Submissiveness is something that I’ve been aware of in Cuba ever since elementary school, my first social milieu. Nevertheless, I still can’t understand how those affected by a situation could decide to do absolutely nothing to try and change it.
Kabir Vega’s Diary
In previous articles, I wrote about Dota, a very popular game among the young (even in Cuba, despite our well-known technological limitations). It has caused such a stir that there have been debates as to whether to consider it a sport.
A few weeks ago, my parents picked up a 15-day-old puppy from the street. They found him on the sidewalk, outside a house where dogs where barking ferociously in response to its desperate whimpers. It couldn’t see anything, as its eyes were glued shut by a cold, or walk.
Several weeks after having gone back to my English course and begun new routines, like attending a School for Workers and Farmers (Facultad Obrero Campesina, or FOC) – the only option available to me right now, if I want to complete the 12th grade.
In order to travel from Alamar to Vedado and attend my English class, I am forced to go through a diabolical daily routine I have already given a name to: “the battle over the P-11 bus.” You have to see it to believe it.
Largely by personal experiences and also understanding on how the small world of Cuba works, seeing teenagers in uniforms gives me a mixture of shock and sadness. Let me tell you why…
For some weeks now, we’ve been watching an Internet video series called Hola, Soy German (“Hi, My Name is German”) rather religiously at home. The star is a young Chilean who uploads videos to the Internet every week.
Though I do not have access to the Internet and I am unaware of what ratings say about the interests of the general public, in Cuba I am always exchanging all kinds of information with friends and, without having to go too far, have been able to see that violence is a common denominator in people’s actions.
When I look back at how I felt in the classroom when I first started my English course, the changes I’ve experienced seem incredible to me. At the time, I would see so many people with touchscreen phones that I was embarrassed to pull out my MP3 player, for even something as insignificant as this is a status symbol.
I am citizen number 96111609987 – a non-organ donor, male. This is some of the information used to classify me, in much the same way a lifeless product is categorized. I’ve hated IDs ever since I turned 16. Before that, I used to go out without a care in the world.