By Omar Olazábal Rodríguez on January, 2021
Cuban doctors fighting Covid 19 in Italy. Photo: Enrique Ubieta
Every day in Cuba has been difficult. We do nothing but smile at something pleasant, and a demon that lurks has tried to embitter our moment. It is as if our soul is condemned to hell while we try to build a paradise. Because jealousy and envy are not exclusive to human beings. They are also exclusive to systems of domination, which do not allow for changes in the way they dominate the world. In 62 years we haven’t had a quiet day. Because when you build paradises, snakes try to steal your dreams of the possible.
I remember Rene, my father and Carmita, my mother. Both of them inoculated me with the vaccine of the rebellion with cause. That the most just idea can be at the will of beings who do not understand it. That at every step you can find snakes, some wrapped in cloaks of pretended kindness, and others, the most dangerous ones, wrapped in small, very temporary quotas of power granted by those who trusted them. But the idea is the Idea. And when you become its owner, you think you can eat the world with one bite. That there will be no obstacle that will stop you or evil that will be imposed. Thus, step by step, you defeat those who harm, those who interpret their moment as deserved glory, while you continue to untangle weeds in the eternal march towards that dreamed-of Eden.
And around that idea go millions. They go out to the damned who killed teachers and children in the Escambray, or they go into the swamps of the Cienaga, through a place called Playa Girón, not to allow the demons to pass inside the Motherland to give it to their master. They also sit behind the anti-aircraft gun on the Malecón in Havana in October 1962, in case anyone dared to attack our holy homeland. They went out to help others in Africa, Asia and Latin America, so that the yoke would not take their breath away.
Meanwhile, hundreds of thousands followed the phrase: “Read! In the classrooms of their country, or far away, they took advantage of what that Idea gave them. They became engineers, doctors, graduates. They returned to continue building the great building that makes up the Idea. The snake kept on messing with everyone. Offering apples or killing with poison. Because it was angry to see that a crowd still believed. He did not understand how this was possible. He tried to build up an army of nauseating reptiles, so that they would not be allowed the progress to peace and tranquility that they deserved.
Suddenly, at a moment when he thought it was the end of history, the snake gloated at the thought that he would make it. He commissioned songs and sonnets, announcing that the Idea was finite. That there is no Paradise for everyone. And he placed bombs. Because he believed that it would accelerate his desire. But nothing. The millions around the Idea were united as never before. They shared the food and the dark nights. Little by little they found their way back through the bushes. Helped by beings who, from anonymity, warned of the attacks to come. The snake found out and sank them in the holes of the prisons. The millions spent years fighting for them, until one St. Lazarus Day in 2014 when they returned.
Closer in time, the serpent came to the door of the office of the most powerful lord in the world. It whispered to him what he had to do to put an end, once and for all, to the daring people who had been trying to build a Paradise for decades. He cut off their access to supplies so that they could not continue the dream. They shouted: “Now you’re talking!” And nothing. With less and more desire, the millions did not stop trying. The idea was alive.
As a punishment, the pandemic arrived. The serpent did not understand how planes with angels came out of the land of the Idea to save lives. It tried to cut them off, it threatened the patients. They did not listen to him. To make matters worse, tens of wise men and women, part of those millions, worked on the antidote to the virus. The surprise almost left the snake mute: “four vaccines?” The millions came together again as a whole. They shut themselves away in their homes to avoid infection. While they waited for the elixir of survival, the one their sages had created.
Then, when they come to me at night to protect my sleep, Carmita and René will smile with pleasure. Their son is part of those millions. He read and believed. And together with millions, he continues to clear the weeds to reach that place, calm and peaceful, prosperous and protective, where there will be no more snakes. When the Idea becomes a reality, there will be only happiness. It is 62 restless years. But, living them has been worthwhile.
Omar Olazábal Rodríguez is a philologist, professor and audiovisual producer. He was director of Latin World Studies, vice-president of the Cuban Institute of Radio and Television and directed the Office of Communication and Image of the Union of Writers and Artists of Cuba (UNEAC). He currently works in the Cuban Chapter of the Network in Defense of Humanity.
Source: La Jiribilla, translation Resumen Latinoamericano, North America bureau