Cuba offers circuses and no bread
BY XAVIER SUAREZ
xaviersuarez@aol.com
Anyone who wants to get a flavor of how cruel life is in Cuba need only
read The Miami Herald story of the young lady who fainted and lost her
shoe during the Juanes concert. It was an interesting vignette of life
in Cuba, as endured by a young woman who seemed typical of the many who
attended this unique event.
The woman lost her shoe in the multitude. She found another shoe, but it
was not the one she lost. (Apparently, the Cuban security forces --
which one may assume were deployed in plain clothes -- controlled
everything but the shoe department.)
So the poor thing walked in with two matching shoes and had to be
carried out, unconscious, with one shoe that will never match the other.
Even if one assumes the shoes were made from very inexpensive leather,
it will cost her a month's wages to get a new, matching pair.
She will probably attend the next Juanes concert, if it ever happens,
though she will either go barefoot or with shoes so well attached that
she cannot possibly lose them in the crowd. She will also remember to
bring water -- though that is easier said than done in Havana, where
bottled water is sold only to foreigners in stores that only accept dollars.
The tragedy of the Juanes concert is not that it happened. The tragedy
is that we in the free world have spent weeks discussing the wrong thing
entirely -- which is what is happening in Cuba and how it can be brought
to a quick end. We have been discussing what kind of circus the people
deserve, when we should have been discussing why there is no bread.
In that sense, Juanes' concert has had the worst effect possible: It has
taken all the attention away from the person who was up to now the video
star of Cuba's plight -- the one who had used his last ounce of
rationality to yell to the world that what Cubans need is ``jama'' (food).
His nickname is Pánfilo, and he is now forgotten, like the poor people
of Cuba. Like Oscar Elias Biscet, a poor, honest, doctor who had the
temerity to oppose publicly the twin practices of abortion and capital
punishment. Like the wives of the independent journalists called Damas
de Blanco (Ladies in White) who mourn the imprisonment of husbands
accused of being ``dangerous'' or promoting ``anti-socialist'' ideology
and sentenced by kangaroo courts to years in prison, where they suffer
cold and deprivation of the kind that would make Guantánamo's cells
holding accused terrorists seem like the Havana Hilton of old.
So, in the end, who benefited from the concert (other than Juanes, who
will undoubtedly become a worldwide celebrity for his one-day musical
tour)? Here is a quick and dirty scorecard, using three parameters that
seem relevant: symbolic value, real change and unintended consequences:
Symbolism. Other than the logo of the event, which no one has mentioned
(perhaps like me, they have no idea of what it means), the figure that
stands out is the one of Che Guevara in the background. Add to that the
idea that Cubans were seen as joyful, open to entertainment and well
behaved and you have the impression of a normal country. (Since alcohol
and drugs were not allowed or available, the ambiance was almost
equivalent to an evangelical concert in the United States, with music by
high-grade Gospel singers.)
Real Change. It is still too early to tell, but so far there is not one
iota of change: No pronouncements about opening up to other artists; not
one single discordant note that could have mobilized the youth in Cuba.
The fact that a million Cuban young people were able to enjoy music
without politics is still the only benefit of this event, and it is a
transitory one. The young people went back home with little added hope.
Other unintended consequences. So far, all of those favor the regime. In
Miami, we had the opponents of the event being made to look like fools
and intolerant right-wingers. The news media emphasized the destruction
of musical tapes and death threats made by the ``usual anonymous
suspects,'' which were (as usual) probably made by (anonymous) Castro
sympathizers who want to make the exile community look bad.
I remember a time, nearly half a century ago, when as an 11 year old, I
participated in an equally massive gathering at what was then called the
Plaza Cívica. We were also more than a million strong and we also wanted
peace in that troubled land. But we made clear, in our songs and in our
prayers, that peace must come with justice -- or not at all.
Xavier Suarez, a lawyer, is a former Miami mayor.
Cuba offers circuses and no bread - From Our Inbox - MiamiHerald.com (24
September 2009)
http://www.miamiherald.com/opinion/inbox/story/1250065.html
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