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January 17, 2008 |
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Motivations
It was the way in which my
parents raised me. They taught me about my heritage and what it
meant to be Cuban. Never did a doubt exist in my mind of who we were and
where we came from. Not until adulthood did I fully realize the
sacrifices they made to give us a normal life in this land of exile.
Like so many other Cubans, they fled the oppression and persecution that
took over their island and came to the United States seeking freedom not
just for themselves, but for their children also. They battled to
overcome the language barriers and the many obstacles they faced in a
new country in order for their children to grow up in a free society. My
parents did this for us, and although they did their best to hide the
pain and difficulty they faced each day away from their native Cuba,
they also made sure that we never forgot her.
It was the experiences I
lived through growing up in the heart of the Cuban exile community.
The stories and the laughter I heard of a bygone era left an indelible
mark upon me. I feel at times that I could not have been any closer to
my Cuban heritage if I had been raised on the island. The people around
me—from my family members to neighbors and friends—were not only Cuban,
but they also lived as Cubans. They taught me how to laugh in Cuban, how
to cry in Cuban, and perhaps most important, they taught me how to argue
in Cuban. They also taught me how to love and respect the great nation
that took us in. Not once did I ever hear anything but praise and
adulation for America, and the only envy they ever exhibited was for the
freedom they enjoyed here that they sought for their Cuba. The most
lasting and inspiring lesson they taught me, however, was the true
meaning of perseverance. Even after forty-seven years of exile, I can
still see the sparkle in my mother’s eyes when she speaks of Cuba.
It is that yearning deep
inside that calls out to me every day of my life. Some days it
is not as loud as others, but it is never silent. I can never ignore it,
nor would I want to; it reminds me of who I am and where I came from. It
is a desire that I know will never be fulfilled, a hunger that will
never be satiated, until I set foot in a Cuba free of tyranny. Only
then, when I see the streets I was supposed to grow up on, and see the
landscapes that were supposed to make up my childhood memories, will I
know that I am finally home. On that day, along with tens of thousands
of others like me, I will laugh the way I was taught, and I will shed
tears the way I was taught.
These are but a few of
the things
that motivate me to speak out and write for the cause of a free Cuba. I
can understand how the concept of loving a country I have never seen
might seem incomprehensible to those who have not experienced what I and
so many others like me have experienced. And perhaps they will never be
able to fully understand what we feel. Nevertheless, the lack of
understanding among those around us does not make the yearning any less
intense. Like a broken heart, it is a pain that only the heartbroken can
understand.
Yet the yearning for Cuba is a
gift we all carry within us. A gift we were given at birth. A gift
which was carefully and lovingly cultivated by our family, and in many
instances, the only thing they could give us.
And it is a gift
that no revolution, no decree, no tyrant can take away from us.
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July 14, 2007 |
The BUCL
campaign for the Invisible Ones had a candlelight
vigil on Monday, July 9, 2007. The experience
affected me more that I ever could have imagined.
Mothers,
Fathers, Sisters, Brothers
I stepped up to the
podium and looked down at the list of names written on the
piece of paper before me. While I adjusted the microphone
with one hand, I brought the lit candle I held in the other
closer to the page so I can read the names in the dim light.
Along with three other
individuals, I had been asked to read aloud some of the more
than 300 names of men, women, and children that are being
held as prisoners of conscience in Cuba’s jails. We are all
standing together in front of Versailles Restaurant on the
famous Calle Ocho in Miami and all around us are over
one hundred people, candles in hand, assembled for a
candlelight vigil in recognition and support of these
innocent victims of a despotic regime.
Clearing my throat, I
read out loud the first name: Heriberto Castillo Sánchez
I continued to the next
name, but for some reason the first name remained stuck in
my mind. Did I know this person? Did I know someone who had
the same name?
Trying to concentrate on
the task at hand, I continued down the list but now every
name sounded familiar to me. To my knowledge, I had never
met any of these people. The knot that formed in my stomach,
however, said something else. The names on the pages before
me did not belong to faceless strangers—they
belonged to the members of our Cuban family. I may have
never met any of them, but the realization of who they are
became clearer than ever to me: These people are our
mothers, our fathers, our sisters, and our brothers.
I struggled to finish
reading the names on the page and then I flipped it over to
the next page before moving aside to allow the next person
to continue. Taking two steps back, I looked around at the
people that were standing all around me. The eerie glow of
the candles gave the whole scene a surreal aura, as if it
were all a dream. My thoughts drifted off for a moment while
I tried to imagine the perpetual and unrelenting nightmare
the persons on the list endure day in and day out. The
thought of that twisted the knot in my stomach tighter
still.
The last name was read
and a call was made for a moment of silence in commemoration
of all the Cubans on the list as well as those who have
suffered and those who have perished fighting for Cuba’s
liberation. I lowered my head and closed my eyes in their
honor, thanking them not only for their valor and sacrifice,
but for also bringing me closer to my Cuban identity.
There has never been a
question in my mind regarding the reality facing my Cuban
compatriots, but never has their struggle and their
suffering felt so tangible to me. This event served as an
epiphany of sorts, giving me a taste of the bitter cup these
innocent victims and their families must drink from every
day. There is no way I can imagine the true pain felt by
these brave men and women, but for an instant, I could feel
within the deepest parts of my soul their humiliation, their
torment, and their oppression.
I have never felt so
close to my heritage as I do now. This bittersweet
experience has allowed me to feel a stronger connection with
not only the legacy of my own family, but also with Cuba,
its people, and its heritage. The anguish I felt that night
as the names were read aloud might have been transcendental,
but it had a purpose; it gave me a fuller understanding of
the heartache these brave and courageous Cubans feel as they
languish inside a prison within an island prison.
For whatever the reasons
may be, the world has chosen to not only ignore these
innocent victims, but they have also chosen to overlook the
tens of thousands ruthless murders committed by Castro and
his revolution. The world may choose to look the other way
and ignore the atrocities perpetrated by a vile dictator in
an effort to avoid dealing with an uncomfortable reality,
but those who have to live under Castro’s tyranny do not
have that luxury.
Nevertheless, we must
continue to say their names aloud and shout to the world who
they are and how they are suffering. The world may elect to
ignore us, but those who are being tortured and tormented in
Cuba’s jails will hear our words. Just like the way their
suffering transcended time and distance and touched my soul
the night of the vigil, our voices will transcend the walls
of repression surrounding our imprisoned Cuban countrymen
and keep alive the dream of freedom we all carry in our
hearts.
Our continued love and
support, wherever we may be in this world, will find its way
to them. And it is this love and support that gives them the
hope and the courage they need to continue their noble and
valiant effort to oppose the tyranny that has enslaved Cuba
for nearly fifty years.
One day it will end, of
that I am sure. And one day, a memorial will be built
somewhere in Cuba listing the names of all of the mothers,
fathers, sisters, and brothers who were imprisoned,
tortured, and murdered by Castro’s regime.
One day I will stand
before that memorial and read those names aloud.
__________________________
For photos, videos,
and more information regarding Bloggers United for Cuban
Liberty, click
HERE
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July 10, 2007 |
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Let
Them Eat Cake
In
Michael Moore’s latest feature length fantasy titled, Sicko, the
filmmaker attempts to show us just how bad the healthcare system in the
US is by comparing it to the so-called free universal healthcare
available in, of all places, Cuba. With his usual disdain for actual
facts and the complete disregard for context that are so prevalent in
all of his films, Mr. Moore would have you believe that the average
Cuban citizen has access to and receives superior healthcare in
comparison to the average American. The truth about Cuba’s healthcare or
better said, lack of healthcare, is easily verified by anyone who has
access to the internet (Cubans on the island do not have this
luxury—internet access is available only to the elite). There, anyone
can view actual photographs and read first-hand accounts of the filth
and lack of medicine and medical supplies that plagues virtually every
hospital and clinic in Cuba available to the average Cuban citizen. Mr.
Moore, finding these actualities inconvenient to his storyline, prefers
to perpetuate the propaganda put out by the Cuban dictatorship and shows
you only the healthcare that is available to communist party officials
and tourists. Moore, who is not as dumb as he looks, is fully aware of
these inequalities, but chooses instead to disseminate the lies and
distortions that continually hurt the Cuban population at large. Michael
Moore and his Cuban communist friends all enjoy personal freedom and
access to exceptional medical care. To the rest of the Cubans who must
suffer under the yoke of communist oppression and medical apartheid, Mr.
Moore’s intentional omission of facts simply says; let them eat cake!
Sicko
is just another example of the left’s bigoted and elitist posture
towards people enslaved by leftist dictatorships. Moore would like you
to believe that he is a champion of the downtrodden and the exploited,
but the reality is that he is part of the reason millions of Cuban
citizens continue to be subjugated and exploited by the ruling communist
elite. From their limousines and private jets, Michael Moore and those
like him lament what they call the ghastly US embargo on Cuba, all the
while ignoring the atrocities committed by their hero, Fidel Castro, on
the Cuban people. The truth is that Michael Moore and his leftist
brethren have no concern for the well-being of the Cuban people; their
only concern is their own welfare and the promotion of their leftist
political ideologies. That it hurts the Cuban people is of no
consequence to them. Perhaps Cubans are not high enough on their
evolutionary scale to warrant the entitlement of full-fledged human
rights.
This
elitist attitude is not new among the left, though they have done an
effective job of cloaking their bigotry. Nevertheless, their total
disregard for the welfare of the Cuban people speaks volumes about who
they really are and what they really think of Cuba. Like modern-day
Marie Antionettes, Michael Moore and those of his ilk subscribe to an
elitist self-indulgence, caring only for themselves, their own comfort,
and the advancement of their beliefs and philosophies. They have no
concern for the Cubans that are languishing under a totalitarian
dictatorship; they want to sip their mojitos and enjoy the island’s
pristine beaches without having to worry about such unpleasant topics.
Emulating 18th century French aristocracy, these haughty patricians have
no interest for the daily struggle that common
Cubans must endure to feed their families. Instead, they raise a toast
to the island’s dictator and compliment him on his dubious societal
advances, apathetic to the inhumane conditions that the vast majority of
Cubans must live in.
Although Moore is fully aware of the cruelties inflicted on the Cuban
people by Castro’s heinous government, it is obvious that it does not
bother him. He is more than willing to look the other way and accept
whatever the despot’s propaganda machine spits out to hide the sad state
of affairs on the island. Apparently, Mr. Moore knows what is best for
Cuba and its people better than the eleven million who have to deal
with, and live under, the dreadful conditions that exist on the island.
When pressed about the truth of life in Cuba, Moore prefers to skip the
topic, reverting instead to some bland drivel that people have “various
levels of freedom around the world.” If he were to answer the
question honestly and not hide his obvious bigotry, he would have most
likely said that Cubans do not have the same freedom that he enjoys
because they are not smart enough or socially evolved enough to have it.
From
its inception, the premise behind communism and socialism is that
average people do not have the ability to make a decision for
themselves. They need the guidance and leadership of the State to tell
them what to say, what to think, what to wear, what to watch, what to
read, what to eat, when to sleep, when to work, and when to rest. This
is elitism in its most vile form—removing all rights to individual
freedoms and thought. Mr. Moore finds this type of tyranny readily
acceptable for the Cuban people. Of course, such a system would never
work for him—he needs to pursue his art and considers himself too good
and too smart to have his free expression stifled. For the repressed
population of Cuba, however, he finds it a viable and just form of
governance that supposedly (as he reads the cue cards provided to him by
the Cuban Ministry of the Interior) provides the most basic needs to its
people.
Although Moore values his freedom dearly, and would never relinquish it
for the benefit of the State, he expects Cubans to continue doing so. By
shilling for the Castro dictatorship, he becomes a willing accomplice to
the forty-eight years of gross violations of human rights committed by
Castro’s tyrannical dictatorship since taking power in January of 1959.
Michael Moore may consider himself too clever to be found out, but the
millions of Cubans who crave liberty and justice have his number. Those
people who he does not deem worthy of justice will continue to struggle
and fight for the day when they are finally free of oppression. Michael
Moore may feel superior and more worthy of freedom than mere Cubans, but
they have something he has never had: Integrity.
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June 4, 2007 |
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Free Press has a Price:
NBC will broadcast The Today Show from Cuba. Just what
did they pay for the privilege?
As NBC’s The
Today Show prepares to broadcast live from Cuba, I have to wonder
what promises and guarantees to portray Cuba positively the network made to
the island's dictatorial
regime. With the recent expulsions of foreign journalists by the Cuban
government for not reporting about Cuba in a “positive light,” I
sincerely doubt either of the tyrannical Castro brothers would allow a
pseudo-news television program viewed by millions of Americans to take
place on their island prison without some kind of assurances. So, while
hundreds of prisoners of conscience languish in Cuban jails, and the
eleven million plus residents of the island are denied the most basic
human rights, will NBC seek the truth behind the atrocities that take
place on a daily basis in Cuba, or did they pay with their souls for the
privilege of broadcasting from Havana?
- Read the rest
HERE -
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May 22, 2007 |
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The
Spanish translation for the "Dear Spain" letter is done! A
special thanks goes to reader Emilio Faxas for his immense
help.
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Querida
España:
Una carta del
corazón,
al país que me lo rompe una y otra vez.
¡O,
España! Me has defraudado tantas veces que ya he perdido la cuenta. He
tratado—Dios bien lo sabe—de perdonar la tierra donde nacieron mis
antepasados. El único país fuera del mío que he visitado y donde me he
sentido como en mi casa. Tú hablas mi idioma,
eres
la base de mi cultura, y
sin embargo me rompes el corazón una y otra vez. Tú fuiste la cuna de
mis bisabuelos: Asturias, Galicia, Tenerife. Más para ti, no somos más
que niños insolentes que no merecen respeto ni dignidad. La isla donde
mis abuelos y mis padres nacieron dejó de ser tu colonia hace más de 100
años atrás, pero ante tus ojos aun somos esa villa traidora del nuevo
mundo bien merecedora de tanto dolor y muerte.
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Lea
el resto
AQUI
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May 17, 2007 |
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-Dear Spain:
A letter from the heart, to the country that continues to break
it.
Oh, Spain!
You have disappointed me so many times I have lost count. I have
tried—God knows I have tried—to forgive the country where my
ancestors were born. The only country in this world, outside of my
own, that I have visited and felt as if I were home. You speak my
language, you are the basis of my culture, and yet you break my
heart time and time again. You were the birthplace of my
great-grandparents: Asturias, Galicia, Tenerife. Yet to you, we are
nothing more than insolent children not worthy of respect or
dignity. The island where my grandparents and my parents were born
ceased to be your colony over 100 years ago, but in your eyes, we
are still that treasonous outpost of the new world that you found
deserving of so much pain and death.
- Read the rest
HERE -
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April 16, 2007 |
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- The Tribe of Cuba:
Trying to understand and explain the differences between the
Cuban exiles and the rest of the immigrant Hispanic community in the
US.
Many
years ago on cable TV, Cheech Marin, of Cheech & Chong fame, hosted a comedy
special featuring various Latino comedians. The special featured up
and coming Latino comics as well as some that were already
established. My memories of that special are vague, but one skit in
particular remains vivid in my memory. An Hispanic version of Moses,
carrying with him the sacred tablets inscribed with God’s
commandments, began to tell the story of how he led the Latino
tribes to the promised land: the United States. One by one, this
Moises started to name the different Latin American
nationalities that had followed him as if they were the tribes of
Israel. The list contained the usual countries, the names
interspersed with jokes while he motioned to his left, pointing to
the imaginary masses behind him. I listened to the list, waiting for
Cuba to be named and right when I thought it would be ignored, he
motioned to his right and said, “…and on my right, we have
the tribe of Cuba.” The line was received with laughter and
applause; the mostly Latino audience understood the joke. Cubans, it
is commonly said, are not like the rest of the Latinos—they are all
right wingers.
- Read the rest
HERE -
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E-Mail
Alberto de la Cruz
HERE |
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©
2008
Alberto de la Cruz
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