also new for those who have been observing Cuba for years.

Until this time, I spoke about people who are involved in the works of the opposition, about people who know what is freedom, know its worth, and are ready to risk a lot for it.  But, I also think that something which happened in Cuba at this time can be attributed only mentally, but I deeply believe that at any moment now, it will turn into action.  Well, by pure coincidence I met two young people in Havana:  a boy selling fruit at the outside market and a girl – a dancer at a nightclub.  Those two strangers started to speak to each other.  Suddenly, something burst, because it turned out that they can honestly speak to each other without paying homage to authorities whose worthless, horrible, and lousy reflection in this talk was not omitted.

These people daringly spoke about their hopes and fears.  From this experience, I came to a conclusion which is certainly a rather corny conclusion, but as corny as every hope.  Cubans as those who simply live here, are not counting the number of years any more – they are counting the number of days.  They do not want to wait any longer for freedom.  What will come out of this?  No one knows.  The fact, nevertheless, stays the same – it is no longer a passive island.  It is not an island infatuated with a bearded dictator and his many-hour speeches.  It is an island which hungers normalcy.  And nothing more; only normalcy.